Head, Thee Manipulators, Creem City, the Neon Wilderness
(Funhouse) About Head, Sean of the Spits says, "One of the best bands, EVER, from this weird city of ye olde Space Needle." Head sound like the Ramones onstage with the Angry Samoans. They've been around since the early '90s but don't play out that often anymore. This show is a benefit for another punk classic, Memphis's Goner Records (Gone-er, not Go-ner), more specifically for its co-owner Zac Ives. Two years ago, Ives's 4-year-old daughter, Anna, was diagnosed with a brain tumor. After years of supporting the scene with his label, mail order, and store (think Guitar Wolf, Reatards, the King Khan & BBQ Show, Oblivians, Nobunny), Ives is asking different musicians to return the favor in the form of benefit shows across the U.S. This is the Seattle chapter; it's only $7. Go. KELLY O

Listen to Head via MySpace.

Bearracuda Seattle: DJs Boyshapedbox, Fifty Pound Note
(Chop Suey) I know you've noticed that flyer around the city: the chubbily-wubbily shirtless guy who's about to spoon that man-sized glob of oatmeal right into his big furry face. Yep, it's Bearracuda time again! I stumbled into Chop Suey during the last Bearracuda, right before the holidays. I thought I'd chanced upon some sort of bizarre Santa Claus training camp. All these big, bearded men, laughing, dancing, and holding their bellies. I'd drunk just enough jolly cheer that for a second or two I really did believe in Santa again. Or in Santa's ability to transform Chop Suey into a magical world filled with only young and randy Santa wannabes. Then I noticed the leather chaps. Oh, and the big, hairy guy on the massage table. KELLY O

The Occupation, Skeletons with Flesh on Them, the Quit, Little Penguins
(Comet) Tonight, Skeletons with Flesh on Them celebrate the release of their new album, All the Other Animals. It's a strong collection of pop-rock experiments. With toe-tapping harmonies and bouncy bass and handclaps, "Same Moon" starts off sounding like it could be a They Might Be Giants song. "Power Chords" gets more aggressive, but it's still in a playful, almost cartoonish way (it involves an accordion). I'm more excited about Little Penguins' name than I am their uncomplicated midtempo rock songs. Doesn't mean they're bad—I just really like penguins. MEGAN SELING

Robyn Hitchcock & Venus 3, Young Fresh Fellows
(Triple Door) A charming live performer with the uncanny ability to spout hilarious, surrealistic tales at the drop of a plectrum, Robyn Hitchcock could make a nice living as a raconteur. But, thankfully, he's also created a (vo)luminous body of quirkadelic rock songs—with the Soft Boys and the Egyptians, and solo—that have stood time's rigorous testing. (Start with Underwater Moonlight, Black Snake Diamond Röle, and I Often Dream of Trains.) Yes, Hitchcock's voice bears a striking resemblance to Syd Barrett's, and some of his music homages Pink Floyd's initial leader a bit too reverently, but the man has gone on to become a prolific crafter of hooks and a storyteller of poignancy and whimsy—and he's become a righteous influencer himself. The Venus 3 include Peter Buck, Scott Mc-Caughey, and Bill Rieflin—not too shabby of a lineup. DAVE SEGAL

The Brian Jonestown Massacre, the Flavor Crystals
(Neumos) For all those suckas who missed '60s psych rock the first time around, the Brian Jonestown Massacre present lovingly crafted facsimiles of the sunny end of that style's spectrum, with a few detours into its darker sectors—and some shoegaze maneuvers, for good measure. BJM leader Anton Newcombe is just charismatic, aggro, and narcissistic enough to tilt the live experience into performance art/spectacular train wreck—or at least that was his SOP in previous years; don't know if this loose cannon messing with rock's canon is still firing bandmates mid-gig after the requisite fisticuffs. Whatever the case, you can expect expertly rendered paraphrases of the Velvet Underground, the Rolling Stones circa Their Satanic Majesties Request, the Byrds, Bob Dylan, Donovan, and dozens of Nuggets/Pebbles-y one-hit wonders—and perhaps an intergroup squabble or three. DAVE SEGAL

Hot Buttered Rum, Everyone Orchestra
(Crocodile) I'm not sure exactly what message the Crocodile is sending by having Hot Buttered Rum play its grand reopening. They're not a throwback bluegrass band, but they're very traditional: Some of their harmonies are straight out of the Stanley Brothers' playbook, and you can hear some jazz classicism in there, too. It's enough to make one momentarily wonder if the new-fangled Croc is gunning for the Tractor's audience. But the more important thing about Hot Buttered Rum is that they're about as sturdy and strong as a touring band can come, and maybe the message here is that the Croc is more interested in quality than in genre, and that's about the most welcome news I've heard all week. PAUL CONSTANT

Destruction, Krisiun, Mantic Ritual
(El Corazón) Germany's Destruction play thrash metal with lots of squealing and ker-chunkity, drop-tuned guitar and strident vocal conviction. They're fast and powerful Slayer acolytes. Brazilian death-metal trio Krisiun feature Alex Camargo's vomitory, baddest-mofo-in-the-universe vocals, monstrously heavy and swift guitar riffing, and super-humanly rapid drumbeats. Respect to anyone who can hang with Krisiun's sound for more than 15 minutes. It's serious survival-of-the-fittest shit. DAVE SEGAL

How could you possibly want more options? There here should you need 'em anyway.