Thursday 8/28

Willie Nelson

(Marymoor Park) Willie Nelson is an elegant, elegiac guitar player, a grassroots advocate of global righteousness, and a songwriter who employs country music as grand tragedy greater than anyone in history. More crowning than any of these qualities, however, is his singing. Unremittingly sorrowful and beautiful, the elder Nelson's still-clarion plaint is, alongside those of Hank Williams, George Jones, and maybe a couple others, a contender for the definitive country-music voice. Embodying both the emotional indulgences of pop music and the hypnotic resonance of bluegrass singing, his voice is truly one of the greatest jewels of these United States. SAM MICKENS

Weedeater, Black Cobra, Iron Lung

(Funhouse) What do you expect from a band with a name like Weedeater? Yes, they're heavy. And, yes, they certainly like drugs. But to their credit, bassist/vocalist "Dixie" Dave Collins played a prominent role in revitalizing the template created by Black Sabbath and bastardized by My War–era Black Flag. Back in the early '90s, his work with revered Southern stoner punks Buzzov*en prompted legions of scumbags to embrace slower tempos, heavy grooves, and less-refined production. And time has not softened Dixie. Reports from Weedeater's live shows state that he still quenches his thirst onstage with cough syrup and copious amounts of booze. If dextromethorphan-fueled sludge rock is your jam, look no further. BRIAN COOK

Truckasauras, DJs Introcut, Same DNA, Claude Balzac, Mad Max

(Sunset Tavern) Who hasn't seen Seattle electro-funk savants Truckasauras yet? Why? Building on the momentum gained from Sasquatch! and Capitol Hill Block Party appearances, Truckasauras have given us beaucoup chances to revel in their bleeping brilliance and redneck/rubberneck video shenanigans. Their irresistible chiptunes and trunk-junk funk have been a major cause of whiplash in clubbers this year. The spring-loaded debut album Tea Parties, Guns and Valor (Fourthcity) reinforces the lads' penchant for party-jam roughage. Mad Max is a local DJ/producer with deft remixing skills and deep knowledge of fail-safe beats. Electro-house DJ Claude Balzac declares on his MySpace page that he "will do what it takes to make the party hot." Same DNA—who runs this Trashy Trash night—and Introcut also adhere to that maxim. DAVE SEGAL

Anal Cunt, Anal Blast, Infernaeon, Evangelist, Crush Your Enemies

(El Corazón) Shit, bro, this is going to one helluva Anal gig! Anal Cunt and Anal Blast still operate at the retarded stage of development where bodily fluids/functions are a laff riot, females are scary and repugnant, and "gay" is the ultimate insult. Combine this idjit mindset with sonic tantrums that are so stunted and static in their desire to annoy/provoke that they're practically Muzak™ and you have the makings for a truly tedious night out. These so-called grindcore bands—the Anal ones, that is—are about as transgressive as middle-school-bathroom graffiti. Anal Cunt have been peddling this shtupid shtick for 20 years, which I imagine has been as gratifying as sitting in their own excrement for two decades. DAVE SEGAL

Intelligence, The Lights

(Wildrose) In keeping with his prolific production rate, Intelligence frontman Lars Finberg is leading his band out on yet another tour. But first they're kicking off the thing proper-style, rocking out the Wildrose with Seattle slack-punkers the Lights. Finberg says Intelligence are also releasing two vinyl records in the near future: a 7-inch, on which they cover both the Magnetic Fields and the Spits (!?), and a 12-inch split with Thee Oh Sees. Anyway, tonight offers two excellent bands representing two very different, very quality aspects of post-punk, all on one bill, all at one of the city's better punk-rock venues. Get there. GRANT BRISSEY

Friday 8/29

The Pharmacy, Mattress, Stabbings

(Comet) Portland seems to breed one- or two-person electro cells like cluster bombs breed terrorists. Mattress, aka Rex Marshall, is one such synthesizer- strapped suicide bomber from our sister city to the south. In fact, you better capitalize Suicide, as Marshall's oscillator drones and organ preset beats evoke the Alan Vega–fronted NYC band as much as his more industrial-grade throbbing recalls, well, Throbbing Gristle. Marshall's depressed baritone croon, though, is something more like a lounge take on Nick Cave or Ian Curtis. These are all impossibly high marks to aim for, and it should be noted that Mattress's sound is markedly more lo-fi (and again, loungey) than his sonic forebears. Still, the man is a character, he's aiming high, and his live shows look to be something else. ERIC GRANDY

Asian Hip-Hop Summit Tour: Dumbfoundead, Lyraflip, Chosen One, Youthinasia & DJ Dstrukt, Sonny Bonoho, Orbitron, Know Choice & DJ Rise, Daichi Diez, DJ Soul One; hosted by L-Brother, Rob Nice, DJ B-Girl

(Nectar) We must never forget and always appreciate the Asian impact on hiphop. When we think of the Roots, we must also recall the Mountain Brothers, whose track "Galaxies" is made from the stuff of hiphop heaven. When we think of Souls of Mischief's "93 'Til Infinity," we must also think of Latyrx's "The Last Trumpet." And then there are all the cats who revolutionized turntablism and breakdancing. 'Nuff said. To celebrate and consolidate the Asian contribution, some local Asian artists—Dumbfounded, Bonoho, Orbitron, L-Brother, Rob Nice, and DJ B-Girl—are throwing down a deep session of beats and rhymes. CHARLES MUDEDE

The Whore Moans, Wallpaper, the Ironclads

(Sunset) If you want consistency in a band, avoid K Records' Wallpaper. At times, they sound like a Berkeley pop-punk band circa 1993. In "Pop Rocket," imperfect, jangly guitars dance around steady simplistic drumming, while the über-catchy chorus repeats "pop rocket, ooohhh, pop rocket" over and over. You'll be singing it for days. But "This Is the Chase" is more sloppy than poppy; the strained vocals verge on Muppet territory (not a bad thing) and the disjointed track escapes typical song structures by squeezing together unexpected breaks, bass solos, and falsetto-vocal breakdowns. Because the band can't seem to make up their mind, "New California" goes in a different direction completely—synths give it a chill, Sonic Youth vibe. MEGAN SELING

Saturday 8/30

Bon Iver, A.A. Bondy, Night Canopy

(Neumo's) See Stranger Suggests.

Onry Ozzborn and the Gigantics, Nite Owls, Sapient, DJ MazeLive

(High Dive) Three local hiphop heavies make up Nite Owls: Mr. Hill, Barfly, and Gatsby. Mr. Hill, of course, makes beats for the crew and also makes beats for a variety of local and national acts, most notably Kool Keith. The other two do the rapping. Barfly, of course, is better known for his leading role in the Saturday Knights, and Gatsby for his leading role in Cancer Rising and also his column in this paper, My Philosophy. There is one big question: Are Nite Owls a mere side project or do they harbor deeper and longer ambitions? If the second, great; if the first, not so great, as it would be a waste of a lot of talent. CHARLES MUDEDE

Truly, the Ladybird Unition, Mexican UFO

(King Cobra) With a rhythm section of ex–Screaming Trees drummer Mark Pickerel and former Soundgarden bassist Hiro Yamamoto, local supergroup Truly seemed like a '90s dream team. Their dark, hypnotic psych rock never made them a household name, but it did spawn some great music and enough magical chemistry to make this power trio revisit the past and look toward the future—which is great news for anyone who loves swirling, visceral rock and roll. Singer Robert Roth's vocals still cut like a knife, and Pickerel's pounding is as lethal and mesmerizing as his dancing. While some reunions are a flashback, this one feels more like a hiccup in the time-space continuum. BARBARA MITCHELL

Sunday 8/31

Truly, Mad Juana

(El Corazón) See Saturday's Preview.

Monday 9/1

Jucifer, Zoroaster, the Kept, Waterbeds, Death First

(El Corazón) It continues to surprise me how an attractive, seemingly loving couple like Jucifer (guitarist/vocalist Amber Valentine and drummer Edgar Livengood) have created such antagonistic noise together over the last 15 years. While Jucifer's six albums and EPs all carry moments of dense, throbbing rock action (and, admittedly, passages of tender beauty), it's in the live arena where the duo prove that wedded bliss can indeed produce seething, Sabbath-dwarfing sound. One can only imagine how hot their sex life must be. Zoroaster pack a leaden, sludgy punch with dour intensity and thorax-cancer vox. Joy, they imply, is for pussies. DAVE SEGAL

Tuesday 9/2

Darker My Love, Black Whales, Colonies

Support The Stranger

(Neumo's) L.A.'s Darker My Love have an obvious fondness for psychedelic rock. If the blanket-heavy fuzz and spiraling effects of their guitars weren't enough of an indication on their sophomore album, 2, then the red meanies of the disc's liner art should be. Of course, the back of the album just says "Pop," and there's a track called "Northern Soul," so that their Anglophilia isn't strictly psych. Whatever their influences, though (and the pop tendencies are pronounced), that guitar fuzz is a constant, and it's a satisfying sound, contrasting nicely with the group's frequently weightless vocals. It's like a less memorable Shins gone California road tripping, with the emphasis on the tripping, hot-air balloons traded for some other means of achieving altitude. ERIC GRANDY

Wednesday 9/3

Nothing happens today.

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