Two more happenings tonight that are well worth your attention even if they didn't make it into the paper:

NYC DJ Cousin Cole is playing Bangers & Mash at the Seesound Lounge tonight. Cousin Cole is one half of the Flagrant Fowl label, along with DJ Pocketknife. His tastes in tracks range from hip hop to indie rock to electro and beyond, and his way with a remix is impeccable. I think my favorite thing of his is his dancey re-edit of Jesus & Mary Chain's "Just Like Honey," but this rework of the Boss' "I'm on Fire" is pretty fun, too:

This summer we are taking a new approach to our tour. We will spend two days in each city we visit. One night we will perform as the Extreme Animals. The other night we will present videos with live performances by Jacob Ciocci and David Wightman (Fortress of Amplitude). These later events will take place in theaters and comfortable galleries, spaces in which the audience can feel free to sit back and relax.

Tonight's show is billed as a screening, which means maybe you won't get to see the band do this (but just maybe they'll still bust out a few songs—please!?):

In Underage:

Seahouse, Masters and Johnson, Last Slice of Butter, The Raindrops

From their first, sloppy shows at the Old Fire House in 2007 to the first time they destroyed a party at now-defunct Central District DIY house the Ark, Issaquah's Seahouse have always been something very special, as evidenced by the unanimously stoked crowds that meet them everywhere they go. Their simple, lo-fi sing-alongs encompass all that it is to be a suburban teenager—but on their first full-length album, PNW, they elevate their poppy basement jams to full-on summer-soundtrack material. The inhuman beat of Nick Leumpert, flat-out the city's best young drummer, lays the groundwork for the band's grimy guitars and the blooming teenage lyrical prowess of vocalist and frontman Max Smith-Holmes. Whether being hopelessly lost in love, anticipating the end of school, or welling up with hometown pride, PNW is a raw and honest trip through Smith-Holmes's hang-ups and enthusiasms.

In The Score:

Distant Worlds: Music from Final Fantasy with Seattle Symphony

(Benaroya Hall) Earle Brown, a compadre of John Cage and Morton Feldman in the so-called New York School, would have deemed Nobuo Uematsu's score to Final Fantasy a prime specimen of "open form." Brown coined the term in the 1950s to describe performing a composition by shuffling and joining seemingly separate sections of a score on the spot. Written music becomes like a deck of cards in poker; every deal is part of the game, yet some hands will be stronger than others. Composers for computer games do the same thing, penning snippets (some just two or four beats long) and phrase-length segments able to wallpaper and withstand the sudden transitions, almost endless looping, ambient sound, and omnipresent special effects that pervade gameplay (ka-BOOM!). After I extract myself from the Final Fantasy tutorial to grab a snack, my (in)actions still cocompose the music, which owes equal debts to prog rock and Carmina Burana: Drums and tinkling percussion buttress stomping rhythms, sentimental tunes, and the occasional doom-bellowing choir..

In Up & Coming tonight:

Coconut Coolouts, Mean Jeans, Little Cuts

(Funhouse) The thing to love about Coconut Coolouts is that they're always playing. Not as in they're always playing their instruments; it just feels as though they are always at play, always having fun. (Naming tracks "Party Jail" and "Shotgun Party" probably help to keep the good-times vibe a-comin'.) I don't mean this in a "they're-sure-having-fun-up-there" backhanded slap sort of way; I mean they're always experimenting and pursuing the sound of fun wherever it tries to hide. Rhythmic hand claps? Why not? What sounds like 200 people singing the chorus of a song? Sure! The Coconut Coolouts are scientists in the partyest laboratory on earth, and they want you to be a guinea pig. Say yes. PAUL CONSTANT

Wah Wah Exit Wound, Diminished Men, the Abodox

(Blue Moon) Wah Wah Exit Wound brashly thread abrasive post-rock guitar textures through prog-rock convolutions—sort of like a less-bombastic Mars Volta or maybe Polvo tackling King Crimson's Red. Whatever the case, WWEW do their thing—a thing not many have the skill and guts to do—very well. Seattle's Diminished Men are mainly known for casting surf rock in starkly noirish shadows and infusing it with kitsch-free drama. But they also veer off the reverbed, twangy path into more abstract, chilling territory ripe for scoring classic giallo films, fusing Goblin with Ennio Morricone. The Abodox apply cataclysmic pressure to the metal genre until it becomes spectacular torrents of magma. Technical prowess meets raging fury in the Abodox's creations, and we all go home bruised and drained. Proper loud, complex music from right here. DAVE SEGAL

Skeletonwitch, Saviours, Trap Them, Black Breath

(Chop Suey) Skeletonwitch is a stupid band name. They sound fucking evil—grunting zombie vocals and guitar solos that could pierce your soul—but their name kills the vibe. I picture them sitting around, probably stoned, bantering, "Dude, you know what's scary? Skeletons." "Yeah, dude, those are scary! You know what would be even scarier? A skeleton witch!" "Fuck, man, a skeleton witch? That'd be fuckin' scary!" They might as well be called Mummywolf or Vampirefrankenstein. Openers Saviours are less goofy. Their stoner-rific metal is epic—less monster mash and more "I will punish you by way of thundering guitar riff." And their name doesn't sound like a third grader made it up. MEGAN SELING

Remember to check our online calendar with a complete listing of live music and DJs going on tonight.