Thursday 6/25

Major Lazer ft. Diplo and Switch, DJ Ayres, Tigerbeat

(Neumos) See preview.

Here We Go Magic, Final Spins, Brittain Ashford

(Chop Suey) Lavishly praised by indie-pop icons like Ben Gibbard and Sufjan Stevens, and media institutions like Rolling Stone and the Onion, Here We Go Magic (Luke Temple) is gifted with an angelic voice that somehow doesn't cloy. Temple pens rich and strange songs of enchantment, seemingly out of an altruistic urge to bring more fragile beauty into the world. "Tunnelvision" represents the zenith of his artistry: a breezy slice of psychedelic folk seemingly woven out of Stevie Nicks's blouses and stardust, and powered by centaurs' hoofbeats. But HWGM is also capable of creating seriously eerie ambience that wouldn't sound out of place on a Kranky Records release. Here We Go Magic? Truth. DAVE SEGAL

Key Element, Neema, Mad Rad, Spaceman, DJ 100Proof

(Nectar) If Fatal Lucciauno represents the gangster side of his label, Sportn' Life, then Spaceman represents its pop side. (Or, better yet, what sounds like pop to my ears—it may sound like something else to other ears.) Spaceman, who has worked with Jake One and other notable beat-makers in town, is more in the stream of national hiphop trends. Though based in Seattle, he very well could be based in Atlanta or Chicago—and this is no bad thing. It shows that hiphop here is not limited to sad sounds, or to an obsession with rain, clouds, and gothic atmospheres, or to political and social realism. Spaceman could be the next big thing to come out of Seattle. He certainly has the commercial appeal that's needed to reach the stars. CHARLES MUDEDE See also My Philosophy.

Deer Tick, Dawes, Widower

(Tractor) Providence, Rhode Island, band Deer Tick play pretty traditional folk rock, marked by delicate, careful fingerpicked guitar and banjo, gentle walking bass lines, upbeat snare shuffling, and, most distinctively, singer-songwriter John Joseph McCauley III's simultaneously reedy and gutturally growling voice, which he plies in service of typically hard-luck lyrics. "Easy," the lead single from new album Born on Flag Day, finds the band sounding more electrified and amplified than on their previous War Elephant, but soon the album settles back down into calmer rootsy territory. If you don't dig McCauley's dingy singing style, these sparer arrangements, which throw his voice way out front, will irk, but some ears will enjoy the dissonance between the sweet background sounds and that worn-down whine. ERIC GRANDY

Friday 6/26

Osaka Explosion, Daniel G. Harmann & the Trouble Starts

(Jules Maes) Daniel G. Harmann's newest release, the Our Arms EP, finds the stalwart Seattle musician expanding and further electrifying his beautiful downer ballads with the help of his band, the Trouble Starts. In the past, Harmann has sometimes played things lo-fi and spare, and while his foggy singing and his sad songs certainly don't suffer from that treatment, they tend to land with a little more satisfying weight this way. The songs are still sleepy-headed and soft, but they're wrapped up in warm, buzzing guitars against far-off echoes, with hard-hit drums holding everything down. It's mope rock for sure, but it's pretty lively mope rock. ERIC GRANDY

Thunderbird Motel, Antique Scream, High Class Wreckage

(Blue Moon) There's nothing on Thunderbird Motel's new record, Rock It Til the Wheels Fall Off, that you haven't heard before—blistering guitar solos, spoken-word intros about "feelin' sneaky," quick blasts of rock and roll with cocky lyrics about being an 18-wheel trucker and the kind of guy your "momma told you not to let in the door." But typical blues-tinted rock be damned, these dudes still deliver the goods. They're gritty, gnarly, and dirty—they're named after a motel on Aurora Avenue, for chrissakes. And just like that establishment, the sole reason they exist is to ensure that you have a good time, at least for one night. MEGAN SELING

Saturday 6/27

Joy Von Spain

(Josephine) See Data Breaker.

Bill Callahan, Bachelorette

(Triple Door) Bachelorette is the stage name of New Zealand musician Annabel Alpers. At the core of Bachelorette's songs on the new album, My Electric Family, is Alpers's alternately glassy and evaporating singing voice. Surrounding her singing are lush layers of traditional live instrumentation, expansive audio effects (delay and reverb up to the heavens), and tasteful electronic flourishes. The lyrics can get wincingly wonky, as on utopian electro-pop number "Technology Boy," but the arrangements—such as that song's stuttering vocals reminiscent of Morr Music softies Lali Puna—are consistently captivating. Bill Callahan is the dour tenor behind the much-loved, long-running solo project Smog. Recording under his own name for his past two albums, Woke on a Whaleheart and Sometimes I Wish We Were an Eagle, Callahan continues to churn out the terse and brutal and just sometimes bright-around-the-corners folk songs, always sung in that coldly commanding voice of his. ERIC GRANDY

These Arms Are Snakes, the Coathangers, the Whore Moans

(Comet) If you have a spot in your heart for TacocaT, then you'll definitely want to be sure to catch the Coathangers' set tonight. On their debut full-length, Scramble (released on local label Suicide Squeeze), these four fun ladies from Atlanta, Georgia, summon some of that same bratty and messy punk-rock prowess. Their songs are lo-fi and sloppy and put together in less than a day by musicians who've done more partying than practicing, but what the fuck ever—that's punk rock. It's not supposed to be perfect. And if you're ever really pissed, try cranking up the iPod and screaming along with "Gettin' Mad and Pumpin' Iron," where a squeaky voice yowls, "I'm gonna break your fucking face!" It's wonderfully cathartic. MEGAN SELING

Skeletons with Flesh on Them

(marsBar) Have you listened to Skeletons with Flesh on Them's latest record, All the Other Animals, yet? Have you!? I've told you over and over... what are you waiting for? I mean, I'd understand if you're a little hesitant. I once told you to like that melodramatic tween crap band Say Anything (I stand by their first record!). But trust me on this one! All the Other Animals is a sonic gem, beaming with fun pop tracks perfect for summer days. It's all playful and bright, it's got humor à la They Might Be Giants, but it's also got a menagerie of instruments and harmonies that fans of BOAT would appreciate. I love them and you should, too, and I won't stop saying so until you finally listen. MEGAN SELING

Project Lionheart, Fresh Espresso

(High Dive) Last month, Fresh Espresso's first album, Glamour, rose to number one on KEXP's Northwest charts, and it's still holding steady. Rapper Rik Rude and producer P Smoov came, saw, and conquered with "Lazerbeams," one of the freshest tracks on an album that's packed with raw energy. Indeed, there is an excitement on this record that makes you believe in the impossible: that hiphop still has a long future ahead of it. With Rik and Smoov, it is as if the past and its failures do not exist. Nowhere on any track is there a hint of bitterness, exhaustion, or resentment. The album presents the present as a brand-new day, as a fresh start, as a dawn of something new and unexpected. Rik and Smoov are on the move. CHARLES MUDEDE

Fences, the Lonely Forest

(Crocodile) Fences is the solo acoustic project of Seattle-based musician Chris Mansfield, a heavily tattooed dude who looks like he ought to be fronting a gutter-punk outfit. Appearances aside, Mansfield is wholly convincing as a folky singer-songwriter with a broken heart (inked) on his sleeve. His voice is faintingly soft, his lyrics bruised, his guitar strumming simple and augmented by only the occasional brushed backbeat. Mansfield spent some time studying jazz at the Berklee College of Music in Boston, and while his stripped-down guitar ballads aren't overly complicated, they're clearly the work of a learned hand. Recently, Mansfield spent 28 days at a rehab facility in Kirkland for his "excessive consumption of alcohol." His last report is that he's "sober as a saint" and full of gratitude for the music he's making, as well he should be. ERIC GRANDY

Thee Satisfaction, Thee Emergency, Telepathic Liberation Army, TacocaT, Leslie & the LY's, Weekend, the Redwood Plan, Goon Squad, Hunx and His Punx, the Dutchess and the Duke

(Wildrose, 1 pm–midnight) Through the diligent efforts and fine taste of booker Jodi Ecklund, Wildrose once again hosts a damn strong lineup for Pride. Heavy on local talent and rock 'n' roll, today's party boasts, among others, retro garage-soul rockers Thee Emergency, scrappy pop-punk quartet TacocaT, and glitzy GarageBand purveyors Leslie & the LY's. Headlining are "campfire punkers" the Dutchess and the Duke and San Francisco's bubblegum punkers Hunx and His Punx, who've got showmanship to spare. All of this goes on outside in the sun (let's hope) until nightfall, when things move into the club and MC BenDeLaCrème and DJ Ponyboy take the wheel(s). GRANT BRISSEY

Sunday 6/28

Hunx and His Punx, Ononos, Telepathic Liberation Army

(Funhouse, early) See preview.

Spindrift, Black Nite Crash, Levator

(Chop Suey) If Spacemen 3 were from the California desert and harbored an Ennio Morricone fixation, they'd probably sound like Spindrift. They exude that downered cool that comes from wearing fringed suede jackets and writing songs in minor keys with descending chord progressions and judicious use of reverb. Speaking of Spacemen 3, Seattle quintet Black Nite Crash tap into that seminal British group's '80s retrofitting of late-'60s psych rock with fiery aplomb. Their songs bear familiar structures, but they're executed with passion and liberal dosages of burnt-orange fuzz tones. A healthy worship of elegant Aussie psych-pop songsmiths the Church also surfaces. Levator purvey sweet, ethereal shoegaze with the methodical earnestness of Slowdive and Windy & Carl completists, distinguished by Sky Lynn's dreamy, featherweight vocals and glistening guitars. DAVE SEGAL

Monday 6/29

King Sunny Ade and His African Beats, Occidental Brothers Dance Band International

(Triple Door) For decades an ambassador to the West for the Yoruban Nigerian genre juju, King Sunny Ade touches his guitar and liquid sunshine emits from it. His spangly, cyclical riffs come equipped with beaucoup good vibes, as they undulate over the preternaturally intricate, interlocking rhythms of His African Beats. Even after 40-plus years in the biz, Ade can still wring magic from juju, as he proves with his latest album, Seven Degrees North. Singing in a light, warm, weathered tone, Ade sounds like a wise, content elder statesman, utterly confident about the joy he's spreading. His mantric songs make you feel as if you have all the time in the world and not a care in the world (okay, maybe one—like is my face going to break from smiling too much?). In his Nigeria, he's known as the "Minister of Enjoyment," so it's official. DAVE SEGAL

Tuesday 6/30

Pentagram, Nachtmystium, Emeralds, Sol Negro, Witchburn

(Studio Seven) Chicago's controversial black-metal band Nachtmystium (see their Wikipedia page) flaunt ultratechnical instrumental flourishes, shredding guitars and vocal cords with equally sadistic relish. Led by guitarist/vocalist Blake Judd (aka Azentrius), they build up a helluva symphonic ruckus. If composer Richard Wagner were born in the 1970s, he'd probably be in a band like Nachtmystium. Maryland's venerable Pentagram emerged in 1971, when Ozzy was svelte and somewhat coherent, and they've maintained an on-and-off career as one of doom metal's most resilient post-Sabbath metallurgists. Local sextet Emeralds inject some liveliness into the stoner-rock template; their exciting dynamics and memorable riffs prove the green hasn't gotten the best of 'em yet. DAVE SEGAL

Wednesday 7/1

Sir Richard Bishop & His Freak of Araby Ensemble, Oaxacan

(Crocodile) See preview.

VNV Nation, War Tapes

(Showbox at the Market) I thought Hamburg, Germany–based VNV Nation were glowering industrial-electronic ruffians, judging from the stream of promos I used to receive from genre stronghold Metropolis Records. But while I wasn't paying attention, VNV Nation drastically changed. The duo's new album, Of Faith, Power and Glory, sounds like a slightly more masculine Erasure and Dead or Alive, with melodramatic melodies redolent of new-wave bands like the Call (I hate that I remember them) and much modern trance. VNV Nation are unabashed romantics who use heroically galloping rhythms and sincerely overwrought strings that beg for big-budget Hollywood scenery to accentuate. It's a rich sound, for sure—maybe too rich. DAVE SEGAL