Clinic are at Neumo’s tonight; Michaelangelo Matos reviewed the band’s new album, Do It, in this week’s paper:

No band better exemplifies the Curse of the Perfect Debut than Clinic. Leaving aside a self-titled CD collecting their early singles, the Liverpool quartet began with 2000’s Internal Wrangler, one of those albums that record geeks of a certain stripe live for—a mad, endlessly replayable compendium of sonic devices citing a dead-on assortment of historical landmarks that moves so fast but packs in so much you’re alternately shocked and relieved it’s only a half-hour long. Internal Wrangler exposed every trick Clinic have up their collective sleeve, setting the band’s subsequent work up for failure. How do you reinvent a sound that’s already constantly reinvented itself song to song? How do you top the moment when your enthusiasm for those tricks comes through most vividly?

The rest can be found here.

Nas is in town tonight, playing Showbox Sodo. In My Philosophy, Larry Mizell reminds you to not get your hopes up to high:

But unlike the absolutely essential classic Illmatic (which even Mr. Jones recently admitted made fans expect too much from him for the rest of his career), no album sums up Nas better than his 2001 “comeback” album. While it held some of Nas’s best work, period, it also held some of his worst, most ill-considered duds (“Smokin’,” “Braveheart Party”). Simply put, Nas is best embodied by something as tragically inconsistent as Still.

Besides all that, you know and I know—and you know that I know—that Nasir is a notoriously spotty performer. Bad breath control, raggedy voice (too many White Owls, god), lackadaisical movement, and overbearing hypemen have typified every Nas show I’ve ever seen. I’m not saying that because I don’t want you to go see Esco at Showbox Sodo on Friday, May 16—I do! I want you to support the openers, my man D.Black, my dudes Grynch, and DJ Nphared. I want you to scream your lungs out when the man many of you proclaim as hiphop’s greatest MC emerges onstage. I just don’t want you to be disappointed. No expectations.

Also happening…

The Evaporators, Voodoo Organist, TacocaT, Science & Junk
(Funhouse) I will first and forever love Nardwuar the Human Serviette, frontman of Vancouver, BC, goof punks the Evaporators, as possibly the greatest interviewer punk rock has ever produced (sorry, Spiv). Like a (more) absurd and antagonistic Barbara Walters, Nardwuar assaults subjects ranging from Quiet Riot to Snoop Dogg with quick wit, a depth of pop-trivia knowledge that goes beyond dorky to just plain stupefying, and his signature “doot doola doot doo.” Secondarily, I love Nardwuar and the Evaporators for providing the soundtrack for the one and only time I ever drunkenly made out in a mosh pit (my deepest apologies go out to everyone else who was at that year’s Yo Yo a Go Go). Keep on rockin’ the free world, Nardwuar. ERIC GRANDY

French Kicks, the Joggers, the Quiet Ones
(Chop Suey) French Kicks long ago shed the “NY garage band” image that was tacked onto them after emerging from a diverse music scene at the same time as the Strokes and the Walkmen, which is good news for everyone involved. Their fourth album, Swimming, was released digitally in April from Vagrant Records, with hard copies arriving in stores on May 20. Produced and mixed by the band, Swimming is held up by chiming guitars and showcases lead singer Nick Stumpf’s pleasant croon; it is their proudest achievement to date. Portland’s the Joggers, former labelmates of French Kicks, provide support. MATT GARMAN

All these shows and more can be found in our calendar.