ONUINU, SHY GIRLS, MAGIC FADES, BOBBY DANGEROUS, DJ ZACK
(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) Read our article on Onuinu.
M. WARD, MIKE COYKENDALL
(Aladdin Theater, 3017 SE Milwaukie) Read our article on M. Ward.
FATHER JOHN MISTY, JENNY O
(Wonder Ballroom, 128 NE Russell) I thought I was predisposed to not like Father John Misty given Josh Tillman's previous solo work and his tenure with Fleet Foxes. Sad-sack folk tends to lull me to sleep. Trading in the drab chill of Seattle for the warmer climes of the historically musically rich Laurel Canyon of Los Angeles, Tillman reemerged playing pop songs that capture the spirit of LA excess and depravity that's been glorified for decades. This reinvention from backwoods folkie to '60s pop-cult leader works for Father John Misty. And the music benefits greatly, both in the arrangements and the fact that the lyrics are fun and strange. Whether it's sincere or not doesn't even matter—Tillman paints a wonderful picture. MARK LORE
ANIMAL COLLECTIVE, MICACHU AND THE SHAPES
(Crystal Ballroom, 1332 W Burnside) To their credit, Animal Collective haven't completely shrugged off their foundation of weirdness. Despite garnering a bafflingly big fanbase—due mostly to the sparkling, designer-drug sounds on 2009's Merriweather Post Pavilion—they're still ornamenting their twinkly, simple, rave-ready melodies with sonic curveballs and downright ugly noises. The new Centipede Hz could have been their bid for the mainstream; rather, it's a strange, affable record with some catchy tunes and a thick bath of wretched-sounding digital timbres. It seems that Animal Collective's high-water mark of 2005's Feels won't likely be revisited—that record actually sounded like elemental demigods being awoken from a deep slumber. Merriweather and Centipede, on the other hand, are much closer to the truth, sounding like a group of smart kids fucking around with digital toys. NED LANNAMANN
TERRAPLANE SUN, THE MOWGLIS
(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) Buzz surrounding the LA-based Terraplane Sun consistently and bafflingly references their "raw" and "gritty" aesthetic. To be sure, Ben Rothbard's nimble wail nails the spirit of the westward blues migration of the '60s. And the surprising presence of a trombone and mandolin create unexpected layers. But that's not quite the same thing as down-and-dirty blues rock produced with only a shoestring and enthusiasm. For example, the song "Get Me Golden," off the forthcoming Friends EP, has been featured in one of this year's better blockbusters (21 Jump Street), as well as one of the worst (What to Expect When You're Expecting). Also, a Citibank commercial. To me, these big budget spots indicate the real truth: Terraplane Sun is upbeat, easy to like, and has broad appeal. And none of these things are bad! In fact, it's one of the main purposes of making music. And by most accounts, their live show is a force of nature. REBECCA WILSON
SUNDAZE, THE UPSIDEDOWN, RINGO DEATHSTARR, WL
(Slabtown, 1033 NW 16th) Don't let Ringo Deathstarr's ridiculous name frighten you... come back! Please? This Austin four-piece makes blissfully fuzzy pop with a sad-sack bent. Sound familiar? While My Bloody Valentine comparisons are inevitable, RDS do it with aplomb. The band will release their sophomore record, Mauve, this month, which promises more of the same. Joining the shoegaze fun are locals WL (pronounced "Well"), featuring members of Blouse and Houndstooth. The band has a new 7-inch out that's worth wrapping your ears around. Okay, last question: So what if this show causes a little dÉjÀ vu? Nostalgia is what we live for. Right? ML
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