In Data Breaker:

Joy Von Spain

(Josephine) Von Spain's new album, Lady Lazarus (on the Scatological Liberation Front and available at Dissonant Plane and the Capitol Hill Sonic Boom), largely was recorded as collaborations, with much assistance from SLF's Gerald Hansen. "Beast Blob Parasite" is the wild bull in the symphony auditorium, coming off like a no-wave fracas that could make Lydia lose her Lunch. But with "Entrance of Durga," Von Spain attains a zenith of aural firepower, unleashing bitter torrents of scarifying noise, like some infernal choir of the Apocalypse.

In Up & Coming:

Bill Callahan, Bachelorette

(Triple Door) Bachelorette is the stage name of New Zealand musician Annabel Alpers. At the core of Bachelorette's songs on the new album, My Electric Family, is Alpers's alternately glassy and evaporating singing voice. Surrounding her singing are lush layers of traditional live instrumentation, expansive audio effects (delay and reverb up to the heavens), and tasteful electronic flourishes. The lyrics can get wincingly wonky, as on utopian electro-pop number "Technology Boy," but the arrangements—such as that song's stuttering vocals reminiscent of Morr Music softies Lali Puna—are consistently captivating. Bill Callahan is the dour tenor behind the much-loved, long-running solo project Smog. Recording under his own name for his past two albums, Woke on a Whaleheart and Sometimes I Wish We Were an Eagle, Callahan continues to churn out the terse and brutal and just sometimes bright-around-the-corners folk songs, always sung in that coldly commanding voice of his. ERIC GRANDY

These Arms Are Snakes, the Coathangers, the Whore Moans

(Comet) If you have a spot in your heart for TacocaT, then you'll definitely want to be sure to catch the Coathangers' set tonight. On their debut full-length, Scramble (released on local label Suicide Squeeze), these four fun ladies from Atlanta, Georgia, summon some of that same bratty and messy punk-rock prowess. Their songs are lo-fi and sloppy and put together in less than a day by musicians who've done more partying than practicing, but what the fuck ever—that's punk rock. It's not supposed to be perfect. And if you're ever really pissed, try cranking up the iPod and screaming along with "Gettin' Mad and Pumpin' Iron," where a squeaky voice yowls, "I'm gonna break your fucking face!" It's wonderfully cathartic. MEGAN SELING

Skeletons with Flesh on Them

(Mars Bar) Have you listened to Skeletons with Flesh on Them's latest record, All the Other Animals, yet? Have you!? I've told you over and over... what are you waiting for? I mean, I'd understand if you're a little hesitant. I once told you to like that melodramatic tween crap band Say Anything (I stand by their first record!). But trust me on this one! All the Other Animals is a sonic gem, beaming with fun pop tracks perfect for summer days. It's all playful and bright, it's got humor à la They Might Be Giants, but it's also got a menagerie of instruments and harmonies that fans of BOAT would appreciate. I love them and you should, too, and I won't stop saying so until you finally listen. MEGAN SELING

Project Lionheart, Fresh Espresso

(High Dive) Last month, Fresh Espresso's first album, Glamour, rose to number one on KEXP's Northwest charts, and it's still holding steady. Rapper Rik Rude and producer P Smoov came, saw, and conquered with "Lazerbeams," one of the freshest tracks on an album that's packed with raw energy. Indeed, there is an excitement on this record that makes you believe in the impossible: that hiphop still has a long future ahead of it. With Rik and Smoov, it is as if the past and its failures do not exist. Nowhere on any track is there a hint of bitterness, exhaustion, or resentment. The album presents the present as a brand-new day, as a fresh start, as a dawn of something new and unexpected. Rik and Smoov are on the move. CHARLES MUDEDE

Fences, the Lonely Forest

(Crocodile) Fences is the solo acoustic project of Seattle-based musician Chris Mansfield, a heavily tattooed dude who looks like he ought to be fronting a gutter-punk outfit. Appearances aside, Mansfield is wholly convincing as a folky singer-songwriter with a broken heart (inked) on his sleeve. His voice is faintingly soft, his lyrics bruised, his guitar strumming simple and augmented by only the occasional brushed backbeat. Mansfield spent some time studying jazz at the Berklee College of Music in Boston, and while his stripped-down guitar ballads aren't overly complicated, they're clearly the work of a learned hand. Recently, Mansfield spent 28 days at a rehab facility in Kirkland for his "excessive consumption of alcohol." His last report is that he's "sober as a saint" and full of gratitude for the music he's making, as well he should be. ERIC GRANDY

Thee Satisfaction, Thee Emergency, Telepathic Liberation Army, TacocaT, Leslie & the LY's, Weekend, the Redwood Plan, Goon Squad, Hunx and His Punx, the Dutchess and the Duke

(Wildrose, 1 pm—midnight) Through the diligent efforts and fine taste of booker Jodi Ecklund, Wildrose once again hosts a damn strong lineup for Pride. Heavy on local talent and rock 'n' roll, today's party boasts, among others, retro garage-soul rockers Thee Emergency, scrappy pop-punk quartet TacocaT, and glitzy GarageBand purveyors Leslie & the LY's. Headlining are "campfire punkers" the Dutchess and the Duke and San Francisco's bubblegum punkers Hunx and His Punx, who've got showmanship to spare. All of this goes on outside in the sun (let's hope) until nightfall, when things move into the club and MC BenDeLaCrème and DJ Ponyboy take the wheel(s). GRANT BRISSEY

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