The band that made Fred and Toody Cole Portland punk legends rises again—if just for one night.
Who’s going to tell Fred and Toody Cole they can’t smoke in here?
No one at Mississippi
Studios, certainly. Upstairs in the North Portland music venue’s green
room, the punk-rock power cou
The artists who will dominate Portland dance floors in 2014.
Portland’s indie-rock and folk scenes outshine most other
cities’. This is a universally accepted truth, and something that has
made electronic music a second-class scene. That’s not for wan
WW’s music staff picks its favorite local albums of 2013.
Blitzen Trapper, VII
A consistently suggestive blend of robust
alt-country and catchy guitar-picking from Portland’s resident kings of
genre-roving Americana. (GS)
Epp, Chrome Plated Chronicle
@ Rose Garden, Jan. 15
The mechanical horse! The three-story
castle! The raw-meat sofa! However bloodless and derivative her music,
La Gaga’s flair for curated scandal does lend its
One society’s junk is L’Orchestre d’Incroyable’s folk music.
Traipsing through a Technicolor conception of our
generation’s Old Weird America, some trashed would-be troubadour crops
up with a pair of suspenders helping keep his pants at about waist
Who: Chelsea Unicorn, Lucia Luna, Clint “ClickAttack” Harvard.
Sounds like: ’80s French electro processed with glitter, Lucky Charms and a black widow spider.
For fans of: Air, Massive Attack,
[POP TRIUMPHALISM] Banging into the global consciousness
in 2012 with summer jam nonpareil “I Love It,” 20-something Swedes
Caroline Hjelt and Aino Jawo have finally released a debut album pro
Pere Ubu’s David Thomas isn’t a jerk. He’s just smarter than you.
There’s been a nasty rumor going around the last, oh, 35
years or so, that David Thomas, founder of the pioneering art-punk band
Pere Ubu, is an asshole. Like his early inspiration, Lou Reed, th
It’s yourself again, from the future. You’re probably sitting in the basement eating Hot Pockets while eagerly awaiting MTV’s Amp and the slim chance they’ll air the co
[THUG LYFE] Archy Marshall is a lover, not a fighter. The music he creates under his nom de plume King Krule
is wise beyond its years—gritty, stubborn, stark and impossibly
tuneful. Watching the