Jimmy Eat World, Maritime

(Showbox at the Market) See Album Reviews, page 62, and Underage, page 73.

FRIDAY 10/12

Justice, Midnight Juggernauts, Fourcolorzack, Pretty Titty

(Neumo's) See Fucking in the Streets, page 59.

Black Lips, the Spits, the Girls

(Crocodile) See Stranger Suggests, page 29, and Album Reviews, page 62.


(Vera Project) The Pleasureboaters, though they've been together for a little over two years, have only recently begun to make their impression on the music scene. It was eight months in the making, but the band finally release their debut full-length, Gross, tonight, and early reviews have already earned the band some notable attention. Their chaotic and creative combination of bratty punk, raucous rock, and ground-shattering hardcore makes it hard for them to find a comfortable niche in the music scene but people are still able to make sense of it (or at least celebrate it for its mind-blowing aspects). KEXP recently gave it a positive write-up, and Battles handpicked the band out of a pool of about 30 or so other local acts to open their show at Neumo's in November. MEGAN SELING

Captured! by Robots, BlöödHag, Hearseburner

(The Funhouse) Captured! by Robots are possibly the best gimmick ever imagined for a band. Sure, people have dressed up and pretended to be robots in their bands. Other groups have made whole albums that sound like robot noises. But Jay Vance, former bass player of Skankin' Pickle, actually built a band of robots that actually play instruments. The mythology goes that Jay, or JBOT as he is known by the other robots, created them to be his band, but they revolted, pulled out his eyes and intestines, and now he is their slave. Granted, the music is nothing revolutionary, but the fact that this man built real robots to play metal is one of the most amazing things I have ever seen on a stage. I saw them in Bellingham, where, strangely, throwing beer at the performer is a sign of encouragement. If the performer is dripping beer at the end of a show, they did a good job. If you go see Captured! by Robots at the Funhouse, be warned: JBOT will murder you with his bare hands if you throw beer on his band. JEFF KIRBY



(High Dive) Happy birthday to Stormi, Shorthand for Epic's adorable yet badass drummer! But that's not the real reason this show is important (although it's a good one; birthdays are awesome and meant to be celebrated). Tonight's show will also be the last for Shorthand for Epic for a while, if not forever. After tonight, Shorthand and their rhythm section will go their separate ways. Both Stormi and bassist Larry are leaving the band, and singer Billy and keyboardist Brooke have yet to decide whether they'll carry on as the same act without them. It's a bummer. Shorthand were just getting started, and their Elvis Costello–meets–Arcade Fire sound got more confident and clean each time I saw them. I still pop in their self-titled EP from time to time if I feel like dancing. Band breakups are inevitable, but so are birthdays. Let's focus on the positive tonight and party. MEGAN SELING

SUNDAY 10/14

Bat for Lashes, Chris Chavez

(Crocodile) Bat for Lashes are an English all-girl band led by Natasha Khan. No relation to Chaka; possible relation to Genghis. Natasha is a psychic, multi-instrument-playing folk swan. If the hippie future were from the 1920s, it would sound like Bat for Lashes. Think Thom Yorke and Cat Power. The band's video for "What's a Girl to Do" is nominated for an MTV Europe music award. Natasha's mother is English, her father is a famous Pakistani squash player, and she plays a cover of Bruce Springsteen's "I'm on Fire." Natasha's color is burgundy, her tub is claw-foot, and she knows there are ghosts around her at all times. Her songs speak to themselves like Devendra's and Björk's do. She's young and regal and will become a relic. TRENT MOORMAN

MONDAY 10/15

Dr. Dog, Apollo Sunshine, the High Strung

(Crocodile) See preview, page 55.

The Go! Team

(Neumo's) The best part of seeing the Go! Team live is that the over-mic'd, treble-heavy riot of their records translates perfectly to the stage. Their recently released, aptly named Proof of Youth keeps the levels cranked so high it sounds ready to burst with T. J. Hooker theme-show horns, drum-major breakbeats, and playground chants. With a six-piece band—including dueling drummers, a turntable, horns, keys, and a pint-size MC named Ninja—the Go! Team will literally send shit flying from Neumo's stage. Proof of Youth is mostly just more of their breakout hit Thunder, Lightning, Strike, which works out well—their shows used to be disappointingly short for lack of material, and now there's plenty to keep the band, and the crowd, bouncing. JONATHAN ZWICKEL


The Fiery Furnaces, Pit Er Pat, Panda & Angel

(Crocodile) See Album Reviews, page 62.

Rogue Wave, Port O'Brien

(Neumo's) The first album from Oakland's Rogue Wave came along in 2003, right at the height of Shins-mania. Recorded mostly solo by band mastermind Zach Rogue (né Schwartz), Out of the Shadow wafted along on sweet, pastoral pop harmonies and wide-open compositions, much like their Portland-based peers. Rogue built his sound on overdubs, though, so despite its bear hugging of cuddly pop hookery, the music had an off-kilter, lone-gunman feel. New members were acquired to fill out the band's live performance, adding heft and momentum to their 2005 Sub Pop follow-up Descended Like Vultures. Released last month on Jack Johnson's Brushfire Records, Asleep at Heaven's Gate has an even more vivacious ensemble feel. Rogue's songwriting is sharper than ever, the studio production rich and warm. Good God: We've reached the point at which Sub Pop and Jack Johnson have something in common. JONATHAN ZWICKEL

Roy Ayers

(Nectar) When it comes to gag-inducing musical terminology, the phrase "acid jazz" is right up there with "trip-hop" and "the Dave Matthews Band." Hate the nomenclature; don't hate the... nomed? The fact is, Roy Ayers might be known as "the Godfather of Acid Jazz," but back in the mid-'70s, he was a soul-jazz innovator, one of the first classically trained musicians to fuse the booty-moving rhythms of funk and disco into the extended melodic flights of post-bop jazz. Everybody loves "Everybody Loves the Sunshine," Ayers' best-known tune, a breezy, soul-drenched swinger that's as positively uplifting as its title implies and has been sampled up and down the R&B tree. Recently, Ayers has been recording with neosoul singer Bilal, and his current touring incarnation reflects that hard-hitting, deeply groovy aesthetic. This won't be a sit-down and gape jazz show. JONATHAN ZWICKEL

Hellogoodbye, Say Anything

(Showbox Sodo) I was one of the few people over the age of 22 who liked Say Anything's debut release, ...Is a Real Boy. I liked its brutally honest lyrics, I liked the fearless attempt to do something a little different (it's a vaudevillian rock opera disguised as a fourth [fifth?] wave emo record), I'm a fan of crazy people, and singer Max Bemis is actually crazy. It shows in his lyrics. In "Wow, I Can Get Sexual, Too," he unapologetically sings about using phone sex with (I assume) a groupie to satisfy himself. In "Admit It," he, well, admits, "I worry about how this album will sell because I believe it will determine the amount of sex I will have in the future/I self-medicate with drugs and alcohol to help treat my extreme social-anxiety problem." He picks fights, he calls bullshit, he talks shit about himself—it felt like he was mocking the very genre and lifestyle he was a part of, and I thought that was fucked up, but pretty great. Sadly, their new record, In Defense of the Genre, is a lot less confrontational and therefore boring to me. That's the thing about the crazies—they're totally unreliable. MEGAN SELING


The Pogues

Support The Stranger

(Showbox Sodo) See Turn You On, page 61.

Lucero, Bobby Bare Jr., Whiskey & Co.

(Crocodile) I really hope it's raining today. I hope it's cold, I hope my alarm doesn't go off, I hope I get splashed by a car driving through a mud puddle while I wait for the bus, I hope I get dumped by my boyfriend, and I hope I lose my job. I want to be as pathetic as possible by the time the Lucero show comes around, because only after your heart has been broken and your spirit has been torn to pieces can you truly revel in Ben Nichols's worn-and-weary vocals and Lucero's sweet, sad country guitars. Clearly inspired by artists like Springsteen, the Memphis quartet does dismal damn well, swirling it around with the bitter taste of whiskey and subtle romantic tinges of Americana. They also do an amazing version of Jawbreaker's "Kiss the Bottle." Thankfully, the imagery in their originals is so vivid that, even if you're not currently crushed, you'll still experience every ache and pain in their songs, which is probably better than hoping to live the worst day of your whole life. MEGAN SELING