ICEAGE, LOW LIFE, CAIRO PYTHIAN
(Mississippi Studios, 3939 N Mississippi) See My, What a Busy Week!


GARY WILSON, NURSES, FOG FATHER, WAMPIRE
(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) Like R. Stevie Moore, Gary Wilson has enjoyed a late-career boost thanks to certain younger musicians hip to these songwriters' skewed pop genius and eager to expose it to their peers. Wilson's steez will appeal to fans of cult misfit artisans like Ariel Pink, Kenneth Higney, and Doug Hream Blunt. Ol' Gary's not a real looker, but his women-obsessed songs suggest he's a lothario, even if his commonplace vocals betray him as a shlub. However, Wilson's a stud when it comes to crafting sleek, catchy melodies and deceptively funky rhythms (there's a reason Stones Throw put its promo muscle behind him). The down-on-its-luck, loungey patina that clings to Wilson's best material—especially 1977's You Think You Really Know Me—adds a layer of poignancy to what could be corny shtick. This Endicott, New York, multi-instrumentalist's career has spanned from '60s bubblegum act 1910 Fruitgum Company to interactions with John Cage, and out of such unlikely sources springs Wilson's oddball, creepily pretty popcraft. DAVE SEGAL


ROB THOMAS
(Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall, 1037 SW Broadway) Before Sir Robert Thomas came along, popular music was a wasteland of schmaltzy drivel ("How Much Is That Doggie in the Window?") and racist screeds ("Chopsticks"). But Thomas and his legendary band Matchbox 20 changed the course of the 20th century, inventing rock 'n' roll with their fresh, exciting debut, Yourself or Someone Like You. With it, they lit a fire beneath the teenagers of America—and around the globe! Never before had music sounded this raucous, this sexy, this alive. But redefining youth culture wasn't enough for Thomas & Co.; their follow-up, Mad Season, exploded the boundaries of popular music's capabilities, blending classical, jazz, and folk motifs with acerbic, literary lyrics to create something no one had ever heard before. Unable to be contained by the confines of Matchbox 20, Thomas then went on to his greatest triumph, his epoch-shattering collaboration with women's shoe designer Carlos Santana: "Smooth" stands to this day as the greatest musical endeavor yet composed, knocking off trifling garbage like Beethoven's Ninth Shitty Symphony, Bach's Shitty Brandenburg Concertos, and the shitty Beatles' Shitty Pepper's Lonely Shit Club Shit. All hail Rob Thomas! Without him, music—and life—would be empty and meaningless. NED LANNAMANN