XRAY.FM HOLIDAY DANCE PARTY: VINNIE DEWAYNE, MODERN KIN, XRAY DJs
(Rotture, 315 SE 3rd) See My, What a Busy Week!

HAERTS, MIKKY EKKO
(Star Theater, 13 NW 6th) The self-titled debut album from New York City's Haerts is confounding, in that it's highly listenable, but plainly unspectacular. This is sleek, bloodless synth-pop with a mild R&B influence and a heavy '80s vibe. It soars, melodically: Synthesizers form an appealingly melancholy foundation for vocalist Nini Fabi's catchy melodies and chilly delivery. But it's easy to imagine Haerts as a facade, with an outward gleam that obscures a fallow interior. This is a group with all of the tangible attributes of a good pop band, but bereft of the emotional honesty that radiates from better acts of Haerts' ilk: Imagine Passion Pit without Michael Angelakos' naked insecurity, or Chvrches if Lauren Mayberry dialed back her thinly veiled rage. Haerts won't repel you—far from it—but it won't grab you and refuse to let go, either. There's great potential here, but Haerts just needs to offer more of itself in its music. BEN SALMON

TUNE-YARDS, CIBO MATTO
(Roseland, 8 NW 6th) As the grunge era was winding down, NYC duo Cibo Matto released Viva! La Woman in 1996, a blast of fresh air that blew away the cobwebs with surrealistic songs about carrots and cake. Back with a new album, Hotel Valentine, after a 15-year hiatus, they've flirted with novelty, but they haven't succumbed to it. Tune-Yards frontwoman Merrill Garbus is just as likely to combine incongruous ingredients, like Haitian drumming and Casio squiggles. Sometimes it works ("Water Fountain"), sometimes it doesn't, but she excels at keeping listeners off-balance, which may be why this year's Nikki Nack hasn't generated as much hype as Whokill, which topped the Village Voice's 2011 Pazz and Jop poll. And that's too bad, because it's a better record. KATHY FENNESSY Also see My, What a Busy Week!

NO BODY, Y.W. MYRKA, ROD
(Reed College, 3203 SE Woodstock) See All-Ages Action!

SUPERSUCKERS, I CAN LICK ANY SONOFABITCH IN THE HOUSE, THE DEAD VOLTS

(Dante's, 350 W Burnside) Tucson, Arizona, rock 'n' roll juggernauts Supersuckers have endured some fairly debilitating lineup changes in the past few years, prompting an unavoidable hiatus during the first part of this decade. In the meantime, charismatic, rabble-rousing frontman Eddie Spaghetti toured as a solo act, at one point performing a set at the tiny Devils Point strip club in Portland to a packed house. But the band's put their shit back together, plugged the leaky holes, and emerged the mightier, particularly if their 2014 LP Get the Hell is any indication. This isn't exactly the same band whose catalog prompted collaborations with Steve Earle once upon a time, but it's nothing if not a lesson in riff-rioting rock decadence and Spaghetti's smart pop sensibilities. RYAN J. PRADO

EXODUS, SPAZZTIC BLURR, SEASON OF SUFFERING, CEMETERY LUST, SARCALOGOS
(Hawthorne Theatre, 1507 SE César E. Chávez) Exodus helped lay down the blueprints for thrash with their debut, Bonded by Blood, a record that would have cemented the Bay Area band's legacy no matter what. But they've been plugging away off and on for the past 35 years with varying degrees of success. Bandleader and guitarist Gary Holt spends much of his time these days filling in with Slayer, replacing the late Jeff Hanneman, but he's managed to piece together some of the most inspired Exodus tracks since Bonded on this year's Blood In, Blood Out. The riffs are big and beefy, and ex-Testament vocalist Steve "Zetro" Souza returns to the fold with his madman delivery. There's even a guest solo by former guitarist Kirk Hammett, who jumped ship in '83 to join Metallica and play a bunch of solos you're probably more familiar with. MATTHEW W. SULLIVAN

HILLSTOMP, THE GOOD LUCK THRIFT STORE OUTFIT, JEFFREY MARTIN
(Wonder Ballroom, 128 NE Russell) After more than a decade together, Hillstomp has changed very little. Guitarist Henry Hill Kammerer and drummer John Johnson have remained a two-piece, kept Portland as their home, and mostly stayed true to the gutbucket, hill country, punk blues they first began playing over 10 years ago. With any other group, this would be a criticism or a dismissal of the band as a one-trick pony, but Hillstomp has managed to remain not only relevant, but exciting, thanks to their always electrifying live performances. As their smoke- and sweat-drenched songs are more commonly associated with Southern juke joints, dive bars, and chicken-wire honkytonks, tonight is a rare opportunity to see Hillstomp on the (relatively) big stage. Get there early to catch songwriter Jeffrey Martin, who quietly released one of this year's best local albums, Dogs In the Daylight. SANTI ELIJAH HOLLEY

MØTRIK, TERWILLIGER CURVES, THE HARVEY GIRLS
(The Know, 2026 NE Alberta) Portland four-piece Møtrik leave little to the imagination with their name, and the Portland krautrock unit drives straight down the autobahn with their excellent self-titled release. The band—made up of members of Wow and Flutter, Rio Grands, and Dweller at the Threshold—deliver the right mix of Can and Neu! as well as the psychedelic prog of King Crimson. Synth and bass drive the instrumentals (along with their namesake drumbeats), while the guitars fill the open spaces. The tonal journeys of "Autolok" and "Wolf" will keep your travel time steady and long, but getting there is half the fun. MARK LORE

IDAHO JOE WINDSLOW, BARONIC WALL, STAR CHILD, DJ BIZANGO-LEAKS
(Mothership Music, 3611 NE MLK) Idaho Joe Windslow is one of the most guileless-sounding musicians around these days, a quality that puts him in good company with fellow outsider artists like Daniel Johnston. Using instruments of his own creation—like the gongtar, a cello fitted with a gong resonator—and drum machines he apparently picked up in India and the Middle East, Windslow creates hypnotic, lo-fi, mantra-like pseudo-pop tunes that, as he puts it on his SoundCloud page, are about his "struggles with depression [and] anxiety and how they relate to the artist's mind." On records like Secret Fleas in the Dwarf Palace, his LP on local imprint Psychic Sounds, that translates to swirling, warbling self-recriminations and strange confessional tunes sung with a lilt eerily similar to David Thomas of Pere Ubu. ROBERT HAM