My Bloody Valentine are coming to Seattle for the first time in, like, 17 years. Dave Segal wrote about the band, their history, and their return in this week's music section:

From 1987 to 1991, MBV had one of the greatest creative runs in rock history. It rivaled those of the Beatles' 1965 to 1969, the Velvet Underground's 1967 to 1970, Can's 1969 to 1974, and Hüsker Dü's 1984 to 1987. Shields's hot streak was such that even relatively overlooked EP cuts such as "Swallow," "Honey Power," and "Glider" radiated unparalleled brilliance.

MBV's 1987 output—the EPs Sunny Sundae Smile and Strawberry Wine and the mini-album Ecstasy—finds them melding Ramones' speedy energy, Love's luxurious guitar jangle, and the Jesus and Mary Chain's feedback symphonies. The sound followed the UK music scene's post-Psychocandy/C86 obsession with amphetamined tempos, buoyant melodies, and sugary vocal harmonies. MBV's releases during this time are among the finest of their kind, proving them to be competent formalists, but only faintly hint at the seismic changes in their aesthetic to come.

Chris Cornell
(Showbox Sodo) I like Soundgarden as much as the next person raised on Led Zeppelin, but never cared enough to develop expectations of their individual members. Not so with the Soundgarden faithful, many of whom have greeted Chris Cornell's aiming-for-the-mainstream solo career with disdain, which was upgraded to outright mockery upon the release of this year's Timbaland-produced Scream. Over radio-ready beats that could've been made for Nelly Furtado, Cornell belts out lyrics about love and bitches, and it's perfectly harmless and completely unnecessary. Once upon a time, Cornell wanted to be Robert Plant; now he seems to be aiming for Power Station—era Robert Palmer. Pertinent fact: Tonight's show has been sold out for weeks, so all us haters can suck it. DAVID SCHMADER

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