The Faint, Natalie Portman's Shaved Head
(Showbox at the Market) In 1999, when the Faint released their breakthrough Blank-Wave Arcade, most indie-rock bands weren't using synthesizers as anything more than doorstops. For the Faint to resuscitate new wave with some morbid, sexy, and above all smart twists, was a bold move, and they pulled it off with aplomb. Their follow-up, 2001's Danse Macabre, was just as good. Then, around the peak of a revival that they helped start, the band faltered with 2004's Wet from Birth, which added acoustic strings to their sound, but lacked the intense sex-and-violence thematic punch of their previous two albums. Their new album, Fasciina- tiion, is just as disappointing. And what do the Faint get for presaging the electro wars of the early 21st century? Openers Natalie Portman's Shaved Head. Oh well.... ERIC GRANDY

The Breeders
(Neumos) After 20 years of brilliantly slack narco-pop, the Breeders still can't get so much as a paragraph without someone mentioning the Pixies (oops) or their own 1993 hit single "Cannonball" (damn it). Actually, though, they have a deep, outstanding catalog. This year's Mountain Battles synthesized the better moments of Last Splash and Title TK, and stands as one of the best things to drop in a year full of great rock records. I'm not out here crying for a new Pixies album as long as Kim and Kelley (and Jose and Mando) remain one of America's most consistent bands. And, yeah, Kim Deal is still cooler than Kim Gordon, Karen O, or any other "K" in the book. Get it right. LARRY MIZELL JR.

Danielson, Cryptacize, Bart Davenport
(Vera Project) Daniel Smith is the leader of the Danielson cult, er, I mean band, and his family members are his bandmates. Live, they're quite a vision to behold. Back when they were a Tooth & Nail act (they love Jesus), they used to wear matching nurses uniforms ("visual reminders of the spiritual and emotional healing taking place," according to ye ol' Wiki), but for this tour it'll be a colorful take on what looks like a mailman's outfit. Musically, the band are just as weird. Take "Flip Flop Flim Flam": It sounds like a druggy kids-show theme song. Chimes, sprightly drumming, cartoonishly high vocals singing about little piggies and toe jam... basically, it's a G-rated freak show with Bible references. MEGAN SELING

And all the rest can be found here!

Saint Dymphna is a glossier-produced affair than God's Money, but GGD still come at you from oblique angles; applying gloss to them is like shellacking a gargoyle. They still Taser your categorizing muscles, with sounds as slippery and unpredictable as a jellyfish crossed with a butterfly. Initially, "First Communion" sounds like a blatant stab for a club hit, as Bougatsos's gremlin-ized vocals soar over space-age Afrobeat. But when you try to imagine people dancing to this track, you can't help seeing limbs pretzeling into painful configurations. When East London grime MC Tinchy Stryder motormouths along with Bougatsos's coquettish cooing over a Terry-(not Teddy)-Riley-goes-two-step backdrop on "Princes," puzzled looks rather than busted moves come to mind. Further expectation-shattering occurs on "Vacuum," which sounds like My Bloody Valentine circa Loveless submerged in molasses and hectic '80s-video-arcade ambience. "Inners Pace" begins as an abstract percussion and field-recording excursion and then morphs into a warped electro-pop/gamelan hybrid.

Gang Gang Dance play the Triple Door tonight with Marnie Stern and Growing.

Also this evening, via Up & Comings:

El Ten Eleven, Quiet by Ten, the Whispertown 2000, Flashes of Quincey, Val Emmich
(El Corazón) Los Angeles duo El Ten Eleven (Kristian Dunn and Tim Fogarty, the rhythm section from the SoftLightes) became inspired by the rambunctious electro-rock of acts like Justice, Boys Noize, and Soulwax, and decided to create their own brand of it with, as Dunn says, "real instruments and looping pedals." The result, as heard on the new mini-album These Promises Are Being Videotaped, is ironically slicker than the sound made by the aforementioned computer-centric groups. El Ten Eleven come off as a less distinctive Trans Am—a post-rock/electronic collision that's by no means bad, but neither is it terribly exciting (nice cover of "Paranoid Android," though). DAVE SEGAL

See tonight's full list of shows in our online, searchable calendar.

Tonight is the last ever Seattle Sing Sing (Clayton Vomero is packing it in for NYC after tonight) featuring NYC's own Drop the Lime, about whom I've said this:

Music, dance music especially, is fractious in the extreme—genres mutate and divide; artists shift identities. But few musicians are as gleefully schizophrenic as Luca Venezia, known alternately as Curses! and Drop the Lime. The NYC-based producer began his career producing breakcore, a microgenre based on hyperspeed drum drills, caustic synths, splatter beats, and digitally destroyed samples. In 2003 and 2004, he released a series of 12-inches on Ambush, Broklyn Beats, Shockout, and Tigerbeat6, mulching hiphop, jungle, rave, dub, and noise into one giddy, crack-addled soundclash. Since then, Venezia's sound has evolved as Drop the Lime switches and synthesizes styles with each new record, but he's remained a prolific producer—so much so that a single identity can't contain him.

Also tonight is the second night of the Emerald City Soul Club's Rare Soul Weekender, which features all the ECSC regulars as well as a host of soul selectors from across the country. The weekend's festivities include a record swap and two nights of dancing at Lo Fi until 4am. Emerald City Soul Club remains one of if not the funnest dance night in Seattle.

Mad Rad and Champagne Champagne
Two emerging local rap groups will turn the party out with the legendary 2 Live Crew. You could not ask for more fun on the weekend. Indeed, "the freaks come out at night." Mad Rad have just released a fantastic album, White Gold, that's packed with the kind of bumping music that makes your hips want to dip. The hipster hop of Champagne Champagne will keep things interesting and strange. As for the 2 Live Crew? "Me so horny, me love you long time." (Nectar, 412 N 36th St, 632-2020. 9 pm, $10, 21+.) CHARLES MUDEDE

Also tonight, Tetraktys is at the Rendezvous and... wait, what the fuck is a Tetraktys? Christopher DeLaurenti has the answer in The Score:

"It's pronounced teh-track-tiss," explains Stuart McLeod shortly before a rehearsal for Tetraktys, named after a glyph that the followers of Pythagoras believed had mystical powers. Crammed with the six musicians of SIL2K (Strategic Improv Laboratories) into McLeod's studio, I observe a read-through of this rhythmically charged piece.

Melding video, narration, improvisation, and composition, Tetraktys is a kind of atheist's oratorio. Set to a spoken text, De Rerum Natura ("On the Nature of Things") by the Roman philosopher Lucretius, lines like "the universe was simply not created for us by Divine Power" mesh well with the collaborative process brewing among the performers. How often do you hear a composer exhort musicians to treat the score as a grid instead of a firm guide? Early in the rehearsal, McLeod reminds everyone, "Don't feel like you have to play every single note."

And finally, via Up & Comings:

Dungen, Women, Matthew and the Arrogant Sea
(Chop Suey) Women—actually four dudes from Calgary, Alberta—are a blast of cool, fresh air. Their self-titled, Chad VanGaalen–produced debut album is a superb composite of slashing, artful rock à la This Heat; ominous ambience; and the sort of shaggy, tuneful psych pop that could leverage a truce between the Dandy Warhols and the Brian Jonestown Massacre (see potential hit "Black Rice"). Concise and unpredictable, Women's songs appear to be slapdash, but repeat listens reveal them to be enduring treasures—a rare feat in current fallow indie-rock climes. I declare Women an instant minor classic and forecast moderately amazing things from them in the near future. DAVE SEGAL

"Black Rice" by Women

Anyone who likes raw garage, love songs, messy punk, two-man bands that make the noise of five-man bands, dancing, sing-alongs, ass-shaking, doo wap, and/or music in general should go to the Chop Suey show tonight.

Which one of you writes the lyrics?

MS: Both of us.

KK: Certain songs will be collaborations, you know, sometimes we'll both bring meat to the table from our closets.

Meat from your closets?

MS: Picture a mound of gristle burning in a high-heel pump.

KK: Picture a George Foreman grill with two Eskimo Pies on it.

MS: Picture Cyril making hot noodles in a cup, and the hot water just comes from his hand! [Chants] Cy-ril, Cy-ril, Cy-ril.

Who's Cyril?

KK: Cyril the Magician. YouTube it. He's our mentor, our spiritual leader, and kind of like the "Yoda" of the King Khan & BBQ Show.

MS: We're at once in awe, scared, and we just want to go on tour with him. Cyril, if you're reading this....

Read the interview here. And to get some context, you should probably check out this Cyril fella.

Also tonight (per this week's U&Cs):

Experience Hendrix 2008 Tribute Tour
(Paramount) Jimi Hendrix was the most brilliant guitarist of the last century and wrote many exceptionally beautiful songs. It is easy to forget these things among the crashing waves of pure celebrity that have come to define Hendrix, a status that's been spearheaded and taken to new highs/lows over the years by Experience Hendrix LLC. Founded by "Al" Hendrix, Jimi's in-life-somewhat-estranged father, Experience Hendrix has been responsible for legacy-boosting projects both meritorious (like 1997's well-curated posthumous collection First Rays of the New Rising Sun) and mildly tacky (like the recent Hendrix energy drinks). For the second year in a row, they present the Experience Hendrix Tribute Tour, a showcase of various stars and semistars paying musical homage to the departed master. SAM MICKENS

Secret Machines, the Dears
(Neumos) Josh Garza, drummer of Secret Machines, keeps a clock in his lap during their performances. It's easy to understand how the band lose track of time with their gargantuan drumbeats and limitless palette of effected guitar, bass, and Fender Rhodes. Channeling John Bonham in tone and Can's Jaki Liebezeit in hypnotic grooves, Garza is both the metronome and the time monitor for their expansive psychedelic journeys. Whether laying down mean and deliberate riffs or crafting sublimely airy pop melodies, Secret Machines create music that inevitably ascends into swirling layers of blissfully blown-out textural explorations. Only the relentless kick and snare patterns keep the band from wandering into the stratosphere. Audiences with ADHD beware. But those who want a true sonic voyage need look no further. BRIAN COOK

The whole list of tonight's show is available here.

At least Cafe Vita's looks good.

Support comes from local DJs Travis Baron (Knightriders), Kadeejah Streets (Innerflight/Black Neon), Grindle (Necodo), Ctrl_Alt_Dlt (Sweatbox/Live N Love), Righteous Trash (Mercir), and Miniature Airlines (live set).

Nectar, 412 N 36th St, Seattle WA 98103

Jeans Team's "Keine Melodien"

As Dave Segal says in this week's U&Cs:

The Stranger's Election Party with Dan Savage
(Showbox at the Market) Listen to the sweet music of an Obama landslide victory (knock wood), with running commentary from the witty and wise Dan Savage. But vote first! DAVE SEGAL

Electric Six, Local H, Japanese Motors
(Neumos) Ex-Detroit disco-metal clowns Electric Six strut loudly and carry a big shtick. Their 15 minutes of fame (in Britain anyway) expired in 2003, but E6 continue to ply their heavy-handed—albeit sometimes funny—sonic snark as a glam-rock pick-up group for front man Dick Valentine's ironic bluster. On this tour, they're supporting the mediocre Flashy, which reveals that much of their former "danger" and "high voltage" have dissipated. New Vice Records artists Japanese Motors are one of Orange County's greatest rock hopes in 2008—which doesn't exactly speak well of OC's rock talent pool. That being said, if you like the Strokes, you will find Japanese Motors to be proficient emulators... of a band considerably indebted to Television and Lou Reed. JM's self-titled debut disc is peppy, no-risk rock from handsome surfer dudes. DAVE SEGAL

Sunburned Hand of the Man, Franklin's Mint, Diminished Men
(Sunset) Massachusetts's communal-jam commandos Sunburned Hand of the Man are hippies—but hippies with more free jazz than free love in their genes. On any given night, though, SHOTM could morph into something else: kosmische couriers who make Krautrocksampler author Julian Cope delirious; perpetual percussion machines who rehabilitate the drum-circle concept; Funkadelic disciples who (thankfully) don't know when to quit; or who knows what. SHOTM's Four Tet–produced Fire Escape (2007) shows they can incorporate electronic elements without losing their trance- inducing zest to quest. Drummer John Moloney's the de facto leader of this free-floating, psychotropic circus, and, due to his impeccable taste and instincts, he will guide this juggernaut to the center of your mind—and vigorously tweak your opioid receptors. DAVE SEGAL

DragonForce, Turisas, Powerglove
(Showbox Sodo) I know, I want to hate DragonForce, too. The clichéd fantasy-metal lyrics, the two- minute-long masturbatory guitar solos, everything dripping with heavy production. It all seems too goofy to be taken seriously, but they're too serious about it to be a joke. But no matter what you think of the music, you can't deny that the dudes really do put on an entertaining show—to a ridiculous degree. There are trampolines and tsunami-strength fans involved. There are lots of lights and lasers and leather, and at least one man with hair grown down way past his ass. So whether you're up front, reveling in their every move, or standing in the back, mocking them during the "ballad," for the hour or so they're on stage, you're sure to at least be entertained by the sheer spectacle of it all. MEGAN SELING

Chris Cornell and Timbaland play the Showbox Sodo tonight.

Chris Cornell, Timbaland
(Showbox Sodo) Oh, Chris Cornell, you wandered off and now you're the example—the standard by which we measure all that we are thankful our fallen grunge heroes never had a chance to become. What sort of fucked-up stuff has to happen to a musician that he starts with Badmotorfinger and ends up here? Scream, the full-length collaboration between Cornell and Timbaland, has had its release date moved from October to January. The Verizon-sponsored tour finds the duo performing the album in its entirety, and if the samples on Cornell's MySpace are any indication, it will surely go down as one of the most vapid, soulless efforts ever issued by once-respectable musicians. Someone needs to find the rustiest cage on Earth and lock Chris Cornell inside it until he realizes what he's done and apologizes. JEFF KIRBY

A whole lot more can be found in our online listings--have a look.

And DJ Spooky headlines a Stranger Suggest-worthy show at Nectar:

DJ Spooky
A polymath with dexterous deck skills, DJ Spooky reconfigures old audio/visual data in order to gain fresh insights—including a détournement of D.W. Griffith's Birth of a Nation. Now Spooky turns his critical faculties on 1973 documentary Wattstax and the loaded roster of Memphis soul-music label Stax. The show's called Soul Power: From Gospel to the Godfather, and it should be a sonic/imagistic history lesson to which you'll sweat as much as learn, as Dr. King figuratively boogies with Queen Aretha. (Earlier that day, at 7 pm, Spooky will read from his new book at Caffe Vita.) (Nectar, 412 N 36th St, 632-2020. 9 pm, $12, 21+.) by Dave Segal

And finally, from this week's U&Cs:

Coosh Crash Test, Massive Monkees, Big World Breaks, BlesOne, Dyme Def
(Paramount) This is an international, two-on-two B-Boy Championship. Breakdancers from Korea, Brazil, Finland, Miami, L.A., and New York will be competing for $10,000. An extravaganza will unfold and freeze. The Massive Monkees crew will be performing their massively incomprehensible dervish of moves. Atlanta's B.o.B., Cali's Pacific Division, Paris's Salah, Seattle's own triple rap-stack Dyme Def, and the collective funk-groove armada of Big World Breaks provide the music. DV One and BlesOne will DJ. Tilson, the ever-flowing Saturday Knight, will be hosting and stirring mirth. Mayor Greg Nickels is even set to speak. Nickels has been working on his downrock and power moves. He's a politician who wants to redefine spin. TRENT MOORMAN

And that's not all--that's never all. Find a complete listing of all of tonight's shows in our online calendar.

I missed something totally obvious in my profile of killer stunt punks Partman Parthorse in this week's Stranger, which begins:

Sexy or scary? It's the Halloween costume dilemma of our time, but for Partman Parthorse frontman Gary Smith, it's no problem at all—when his band take the stage for their October 31 CD-release show at the High Dive, he'll inevitably be both.

Sexy because Gary gets naked or next to it at nearly every Partman Parthorse show, and he boasts a lean, muscular physique (he and wife/drummer Lisa Smith do yoga). Scary because once he gets down to his underwear (or less), Gary stalks through the crowd, lifts monitors with one arm, writhes around on the floor, and otherwise gets intimate with his audience on an anatomical level, all while the band beat out dark, churning blasts of punk rock and Gary sings almost impenetrably sarcastic, smart-ass lyrics with an all-encompassing sneer.

What I forgot to include, of course, is the other kind of Halloween costume, vastly superior to either the scary or the sexy: the FUNNY kind. I think I skipped on it because the opening line works better as a duality than a tripartite conflict—the omission certainly isn't for Partman Parthorse lacking the funny, because they have that in spades:

"I just want to shake my dick in your face and see if you like it or not."

"Rachel [Ratner, bass/synth] owns KEXP, I own Easy Street Records, Lisa's the marketing director of Microsoft, Marshall [Nall, guitar] owns Tavolàta"

"Last night, before we played, I started chanting 'John McCain,' and people started flipping me off and saying, 'Fuck you.' It was really funny—Lisa didn't think it was funny—but then I said, 'Hey, Tacoma doesn't smell bad, it just smells like pussy... hot, wet, middle-aged pussy.' That was funny, too."

"Fuck it, they're jerks—but, you know, it's not like they have to like us or anything, it's just dumb that they don't."

Anyway, go see Partman Parthorse tonight at the High Dive. They will be scary, sexy, and funny. Wear something inappropriate.