THURSDAY 2/8

RUSTON MIRE, POLECAT, PRIS, COMMON HEROES
(Crocodile) Tonight's show is a benefit for Real Change newspaper, which is reason enough to cough up the cover charge. However, this is one of those rare occasions when the musical participants are as noteworthy as the cause itself. After an extended hiatus and the addition of a new drummer, Ruston Mire is back in action, and ready to debut new material. If the new songs are half as catchy as those on Steady Jobs and Flying Cars, you'll be spending the next few weeks searching for creative new ways to dislodge them from your cranium. Get there early to catch relative newcomers Pris. BARBARA MITCHELL

BRAD MEHLDAU TRIO
(Jazz Alley) I shouldn't have to give you a reason to see Brad Mehldau. But, I'm gonna be nice and present a few for the readers who have never heard of him. REASON NUMBER ONE: Mehldau can boast a Grammy nomination, in the category of "Best Jazz Instrumental." Okay... it's not much of a reason. REASON NUMBER TWO: Mehldau was named 1999's "Jazz Pianist of the Year" in Down Beat's Readers' Poll. Better? REASON NUMBER THREE: God almighty. People are calling this guy the most exciting pianist to come along since Herbie Hancock!!! REASON NUMBER FOUR: He started playing the piano when he was like four months old. There. That should be enough. I've often heard Mehldau compared to Keith Jarret or Franz Schubert, but no, no, no. You really need to discover this singular genius. CHRISTOPHER HERB

DEEP BANANA BLACKOUT, THE MOTET
(OK Hotel ) Connecticut's Deep Banana Blackout, an eclectic jazz, funk, and groove sensation, played over 200 shows nationwide last year, attracted large crowds in the process, and, of course, brought along the dedicated audience known as "the Funk Mob" with them. The Motet couldn't be a better opener to get the crowd and the Mobbers off their feet. The show promises to be filled with high-energy improv solos and jazzy, psychedelic hard-rock jams, if you can imagine that. If you want to get down and shake your booty, these two acts will definitely drop the funk bomb! CHRISTOPHER HERB


FRIDAY 2/9

COLDPLAY, POWDERFINGER
(Showbox) "Look at the stars, look how they shine for you," sings a lanky boy in falsetto, walking along the sand, a fragile creature occupying the screen. It's a simple film of a sweet boy who writes from the heart on his sleeve, and gets a helping hand from boys who like the pop crunch of pummeling guitars and slow drum rolls. Your heart is his aim, and the atmosphere created in "Yellow," the video in question, is singer-songwriter Chris Martin's weapon of choice. He wants you to feel his pain and his love. With Parachutes, the debut from English band Coldplay, this formula is winning the hearts of pop fans worldwide. Amid all the bullshit boy bands that sting us with their saccharine, beat-friendly pop, or the tired rock bands that dig on their deconstruction as a template for what's going to happen next, we get a band of boys that knows how to tug the heartstrings without being pretentious, or benefit from being packaged so slickly you can still smell the singed plastic. Coldplay is a simple, bittersweet pill that delivers us from the evils of the manufactured world of pop. At least for one night anyway. F. VENTURA-PENA.

THE MODEL ROCKETS, THE TAD AND CHRIS SHOW, THE MALINKS
(Sunset Tavern) Okay, you monkeys. Let me just explain one little thing. When things feel fun, like when you accidentally piss on an electric fence or something, your body kind of wobbles around for just a second, and all your non-speaking orifices kind of tickle and you start to dance, dance, dance. There is no thinking about it, there can be no consideration. The ontology of having a good time is simple: You just do. Playing live, Tad and Chris always seem to provide that sort of vague thing that makes you happy. They are like a visit from Santa Claus, and you should be a good boy or girl and go see them, or your ass will fill up with coal. JAMIE HOOK


SATURDAY 2/10

UNWOUND, OLD TIME RELIJUN, COSMOS GROUP
(Crocodile) See preview this issue.

THE MAKERS, THE BRIEFS, The Droo Church
(Local 46) Our city's new all-ages club hosts an evening of fancy-pantsed punk rock with two vibrant, ear-splitting local bands. The Makers get all gussied up and play glammy garage-punk, touting Mike Maker (that dead-ringer for Prince who's always flouncing around Capitol Hill) as their frontman. They're on Sub Pop, and though their angstful records are listenable, the live experience is much more interesting with this band--not only because you get to watch hair fall and makeup smear, but because the members of this band are born, sneering performers. The Briefs, on the other hand, are always impeccably dressed and play a goofier, more enjoyable version of punk rock: short, boundlessly energetic songs with no emotional frills, very little attitude, and no artists formerly known as anything but themselves. JEFF DeROCHE

SOUTHERN CULTURE ON THE SKIDS, THE AMAZING CROWNS
(Graceland) Ah, kitsch. It's hard to believe that Southern Culture on the Skids has been serving up heaping spoonfuls of hillbilly schtick for over 15 years now, but almost harder still to believe that people are still lining up to fork over good money to see it. Sure, it was originally amusing to see low-brow "culture" elevated to high "art," but come on, enough's enough. The joke is wearing as thin as the knees in Cousin Jasper's hand-me-down overalls. BARBARA MITCHELL

THE ZIGGENS, VOX DEI, FRANK JORDAN, BARGAIN MUSIC
(Paradox) The Ziggens' version of punk is the punk of youthful exuberance, a more or less happy sound that gets people moving and enjoying themselves, rather than pissed off and surly. They have fun bantering with the audience and their music often delves into surf and country sounds for variety. I saw them once at an all-ages show and I may well have been the oldest person in a crowd of adolescents, most of whose mothers were probably waiting outside in mini-vans. But thanks to their music--and the fact that the band members are older than me--I realized that I too was still young. KRIS ADAMS

MADE FOR TV MOVIE, TRANSMARINE, Staxx
(Rendezvous) In Oregon, the ratio of hippie bands to the state's actual inhabitants is approximately 500:1 (margin of error: +/- .5), but don't write them all off until you see Portland's Made for TV Movie. Incorporating drums and guitars that jerk on the force of their own sharp, sheared distortion, MFTVM conjures all the same breathlessness and teeth-clenched passion that Jawbreaker did years ago. Much of the intensity comes from the flame beneath vocalist Dan DeVriend's performance. In his most punk-rock moments, he'll scream like his lungs are about to puke out, then drop to the floor like a broken matchstick. It'll clutch your heart and squeeze all the Oregon contempt right out of it. And if not, well, if you've got a car and some free time, there are still assloads of hippies to pick on. JULIANNE SHEPHERD

THE JEFF HEALEY BAND, VELVALUX
(Ballard Firehouse) If you think of Jeff Healey simply as the singer of 1988's blues ballad "Angel Eyes," then, yes, he belongs at the Ballard Firehouse Clearinghouse for Aging Rockers. But if you take the full measure of his career, including his categorical mastery of blues-rock guitar and the fact that the blind Torontonian has done it all with his Stratocaster on his lap, then Healey's appearance at the ignominious Firehouse is just yet another example of the music biz's capricious cruelty. NATHAN THORNBURGH

THE DUKE ROBILLARD BAND
(EMP) Blues guitar is not exactly the hottest genre on the market right now, but when it does come back into vogue, Duke Robillard is gonna blow up like Britney's implants. He's been working hard on the sly, hiding in bands like Roomful of Blues and the Fabulous Thunderbirds, as well as the occasional solo project. When it comes time to step into the forefront, Robillard is going to turn some heads because, as blues rockers already know, right now he's the best in his business. NATHAN THORNBURGH


SUNDAY 2/11

There is nothing happening tonight.


MONDAY 2/12

Nope.


TUESDAY 2/13

RYAN ADAMS, THE VOLEBEATS
(Century Ballroom) See preview this issue.

UNWOUND, SERUM GREYS
(Paradox) See preview this issue.

DIANE SCHUUR
(Jazz Alley) Plenty of people attack jazz singer Diane Schuur for covering pop songs, like the theme from Tootsie or "I Just Called to Say I Love You." Plenty of people are unsettled by the way that the full-figured, middle-aged blind woman imbues her concerts with a near-predatory sexuality, growling at her husband in the front row and telling the audience how late they were up rasslin' the night before. But if you can stomach the occasional queasy moment or synthesized string section, then I'm here to tell you that Schuur has an absolutely amazing voice. When she actually cuts loose, bright and powerful, there's no one who can touch her. But don't take my word for it. Take the nod from the three different duet partners with whom she shares the end of her latest album: Ray Charles, Herbie Hancock, and Stevie Wonder. And this from a "disabled" woman from Tacoma. Damn straight. NATHAN THORNBURGH

SCRATCH, DICE RAW, KAMAL, SCHOOLZ OF THOUGHT, DJ DANGEROUS, OTA PROTA
(I-Spy) Scratch-cratch-ratch-atch. Such a beautiful sound. The nimblest of turntablists can't even begin to compete with the sharp velocity of one's mouth, especially when it comes to Scratch, resident beatboxer for hiphop wunderkinds the Roots. Those who bear witness to a Roots live performance know that fierce energy is to be expected, especially when the cut-master throws down over dope-ass live instrumentation. With the exception of the Ota Prota crew, who may convince the Okay Players to bust out an impromptu jam session, the plans are to keep it raw. Which makes tonight's performance so special, because it's all about the back-to-school basics of hiphop. Just two turntables, an MC, a wily beatboxer, and a microphone. F. VENTURA-PENA.


WEDNESDAY 2/14

FUCK ME! IT'S VALENTINE'S w/DJs CHERRY CANOE, SE--OR EL TORO, SUPAFRIEND
(I-Spy) If you're planning on spending Valentine's Day with your "partner," then keep your nasty, co-dependent ass out of I-Spy tonight, because the ladies who brought you "Scary Party" last Halloween present Fuck Me! It's Valentine's--a DJ event for singles that even people who like actual music (music not made on laptops by drug-sucking 19-year-olds) can tolerate. DJ Cherry Canoe (Ms. Kerri Harrop) and DJ Señor El Toro (Kurt B. Reighly) play anything from no wave to new wave. There will be some hiphop and dance music, but we have received a firm promise that there will be no--I repeat--no TECHNO played at this party. With Spencer Moody from Murder City Devils upstairs hosting karaoke and prize giveaways from Toys in Babeland. JEFF DeROCHE

SARAH DOUGHER, S, AVEO, THE COCK-UPS
(Crocodile) You can't dodge the gentle allure of S: all aches, whispers, and spine tingles, the fruits of Miss Jenn Ghetto's four-track labor. While still devoted to Carissa's Wierd, Ghetto has sweetly come into her own, shuffling gracefully into the soft spotlight. Sarah Dougher, on the other hand, marches into the harsh glare with confidence and sass, thanks to her impressive grrrl-group pedigree (not to mention her other pedigrees: She's also a teacher--Greek and Roman lit--writer, activist, and all-around Inspiring Smart Girl). Dougher's sans Cadallaca/Crabs solo release, Day One (K Records), is a lesson in sheer ass-kicking: a bold, stubbornly catchy collection of fun punk-pop songs with lyrics that make your head spin (in the best possible way). These two ladies are sharing the bill with Seattle's Aveo--new, young, exciting, and melodic--and the (also new) Cock-Ups, in which our own Jeff DeRoche, music editor, sings and plays guitar. There, I said it. Conflict of interest be damned. And I don't care what you have planned for goddamned Valentine's Day. No amount of kissing and champagne could possibly give you butterflies the way this lineup can. MIN LIAO