WILLIE VLAUTIN
(EMP) The frontman for Portland's Richmond Fontaine graces the Liquid Lounge this evening with his literate, post-punk solo-songwriter chops. And while tortured narratives have been abundant over the past couple weeks, these sad stories are the kind you want to hear. Of Richmond Fontaine's Lost Son, Vlautin once said, "Every song's about a guy that gets himself into a fucked-up situation, or gets himself out of one." Nothing has changed since that record's release. With his fine warbly voice and gentle demeanor, Vlautin is definitely one to check out if you need a bit of intelligent emotional release. JEFF DeROCHE

EXPLOSIONS IN THE SKY, THE STANDARD, STRADHOUGHTON ECHO
(Crocodile) Tim Putnam, the Standard's woolly, urgent frontman, has the kind of voice audiences don't just hear, but truly feel all the way down to the soles of their feet. Putnam's is a comparably high vocal range for a man, and it quavers and trills just enough to give his delivery a heightened emotionalism without crossing over into the dreaded realm of insincerity. The band's aggressive, guitar-based sound is layered with keyboards, giving the Standard a sound that hints at prog as well as punk, and is genuinely unique to our area. JEFF DeROCHE

TOILET BOYS, COOKIE, HELLFIRE CHOIR, RC5
(Breakroom) See Stranger Suggests.

ZEN GUERRILLA, THE GLORY HOLES, VENDETTA RED
(Crocodile) See preview this issue.

BRASSY, DJ SUSPENSE
(Graceland) Like her brother Jon, Muffin Spencer is a genre-jumper who sounds innovative on the first listen--before successive turns of the disc reveal the artist to be a bratty rich kid up to a bit of fun, with more talent than soul to offer us. Brassy, however, is smart enough to not dabble in the blues. Got It Made, Brassy's debut, is an uptempo electro-rock hybrid that gets groovy on the turntable. The beats are thick, the samples are melodic, and Muffin's voice is dirty and aggressive enough to carry a live show. JEFF DeROCHE

THE TURN-ONS, THE CHARMING SNAKES
(Sit & Spin) After a run of impressive opening slots (Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, Imperial Teen, the Strokes), the Turn-Ons are carrying a weekend headlining slot alone. These kids deliver a slick and shimmery concoction of narcadelic glam that is perfectly worthy of a decadent evening out. Recent demos of their newer material showcase the wise addition of Eric Blood (on cello and organ) to the group's coy and ethereal take on a genre well defined by the mid-'70s work of T. Rex and David Bowie. What's most notable about the Turn-Ons, however, is that they aren't solely focused on glitter tuneage; an appreciation of complex funk rhythms and ambient, drone-driven guitars is subtly woven through their work. The neo-wave hiss of openers the Charming Snakes (a guitar duo driven by a drum machine, recently relocated from Austin) should augment things quite nicely. HANNAH LEVIN

THE BELLRAYS, FIREBALLS OF FREEDOM, SOLEDAD BROTHERS
(Breakroom) L.A.'s BellRays combine punk and R&B with so much sweat you'll have to towel off once they leave the stage. The "maximum rock and soul" act uses frontwoman Lisa Kekaula to channel Tina Turner, James Brown, and Janis Joplin through a stormy mix of high-energy MC5 commotion. Kekaula's got a hearty, heavy set of pipes and she's definitely the sultry command post of this foursome. She's backed by a good-time mess of thick-ribbed riffs, bluesy squeals, and punishing drumming that brings the boogie back to punk rock. JENNIFER MAERZ

THE DAMNED, SWINGIN' UTTERS, PLEASURE FOREVER
(Showbox) The Damned recorded its only memorable album, Machine Gun Etiquette, in 1979 in a studio next door to where the Clash was laying down London Calling. The Damned doesn't get a lot of credit these days for its status as possibly the first punk band (I say it was the Dead Boys or the Slits). That studio wall divided serious from cartoonish, political from schlock-horror, sincerity from big-car guitar testosterone. What the Damned had was a terrific, slightly sinister sound--AOR at high speed with circus-barker vocals, like Roxy Music on crank--that has echoed in bands like the Murder City Devils and Marilyn Manson. Hopefully this show will include the delightfully strange "furry okapi" and Bela Lugosi outfits of the band's principals, Captain Sensible and Dave Vanian, if either or both of them are included in this revival. GRANT COGSWELL

PAUL REVERE & THE RAIDERS/KINGSMEN
(Puyallup Fair) I doubt I'll attend this... and I KNOW... it IS the Raiders AND the fucking Kingsmen! Um, see, as a teen, I spent time at state fairs avoiding getting my NON-redneck ass KICKED, a situation I'd NOT wanna revisit... but if you happen to hear a page for "Mike Hunt"... anyway, I'm not sure what to tell you to expect, I ain't seen neither of these bands. However, we all know they gonna play their hits--no "Crisco Party" tho'... after all, the Puyallup is a family environment, right? Honestly, I wish these bands would score local club dates... but not EMP, and NOT in an "oldies" context. Why? These bands should prove themselves viable in the contemporary rock context... if for no other reason, because the Wailers still do! MIKE NIPPER

OVO, ROLLERBALL
(I-Spy) Italian outsider Ovo treads along the edges of modern composition, combining outsider techniques with those of contemporary composers. Music boxes, devilish piano, violins, shards of guitar, and drums characterize the group, but it is Ovo's creepy vocalist who lends humanity to an otherwise cerebral venture. She audibly hems and haws or whines as if she is writhing in pain, over samples of the radio or men speaking Italian. Portland's Rollerball toured with Ovo in Italy, where Out music is apparently a lot more popular than in the Pacific Northwest. Rollerball's performances are always riveting, with partially improvised keyboards, harmonies, and saxophones pounding in possessed tandem. The group's vocalist, Shane DeLeon, however, acts as a focal point--his eyes roll back into his head, he sometimes licks the microphones, and his lanky body dances like a heretic Gumby as he sings, screams, and plays trumpet or rings bells. At this show, limits will be pushed in the pure name of art. JULIANNE SHEPHERD

LAKE TROUT, MONEY MARK w/KID KOALA, PING PONG BITCHES
(Crocodile) This show intends to be humorous. Ping Pong Bitches are a disco-punk trio of girls who dress the part. Lake Trout is a Baltimore jam band--a musical form that I see as "humorous" in its propensity to "noodle." The most exciting thing on the bill is DJ Money Mark with DJ Kid Koala. Mark's new album, Change Is Coming, shows a musical humor that, like "jamming," sets itself free to engage in entertaining experiments with tunes and sound effects. It makes sense that Kid Koala would join him, as he also likes music to be cartoonish, as articulated on last year's Carpal Tunnel Syndrome. You know when a group of people get together around an absurd idea, then keep going with it, building on it to the point where it couldn't get any sillier? That's the design of this music. BRIAN GOEDDE

Steve Wynn & the Miracle Three
(Crocodile) The Dream Syndicate's full-length debut, The Days of Wine and Roses, is pretty much a perfect record. In the context of 1982, the year it was released, it stands like a beacon in the retroactive murk of new-wave synth pop, ringing with amphetamine energy and Velvety guitars, and presided over by the heroic rock singing of Steve Wynn. In the context of 2001, Days holds up brilliantly, actively, as contemporary-sounding as any 20-year-old LP you can think of. Wynn, now a solo artist with several fine records to his credit, is performing the entirety of his old band's masterpiece (in addition to more recent material) on his current tour, presumably to commemorate its recent rerelease on Rhino. A lot of non-superstar musicians refuse to play their old stuff, particularly when, as in Wynn's case, the acclaim of the past tends to overshadow the present. But goddamn, it's The Days of Wine and Roses! What a cool gesture. SEAN NELSON

LOVE AS LAUGHTER, VISQUEEN, URSULA AND THE ANDROIDS
(I-Spy) Regardless of what Love as Laughter means to you as a local music fan, you'd be hard-pressed to find anyone who could tell you with sincerity that Sam Jayne is not a genuinely great songwriter. The new record, Sea to Shining Sea, is the band's best to date, boiling over with bona fide rock and roll melody--classic, pop-smart, a little dirty, and just about perfect. With the giddy pop-punk of Visqueen and the excellent train wreck that is Ursula and the Androids on the bill, this will be Seattle's rock show of the week. JEFF DeROCHE

MUDVAYNE, SLIPKNOT, SYSTEM OF A DOWN, RAMMSTEIN
(Tacoma Dome) Sure, you can fault these guys for silly stage names, laughable costumes, and incomprehensible lyrics, but the one thing you cannot fault them for is their savage, gargantuan guitar riffs, gut-wrenching drums, and preternatural screaming that sounds like an apocalyptic call to arms. Even the most staid, button-down prudes out there will be turned into screeching lunatics by this testosterone-fueled show. Of course, I could be describing any one of the bands on the bill, but I am referring specifically to Mudvayne, the ill-adjusted quartet from America's wasteland: Peoria, Illinois. I've visited Peoria, and I'm pretty sure the town itself played a part in transforming these guys into the country's favorite metal mutants. If you can withstand Mudvayne's full frontal assault, and the band's evil kindred spirits Slipknot and SOAD, don't turn your cerebellum to sludge, enjoy the spectacle of Rammstein's Till Lindemann singing a post-industrial serenade in German while engulfed in flames. DAVID SLATTON