THURSDAY 3/1

ANN HAMPTON CALLAWAY
(Jazz Alley) See The Score.

MOUNTAIN GOATS, PONY UP!
(Neumo's) Singer/songwriter/black-metal and hiphop enthusiast John Darnielle rolls back through Seattle in support of his latest delightfully glum album, Get Lonely. The album may also be his most polished musically, so it'll be interesting to see how these songs adapt to the Goats' two-man stage setup. Smart banter and even smarter songs will make you feel stupid and low, but not in the hyphy sense. Darnielle's catalog of songs, like his knowledge of Drastus, is deep, and his live shows can range from foot-stomping sing-alongs to hushed acoustic weeps, although lately he reportedly favors slower, newer material. Regardless, Darnielle is a stunningly talented songwriter and performer, and this show beats getting lonely at home. ERIC GRANDY

HYPATIA LAKE, C'EST LE MORT, GO FEVER, THE GLASSES
(Crocodile) While the adjectives commonly applied to shoegazer bands could be laid upon Hypatia Lake ("dreamy," "druggy," "epic," etc.), ultimately they make clear-minded, unabashedly emotional pop music. A band constructed as a mode of narrative storytelling, they play songs that recount the lives and histories of a fictional town and its denizens. The score to these chronicles is focused and ambitious, with the sort of architecturally landscaped guitar textures and sections of heaven-bound rock release rarely utilized by younger bands. Although their high-concept songwriting and the fine-tuning of their recordings means they only release an album every few years, Hypatia Lake remain one of Seattle's most self-realized bands. SAM MICKENS

FRIDAY 3/2

GEORGE CLINTON AND PARLIAMENT-FUNKADELIC
(Showbox) See preview.

YIP-YIP, SUGAR SKULLS, PLEASUREBOATERS, SPIRIT OF THE RADIO
(Comet) See Data Breaker.

MATT & KIM, DJS FRANKI CHAN, FOURCOLORZACK, PRETTY TITTY
(Chop Suey) To my knowledge, Matt & Kim only get high on sugar and caffeine, but they're way more fun than any of the straight-edge stuff I grew up with. The boyfriend/girlfriend, keyboards/drums duo is maniacally wholesome without being corn-syrupy. Their live shows are demanding workouts for both the band and their audiences, pop-punk aerobic sessions that leave satisfied crowds sweat-drenched, wide-eyed, and grinning ear to ear. That they're equally at home in the discotheques and the punk-house basements says something about their wide appeal, as fun for the actual kids as it is for perpetually immature people of drinking age. Their show later this week at the new Vera Project space will be fun for the minors, but if you like your pogoing a little inebriated, then Sing Sing is the place to be. ERIC GRANDY

CLIPD BEAKS, JOHN TSUNAM, ENCHANTMENT UNDER THE EARTH
(Gallery 1412) Oakland's Clipd Beaks possess the stinging guitar lines, distorted synths, and, alternately, four-on-the-floor and semi-tribal drums akin to various other rhythmically motivated modern art-punk bands. Unlike some of their more knuckle-dragging, pelvic-thrusting "dance-punk" contemporaries, they invest their music with a level of dimensionality that transcends the vagaries of wack trends and sucker MC comparisons. Among their pulsing danger zones lurk tickling waves of world-weary psychedelia, borderline sentimental keyboard textures, and nonbiting shades of epochal predecessors like the Fall and This Heat. John Tsunam is one of the most talented and undervalued dudes on the local hiphop scene; his frequently fleet-footed raps float like a butterfly and sting like a killer bee. SAM MICKENS

SATURDAY 3/3

LYRICS BORN, THE COUP
(Neumo's) See Stranger Suggests.

31KNOTS
(Vera Project) See Stranger Suggests.

TIM AND ERIC AWESOME TOUR, DJ DOUGGPOUND
(Crocodile) Tim and Eric made Adult Swim's Tom Goes to the Mayor. Tim and Eric now make Tim and Eric Awesome Show Great Job! Tim and Eric have fashioned a live-action comic brain-hemorrhage of a show with such a fabulous title it's impossible to insult. Like all the best people called Tim and Eric, Tim and Eric are also lost in their own world, one of hacky-sack snake charming and smelling the mail. Tim and Eric are disturbing and funny, and disturbing while funny, and have both won the approval of Mr. Show's Bob Odenkirk and the part of myself that wants to feel proud and/or sad for everyone involved, like Tim and Eric. GUY FAWKES

RED JUMPSUIT APPARATUS, EMERY, SCARY KIDS SCARING KIDS, A STATIC LULLABY, KADISFLY
(Fenix) Hey, Red Jumpsuit Apparatus, I heard your song "Face Down," that little anti-violence-against-women ditty that's all over MTV2. (For those who aren't familiar, the chorus is "Do you feel like a man when you push her around? Do you feel better now as she falls to the ground?") I appreciate someone calling out bastards that hit women, but did you have to do it in such a sissy "let's fight this fight with a song!" sort of way? Like, if some dude clocked me in the face, would you bust out from behind a brick wall with your overstyled hair and tight jeans and play this predictable drivel and expect that fucker to learn a lesson? He'd kick my ass and then beat you to death with your guitars. So thanks for the thought, Red Jumpsuit Apparatus (BTW—that name—WTF?), but I think I'm better fighting this fight on my own. MEGAN SELING

EEK-A-MOUSE, B FOUNDATION, KID HOPS
(Chop Suey) The fact that Seattle has witnessed a flood of English and Kingston dancehall legends—from Steel Pulse to Clinton Fearon to banned-from-Neumo's Buju Banton—in the thick of one of its most manic winter plunges is inappropriate to the point of making sense. Banton's antihomosexual lyrics led to canceled shows across the country a few months back, which was fun, but can we not lose our shit this time? It's Eek-A-Mouse! With 25 years of light, near-novelty reggae and career-defining asphyxiated vocals, he's fostered a simple crossover appeal that's been static but well-earned. He sounds like cancer being inhaled by a cartoon and, unexplainably, like a man who doesn't want you to throw acid in a homo's face. GUY FAWKES

SUNDAY 3/4

URSULA RUCKER
(Langston Hughes)
See Data Breaker.

PHILHARMONIA NORTHWEST
(St. Stephen's Church) See The Score.

SEBADOH, THE BENT MOUSTACHE
(Neumo's) Two theories as to why divisive whiner/lo-fi genius Lou Barlow has reassembled the original Sebadoh lineup to tour in 2007: (A) The stock portfolios of his old "slacker" fan base have ripened and this is merely a callous move to cash in. (B) The return of Dinosaur Jr. and the 2005 reissue of You're Living All Over Me has Barlow riled up and looking to settle some old scores with J. Mascis. Whatever their motives, for everyone too young to catch their always 21+ shows the first time around, it'll be exciting to see this highly influential band re-formed and playing live. Start shouting your requests now—they've got a lot of material to cover. ERIC GRANDY

COSTES, MR. NATURAL, MORTII
(Re-bar) With a voice that's unnerving even by "outsider" standards, songs in four languages, and accompaniments ranging from throbbing electronic noise to out-of-tune acoustic guitar, French cult figure Jean-Louis Costes doesn't make concessions to convention. But what he lacks in polish or subtlety, he compensates for with balls; there's nothing like shrieking "I hate myself" ad nauseam to get the party started. His new performance piece, "Les Petits Oiseaux Chient" ("Little Birds Shit"), follows a young couple's progress through marriage, childbirth, "bizarre acts of S&M," and, ultimately, into the bowels of hell. Charming. Costes has tackled the underbelly of domestic bliss before—his 1992 album, The End of the Trail, inspired by his breakup with Lisa "Suckdog" Carver, appears in the Lost in the Grooves anthology—but judging from the photos on his website (www.costes.org), "Little Birds" is particularly grim... and messy. KURT B. REIGHLEY See also The Score, page 51.

MONDAY 3/5

SHORTHAND FOR EPIC, THE SHARP EASE, DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND
(Comet) Here's what I know about the Sharp Ease: They're a band from L.A.—four girls and one guy—and the lineup features ex-members of the Chubbies and Grown-Ups. They've opened for the B-52s, Erase Errata, and Peaches, and last summer they released a vinyl-only EP called Remain Instant, which, unlike the band's more art-punk past, is a jangly and melodic affair. Singer Paloma Parfrey's voice is a quirky combination of Andrea Zollo's sultry punk-rock pipes and Josie Cotton's imperfect but charming new-wave hiccup; the music is simplified and fuzzy Pixies-style guitar and fluid bass paired with sturdy drumming. It's dreamy, but it's still sharp. If the Comet had a mirror ball, I'd want it to slowly spin for their entire set. MEGAN SELING

NICKY CLICK, HUH-UH, DIAMOND BEATS, NATALIE PORTMAN'S SHAVED HEAD, DREAMFOX
(El CorazĂłn) If the sounds of sexual rights matched the modernism of its politics, we'd be living in the musical equivalent of transvestite jetpacks and flying gay cars. Thank god, you say, there's Nicky Click! A playful and political Olympian musician who looks like an aerobics instructor for Sub Pop staff, she bashes out butch-glam '80s-headband electro chic with pandas, bad rhymes, and a plastic doll called Petunia Pie. But she also ruins it. While she's coy, raps with a wink, uses fun karaoke-like production values, and has opened up for Lady Sovereign, she still comes across, beneath the retro drum machines and ironic sleaze, as a T-shirt-slogan lesbian sister to the avalanche of postpunk and disco copyists we've been stuck with since the Strokes. Where are our queer robots of the future? GUY FAWKES

TUESDAY 3/6

DR. JOHN
(Jazz Alley) See Stranger Suggests.

RICKIE LEE JONES
(Showbox) It's been over 25 years since "Chuck E's in Love" put Rickie Lee Jones on the map—not to mention on the charts. Since then, the freewheelin' creative firecracker has continued to follow her own muse rather than chase commercial success. While doing her own thing may have earned her more credibility than cash, it's also earned her a slew of younger fans—among them ex—Soul Coughing frontman Mike Doughty, who was heavily influenced by Jones's jazz-influenced boho poetry. If you think this former Olympia resident is a musty folk singer, pick up a copy of 1997's wonderfully weird Ghostyhead. If Björk is the reigning queen of experimental fairy pop, on that album, Jones is her slightly less eccentric, jazz/folk-influenced aunt. And if you've never experienced her voice in person, you are robbing yourself of a transcendent experience. BARBARA MITCHELL

WEDNESDAY 3/7

DR. JOHN
(Jazz Alley) See Stranger Suggests.

PUSH MC BATTLE
(Nectar) See My Philosophy.

MIDLAKE, ESTER DRANG, JOSH OTTUM
(Crocodile) Anyone else noticing a prog-flute renaissance? Jethro Tull's favorite woodwind pops up on the Shins' "Sea Legs" and gets an even better homage on Midlake's The Trials of Van Occupanther. When resurrecting something so blatantly uncool, most indie bands invoke at least a little irony, but this Denton, Texas, quintet opts for full-on sincerity. Folkie earnestness permeates Occupanther, combining synths and strumming with Tim Smith's tremolo-prone, America-style vocals. His lyrics paint pictures of forests and deer and meadows, but not in that spaced-out, freak-folk way. Instead, it's the sonic equivalent of the hazy, yellowing Polaroids that fill your parents' photo albums. It dodges cheesy and goes straight for poignant. Turns out flute sounds way better when you remove your tongue from your cheek. MAYA KROTH

DO MAKE SAY THINK
(Neumo's) It wasn't that long ago—100 years or so—that instrumental music was pop music. Regular folks flocked to classical and, later, jazz: styles that rarely relied on vocalists to carry a tune—though they didn't rely on tunes, period. Neither do Do Make Say Think. The Toronto collective crafts microconcertos out of rock instruments: piles of guitar pouring over plodding bass lines slowly eroded by subtle changes in tempo and volume. Onstage they can be meditative, almost hypnotizing, but their latest record, You, You're a History in Rust, veers into more insistent territory. It's even got—no shit—vocals. DMST and fellow Constellation Records peers Godspeed You! Black Emperor and Fly Pan Am aren't mass-appeal bands, but you can't say they're not trying. JONATHAN ZWICKEL