1939 ENSEMBLE, PAPER UPPER CUTS, GULLS
(Mississippi Studios, 3939 N Mississippi) Read our article on 1939 Ensemble.
(Aladdin Theater, 3017 SE Milwaukie) He's best known as the Monkee with the wool hat and legit songwriting chops ("Papa Gene's Blues," "You Just May Be the One") but Michael Nesmith is nothing less than a true renaissance man, responsible for songs, novels, films, and much more. Don't miss this ultra-rare appearance as he plays choice chestnuts from his excellent and varied solo career. NED LANNAMANN Also read our article on Michael Nesmith.
DVS1, SHINE, JAK, MISS VIXEN, LILROJ, MARIO MAROTO, SEQWENZER, ART OF HOT, JAIRONAUT, ANDREW BOIE, DAVID SOLMES
(Bamboo Grove Salon, 134 SE Taylor) Read our article on DVS1.
ANTHRAX, EXODUS, HIGH ON FIRE,
MUNICIPAL WASTE, HOLY GRAIL
(Crystal Ballroom, 1332 W Burnside) You'd better start growing your hair and practicing your metal face because the competition will be thick and fierce at the formidable Metal Alliance Tour, featuring unfuckwithable acts like, I dunno, Anthrax, along with Exodus, High on Fire, and the last day of having fully functional eardrums. MARJORIE SKINNER
MUDHONEY, DEEP FRIED BOOGIE BAND,
(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) It seems like Mudhoney is only discussed in the context of the grunge boom in its totality, and I suppose lot of that can be attributed to the fact that Mark Arm allegedly coined the term. But the suggestion that Mudhoney are merely a "primordial grunge" band (which is either the gentlest dig or the nastiest compliment) is still selling the group short. To me, Mudhoney bear little resemblance to the hordes of bands who claimed to have followed suit: Unlike compeer Kurt, Arm actually had no interest in deliberately crafting pop hits, and in no way did he ever approach the same level of frilly, histrionic self-importance as Alice in Chains or Soundgarden, either. To me, Mudhoney's self-titled LP and Every Good Boy Deserves Fudge always just sounded like scrappy, Nuggets-y psych rock cranked to 11. Which is rad. But still, it's hard to imagine a world in which the scatterbrained Superfuzz Bigmuff was revelatory to an entire generation of aspiring axe-wielders. I guess the '80s really were that fucked. MORGAN TROPER
GLITTER WIZARD, THE SHRINE,
DIRTY FENCES, TINY LADY
(Club 21, 2035 NE Glisan) Last July the Shrine released their full-length, Primitive Blast, then promptly ripped onto the scene like greased lightning. The Venice, California band crept onto Decibel's top 40 albums of 2012 at slot #37, and were quickly embraced by the new and old guard of rock 'n' roll. Earlier this year they toured with Sweden's Graveyard, and in April they'll get on the bus with Dinosaur Jr. This all makes tons of sense because Primitive Blast, and the band's live set, are a barrel of monkeys. The Shrine pumps heavy, snarling, rip-roaring rock 'n' roll with a little bit of goof and fun. The boys are an unassuming bunch, too, looking like a trio of bros that just got up from a curb outside a convenience store, or climbed out of an empty pool with skateboards under their arms. But rest assured, when they mount the stage and grip their instruments, you'd best stand back. ARIS WALES
LUCK-ONE, BIGMO, J. BURNS, DJ EPS
(Kelly's Olympian, 426 SW Washington) Portland emcee Luck-One was recently featured on MTV's RapFix Live and shared the video of his song "Dem Say Yeah" with hiphop journalist Sway and New Orleans rapper/label president Mack Maine. Luck appeared wearing a Grant High School sweatshirt, gave props to Vinnie Dewayne and Illmaculate, and humbly praised his peers rather than self-aggrandize, saying of his hometown, "Man, there's a lot of talented rappers. That's where I draw most of my inspiration from. All of the homies out here are killing it." Tonight, Luck premieres his newest project, Curse of the Pharaoh, further laying to rest any lingering notions of his (self-proclaimed) retirement. If national recognition of Luck's music continues to accelerate at its current pace, this could be one of his last performances in such an intimate venue. RYAN FEIGH
THE SHOOK TWINS, LOST LANDER,
(Wonder Ballroom, 128 NE Russell) Shook Twins have a lot going for them: eerie harmonies, brazenly good voices, and an ability to recruit fantastic musicians. The thing is, it's asking a lot of an audience to cope with more than one layer of nostalgia at a time. They sound like folk musicians of the '60s, who were aping musicians from the '30s, who were playing 50-year-old songs—it's a sonic rabbit hole that is ultimately unsustainable. I hope that soon they hitch their wagon to a band with stellar songwriters—a band like billmates Lost Lander, for example. Like Shook Twins, nobody can accuse Lost Lander of not taking themselves seriously. They too are earnest, with a spine-tingling vocalist and excellent musicians. But they are their own deal, epic and thrilling and unlike anything else. There is passion in Matt Sheehy's voice, but it's not the kind that sets your teeth on edge. REBECCA WILSON
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