Symphony For The Superhero, a symphony by local composer Mateo Messina (best known for composing the Juno score, as noted before), is going down at Benaroya, starring the one and only Cut Chemist- turntablist, producer, innovator.

Bridging hiphop and the symphony is no small feat- in fact, it's a fucking recipe for disaster in the wrong hands- but I think this cast of characters is up to the task. Says Messina:

Symphony of the Superhero explores our cultures fascination with superheroes. Comic book fans will love this look at their favorites and how they've played into our society.

This is my 12th symphony as a composer and I still don't know how to read music. I write symphony for our generation. These are not typical symphonies. These are crazy, big, hairy, fun events where we enchant the audience. We will have over 280 performers on stage. A full orchestra, 4 choirs, drummers, a DJ, and a few tricks up our sleeves.

Our solo violinist, Lili Haydn, hails from LA and has played with, for Sting, Paige & Plant (Zeppelin), Parliament Funkadelic, Herbie Hancock, and so many others. She is currently writing and performing for the next Pirates of the Carribean film score (Hans Zimmer). She's a unique talent in that she plays violin and sings at the same time...in a really beautiful, yet haunting way.

THIS IS NOT A TYPICAL SYMPHONY. This is a crazy, big, hairy, fun concert written by a composer who isn't classically trained and doesn't even read music (yet, but probably will someday). This is something you have to see to believe.

Starting tonight, They Live!’s DJ BlesOne (aka Bruce Illest) hosts a new monthly called Filthy Nice Fridays at the Baltic Room (it’ll happen every first Friday and run until it stops). He is the jock who often provides the backdrops to which the Massive Monkees flex their world-class breakdancing moves. I imagine the funk will be very strong here all night. And word is, the flyest girls are down with BlesOne's Mash Hall and co-sponsor Paperboy's crews. This matters.

Email your name to pbp206@gmail.com for guest list privileges from 10 pm-11 pm; cover is $5 after 11.

From Data Breaker:

Sun Circle, Story of Rats, Eric Ostrowski, Aures

(Josephine) Sun Circle (Greg Davis and Zach Wallace) explore beatless space, but in a more expansive manner. Whereas Mem1 score the body's inner gurgles and expirations, Sun Circle, as their moniker implies, radiate solarized drones that wax and wane in intensity in subtle increments. The sound is akin to that of Davis's Kranky Records labelmate White Rainbow: Cursory listens could trigger knee-jerk accusations of "new age"—ism, but the music of both artists is too interesting and psychedelic for that tarnished term. More accurately, Sun Circle create a rarefied, spiritual strain of healing music whose only gods are Terry Riley and Pauline Oliveros. Check out Sun Circle's split 12-inch with Eleh, Fading Spectrum of Darkness/Parhelion (on Important Records), for ample proof of their gently ecstatic, peace-inducing vibe rations. DAVE SEGAL

From Up & Coming:

John Abercrombie Quartet

(Triple Door) In the '70s and '80s, guitarist John Abercrombie recorded for the impeccable ECM label, abetted by phenomenal players like drummers Billy Cobham and Jack DeJohnette, keyboardist Jan Hammer, bassist Dave Holland, guitarists John Scofield and Ralph Towner, and brass specialists Randy and Michael Brecker. On records like Timeless and Gateway, Abercrombie flaunted a fluid, crystalline style that could chill and enflame with equal adroitness. His work is marked by subtle melodic beauty and a quiet intensity that recalls Terje Rypdal's own ECM output. With his latest quartet, Abercrombie tempers some of his peak era's more outré excursions for a more refined, trad-jazz (and folk) approach. But his gorgeous, icy tone and incredible dexterity remain, making the man's live performances an exquisite pleasure. DAVE SEGAL

Symphony of the Superhero: Cut Chemist, Mateo Messina, the Northwest Symphony Orchestra

(Benaroya Hall) Born in Seattle, Mateo Messina makes his living as a soundtrack composer in L.A., where he's written music for such films as Juno and Thank You for Smoking. Once a year, Messina returns to his hometown, to write and produce—along with the Symphony Guild—an annual benefit concert for Seattle Children's Hospital. For the 12th annual benefit, Messina's presenting Symphony of the Superhero, a "magical musical journey" through heroism, featuring performances by Cut Chemist, the Northwest Symphony Orchestra, Northwest Chorale, Northwest Boychoir, and more. DAVID SCHMADER

Ghostland Observatory

(Showbox Sodo) This one time, a couple of Daft Punk's interns were messing around in their recording studio in Paris, working on some synth pads for the new Tron movie or whatever, when a mangy alley cat snuck in. They called the Parisian equivalent of animal control, they tried to get rid of the thing themselves, but nothing was working. After days of this cat interfering with their productions and knocking around in their synthesizers, the guys finally were forced to beat the animal to death with the cheapest, crappiest keyboard they could find. The cat squealed and howled and made an awful racket; the keyboard broke apart, making terrible bleeps and burbles; both poor things eventually died. Some tapes of the incident got out and so inspired Ghostland Observatory that the Texas duo re-create the sound live onstage, with the bonus of goofy outfits and lasers. ERIC GRANDY

The Raveonettes, Crocodiles

(Neumos) One St. Patrick's Day, I ended up alone on a friend's couch, in a dark room, peaking on psilocybin, listening to Bruce Springsteen's Nebraska on an old turntable. There was a large dust ball on the needle, and those haunting reverb-soaked melodies struggled to peek out beyond the fuzzy blocks of white noise. In that altered state, I'd never heard anything more beautiful—a lonesome, nostalgic cry that only periodically popped through the static, as if projected from some distant radio tower. The Raveonettes come close to harnessing that sound. Their charming '50s pop melodies run through a filter of skuzz and distortion, producing something that's simultaneously reminiscent of oldies radio and the haze of seedy, late-night soundtracks. BRIAN COOK

And there's always more in our complete music calendar listings.

From Data Breaker:

Mem1, Wyndel Hunt, Steven Barsotti, Tiflin

(Rendezvous) My eyes and ears perk up when I see the names Jan Jelinek and Frank Bretschneider—even if it's in an e-mail from an unknown electronic outfit. Such was the case with San Francisco's Mem1 (Laura and Mark Cetilia on cello and electronics, respectively), who cold-contacted me about a show they're playing at the Rendezvous on Thursday. They mentioned their new CD involving collaborations with those two genius minimalist producers, plus seven others, including Steve Roden. As it turns out, that disc, +1, burrows into microscopic furrows in the stereo field, tickling the most delicate cilia in your ears and forcing you to focus mightily on the subliminal friction between catgut and silicon chip. At times you feel as if you've been inserted into somebody's body and can hear their internal organs (mal)functioning. The prevalent mood is mournful yet tranquil, evoking the aftermath of a tragedy and the resultant calm; think of the music moving from wah to aaahhh, very gradually. DAVE SEGAL

From Up & Coming:

Big Business, Thrones

(El Corazón) Live, Big Business are a powerhouse of deafening bass chords and dexterous drums. Yet the band have repeatedly recruited indie-pop producer Phil Ek—the man behind records by Fleet Foxes and the Shins—to lay these barrages to wax. It's as if the Biz were hearing something more elaborate and nuanced in their sound, something that the two members couldn't channel alone. Enter Mind the Drift, their third album with Ek and their first featuring new member Toshi Kasai on guitar. The record retains Big Business's unrelenting percussive energy and gargantuan overdriven bass, but adds grandiose Brian May—inspired guitar, transforming their sound into an amalgam of triumphant arena rock and irreverent punk fury. Is this the sound to which they've always aspired? If so, more power to them. BRIAN COOK

X-Ray Press, Marasol, Post Harbor

(Sunset) Seattle's X-Ray Press rock with controlled chaos. Their songs bluster, pause, bristle, and vroom with unpredictable vigor. The singing's agitated, the guitars caustic and bruising, the drumming George Hurley—swift and —brutal. Anyone with Slint, Don Caballero, Minutemen, or Upsilon Acrux releases in their collection will find X-Ray Press a welcome addition to this angsty, angular canon. San Diego's Marasol and Seattle's Post Harbor are more conventional rock bands with arena-size aspirations. Those comfortable with the collected works of Jane's Addiction, Smashing Pumpkins, and Pearl Jam will snuggle up to these acts' XXL, emote-to-the-rafters jams. DAVE SEGAL

And there's always more in our complete music calendar listings

From the Stranger Suggests:

Dirty Projectors, Little Wings

(Neumos) There's a scene in the addenda to Dave Eggers's A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius in which the author, while kayaking, is overwhelmed by the sight of a killer whale leaping, Free Willy—style, out of the ocean in close proximity*. That scene is all I can think of when trying to describe the impossible ebullience with which Dirty Projectors' Dave Longstreth yelps the words "Bitte orca!" halfway through the recent album of the same name, over an avalanche of avant-Afropop guitar. The album is a revelatory balancing act, as Longstreth's confounding arrangements coalesce again and again into irresistible melodies. ERIC GRANDY

From Up & Coming:

Mark Matos & Os Beaches, the Beautiful Confusion, Yuni in Taxco

(Comet) According his band's bio, Mark Matos was raised in a large Portuguese immigrant community in the SF Bay Area, where his father and grandfather founded a marching band. After high school, high on beat literature, Matos hit the road and spent a decade "washing dishes in Alaska, cold in Boston drunk tanks, amongst slack key players in Hawaii, and crashing countless couches in Seattle's Capital Hill [sic]." He formed a band in Tucson, but decided to move back to the Bay after "doses of LSD were administered" while on tour. As one might expect from all that, Mark Matos & Os Beaches' music is ambling, easygoing, acoustic folk rock, not much prone to psychedelia, but with a little bit of the frayed, faded weariness of one who's returned from some long, strange trips. ERIC GRANDY

And there's always more in our complete music calendar listings.

*Stranger reader Josh has written in to correct my whale fail here: "I can't imagine that more than ten people will notice or remember, but the whale described in the "Mistakes We Knew We Were Making" section of A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius wasn't a killer whale, but a larger unspecified variety of gray whale that lifted a kayak while breaching rather than simply stunning while leaping in the distance. Anyway, it's a great story and a nice album. Thanks for the excuse to revisit both to confirm my recollections."

Maybe before you hit an election night party, you wanna see some free hiphop? The one and only D.Black at Easy Street Queen Anne? It's free, and there's free t-shirts for the peeps that purchase the new Ali'Yah album. 6 pm. All ages.

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From Up & Coming:

Regina Spektor

(Paramount) Remember four years ago, when Regina Spektor fans spent every waking moment insisting that Spektor wasn't some sort of Tori Amos—like, fairy-tale-quaint bullshitter? It's a pleasure to not be in that place anymore: Spektor's obviously more on the cool, Leonard Cohen end of the spectrum than the slavering, overemotional Amos. Spektor's newest album, Far, relies more on emotional impact than does her earlier work; the most important instrument on one song, "Eet," is Spektor's tongue tapping the back of her front teeth, and it's a fraught, tense sound. "Blue Lips" has a stuttering beat that makes the song sound like it could fall apart into silence at any moment. It's the good kind of drama, and Spektor is still firmly on the good side of the spectrum. PAUL CONSTANT

Múm, Sin Fang Bous

(Showbox at the Market) Múm's brand of quiet, weird intensity doesn't make them a novelty act. They're not miniaturists—"Marmalade Fires" is restrained, but it also soars in the way a symphony orchestra soars. The title track on the Icelandic group's most recent album, Sing Along to Songs You Don't Know, seems to build into something that could become a raucous explosion, but it just keeps ascending, like an ornate marble staircase that you keep climbing, only to find it leads to a dead-end wall, but on that wall is maybe the most moody, gorgeous painting you've ever seen in your whole life. PAUL CONSTANT

And there's always more in our complete music calendar listings.

From Up & Coming:

Art Brut, Princeton

(Neumos) At this point in Art Brut's career, with three solid-to-stupendous albums under their belts, you've probably already made your mind up about the band's brand of winking, winning, hyperenthusiastic pop rock 'n' roll. But just in case you haven't, a crash course: Their debut, Bang Bang Rock & Roll, is as explosive a mission statement ("Formed a Band," the title track) as any band has crafted since Nation of Ulysses's 13-Point Program to Destroy America. Follow-up It's a Bit Complicated found the band stretching out and settling into more quotidian concerns (messy flats, missed trains, making mixtapes) with no less pleasantly nagging guitar riffs. Latest effort Art Brut vs. Satan breaks no new ground, really, but it reiterates the band's themes—prole anthems like "Summer Job," music-geek fests like "The Replacements"—with typical good humor and flair. They're a right wild rumpus live. ERIC GRANDY

Mickey Avalon, Beardo, Ke$ha

(Showbox at the Market) Dear Mickey Avalon: I've always loved your skanky, sleazeball party raps; your ridiculously oversexualized, druggy-scuzzy lyrics; and your lazy, nasally delivery. I love how you always sound like you have a nose full of cocaine and a belly full of OxyContin. I've been with you since the beginning, man, since the first time I heard "Waiting to Die." Now you have two new tracks: "Stroke Me," an X-rated Billy Squier ode, and "What Do You Say," a catchy Lil Jon—produced track. I'd really like to come see you perform these. Problem is, your shows are overrun with screaming teenage girls wearing teeny-tiny American Apparel skirts and T-shirts that say "Fuck Me Mickey." Where did all these girls come from? Why does it have to be like that? Love, KELLY O

And there's always more in our complete music calendar listings.

If you missed this last night, you have one more chance.

Last night's Moore Theater audience included a preponderance of attractive girls in curious tights, many of whom seemed drunk upon exit. (Which, given that it's a 90 minute performance with no intermission, makes me wonder how. Had they had slammed a few too many at the pre-show bar? Were they tippling in their seats? Or does performance art involving movement, projections, ninjas and not-too-much of a storyline have a salubrious effect?)

I asked a girl dressed like Mozart what she thought of the show. "It was incredible. Amazing." And then a girl dressed like an Oompa Loompa. "I have a lot of complicated thoughts. I'm not sure I want to discuss them at this time."

Turntablist extraordinaire and Beastie Boys DJ Mix Master Mike performs tonight at Heaven. You owe it to yourself to see this phenomenal scratcher/beat juggler at least once in your life.

Supporting Mike are Risk One, DJ Wang, Hyperfunk, Dowlz, Jameservin, Reekoh, and others.

Heaven, 172 S Washington St., free before 9 pm.

One little party got neglected from our list of Halloween parties in this week's issue—the Century Ballroom is hosting a costume party/Halloween Disco Ball tonight, Oct 30, with music from DJ Jason Reavis. A Thriller dance lesson starts at 9 pm and the disco dancing starts at 9:30. It's 21+ and $10.

The identity of the surprise guest for tonight's Zombie Apocalypse has leaked to Twitter:

RT @Darwin206: RT @cherrycanoe Our friend Mike McGinn will introduce Mad Rad tonight @theWarRoom. Zombie Apocalypse is so official.

It wouldn't be a Halloween without a hipster hop zombie apocalypse, now would it? Word on the street is that Mad Rad have some truly arresting costumes prepared, and that they're going to be introduced by a very special surprise guest.









Boo!

From Data Breaker:

Julietta, Miss Shelrawka, DJ Shift, Jonny Romero, Ctrl_Alt_Dlt

(Electric Tea Garden) Julietta initially drew inspiration from German dub-techno pioneer Maurizio (one of the Basic Channel label's stars) and Detroit techno soul-inflator Moodymann. Their influence manifests in Julietta's understated yet eminently danceable selections that pull from techno's top-shelf producers. She knows how to build tension and then release it without being crassly obvious about it. Her sets, which lately have included tracks by Deetron, Luciano, Lee Curtiss, Kai Alcé, and Sascha Dive, prove that you can lose yourself in bliss without having the urge to thrust your arms heavenward—your hips are another story, though. DAVE SEGAL

From Up & Coming:

Kawabata Makoto, ?Alos, Aerial Rain

(Dissonant Plane) Kawabata Makoto leads prolific psych-rock behemoths Acid Mothers Temple, but on his own he often opts for beatific guitar emanations that suggest a strict regimen of Zen Buddhist meditation rather than AMT's grandiloquent jamming and sonic holocausts. You could say the man loves his extremes. The INUI series of albums Kawabata's recorded for VHF Records—as well as I'm in Your Inner Most and Hosanna Mantra—stands as a beautiful, solemn monument to his mellower inclinations, but you should probably bring earplugs, just in case the Japanese ax master gets into one of his ornery moods. Bonus: Dissonant Plane will give you a limited-edition poster to commemorate this event with any Kawabata/Acid Mothers—related purchase or any $20-plus purchase of merchandise. DAVE SEGAL

Tyvek, Western Hymn, Atomic Bride

(Funhouse) Tyvek are masters of the simple, and in this case that's not a bad thing at all. Their brand of dry punk rock comes off like a meeting of Minutemen and the Lights, and while there's nothing groundbreaking about the sound, Tyvek twist it in distinctive ways. And when frontman Kevin Boyer belts out words like "I saw her standing on the infrastructure" or "She can drive a Honda like I can drive a Honda," it's clear that's exactly what he should be yelling at that point. Any other approach would just seem dishonest. GRANT BRISSEY

The Heavy, Thee Emergency

(Crocodile) "I've been a bad, bad, bad, bad man," the Heavy's Swaby slurs in the song "How You Like Me Now," a few seconds before hissing the title over and over (you'll note the question lacks a question mark; that's because you can tell by his vocal swagger that Swaby already knows the answer). The Heavy could make a good living as a Sonics cover band, but they're not content to just sit on the soulful vocals and bitch-slap rhythms; they're also a really great reggae band, with riddims that suggest they've been making reggae music for years. And then they break out the old-school funk and it sounds more authentic than any three-quarters honky group should be able to make; the Heavy are three great bands for the price of one. PAUL CONSTANT

The Tripwires, Llama, the Small Change

(Sunset) Seattle quartet the Tripwires write well-crafted pop/rock songs that suggest they've spent many studious hours with the brilliant catalogs of the Byrds, Nick Lowe, Squeeze, Gram Parsons, and other composers whose brainchildren have gone on to the stand the test of time with impressively erect postures. The Tripwires—seasoned scene fixtures John Ramberg, Jim Sangster, Johnny Sangster, and Mark Pickerel—understand the importance in their particular niche of memorable hooks, interesting dynamics, varied guitar tones, and passionate vocalizing. They proudly and staunchly uphold the verities of this traditional approach to music-making on their new album, House to House (Spark & Shine Records), whose public emergence tonight's show celebrates. DAVE SEGAL

irr. app. (ext.)

(Wall of Sound) irr. app. (ext.) is the cryptic moniker for San Francisco's Matthew Waldron, one of the few earthlings qualified to collaborate with sonically omnivorous equilibrium-wreckers Nurse with Wound and apocalyptic goth folkies Current 93. irr. app. (ext.)'s 1998 CD An uncertain animal, ruptured; tissue expanding in conversation struck me as one of the weirdest albums ever—and I've heard thousands of 'em. Waldron has moved from that disc's ruptured, abstract miniatures to the rarefied air (and water) of drone-based composition, into which he often injects field recordings of nature and civilization. The effect of this MO on albums like Cosmic Superimposition, Ozeanische Gefühl, and Kreiselwelle is less jarring and more subtly disorienting than on previous efforts. Expect a serious immersion into surreptitiously unsettling tone poetry (free-verse style). DAVE SEGAL

There's always more in our music calendar listings, and don't forget to check our complete guide tonight and tomorrow's Halloween parties.

From this week's muisc lead, Fright On for the Darkness:

Diminished Men, Corespondents

(Poggie Tavern) Diminished Men's new album, Shadow Instrumentals (Abduction Records), partially draws on the fantastical Italian horror-flick genre known as giallo for sonic inspiration. The band's jagged, hard-charging, reverbed riffing evokes images of slit jugulars and accelerated heart rates, all the while swathing you in a velvety claustrophobia. If soundtrack maestro Ennio Morricone became possessed by guitarists Duane Eddy and Cliff Richard, and then the three cut a record in a Roma mansion spattered with ectoplasm, it would sound like the new Diminished Men opus. DAVE SEGAL

From Up & Coming:

Propagandhi, MDC, the Rebel Spell

(Neumos) Most bands get soft with age. But Winnipeg's premier anarchist punk band Propagandhi lost their poppier and more personable attributes with the departure of bassist John Samson after their sophomore album, Less Talk, More Rock. Samson went on to front the bookish and heartfelt Weakerthans, while Propagandhi recruited hardcore veteran Todd Kowalski to take his place. The result was a pronounced departure from the band's earlier blend of SoCal punk and premillennial emo to a more ferocious metal-influenced take on melodic hardcore. While the first couple of albums will always have their devotees, it's reassuring to watch a punk band grow angrier and grittier over time. BRIAN COOK

Lucero (cancelled), Jack Oblivian, John Paul Keith & the One Four Fives

(Crocodile) Jack Yarber (aka Jack O and Jack Oblivian) is an underground hero—a well-respected, longtime member of garage rock's top royal family. The Memphis-based singer/songwriter/guitarist has been around since the early '80s, playing with Mississippi punks Johnny Vomit and the Dry Heaves, Memphis new wavers the End, garage rockers the Compulsive Gamblers, and, of course, the influential Oblivians. Yarber continually reinvents himself, mashing all his influences—a lil' bit country, a lil' bit Southern soul, and a whole lot gritty rock—into something all his own. His new album with the Tennessee Tearjerkers, Disco Outlaw on Goner Records, is an A-plus, rock-solid collection of songs. Maybe this unsung Memphis heavy will finally get some props on this side of the Mississippi. KELLY O

Soulico Crew, WD4D, DJ Collage

(Chop Suey) Tel Aviv hiphop quartet Soulico Crew are not revolutionary. The crew's blending of Jewish, Arabic, Jamaican, and black-American popular music has no real surprises. It's been done before; it will be done again. The value of Soulico's work, and why it's worth recommending, is not in the number and variety of musical forms they bring together, but in the skill with which they fuse these forms into a whole. While listening to this or that tune, one starts to feel and be impressed by the seamless unity of the music. None of the different parts feels out of place; each form fits perfectly with other forms—on one track, the Dirty South style of rapping is perfectly set to klezmer horns. True, nothing is new with this crew, but they do know how to do what they do. CHARLES MUDEDE

Midday Veil, Cursillistas, Paintings for Animals

(Josephine) Cursillistas—Matt Lajoie and Dawn Marna—trek from Portland, Maine, to play their stoned strain of ooze-on-down-the-road sigh-chedelia. As always with music of this stripe, some will find it tediously dawdling while others will revel in the liquid blissfulness of it all. Overall, though, Cursillistas conjure an eerie, rural vibe that will cause folks to freak—very gradually and naturally. Seattle's Midday Veil have become one of the city's most reliable sorcerers of slow-building psychedelia, with one fashionable boot in beauteous songcraft and a bare foot dangling in deep, krautward-bound jam space. I recently described Paintings for Animals' music as "a weird party soundtrack at the microcosmic level or a score to your most mystical, baffling dreams." I'm sticking with that story until further notice. DAVE SEGAL

And there's always more in our complete music calendar listings.

According to this week's Up & Coming previews:

Nothing happens today, but BOO! Halloween is imminent!

Of course that's not completely true (Halloween is imminent, though), and you can always find plenty of things happening in our complete music calendar listings.