Eric Grandy on Pissed Jeans:

Pissed Jeans, Suck Machine, Pig Heart Transplant

(Chop Suey) In song (but not in e-mail), Korvette delivers his self-loathing bons mots in guttural growls, injured moans, and sharp barks, while the band—Bradley Fry on guitar, Randy Huth on bass, Sean McGuinness on drums—dish out sonics every bit as self-flagellating as his lyrics: droning, clangorous guitar; harsh feedback and reverb; subfrequency, gut-­rumbling bass sludge; heavily abused drums. Live, Korvette stalks around the stage, alternately sneering, leering, cringing, shuddering, hunching, thrusting, and writhing, while the band tear through their alternately thrashy and slurring songs; his moves are as much a mockery of the rock-star motions as they are a convincing performance of them—part Iggy Pop, part David Yow, part Will Ferrell.

Data Breaker on Portable Morla:

Flexions, Portable Morla, Piles, Work, Are you a cat?

(Josephine) Playing keyboards, synths, percussion, bass, melodica, accordion, and various toys, Portable Morla creates tunes that sensually slither into earshot. She composes low-lit torch songs that slyly seduce rather than slap you upside the ass. Dub influences her production style, lending her songs a lo-fi, intimate spaciousness not unlike the Kranky Records artist Nudge and Welsh post-punk band Young Marble Giants; similarly, Portable Morla's dulcet voice bears a slight resemblance to Nudge's Honey Owens's, albeit with more vibrato and theatricality. Morla's beats are relatively gentle, which allows more room for her lush, sparkling electronic embellishments to blossom. Overall, Portable Morla's introverted brand of electronic-oriented songcraft bears a distinctive sound palette and vocal tenor that will linger long after the last song dissipates into the ether.

In Stranger Suggests:

Karl Blau, John Van Deusen, Goldfinch

(Q Cafe) Anacortes multi-instrumentalist Karl Blau is about to release one of the best albums in K Records' 27-year history: Zebra. It's Blau's psychedelicized, dubbed-out interpretation of music created by folks of African descent: Toots Hibbert, the Meters, Gilberto Gil, and others. Blau's hushed, Arthur Russell—like baritone; funkily mesmerizing bass lines; and inventive electronic embellishments reap magical results. He may be a white Pacific Northwesterner, but Blau's got soul, which permeates this wonderfully mongrelized collection, claims of "inauthenticity" be damned. (Q Cafe, 3223 15th Ave W, 352-2525. 8 pm, $7, all ages.) DAVE SEGAL

In Up & Coming tonight:

The Flaming Lips, Stardeath and White Dwarfs

(Marymoor Park) The Flaming Lips have maybe the most comforting song ever written about how we're all going to die someday so don't worry and just try to enjoy being alive right now ("Do You Realize??"). It is a legitimately magical, spine-tingling, life- (and death-) affirming thing, a sentiment so universal and inarguable that you can't not feel it, that you'll want to turn to the person next to you on the lawn at Marymoor Park and give him/her a hug no matter whether he/she's much older or younger than you or a total stranger or whatever. Also, there will be confetti and Martians and Santas and Lips frontman Wayne Coyne walking around on top of the audience in that giant hamster ball, and you really will feel good being there in that moment, even if it all has to end eventually. ERIC GRANDY

Nurses

(Sonic Boom, Ballard) Portland trio Nurses slot comfortably into that stratum of indie rock in which heartfelt, troubadourian folk songs get sprinkled with specks of lysergic dust (think Animal Collective, Yeasayer, the Ruby Suns). Bands like these often draw on the Beach Boys' elaborate vocal arrangements and harmonies. But, again like Animal Collective (and also Dirty Projectors), Nurses cast this approach in a darker, more arboreal light; these guys seem more likely to wander in the forest than revel on the beach, and their songs reflect that aural woodsiness. You can hear Nurses working out the intricate vocal tapestries and soaring, feel-pretty-good melodies from their delightful new album, Apple's Acre (Dead Oceans), in the intimate confines of Sonic Boom Records. DAVE SEGAL

The High Strung, the Sea Navy, Battle Hymns

(Sunset) On their new record, Memory Matches, the Sea Navy break the stereotype that all button-up-shirt-wearing namby-pambies strumming guitars are the anti-jocks. Singer Jay Cox is actually a sports nut, and it shows on the new record. "What Curse?" is a bright guitar-driven tune about his annual love affair with baseball and the emptiness the end of the season can bring: "Another sad September/I get home, I'm all alone/I leaned on you too much in the spring and summer months." "March Madness," Cox tells me, was "written on March 17, while watching Greg Oden's Ohio State beat Xavier during the NCAA March Madness tournament." There are some nerdier topics addressed too, though—songs about lost love, favorite movie villains, and board games. MEGAN SELING

For more shows and concerts, you can browse our online music calendar for a comple listing of events tonight.