Thursday 7/24

A Hawk and a Hacksaw, Laura Gibson, Benjamin Wetherill

(Tractor)

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Eartha Kitt

(Jazz Alley)

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The Zombies, Jon Auer, Guns and Rossetti

(El Corazón) The drunken guy at the back of the Zombies show at the Triple Door last year had it right: "You guys fuckin' rock!" Even at sixtysomething, Rod Argent and Colin Blunstone still manage to whip out Odessey and Oracle classics in such perfect form that you'd think you were right in the middle of some 1960s stock footage—look, a dreamy girl hippie at Golden Gate or some shit! Blunstone's voice is so breathy and nubile—nothing so gentle has been in El Corazón since the Zombies played there in aught-six. They might whip out some of Argent and Blunstone's solo "hits"—stay for Blunstone's, get a drink during Argent's. ARI SPOOL

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Shearwater, Johanna Kunin, Grand Hallway

(Nectar) We can talk about Shearwater's early ties to current indie-folk darlings Okkervil River. We can talk about Jonathan Meiburg's delicate choirboy vocals. We can talk about their haunting compositions and the broad spectrum of dynamics they employ. But instead, let's talk about their drummer, Thor Harris. Every bit the god implied by his name, the bronzed buff blond is a fucking genius. Like Wilco's Glenn Kotche, Harris's rhythmic multitasking brilliantly accentuates the compositions without ever stealing the spotlight. Yet his dexterity, inventiveness, and economy make him one of the most fascinating contemporary drummers. Having moved on from juggling an autoharp, glockenspiel, and drum kit in Angels of Light, Harris's arsenal now provides the dazzling and expansive foundation for Shearwater's lush arrangements. BRIAN COOK

Friday 7/25

Capitol Hill Block Party: Vampire Weekend, Les Savy Fav, Girl Talk, Jay Reatard, the Dodos, and many more

(Pike St and 11th Ave)

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The Watson Twins, Tim Fite, Jen Wood

(Tractor) There is tranquility in Jen Wood's voice. It's a stasis. She sings, and thoughts of pastures and still lakes flash and drift. It doesn't mean you're going soft, she's just that earnest. Her latest album, Finds You in Love, produced by Shawn Simmons of SUNN O))) and Brandi Carlile, finds Wood purposefully optimistic. Her band includes Tomo Nakayama of Grand Hallway, Joel Harmon of Sleepy Eyes of Death, and Wolf Carr of Wesafari. Also on the bill, the six-foot tall Kentucky-bred identical-sister Watson Twins will be harmonizing their hauntingness right into a cavity behind your heart. A cavity that is moved by magnetic and striking country-folk tinged singers. The Watson Twins float their harmonies around the room like ghosts. Don't be afraid, they're not ghosts, they're just sisters. TRENT MOORMAN

Saturday 7/26

Capitol Hill Block Party: DeVotchKa, the Hold Steady, Chromeo, Fleet Foxes, Kimya Dawson, Schoolyard Heroes, Throw Me the Statue, and many more

(Pike St and 11th Ave)

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Nine Inch Nails, Crystal Castles

(KeyArena) Trent Reznor may be tormented—by record labels, the current administration, former lovers, and personal demons—but he's the rare artist who can consistently alchemize bad vibes into interesting art, challenging himself and the audience while (mostly) working around tightly structured pop forms so that his songs of disaffectation and alienation stick to your brain they way oatmeal sticks to your gut. While Nine Inch Nails' records are prime fodder for serious catharsis sessions, they don't hold a candle to the balls-out intensity of the live performances. I'd hate to be a mic stand at a NIN show, but I heartily encourage being an audience member. BARBARA MITCHELL

The Hard Sell: DJ Shadow & Cut Chemist

(Showbox Sodo) Here is my list of the sexiest tunes of the triphop era: "Superheroes" by Esthero, "It's a Long Road" by Funki Porcini, "Original Bedroom Rockers" by Kruder & Dorfmeister, "Sexy Selector" by Rockers Hi-Fi, and, of course, "What Does Your Soul Look Like (Part 1-Blue Sky Revisit)" by DJ Shadow. Let's consider the last tune on this sexy, sexy list. Found the at end of DJ Shadow's Endtroducing..., the tune has a slamming beat, a horn that longs to caress a beautiful body, and a bass line that forms the curves of a beautiful someone. At the end of a loop, a sudden eruption of depth charges; released from a quick scratch, a choir devoted to the Gods of procreation; as warm things sonically shimmer in the moonlight of a transfigured night, a woman sings to her man in English and a man sings to his woman in Spanish. The erotic atmosphere is thick, moist, and marvelous. DJ Shadow knows sex inside and out. CHARLES MUDEDE

Melvins, Big Business

(Showbox at the Market) It's tempting to dismissively state that after twentysomething records in twentysomething years, there is nothing more to be said about the Melvins. What new insight could anyone possibly bestow upon such an institution? But the band are always new to somebody. They're not some dinosaur act that keeps pulling the same aging flannel-clad metal heads out of the woodwork. No, there is always a fresh crop of hungry music fans who finally "get it." Even the longtime fans have some room for fresh discoveries in the output of King Buzzo and Dale Crover. Everyone likes "The Bit" the first time they hear it, but it may take years for "Goggles" to really sink in. And that is why the Melvins continue to be relevant and vital. BRIAN COOK

Sunday 7/27

Pink Skull, South Rakkas Crew, Dyme Def, Mad Rad

(Nectar)

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Monday 7/28

Matisyahu, Common Market

(Paramount) Here's one of many theories. (I have more theories than Imelda Marco has shoes.) Matisyahu's popular mix of reggae beats and traditional Judaism has Alpha Blondy's biggest hit, "Jerusalem," as its single source. Blondy, a reggae star from the Côte d'Ivoire, opened "Jerusalem" with a Hebrew prayer, "Baruk atah adonai," and then sang in three languages (Arabic, Hebrew, English) about the unification of the Abrahamic religions—Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. Blondy's Hebrew prayer over a strong reggae beat is what must have got Matisyahu, an American Hasidic Jew, really thinking. It has to be the kernel ("Jerusalem, here I am") from which grew his thriving tree of big drum dub, triumphant toasting, and Jewish teachings and spirituality. CHARLES MUDEDE

Tuesday 7/29

Fair, The Pale Pacific, Ruth

(Chop Suey) Fair's Aaron Sprinkle is an in-demand producer and engineer, helping add a bright spark to records by the likes of Mae, Anberlin and Acceptance. While that's great for them (and the ol' résumé) it means that his own music takes a backseat—which is unfortunate because it's heads above the stuff he's working with. Tonight is Fair's first show in a year, so don't miss the chance to catch the impish Sprinkle and his bandmates deliver perfectly crafted, anthemic emo pop that's tender but never trite. While you're at it, give a nudge to the Pale Pacific, who are also reemerging after a year's hiatus. The music world needs both of them. BARBARA MITCHELL

Rad Touch, Titus Andronicus, Strong Killings

(Funhouse) One of the more underappreciated rock bands in this city, Strong Killings deliver driving punk rhythms, rollicking start-stop time signatures, and redlining vocals. They've been playing out a hell of a lot these days, and their debut album seems to have been in the works for quite a while. Frontman Nate Mooter screams his terse lyrics into the mic like a soon-to-be great, and drummer Mike Loggins seems to break some part of his drum kit at almost every show. Why this band hasn't blown up by now is really pretty baffling, and if they don't do so soon, there's something seriously wrong with the equation around here. GRANT BRISSEY

Boris, Torche, Lair of the Minotaur

(Neumo's) Torche's Meanderthal is hands down one of the best rock records released in 2008. Effortlessly mixing huge and intricate riffs, memorable vocal melodies, and just the right amount of "'90s" rock, Torche have amalgamated a sound that is at once strangely familiar yet totally unique. They are the proprietors of "the bomb note," in which the E string of a guitar is detuned to a floppy, thunderous explosion. One minute, Torche are ripping through a high-energy, chant-along anthem like "Healer," the next they are making your fillings shake with the heaviest, sludgiest guitar tone imaginable. With Japanese noise aficionados Boris and Chicago metal barbarians Lair of the Minotaur rounding out the bill, attendance to this show is mandatory for anyone who cares about quality rock and roll. JEFF KIRBY

Wednesday 7/30

Kelley Johnson, Ingrid Jensen, Jay Thomas, John Hansen, Paul Gabrielson, Jon Wikan

(Triple Door)

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Alkaline Trio, American Steel, the Fashion

(El CorazĂłn) A couple weeks ago, after a posting on Line Out about Alkaline Trio, one sharp commenter wrote, "Alkaline Trio should have stopped after their split with Hot Water Music. After that record, when they stopped whining about cigarettes and started worshiping blood, I just couldn't handle them anymore." That's almost true. In their heyday, Alkaline Trio wrote brilliant, albeit fucked up, brokenhearted punk ballads that were saturated with passion without being overly pathetic (or if pathetic, at least charmingly so). Today, frontman Matt Skiba looks like a vampire. And the sleek production on newer material doesn't help the songs feel any less uninspired. But that's still not enough to taint their older material, especially since the band are wise enough to showcase the old gems in their live shows. MEGAN SELING

Conor Oberst and the Mystic Valley Band

(Neumo's) It's strange that Conor Oberst's first "solo" album since his original bedroom demos is the most organic, band-in-a-basement stuff he's recorded in some time. How can his latest material, recorded with the Mystic Valley Band, best the sonic weight of the ragtag orchestras from his past few records? Blame the whole Big Pink concept. Oberst holed up in a small Mexican town early this year with some buddies and beers and put down raucous tracks, like the rollicking "NYC-Gone, Gone" and the stoner road trip "Sausalito." The resulting record, Conor Oberst, sees his familiar vocal tremor fade, overtaken by foot-stompin', classic-rock comfort. Sorry, hecklers, the sad kid in the bedroom cheered up. SAM MACHKOVECH