THURSDAY 12/28

CLUB POP: HOLY GHOST REVIVAL, THE PHARMACY, SCISSORS FOR LEFTY, DJ GLITTERPANTS
(Chop Suey) It is no surprise that now-veteran 18-and-over dance night Club Pop has found a lasting and blood-pacted ally in local rock-n-roll band Holy Ghost Revival, whose anthemic, glamorous punk rock and arcane folk music feels like the potential soundtrack to teenagers throughout the ages. One could imagine the young folk of 1950s California, '60s Detroit, and '70s London equally losing their shit in the face of HGR's dramatic, sweaty presentation. Paired here with similarly Club Pop—betrothed party agitators the Pharmacy, this should prove to be the most teenage and satisfying dance night the city has seen in quite some time. (Besides, of course, listening to Madonna's "Hung Up" infinitely in the confines of your own home.) SAM MICKENS

FRIDAY 12/29

TENNIS PRO, DAS LLAMAS, REVERSE DOTTY & THE CANDY CANE, GUESTS
(Comet) Tennis Pro is a band that so boldly flaunts their gimmick on the sleeves of their pastel polo shirts and V-necked cardigan sweaters, that you sort of have to forgive them for shoving the geek-rock cliché down your throat. Very often at live shows, their guitars are at one point or another exchanged for tennis rackets, and they almost always have in tow a gaggle of short-skirted preppy girls that put to shame the Catholic schoolgirl image as they gyrate around the stage swinging at invisible tennis balls. And their punked-up pop music matches the über-nerd personas too, with lyrics like, "We put the punk in punctuation." MEGAN SELING

SCHOOLYARD HEROES, THE DIVORCE, KANE HODDER, SIRENS SISTER
(El Corazón) Schoolyard Heroes deserve every accolade tossed their way for their commanding, razor-sharp rock that is as effortlessly hooky as it is structurally ambitious; the Divorce deliver a reliably charismatic and energetic live show of heartfelt pop rock; the passionate punk of Kane Hodder makes them the convulsive, kinetic crowd favorite; and Sirens Sister are the semi-new kids on the block, having risen from the ashes of Vendetta Red. If you need evidence that this city's musical heart is pumped by the devotion and commitment of its all-ages scene, then get to El Corazón early, as this will probably sell out in a heartbeat. HANNAH LEVIN

AARON LACRATE, FOURCOLORZACK, PRETTY TITTY
(Neumo's) See Oscillations.

KRISTINA CHILDS, DJ EDDIE
(ToST) See Oscillations.

JEREMY ENIGK, GHOSTS & LIARS, THE BEND
(Hell's Kitchen, early) See preview.

BLUE SABBATH BLACK CHEER, ARACHNID ARCADE, WIND SWEPT PLANES
(Lobo) Part of the small (but growing?) local noise community here in Seattle, the Lobo Saloon has been hosting some of the area's few regular noise shows in the city. Wind Swept Planes are the anomaly of the bill, for the most part the Captain Beefheart musings of one Chad Allen, albeit with a demented mogwai-gremlin bent. Where Allen's mumbling rants will occasionally drop into chaotic bursts of noise, Arachnid Arcade deal strictly in sparse, minimalist textures, interchanging electrical dronescapes with violent warp-dwarf exchanges between static and drums. Blue Sabbath Black Cheer are taking some months off to disappear, record, and eat black acid, so tonight their stripped down subsect, Black Cheer, will be capstoning the show. SAM EWALD

SATURDAY 12/30

JEREMY ENIGK, WILD SWEET ORANGE, PABLO, CATFISH HAVEN, THE VILLAGE GREEN
(Chop Suey) See preview.

I SAY HELLO, YOU SAY GOODBYE KARAOKE BASH
(Crocodile) Tonight's show is a farewell party for the Croc's longtime booking agent Christine Wood, who shaped the club into the landmark it is today. To send her off, members of Visqueen, Speaker Speaker, Dear Darling, the Catch, Peter Parker, the Lashes, Pleasurecraft, Siberian, and many others will be serenading her with what will undoubtedly be a stellar selection of karaoke classics. Corny? Sure—but I bet there will be plenty of tears by the end of the night; Christine's departure is inarguably the end of an era. HANNAH LEVIN

WATER KILL THE SUN, THE LIQUID NOW
(Rendezvous) Water Kill the Sun recently recorded with Scott Colburn (Animal Collective, Arcade Fire, Mudhoney), and the result is a self-titled batch of immaculate melancholia, occasionally accented with the kind of quiet electronic percussion and toy keys usually reserved for Icelandic elf bands. The spare arrangements leave plenty of room for lead singer Ian Schuelke's depressed and entirely human vocals, with generally positive results. "Good Men Who Drive..." makes the most of its hushed verses and "An Innocent Man" is full of beautiful ache, whereas "Try Standing Still" suffers from some overwrought falsetto. Throughout, the band provide a perfect foil for the sometimes bombastic vocals, shifting from sad-bastard beginnings to big, anthemic swells with a kind of resigned momentum, always approaching the ledge without going over. ERIC GRANDY

THE WHORE MOANS, THE FUCKING EAGLES, THE HANDS
(The Wizard House) The Wizard House is a collective of rabid music fans that throws (generally) free shows at their group house north of the U-District (7017 15th Ave NE) and strives to keep the focus on the music (this means no drugs or alcohol, kiddies). As much as I enjoy a cocktail with my rock, settings like this are generally the best way to watch live music, in my opinion, and in the case of these three bands, chemical alterations are even less necessary, thanks to the boundless energy they all bring to the stage. Expect the Whore Moans to be particularly combustible tonight, as this is also the record release party for their Johnny Sangster—produced debut, Watch Out for This Thing. HANNAH LEVIN

SUNDAY 12/31

WEENER, THE TEA COZIES
(Blue Moon) While the ever-present deluge of indie-pop bands in this town can sometimes make it difficult to sort out the merely listenable from the truly exceptional, the Tea Cozies fall squarely in the latter category. Steeped in the transcendent pop of Elastica and the Breeders, stirred in with the soulful swoon of PJ Harvey or Mazzy Star, and topped with the cockeyed, ramshackle energy of early Talking Heads, these just-under-the-radar charmers are a band to watch in the new year. Also playing is Weener, a Ween tribute band that I originally assumed was a Weezer tribute band. I personally think that they should do Weezer covers in the style of Ween and vice versa, which would obviously be the best tribute band concept ever. BILL BULLOCK

JEREMY ENIGK, WILD SWEET ORANGE, WALTER MEEGO, THE ETTES
(Chop Suey) Chicago's Walter Meego inflect their vocal pop machinations with clever nods to their hometown's rich history of electronic music, making them something like a stateside Hot Chip or a diet Rapture—all synthetic sweetness, with only traces of live instrumentation. Their songs are deliriously busy with electro breaks, heavy bass, and glitzy synths, all contrasted by the duo's slightly sinister crooning. Where the old (as in early 2000s) dance-band formula involved borrowed Gang of Four riffs and a cowbell, today's model seems to rely on more-mainstream '80s references (freestyle, hiphop, house) tempered with indie-signifying "sensitive" vocals. It's nothing radical, but it's a party, and Walter Meego are able disco instigators. ERIC GRANDY See also preview.

HARVEY DANGER, MON FRERE, "AWESOME," GUESTS
(Crocodile) In 2005, Harvey Danger self-released Little by Little, their first studio album in over five years. With its sweeping song structures, catchy pop harmonies, and gorgeous French horn, it was met with a flurry of admiration. 2006 brought more luck to the band—Kill Rock Stars recognized the greatness LbL contained within, and the Olympia label decided to rerelease the album with a nine-track bonus CD and new packaging. Harvey Danger, one could say, were back with a vengeance. Or something. But now, with the end of a year, they leave us again. Tonight will be their last show ever. Just kidding! It's actually yet another beginning—the start of a new tradition, "Harvey Danger's First Annual Last Show Ever!" Hooray! There will be two shows tonight, the first being an all-ages gig at 4 pm with Mon Frere and "Awesome" (a bargain at $5!), and the latter, 21+ performance boasting Slender Means, "Awesome," and other surprise guests. Sweet. MEGAN SELING

3 INCHES OF BLOOD, ZEKE, BOOK OF BLACK EARTH, PLASTER
(El Corazón) Iron Maiden's "Two Minutes to Midnight" addresses nuclear holocaust rather than a New Year's Eve countdown, but headbangers looking to ring in 2007 with something rocking won't mind the lyrical incongruity. And 3 Inches of Blood, whose dual-guitar harmonies and operatic vocals make them Maiden's most convincing stand-in, shouldn't need much prompting to cover this classic. In terms of originals, the Vancouver-based band will showcase material from its forthcoming follow-up to 2004's Advance and Vanquish. Titles such as "Goatrider's Horde" suggest the group remains fixated on the Middle Ages, a period during which the Catholic Church refused to recognize New Year's Eve. If confronted with such religious regulations, 3 Inches of Blood might reply with a line from their signature song: "Deadly sinners always win." ANDREW MILLER

SUPERSONIC SOUL PIMPS, MOUNTAIN CON, CANCER RISING
(High Dive) 2005's Search for the Cure certainly helped establish Cancer Rising locally, but it is their electrifying performances that certify them as one of the finest rap groups in the Pacific Northwest, both live and on tape. While MC Gatsby is indeed a Stranger contributor, homeboy earned his cred the hard way: battling, recording, and bong hitting. His counterpart, MC Judas, may be one of the most gifted freestylers to grab a mic; his skills are near-genius. It is a fact that hiphop has been the most beloved genre of pop music for many years, setting more trends and selling more records than any rock band could hope for. The art form's growth has created space for young indie-hop to thrive, and Cancer Rising are at the forefront, defining the rules as they go. MATT GARMAN

THE MELVINS, BIG BUSINESS, PORN, "HOT SAUCE" BUTCH DARLENE
(Showbox) See Stranger Suggests..

INGRID JENSEN QUARTET, JON WIKAN
(Tula's) Canadian-born, deeply jazz-pedigreed trumpeter and flugelhorn player Ingrid Jensen is, certainly, one of the most talented interpreters and composers of pure jazz in her generation. Often dealing in the vein of hard bop unearthed and rolled over by Miles Davis's '60s quartet (with Tony Williams, Herbie Hancock, and Ron Carter), Jensen has, in her long and diligent career, maintained a remarkable clarity in her intent and artistic parameters, while never leaning too heavily into base heritage rehash. While many (indeed most) of her college-jazz-program-educated contemporaries who have found success have done so by immersion in either the seas of smooth-jazz cheese or slavish idolatry of the past, Jensen seems to be a truly internally directed artist, and one possessed of great facility and style. SAM MICKENS

ARCANA NEW YEARS MASQUERADE: ANTIX, COCKBLOCKERS, AMANITA, GOA CONSTRICTOR
(CHAC) See Oscillations.

Support The Stranger

MONDAY 1/1

The wasabi bloody marys at Dragonfish are delightful—and Dragonfish is open today.

TUESDAY 1/2

CRAP HAPPY HOOKERS, EIGHT-HOUR DISEASE, WACK JOB
(Central) In the event that yesterday's hangover wasn't punishing enough, perhaps you'd like to drag yourself to Pioneer Square, order a peppermint schnapps and OJ, and subject yourself to these enticingly named bands. Or maybe you should just go back to bed, conduct a personal moral inventory, and pull your toenails out with your own teeth. Your choice! HANNAH LEVIN

WEDNESDAY 1/3

HUH-UH, DREAMFOX, NATALIE PORTMAN'S SHAVED HEAD, LAGUNA
(Sunset) They're no Jodie Foster's Army, but the doe-eyed, synth-centric spazzes that make up Natalie Portman's Shaved Head are hardly lacking in ambition or comical conviction. Conceived during a high-school language-arts class and executed with all the gleeful abandon of a bunch of Ritalin-addled truants in a stolen car, NPSH chose Ms. Portman's hairless dome as their source of inspiration because (in their words) "it's a little bit weird, a little unconventional, but can still be really freaking hot and beautiful in a different way than, say, the luscious golden locks of that guy from Nickelback." HANNAH LEVIN