KING KHAN AND THE SHRINES, RED MASS
(Star Theater, 13 NW 6th) Known far and wide for a stage show that can include bare asses, bare chests, sequined suits, and punk-rock James Brown panache, King Khan and the Shrines are a spectacle, and a damn talented band to boot. Not content to rely solely on their sometimes outlandish plumage, King Khan and the Shrines possess the ability to pull off soul-revival revues and garage-punk rallies; their swaggering rock 'n' roll sendups make albums like last year's Idle No More blisteringly fun listens. The group isn't exactly a foreign presence in Portland—they're one of the harder working road dogs on the circuit. You never know exactly what you're gonna get, but it's still the best thing you'll see all week. RYAN J. PRADO
(The Secret Society, 116 NE Russell) Sound the conflict-of-interest klaxons! Not only does one of the Doubleclicks (Angela Webber) write about videogames for the Mercury's blog, I was one of the Kickstarter backers for the Doubleclicks' latest album, Dimetrodon. Pretty sure we'd still be writing about the Doubleclicks, though, even if interests weren't conflicted: Portland's charming sister duo continues to crank out nerd-folk ballads like "TableTop," an ode to both games like Carcassone and the web series about games like Carcassone. With niche songs like these, your mileage will almost certainly vary, but everyone with a heart should find something to love in the Doubleclicks—whether they're paying tribute to Portland's winter survival supplies ("Cats and Netflix") or bringing an unexpectedly anthemic beat to social apathy ("Ennui [On We Go]," the only song I can think of where a dejected sigh counts as a lyric). ERIK HENRIKSEN
DEAN WAREHAM, THE PARSON RED HEADS
(Bunk Bar, 1028 SE Water) Even at his most musically gregarious, Dean Wareham has always been a bit understated. First fronting narcotic-paced dream pop trio Galaxie 500, and later the beloved Luna (with a bit more gusto), Wareham has tended to prefer to say more with deadpan observations and turns of phrase than with the volume of his famously laidback vocals. Following a handful of releases with his wife and longtime musical partner Britta Phillips, Wareham has been focusing on a little more "me" time in recent years, releasing an autobiography, his first solo EP in 20 years, and now his self-titled debut full-length. My Morning Jacket's Jim James produced the new effort, and while there are some occasional backing "oohs" courtesy of James' familiar voice, and a crescendo or two reminiscent of an MMJ build, Wareham's sound remains intact, and as understated as ever. Word is, Wareham's been dusting off some Galaxie 500 numbers for recent performances, too, which makes this a dreamy, languorous can't-miss. JEREMY PETERSEN
ASH BORER, HELL, EPHEMEROS, HAIL
(Rotture, 315 SE 3rd) These days, the West Coast pulses with impressive heavy bands, and relatively big cities like Portland and Oakland are receiving lots of attention for their metal scenes. But metal has never really been the domain of urbanites, and on Thursday, two excellent acts from smaller Cascadian towns will descend on Rotture for a night of depravity. Ash Borer is from Arcata, California, where their ambitious, atmospheric black metal must stand out among the dreadlocks and footbags. With songs that stretch out 10 minutes or longer, Ash Borer's sound is all about the build: from bittersweet drones and swirling blackened fuzz to sweet, howling, blast-beat-powered release. They'll be joined by Hell, a rising one-man band of misery from Salem whose hulking sludge/doom moves at the pace of a death march. Still okay with your life and the world in general? Then get there in time to see local despair-dealers Ephemeros and Hail open. BEN SALMON
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