Fleet Foxes, the Walkmen
(Paramount) See Stranger Suggests.
Monogamy Party, Mountainss, Karma Vision, Fuzzy Cloaks
(Funhouse) Congratulations to Monogamy Party! The local rock trio recently inked a deal with Good to Die Records (run by local music blogger Nik Christofferson of Seattle Rock Guy), and the band, which summons energy and sound comparable to These Arms Are Snakes and Karp, will release its debut in November. Stuff it in everyone's stocking! Opening for MP tonight are fellow Seattleites Mountainss, who go where few rock bands dare: They have a saxophone player. The sax player doesn't so much play the saxophone as freak out with it over Mountainss' spazzy, wiry instrumental storms (they aptly describe it as "animalistic seizures of joy"), so don't expect any oily-chested Lost Boys–inspired sax solos tonight. MEGAN SELING
Olivia Tremor Control, the Music Tapes
Sweet Dreams: The Music of Patsy Cline, with Kim Virant, Star Anna and the Laughing Dogs, Mark Pickerel, and others
(Neptune) See Sound Check.
The Horrors, the Stepkids
(Neumos) Unfortunately, the Horrors playing Neumos tonight are not the Cedar Rapids garage rockers. Instead, they're a quintet of youngsters from London. Compositionally and sonically, these Horrors aren't doing anything fresh. You will hear the shocking allegation that these Horrors sound not unlike Joy Division, a band that preceded them by 30 years. That allegation is not baseless. You may also hear that NME called them "one of this generation's most important bands." That allegation is completely baseless. GRANT BRISSEY
A Storm of Light, Totimoshi
(Highline) Are you in the mood for something mind-numbingly heavy yet blissful and gorgeous at the same time? Brooklyn-based three-piece A Storm of Light transcend any draconian genre restrictions with soaring 12-minute epics that both pound the listener into oblivion à la Neurosis and awe them with beautifully expansive Godspeed You! Black Emperor–type awesomeness. Call it post-rock, post-doom, or post-metal, I'll just call their music beautifully crushing and leave it open for interpretation. Bay Area tourmates Totimoshi know a thing or two about heaviness themselves, adding Sabbathian dirges to their unique blend of experimental alt rock. The amps will be blazing, so bring your earplugs or wake up with a head full of fuzz. KEVIN DIERS
Witch Gardens, Don't Talk to the Cops, Stephanie
(Chop Suey) Witch Gardens, Stephanie, and Don't Talk to the Cops—it's the local-music crossover event of the season! ("Crossover event" being comic-book-cover-copy lingo, dude.) Since this collision of contrastive talent already has a sense of pop-art vibrancy, I might as well go all the way nerd with allusions and draw some comparisons to Marvel's superteam the Avengers (never mind that I don't actually read Avengers comics). Buddy bands Stephanie and Witch Gardens could figuratively cosplay as the romantic couple of the Vision and Scarlet Witch—the Vision embodying Stephanie's conflicted post-punk sound in his pensive android sentimentality and outward flamboyancy (once described by Jonathan Lethem as having "the mournful monotone of a synthetic humanoid"), and Scarlet Witch being, uh, a witch. DTTTC's Emecks has the tireless energy of super-speedster Quicksilver, and BlesOne's booming break beats land like Luke Cage's punches. JASON BAXTER
Archers of Loaf, Constant Lovers, Lovesick Empire
(Nuemos) See preview.
White Hills, Sleepy Sun, Kinski
(Nectar) See preview.
RTX, Heavy Cream, Broken Nobles, Wayfinders
(Funhouse) When Royal Trux's Jennifer Herrema started RTX following her split with longtime bandmate Neil Michael Hagerty, she really let her balls-out-rocking persona wave its freak flag. Less arty and subversive than Royal Trux, who were one of the greatest rock combos of the '90s, RTX flaunt a bell-bottomed boogie-rock attack that flirts with parody, although Herrema seems so unlike the ironic type. For better or for worse, she means every venomous sneer, blocky power chord, and pig-squealing guitar solo. She and her hirsute California boys grind out meatloaf-and-mashed-potatoes rock for hockey arenas and hockey-haired dudes—somewhere between Thin Lizzy and ZZ Top. Check out "Speed to Roam" for RTX's one certifiable classic. DAVE SEGAL
Grails, True Widow
(Crocodile) All hail Grails, one of America's premier purveyors of mystical sonic sprawl. The Portland quartet has been steadily accruing sensei powers over seven albums. Their vocal-free tracks reward long attention spans with epic, serpentine movements augmented by exotic instrumental textures and stratospheric dynamics. A potent live spectacle (check out their Acid Rain DVD for proof), Grails are tragically going up against White Hills at Nectar at the same time, forcing fans of deep psychedelic music to make a heart-wrenching decision about which to see. DAVE SEGAL
The Antlers, Avi Buffalo, Ghosts I've Met
(Neptune) One thing about being music editor is, a lot of times you gotta listen to stuff you wouldn't normally seek out, and you gotta keep an open mind about it. I never would have heard the Antlers on my own, but good goddamn if they didn't bowl my open mind into a perfect strike. These are some gorgeously composed, executed, and produced songs. This Brooklyn trio's hushed, metropolitan rock tunes should be the theme music for this generation's urban workforce's after-hours life—perfect for a late sunset or an early breakup. "Parentheses," the third track from Burst Apart, conjures Amnesiac/Kid A–era Radiohead, and "Putting the Dog to Sleep" is guaranteed to stay with you for months. Regardless of your aesthetic preferences, you'd be a fool not to give this record a spin. GRANT BRISSEY
John Prine, Ani DiFranco
(Chateau Ste. Michelle) If you don't know John Prine, you should go learn yourself now. Start anywhere; I first fell in love with him on his 1999 album of duets In Spite of Ourselves (he and Iris DeMent are magnificent together), but he's been making music for 40 years. He is the Platonic ideal of country music—clean and rich with a hint of grit, playful and mournful in equal measure. He's a favorite songwriter of both Bob Dylan and Johnny Cash, and he's still recording and touring, even after losing a part of his neck to throat cancer a decade ago. He's playing here with Ani DiFranco. If Prine is the soundtrack to my parents slow-dancing in the living room, DiFranco is the soundtrack to me drawing on my high-tops with a Sharpie. I hope they share some stage time; I really want to hear that duet. ANNA MINARD
Mexicans with Guns, Take, adoptahighway, Trashy Trash DJs
(Chop Suey) See Data Breaker.
Ke$ha, LMFAO, Spank Rock
(WaMu Theater) See Data Breaker.
Handsome Furs, Suuns, Talkdemonic
(Neumos) There's an '80s electro-urgency on Sound Kapital, the new album by Canadian husband-and-wife duo Handsome Furs. The vocals on "Repatriated" recall bands like Simple Minds, but the music has the hybrid electro-rock energy of early MGMT singles. You can also hear the Furs' extensive international touring experience—from Myanmar to China to Yugoslavia and beyond—lurking in the background. Not in the Latin-music-sampling sense of Manu Chao or David Byrne: It's more of an Eastern-Bloc electronica feeling, but with guitars and lyrics about currency, labor, and the arbitrariness of international borders and political authority. Suuns have a harsher sound—more desperate than urgent, more ragged in the rock and aggressive in the beats and drones. Suuns are a little darker. BRENDAN KILEY
Pig Destroyer, Jucifer, Theories, Owen Hart, Numb, White Wards
(El Corazón) Man, I haven't seen the name Pig Destroyer since the '90s. It's the sort of band name that really sticks to your brain. Guitarist Scott Hull, formerly of Anal Cunt (a name that sticks to something else) once said in an interview that "Cop Killer" or "Cop Destroyer" would be "tactless," so they decided on "pig" instead. Nothing about Pig Destroyer is subtle. They're still the heavyweight champs of American grindcore—extremists in the most extreme of all the metal genres. If you stand too close to the speakers, your inner ear will melt a little bit. Super bonus: Jucifer were added to the bill, and a new group of Seattle grinders and ear-melters called Theories debut. KELLY O See preview, page 39.
The B-52s, The Human League
(Chateau Ste. Michelle) Respect to the B-52s for lasting so long without totally embarrassing themselves. They remain utterly joyous enablers of euphonious party vibes, their unannoyingly kitsch and coiled surf rock and casual, Caucasoid funk (see the Mesopotamia EP) unsullied by time. Respect also for creating songs like "53 Miles West of Venus," "52 Girls," and "Strobe Light," which can withstand hundreds of listens without inducing insanity. The Human League's artistic peak (1979–80) and commercial heyday (1981–84) have long passed, but they gamely soldier on. Surely they will lard this concert with glossy electro-pop love songs and suave dance cuts from Dare, but hold out hope for airings of early edgy, synth classics like "Being Boiled" and "Empire State Human." Will people "(Keep Feeling) Fascination," or will their passion go the way of League leader Philip Oakey's asymmetrical fringe? DAVE SEGAL See Underage.
The Ladybug Transistor, Black Nite Crash, Surrealized, Red Pony Clock
(Comet) Based on Clutching Stems, the only album I've heard from this Brooklyn (the land of record contracts!) group, the Ladybug Transistor play elegant, competent, if a little innocuous mid-tempo pop with traditional rock-group instruments, and they've evidently been doing this for 16 years. Stems is a fine collection of songs that's got me thinking of the leaves turning orange outside and the coming of fall, or maybe that's just the leaves turning orange outside and the coming of fall. GRANT BRISSEY
Glass Candy, Chromatics, Cosmetics, DJ Porq
(Neumos) Glass Candy are the real-deal haute couture of the indie-electronic scene. Singer Ida No and music maker Johnny Jewel make the weirdest, prettiest sounds in the veins of Italo disco and electro pop—perfect for both dance floors and fashion runways; in fact, Karl Lagerfeld and the French label Chloé have had their models walk to Glass Candy songs. This is the sort of show at which you'd almost expect to see the ghosts of Andy Warhol and Nico floating around with you in the audience. Even the most beautiful weirdos like to dance sometimes. KELLY O
Reficul, Six Days of Darkness, Solum
(2 Bit Saloon) Another shitty Monday means it's time for another dose of local brutality and cheap-ass beer at the 2 Bit. For the last six or so months, the folks over in this Ballard watering hole have opened their doors to the scum dogs of the universe, devoting every Monday night to underground Northwest metal. This time, blast-beating up-and-comers Six Days of Darkness provide the soundtrack to dance-floor destruction with a dose of deathcore/death metal that sounds like a rougher version of Suicide Silence covering Cannibal Corpse songs. While Six Days of Darkness' recordings leave a bit to be desired, their live onslaught punishes your eardrums in the best way possible. KEVIN DIERS
AM & Shawn Lee
(Sunset) London-based multi-instrumentalist Shawn Lee releases about 10 albums a year, all of them quite good and quite different. He's one of those rare humans who can play a dozen instruments in a dozen different styles and maintain high standards. I like him best when he gets into funky library-music mode, but, really, any genre Lee tackles, he makes sound sweet. His latest collab with Los Angeles–based keyboardist/vocalist AM, Celestial Electric, abounds with feathery, accessible soul numbers and summery funk jams, including a loving cover of Ozark Mountain Daredevils' gorgeous 1974 AM radio smash "Jackie Blue." Lee hardly ever makes it to Seattle—last year's Bumbershoot appearance was a real treat—so don't sleep. DAVE SEGAL
Band of Horses, Brett Netson and the Hungry Ghost
(Paramount) Following last week's longish piece on the Fleet Foxes is this week's short piece on Band of Horses, a folk-rock band that formed in Seattle in 2004 but relocated to South Carolina in 2007. My brother, Kudzai Mudede, worships the band's first album, Everything All the Time; I worship one line in a tune, "Marry Song," on the band's second album, Cease to Begin: "Lucky ones are we all until it's over." This line has more meaning, more substance than Nietzsche's famous line "What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger." There is nothing more to existence than luck. Famous Zimbabwean singer Oliver Mtukudzi has a tune called "Ruki" (a Shonification of "lucky"). For him, some people are unlucky and others have all the luck. Mtukudzi's reading of luck (some have it, others don't), however, is wrong; Band of Horses' is right: Everyone is lucky. Your luck runs out only when your life comes to an end. Death is the one unlucky thing that can happen to you. CHARLES MUDEDE
Brokaw, Gypsy Hawk, Huntress, Ayahuasca Travellers
(Comet) You'd think that Stuart Dahlquist's involvement in such reputably bottom-heavy doom bands as Burning Witch, Goatsnake, SunnO))), and Asva would mean his latest project would similarly be characterized by tormented visions and chasm-sized spaces between earthquake-inducing guitar chords. You'd be wrong. Dahlquist still plays with malice and volume, but rather than summoning the oppressive dungeon-dwelling gloom of his previous bands, Brokaw spits out an updated version of the amped-up and agile ferociousness that labels like Alternative Tentacles and Touch & Go specialized in back in the '90s. In short, folks looking for the next great "kvlt" metal band might be disappointed, but anyone who can savor a locked-in and punchy rhythm section, jagged guitars, and a bitter disposition should be satisfied by Brokaw. BRIAN COOK