It's kind of refreshing, actually: We finally live in a society where dudes are objectified out in the open—and male-fronted bands, even "punk" bands, are forced to doll themselves up to satisfy the raging hormones of their teenage fanbases (they buy merch!). So perhaps it would be enough to write off a generation of look-alike, sound-alike, disposable bands playing the 15-year-old Warped Tour as a bout of youthful indiscretion. Maybe it's enough to know that one day they'll wake up old and irrelevant. But it's so much more fun to talk shit about their hair. (Illustrations courtesy kcarterart.com)
The look: The Puppydog Swoosh
Sported by:Tarcy Thomason of Artist Vs. Poet
Popular relatives: The Pocket Puppydog Swoosh, as worn by Justin Bieber.
Long, flowing hair swept to one side—often doubling as an eyepatch—is all the rage with today's mass-marketed emo bands. Combined with the right combination of poutiness and apathy, it says, "Sure I care about my looks, but I also care about your feelings."
The look: The Lowercase N
Sported by: Derek Sanders of Mayday Parade
Popular relatives: Hesher Hair, as sported by Party God Andrew W.K.
Popular with balding hipsters—seriously, front-swooping hair is the new comb-over—and those who think bangs are for sissies, the Lowercase N is thusly named for the angle of its dangle. Beware: The look requires constant head-tossing.
The look: The Drowned Rat
Sported by: Austin Carlile, formerly of Of Mice and Men and Attack! Attack!
Popular relatives: Devil Locks, the Bowl Cut.
There are two ways to achieve the Drowned Rat. One can submerge one's entire head in a vat of fry grease (you'd be surprised what fast-food employees will let you get away with when you're signed to Rise Records), or wear a big hat (e.g., Dumb Donald) while you sleep at night.
The look: Mods Gone Wild
Sported by: Tanner Howe of Disco Curtis
Popular relatives: Rod Stewart, Rude Girls.
The sad thing here is that these guys probably think Rod Stewart is a lame old crooner. Rod Stewart would have sang and danced the fuck out of you in his prime, Disco Curtis. Disco Curtis has nothing on Rod Stewart. Also, Disco Curtis is a stupid band name.
The look: A Fuzzy Woodland Creature Attacked My Head and Died There
Sported by: Christofer Drew of Never Shout Never
Popular relatives: Jew-fro; those silly hats that the Queen's Guard has to wear.
It can take hours of prep to nail this look, even if the end product screams "I don't give a shit." The real payoff is tons of sexually charged attention from middle schoolers (and, if you're lucky, their moms). The downside is looking like a douche.
Skate/snowboard god and Wendy's-logo doppelgänger Shaun White was just added to the lineup for this skate, BMX and motocross blowout.
It's a massive weekend for movies, but no new flavor matches a restored 50th anniversary 35-mm print of Jean-Luc Godard's wave of collaboration with François Truffaut. These kids knew what it meant to go vs. the world.
Over the course of damn near 35 years, the B-52s have done it all—from surf to kitsch rock to new wave. Oregon Zoo, 4001 SW Canyon Road, 226-1561. 7 pm. $27. All ages.
Montreal-based, vocoder-happy synth-funk duo Chromeo could loosen up stiffs in a morgue. Roseland, 8 NW 6th Ave., 224-2038. 8 pm. $20 in advance, $23 at door.
Erin Thomas locks four writers and 30 actors in a room for 24 hours to create four one-acts for your enjoyment.
[BIKE/BEER] TOUR DE FAT
New Belgium's rollicking salute to bicycles and beers gets rolling with a costumed bike parade, bands and plenty of brews. Waterfront Park, Southwest Naito Parkway between Harrison and Glisan streets. 10 am-5 pm. Free.
Linda Austin's eighth annual tribute to the great New York theater-maker moves the party to Someday Lounge.
Now firmly on top of its game and back in the underground where it belongs, this Bay Area metal outfit is taking full advantage of the thrash resurgence.