Count off the 12 Best Songs by Throw Me the Statue with Christopher Frizzelle and Eric Grandy:

1. "Lolita"

Throw Me the Statue's most well-known song is a great example of what the band does best: It's immediately a pop song, its melodies and arrangements (heavy on strummed acoustic guitar and rolling, hand-clap-happy backbeats) inviting and catchy, but it's also slightly obscure. Those arrangements are deceptively crafted, from the first drum-machine pattern to the final hectic chorus; its subject isn't so much an object of infatuation (a girl) as it is the feeling of infatuation itself ("the hunger"); and songwriter Scott Reitherman's best lyrics are just slightly off ("I wanna make you lose your brain," "I got the bullets in my head/And she asks me why I came," "She was 19/And we all rearrange," the lonely, unlikely chorus "Every night I pray/She comes around my house to stay").

Dave Segal talks to Talbot Tagora about no-wave and post-punk:

The group's members—Ani Ricci (drums), Chris Ando (guitar, vocals), and Mark Greshowak (guitar, bass, vocals)—are still in their late teens/early 20s. But their sound—all tense atmospheres, scathing yet tuneful guitars, declamatory vocals, concise durations—harks back to an era before they were born, specifically the post-punk and no-wave movements (including Sonic Youth's earliest phase) that flourished around the time their automotive namesake was floundering.

"We are fans of bands that fit under that timeline," Ando says by e-mail while Talbot Tagora are on tour with Abe Vigoda. "So it probably subliminally bleeds into our songwriting. It's not intentional. We're interested in that era because it seemed that a lot of those bands had political purpose behind their art. A lot of art inspires us, though—atmospheres, too."

Check out this week's notable shows in Up & Coming, like tomorrow's performance by the Saturday Knights:

(EMP) For a moment there, it looked like the Saturday Knights were going to be the bona fide Next Big Thing (or, if you prefer, Wave) in Seattle hiphop—skillful as they are playful, rock-friendly as they are rap-credible, the group seemed poised to wholly dominate 2008. That they didn't quite, that they've been just one great Seattle hiphop success story among many in the past year, is more a credit to the overwhelming amount of talent in this town right now than it is a slight to the Knights. TSK can still rock a party with the best of them, with MCs Tilson and Barfly spitting, respectively, amiable but alpha-wolfing game and drunken mastery while DJ Suspence cuts beats and spikes mics behind them, often bolstered by an extra hand on guitar or drums. Any chance to get some actual live music shaking the staid (if abstract) halls of the EMP is a good thing, and the Saturday Knights are the perfect band to do it while Jim Henson's Muppets are on display (check their Sesame Street cred on the video for "Count It Off"). ERIC GRANDY

Fucking in the Streets recaps the Capitol Hill Block Party:

The biggest surprise of the weekend was Micachu & the Shapes, an arty, lo-fi London trio about whom many of my peers were raving, but whose debut album, Jewellery, had left me cold. As I approached the stage, I thought the band's set was just going to confirm my antipathy. It sounded like droney, half-formed art-school shenanigans (and I like art-school shenanigans) with just a hint of R&B buried alive underneath. But then they played a song that was all rim-shot click, bass groove, and digital ringing percussion, and it sounded great—drone as pop, the R&B clawing its way up to the surface of the song (something about "old debris," maybe?). The song ended in an epic thrash, and then there was another groovy number that spiked into noise at the end. I may have to revisit that record.

Read about this week's latest singles and releases in It's a Hit:

"Never Gonna Give Your Teen Spirit Up"
by DJ Morgoth (MP3)

Early in the decade, I was a sucker for blends, or mashups, or A-plus-B mixes, or stupid gimmicks, or whatever you wanted to call them. Then they all started to suck, and I stopped caring. So part of the shock of this marvelous piece of work isn't just that Germany's DJ Morgoth managed to fuse two of the most horribly obvious records ever made—Rick Astley's "Never Gonna Give You Up" and Nirvana's "Smells Like Teen Spirit"—into a brilliant whole. It's that (a) no one had done it before, even back when it seemed like this sort of thing was what everyone was doing, and (b) anyone could make something this good in that vein again, something that hits so giddy and hard.

Data Breaker on local drone and noise composers:

Let us take a break this week from the ecstatic tyranny of beats and immerse ourselves in the briny whirlpool of drones. Thankfully, there's a bill happening at the Josephine on Wednesday, August 5, that's a beggars banquet of electronic abstract expressionism. A good drone has the ability to be a mental palate cleanser, a salubrious aural cushion on which one can meditate like a motherfucker, and a springboard for cerebral calisthenics—assuming you don't have the attention span of a sugared-up kindergartner.

Let's begin with Portland's Pulse Emitter (Daryl Groetsch and his modular synthesizer). In his compositions, he cultivates an aura of ascetic mysticism/lunar desolation with sputtering-motor bass hums and ripples, and glinting, curvilinear tone smears. "Meditative Music," oddly enough, is just that, although not in any standard new-age manner; rather, it soothes in a "we're cruising eight miles high" way, while "Charlemagne Palestine" presses a stubby finger on a black key on the far right side of the organ.

Larry Mizell Jr reviews BattleCat in My Philosophy:

BattleCat—the producer, not He-Man's mount—is simply one of the illest producers from the West Coast (thus, anywhere) ever. From the school of squealing, squelchy-smooth G-funk, yet totally original, BattleCat is the guy behind some of my favorite post—Death Row West-Coast jams—"G'd Up" by Tha Eastsidaz comes to mind. "Cat is one of those rare guys who has dominated with a sound all his own," says premier Seattle producer (and Big Tune mainstay) Jake One. "West Coast rap needs him in a bad way right now."

Christopher DeLaurenti on the exploitation of Bill Anschell:

Last month, the local chapter of a nationally known charitable group asked me to recommend a jazz musician who could "donate time and talent" for a benefit dessert auction. Is any other profession expected to devalue its work as often? Veteran musicians lament such gigs as "freebies." Depending on my mood, I prefer "unwitting exploitation" or, in this case, what self-help gurus call "a teaching moment."

Amid the bounty of Seattle musicians, I thought of pianist Bill Anschell, whose recent disc We Couldn't Agree More (Origin) captures a daring series of duets with saxophonist Brent Jensen. I marvel at Anschell's near-telepathic rapport with Jensen and how they blithely hopscotch from the frenetic free improvisation of "The People Versus Miss Jones" to a sly, Monk-ish take on the Miles Davis standard "Solar." Anschell told me once, "It's all about getting into each other's heads."

Megan Seling on Shook Ones in Underage:

Because I (not so) secretly yearn to be 18 years old, my soundtrack for the summer is as loud, fast, and posi as possible. I'm listening to a lot of older stuff like Smoke or Fire, Latterman, and Screeching Weasel, and to keep things up-to-date, I've also thrown the new Shook Ones record, The Unquotable A.M.H., into the playlist. You know, to see how it stands up to some of the classics.

Clocking in at just 30 minutes, Unquotable is their best record yet—it gives some of their forefathers a run for their money (Lifetime, I'm looking at you) and proves that pop punk is still alive and kicking a double bass drum... and not just because Blink-182 are back.

This week, Party Crasher rubs elbows with literature enthusiasts over crab cakes! Also check out the newest Poster of the Week! For more music events, shows, DJs and parties, check out our searchable online music calendar.