THURSDAY 9/27

MARK PICKEREL AND HIS PRAYING HANDS, DANCE MUSIC FOR DEPRESSED PEOPLE, TENNIS PRO, PARTMAN PARTHORSE, WE WROTE THE BOOK ON CONNECTORS

(Showbox) One thing I definitely don't want to hear if I'm ever depressed is dance music—fucking dance music is hard enough to handle when I'm feeling pretty okay about things, let alone when I want to open a vein or at the very least sleep for days. But new-to-the-scene Dance Music for Depressed People aren't obnoxiously optimistic or boasting beats that knock holes in your skull. The quintet—Miss G, R. Kennedy-Onasis, Lars Jurgin, Zanne Kamp, and Foxy Moron—play sometimes spacey lo-fi pop with melodies and harmonies that remind me as much of the Microphones (in a much more pared down sense) as they do something a little more quirky and simplistic like early Blow. They're so new that tonight is their first live show and it's also a benefit for a friend of the band who was recently diagnosed with "a very rare, very aggressive, and very deadly form of brain cancer." Definitely depressing, but Dance Music for Depressed People will be there as aural Paxil. MEGAN SELING

Sponsored
Sound Transit celebrates Pride Month with traditional flag raising at Union Station headquarters
Pride: a chance to honor LGBTQ leaders, celebrate strides made and reflect on adversity still faced

FRIDAY 9/28

THE WHORE MOANS, A GUN THAT SHOOTS KNIVES, THE HOPSCOTCH BOYS, RED RAPTURE

(Blue Moon) See Stranger Suggests, page 29.

OLD TIME RELIJUN, CALVIN JOHNSON, THE LAST SLICE OF BUTTER, BRYCE PANIC

(Old Fire House, Redmond) Catharsis in Crisis is another round of haunted moonshine stomp from K Records freak howlers Old Time Relijun. The album is full of silver surf guitars, antimatter drones, and bandleader Arrington De Dionyso's psychotic animal growls and multilingual ranting. There's a palpable sweat and frenzy to Catharsis in Crisis, and its songs will no doubt explode in the live setting. Local two-piece the Last Slice of Butter play big, fast, fuzzed-out rock driven by kinetic drumming, athletic riffs, and coldly echoing vocals faintly reminiscent of Spencer Moody circa Smoke and Smoke or Triumph of Lethargy. Calvin Johnson is, of course, the king of the K Records castle as well as a golden-throated singer for such bands as Beat Happening, Dub Narcotic Sound System, the Halo Benders, and others; the man has 25 years (!) of songwriting to draw from for his solo shows. ERIC GRANDY

SATURDAY 9/29

NUMBERS, INTELLIGENCE, PARTMAN PARTHORSE, FLEXIONS

(Sunset) See Stranger Suggests, page 29.

GRAND ARCHIVES, SERA CAHOONE

(High Dive) Believe it: Grand Archives are one of the best bands in Seattle right now. Their recent Bumbershoot set saw the band debuting a handful of songs from their forthcoming Sub Pop debut (due out in February), and the new material hints at a poppier, more rollicking side to the mostly mellow band found on their promising four-song EP. Live, their harmonies sound perfect and crystalline, fragile but bright, and with an appropriately hushed crowd, their quiet moments are as spine-tingling as their occasional upward rushes. By this time next year, I'd be shocked if this band were playing venues as small as the High Dive, so now's the time to catch them if you want bragging rights later. ERIC GRANDY

CUT CHEMIST

(Nectar) Remember when DJ Shadow used to be good? When he'd meander through his sets, switching up between spaced-out triphop beats and chopped-up Nas tracks? Well, Shadow doesn't sound like that anymore, but his former partner in crime Cut Chemist still does. Cut Chemist—who's backed Jurassic 5 and Ozomatli—is one of hiphop's last great crate-diggers. He's a record-store Indiana Jones, so expect to play the "what was that last record?" game while you watch him gracefully tear wax to shreds. His 2006 album, The Audience's Listening, was packed with samples of everything from Krautrock to X-Clan, and that's just the kind of eclecticism you can expect when he plays live. JONAH SPANGENTHAL-LEE

SUNDAY 9/30

WARCRY, DEATHCHARGE, ROTTEN CADAVER, SKITZOFRENIA

(CHAC) Don't miss Portland's Warcry tonight. Their straight-ahead d-beat may sound good on record, but it's nothing compared to their brutal live show: unrelenting, fast, and angry, with lots of scowling, yelling, and fist pumping. Vocalist Todd Burdette hails from iconic crust band His Hero Is Gone and currently plays in Tragedy. Back in March, I deemed Warcry's performance to be the best at the Burning Portland grind/crust/d-beat fest, and I stand by that. They're just perfect live. (P.S. to Rotten Cadaver: excellent band name.) KIM HAYDEN

MIDLAKE, MARIA TAYLOR

(Crocodile) Three years ago, during the garage-rock-revival revival, nobody could've predicted that the smooth sounds of Fleetwood Mac would be the next cool-kids appropriation. But here we are amid a mostly irony-free 1970s soft-rock love-fest in full bloom, with our own Fleet Foxes taking the lead locally and Texas quintet Midlake making (a very well-mellowed) noise on the national level. Last year's The Trials of Van Occupanther is a wool sweater of a record, gentle three-part harmonies coasting alongside Vicodin-ed acoustic guitar, regal piano, and juicy, flutey synths. It's stark and beautiful—cold weather music, waiting to be taken to a log cabin in the woods and warmed by a cast-iron stove. JONATHAN ZWICKEL

D.BLACK, J.PINDER, NEEMA, GMK

(Nectar) D.Black, according to some area papers, is a "gangsta." Such oversimplification, though all the rage these days, does Sportn' Life's MC/producer/co-owner a real disservice. D.Black is a 206 street-hop institution in the making—with a bloodline as official as it gets in the Seattle rap biosphere (being the son of one of the town's first MC crews), with a work ethic that shames most, and with the entire Sportn' Life family behind him. Even as the roster at SnL has fluctuated, Black has remained their rock and their biggest asset, sharpening up his skills in and out of the booth with every new release from the Life. SnL's currently incarcerated heavyweight MC, Fatal Lucciauno, put out an incredible album this year containing several brilliant moments courtesy of D, and now all eyes are on him to deliver a knockout. May Snipes forgive me: Always bet on Black. LARRY MIZELL JR.

THE CAN'T SEE, MOOOLS, FERAL CHILDREN

(Chop Suey) If we were all Japanese, we'd already know about Moools. We would have seen them opening for all of our favorite American bands in Tokyo (Modest Mouse, Deerhoof, Magic Magicians, Mirah, the Microphones), and we'd have their psychedelic album art adorning our walls. But we're American and ignorant, and now's our chance to improve. Moools play a brand of indie rock that we would most likely associate with the skronkier side of K Records, or maybe a poppy Dischord release. The Microphones toured with them in Japan and covered a Moools song on Live in Japan. Their live performance, last seen in this neighborhood in 2003, is not to be missed. ARI SPOOL

MONDAY 10/1

MODERN LIFE IS WAR, TRAP THEM, TRASH TALK, COUNT THE HOURS, NEVER LOOKING BACK

(El Corazón) Trap Them's debut record, Sleepwell Deconstructor, was totally brutal. Recorded with Converge guitarist and engineer Kurt Ballou, it earned high marks from virtually every metal rag around for being undeniably, awesomely tough. Their blaring grindcore fit perfectly in Ballou's engineering pocket, and the band were immediately snatched up by Converge-owned label Deathwish. Seance Prime, their forthcoming EP, also recorded with Ballou, will be out next month. Their MySpace page claims that they are from New Hampshire/Seattle, but this is the first bill I've seen them on in town since I caught wind of them earlier this year. Here's hoping these somewhat local boys pulverize live as much as they do on record. JEFF KIRBY

TUESDAY 10/2

ALIENS, AUGIE MARCH, KATE JOHNSON

(Crocodile) The electronic-tinged space-rock on the Aliens' Astronomy for Dogs is pretty much what you'd expect from a Beta Band offshoot. You've got jaunty tempos, quirky songs about robots, and a sense that the songwriters' core fan base is somewhere on the moons of Jupiter. Like a 1960s pop act, they feel the need to frequently announce their name ("We are the Aliens!"); like sci-fi dorks, they find it necessary to make existential proclamations like "I am the unknown." Sharing the bill, and counterbalancing the mood with a solid terra-firma rooting, is Australia's Augie March. Dramatically dishing the romantic melancholia like Damien Rice and Jeff Buckley will undoubtedly incite swooning from the crowd, but the band's dense sound and fierce buildups give equal time the visceral side of humanity. JOHN VETTESE

THE NATIONAL, ST. VINCENT

Support The Stranger

(Showbox at the Market) See Stranger Suggests, page 29.

WEDNESDAY 10/3

Wednesday morning, 3:00 a.m.