Dave Segal on HEALTH:

HEALTH, Past Lives, Pictureplane, Pregnant

(Vera) All of this peripheral stuff would be irrelevant if HEALTH sounded anemic. But the L.A. quartet—Benjamin Jared Miller (drums), Jake Duzsik (vocals, guitar, Zoothorn), John Famiglietti (bass, Zoothorn, percussion), Jupiter Keyes (guitar, percussion, Zoothorn, synth)—blitz you with scathing shafts of oddly beautiful rock brut. Their debut full-length, HEALTH (2007, recorded by the band at the Smell), radiates a vital urban-tribal vibe—think Animal Collective channeling Throbbing Gristle instead of the Beach Boys—as feral screams alternate with mellow, dulcet crooning incongruously reminiscent of the Zombies' Colin Blunstone and My Bloody Valentine's Kevin Shields.

In Up & Coming:

Kyle Geiger, Uncommon Forms

(Re-bar) The artists on this bill offer a warehouse full of hard and heady techno. Local duo Uncommon Forms (Wisconsin émigrés Milkplant and Sone, who also run the excellent From 0-1 label) bring that Midwestern burliness to minimal techno's streamlined groove science. Indiana-based Kyle Geiger has earned support from banging-tekno magistrates like Drumcode label boss Adam Beyer and the savvy folks who book Berlin's Berghain club. His sets strike a motivational balance between the hard driving and the festively minimal, with strange textures and percussive accents festooning the uptempo kick/hi-hat action. Check out Geiger's mixes at www.kylegeiger.com for a representative sampling of his exquisite taste and momentum building. DAVE SEGAL

Midday Veil, Mangled Bohemians, Brother Raven, Sokai Stilhed

(Rendezvous) This show promises to set you adrift on blissful waves of analog-synth burbles and oscillations (see especially Brother Raven and Mangled Bohemians) and ectoplasmic, post-folk emanations (see especially Sokai Stilhed and Midday Veil). These artists—all of whom are local except for Portland's Mangled Bohemians—go for a song-form-dissolving approach that favors amorphous beauty and languorous drift over rigidly defined structure or rhythmic thrust. They don't write songs so much as they create aural flotation devices. Welcome to the pleasure om. DAVE SEGAL

Wehrwolve, This Blinding Light, C'est la Mort

(Cafe Venus) With a name so eagerly misspelled and reminiscent of supernatural evil, Wehrwolve could strike you as some kind of theatrical death-metal outfit with a blood fetish, but that would be inaccurate. The truth is so much more interesting: Wehrwolve stack sounds amid and among each other—a plaintive beeping from a sci-fi horror film mixed with a mournful cello, with excited acoustic guitar slathered on top. Some songs have distant, churchlike vocals tucked behind the beats. They place these sounds next to one another, and sometimes they throb and merge into something tuneful, while other times the aggressive anti-rhythm becomes beautiful, like a chip on a marble statue. PAUL CONSTANT

The Bishop/Corsano/Chasny Trio, Wally Shoup, Chris Corsano

(Sunset) Sir Richard Bishop, Ben "Six Organs of Admittance" Chasny, and experimental drummer supreme Chris Corsano should make for a combustible "evening of improvisational and free-form jazz," as the Sunset bills it. My research unearths no documentation of this threesome, live or on record, so we could be witnessing them together for the first time. When the talent level is this lofty, you should make it a priority to witness potential once-in-a-lifetime musical magic. Veteran Seattle free-jazz saxophone colossus Wally Shoup opens with the ever-inventive Corsano. DAVE SEGAL

Super Geek League, Billy the Fridge, Johnny Sonic, Dead Vampires, MC Psycho the World's Worst Comic

(Crocodile) If this Super Geek League show is anything like the Showbox gig I saw when they played with the Jim Rose Circus and WWE wrestling heavy Jake the Snake Roberts, then audiences should expect a Polyphonic Spree—esque rock 'n' roll freak show—complete with robots, clowns, burlesque (including a barely dressed Fuchsia FoXXX), skeletons, garden gnomes, and one Sammy the Dwarf dressed as a leprechaun. And if all this isn't enough, there's the Ramones-y monster rock of the Dead Vampires, geeky electronica of Johnny Sonic, what Billy the Fridge calls his "Patented Fat Brand of Punch Face Hiphop," and somebody MCing the whole mess who calls himself "the world's worst comic." KELLY O

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