Thursday 12/11

These Arms Are Snakes, Trap Them, Narrows

(Chop Suey) To my mind, the best thing These Arms Are Snakes ever did was buy that first Kaoss Pad back around 2003. (Full disclosure: TAAS bassist Brian Cook has written for The Stranger.) On their debut EP and parts of their first full-length, frontman Steve Snere's screams and shouts were smeared across the sonic field, doubled back on themselves, distorted and modulated and distended beyond recognition, made instrumental rather than lyrical. It was a claustrophobic sound as menacingly psychedelic as it was technically hardcore, and it suggested a lot of untapped possibilities. (It was also a fun live trick, although Snere and company are more than antic enough onstage without it.) The band still indulge some disorienting dub tendencies, but with this year's Tail Swallower and Dove, TAAS have settled into more standard though still searingly executed post-hardcore. I just miss the overwhelming bad-trip vibe of their early days. ERIC GRANDY

Pontiak, Tiny Light, Low Hum

(Comet) Three brothers from Virginia, Pontiak have won the discerning ears of one Julian Cope (author of excellent tomes on German and Japanese underground rock and majordomo of the very worthwhile Head Heritage site; Google it). Anyhoo, these Pontiak bros—Jennings, Van, and Lain Carney—make a glowering brand of rock that will cut you if you look at it askance. Their sophomore album, Sun on Sun (Thrill Jockey), can also lay low and create lunar-eerie soundscapes (see "Swell"). If you dig the muscular psych-rock of American bands like Oneida and Liars, you will probably want to give this Pontiak a spin. DAVE SEGAL

Jonathan Richman

(Triple Door) Jonathan Richman's never lost his childlike wonder. That's usually disastrous for a rock musician, especially after he/she passes the age of 30. But this Boston troubadour has mostly eluded the stench of annoying cutesiness and carved out a lengthy career writing songs steeped in sincerity, whimsy, and acute, idiosyncratic observations re: the human heart (see also his contributions to There's Something About Mary). These days, Richman doesn't proto-punkily rock like he did in the excellent Modern Lovers, but he remains a consummate entertainer. His hangdog voice, trusty acoustic, bubbly sing-along melodies, reggae and flamenco pastiches, and abundance of onstage charm compensate for the lack of Lovers ramalama. DAVE SEGAL

The Spits, the Bad Dates, Def Con Burley

(Funhouse) Did you hear that punk-rock band the Spits played their last show? Did you hear that the Spits played their last show, like, the last 20 times the Spits played a show? Well, all that stuff you heard was bullshit, 'cause THIS IS THEIR LAST SHOW EVER. Word on the street says they're working on a new album, though. They'll probably tour on it. Just get there already, you gossip slut. Powers that be: Thank you for telling the Spits to play another last show ever. GRANT BRISSEY

Friday 12/12

DJ ESP/Woody McBride

(Re-bar) See Data Breaker.

Foscil, FCS, Specs Wizard, Scratchmaster Joe

(Free Sheep Foundation) See Data Breaker.

Grand Archives, Shearwater, the Dutchess and the Duke

(Neumos) Since so many of their songs already involve a jangly tambourine or happy, bouncing bells of some sort, Grand Archives are contenders to write the Best Christmas Song Ever. But as far as I know, the band have yet to pen a holiday number. Sigh. There's always next year. Still, tonight's show, a benefit for KEXP, is a great gift to give yourself—the band are sometimes beautifully somber ("Sleepdriving"), sometimes infectiously happy ("Miniature Birds"). Their alt-country vibe will sound especially clean and bright paired with the Dutchess and the Duke's lo-fi, soulful, Stones-inspired rock. There will be a lot of drinking, dancing, and hand claps. MEGAN SELING

Dressy Bessy, Colourmusic

(Sunset) Oklahoma quintet Colourmusic's debut album, f, monday, orange, february, venus, lunatic, 1 or 13, is a pain in the ass to type, but a pleasure in the head to hear. The opening cut, "Motherfather," is sweet, jaunty psych pop that could've sprung from London circa 1967—a dazzling feat for five red-state beardos. Colourmusic boast a casual, hookwise brilliance; their concise songs brighten your day and exit gracefully, leaving you craving more. Denver's Dressy Bessy fizz, pop, and bounce like some C86 geeks who practice while surfing Cuteoverload .com. I'm amazed that bands like this still exist in America—and that I like 'em. DAVE SEGAL

Satoshi Tomiie, Scott Keith

(Last Supper Club) New York City–based Japanese house producer Satoshi Tomiie was discovered by the great Frankie Knuckles (there is no better way to begin a career in house music than beginning it with Knuckles). As for Tomiie's music, it added to the tradition of house a sound that has the smoothness and elegance of a machine that is aerodynamically configured to move through air and space with the least resistance. His music seems to come and go with the greatest of ease. Indeed, it's hard not to think about the Japanese sense of minimalism and perfection when hearing Tomiie's house productions. CHARLES MUDEDE

The Hands, Police Teeth, Holy Tailfeathers, One Million Teeth

(Comet) After debuting new material earlier this year at the High Dive (the day before ducking into the studio), Police Teeth are finally ready to officially release the collection of anthemic and deconstructed punk songs that have been stuck in my head since summer. Real Size Monster Series, a follow-up to the wonderfully pissed-off Jazz Records for Sale, will be released February 24, and it'll probably rock your face off. The band are one part AC/DC, one part Fugazi, and one part... well, Police Teeth. If you missed the summer show, tonight is another chance to get a sneak preview of new songs that are laced with as much vitriol as humor and fun. MEGAN SELING

Saturday 12/13

Hawnay Troof, Little Party and the Bad Business, the Wiggins, Talbot Tagora

(Vera Project) See preview, and Stranger Suggests.

James Pants, Daedelus, Velella Velella, WD4D

(Nectar) See Stranger Suggests.

Thao with the Get Down Stay Down, Cancer Rising

(Neumos) Maybe it discredits me entirely that every time I listen to Thao with the Get Down Stay Down, I hear shades of Cat Power. (Also, upon reading that band name, I can't help recalling the The Kids in the Hall sketch in which Bruce McCulloch picks a quixotic bar fight and repeatedly gets floored until he eventually hallucinates the Queen of England advising, "We strongly recommend that you stay down.") In any case, there is some basis for comparison (the Cat Power one): Thao has a haunting, gorgeous voice (if maybe with a little higher range than Chan Marshall's) and a knack for writing subtly catchy, folky pop songs, which even move from the spare acoustics to dusty, Memphis-style swing. The comparison, though, belies the fact that Thao's repertoire on 2008's We Brave Bee Stings and All stands perfectly on its own. Cancer Rising, IIRC, do not sound like Cat Power at all—they're on more of a Beth Orton tip. ERIC GRANDY

Mos Def, Dyme Def

(Moore) Blessed with a Golden Globe nomination, an Emmy nomination, and whatever splashy nominations arise from his rave-earning turn as Chuck Berry in the new Cadillac Records, Mos Def is—like Ices T and Cube before him—a hiphop legend with a freakishly successful side career in Hollywood. (However, no one has ever threatened to give Ice-T or Ice Cube an award for acting.) Tonight finds Mos Def on hiphop-legend duty, touring in advance of his forthcoming record The Ecstatic. (Here's hoping he also finds time to revisit 2004's viciously underrated The New Danger.) DAVID SCHMADER

The Pretenders, Ingrid Michaelson

(Paramount) Crappy power ballads—they're de rigueur for movie soundtracks, sell in the millions, and help career musicians live in the comfort they deserve. And as the Pretenders (and, to a lesser extent, Cheap Trick) have proved, if a band's pre-power-ballad output is awesome enough, fans will happily ignore the schlock bankrolling their favorite rockers' second homes and new hips to focus on the positive. For the Pretenders, this means the vast oeuvre of awesomeness that is the Chrissie Hynde songbook, where melody and aggression meld with a singular power present in full since the Pretenders' 28-year-old debut. To those who can't get past the power balladry: Why spend time dissing the soggy "I'll Stand by You" when you could be listening to the first 22 seconds of "The Wait" over and over? DAVID SCHMADER

The Who's Quadrophenia Cover Night: Thee Sgt. Major III, the Tripwires, Kim Virant, Jason Parker Quartet, Black Panties, Levi Fuller

(Tractor) Maybe it's due to those annoying CSI theme songs, but in the last few years, it seems the best way to enjoy the music of the Who is through cover versions. Petra Haden's delicate, pretty 2005 a cappella re-creation of the entire The Who Sell Out album exemplifies this. Tonight, acts like the ever-delightful Levi Fuller and power-pop outfit the Tripwires will perform Quadrophenia onstage. In order. Who will do "Cut My Hair?" Will it all end with a thousand-headed, all-hands-on-deck rendition of "Love, Reign o'er Me"? There's only one way to find out. PAUL CONSTANT

Sunday 12/14

Opus 7

(St. James Cathedral) See The Score.

Longwave, the Pale Pacific, Eulogies

(Chop Suey) New York quartet Longwave sound like a beefier Mercury Rev—the post–See You on the Other Side Mercury Rev. Which means that they create voluminous, four-square space rock liberally sprinkled with sonic saccharine, and a slick studio sheen geared for radio play and reaching folks perched in nose-bleed arena seats. More worryingly, Longwave's latest disc, Secrets Are Sinister, bears a U2-esque bluster and penchant for melodramatic melodies. Ugh. Speaking of ugh, Bellingham's squeaky-clean the Pale Pacific cover Billy Joel's "Moving Out." FAIL. They oughta know by now—it seems such a waste of time. DAVE SEGAL

Holy Ghost Revival, the Pharmacy, Wild Orchid Children, Strong Killings

(Neumos) Seattle seems to have a hard time holding on to its hot young rock bands. If they're not moving to damnable Portland, then they're, like Holy Ghost Revival, sojourning for extended periods across the pond or, like the Pharmacy, decamping the Emerald City for the likes of New Orleans (which, FYI, is totally built on a flood plain, you guys). Ah, well. For tonight at least, all the boys are (back) in town. Holy Ghost Revival have returned after a six-month stay in London, where they've been riling up the ever-excitable British music press and winning fans as high profile as Harry Potter. And the Pharmacy are home from their never-ending touring for another month and a few more shows before hitting the road for their new digs in swamp country. ERIC GRANDY

Monday 12/15

Ya Ho Wha 13, Emeralds

(Nectar) See preview.

Tuesday 12/16

Read a book.

Wednesday 12/17

Linda and Ron's Dad, Pontius Pilots, Flexions, Studley Buffkins, Nominal I

(Chop Suey) Tonight's showcase of Fourthcity talent and friends is headlined by Linda and Ron's Dad (the kind of play-on-words band-name idea that just reeks of bong smoke), which began as a series of sampledelic cassettes produced by Tyler Swan of Foscil/Truckasauras and Derek Bourcier of Ghostbait. Each cassette plundered from a single iconic source, such as David Bowie or the Mothers of Invention, reassembling familiar snatches of sound into popping, hissing, and warped hiphop beats. Their hazy instrumentals are now abetted by the outré MC stylings of Specs One, which should make for a fine live show. Rounding out the stacked bill are the jazzy improvisations of Pontius Pilots (Victor Noriega on piano and eR DoN on the MPC sampler), the dank dub punk of Flexions (Devon Welch of Past Lives and Robin Stein), the Game Boy hackery of Studley Buffkins (Ryan Trudell of Foscil/Truckasauras), and the laid-back beatwork of Nominal I. ERIC GRANDY