LORDE: UNTAPPED POTENTIAL?

(WaMu Theater) So far, I do like Lorde (aka Ella Marija Lani Yelich-O'Connor, a New Zealander who was born in 1996), the person. She seems smart and aware of her surroundings, unlike many of her peers in the underage music game. Her mega-hit “Royals” is refreshing for a mega radio hit due to its semi-weird electro-pop charm. Lorde’s hazy voice and knack for outsider-ish lyrics make “Royals” and her other hits, “Team” and “Tennis Court,” enjoyable slices of commercial pie that sleepily stray away the spray-tan culture it usually lives in. The fatigued sound (her newest album is uncomfortably titled Pure Heroine) only works in certain situations, though, and many of the other tracks slide into the unoriginal snooze zone. But no matter; I suspect Lorde has more talent up her sleeve—I’m interested to see where she takes it. EMILY NOKES
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PERFECT PUSSY'S LO-FI, UNAPOLOGETIC GRIME-ROCK

(Vera) Syracuse’s Perfect Pussy are one harsh toke of forceful punk rock. Their four-song demo sounds as though it was recorded in a fashion my audio-engineer bud refers to as the “put the microphone in the suitcase, throw the suitcase down the stairs” method of lo-fi production. Layers of dissonant shred obscure Meredith Graves’s furious yell-singing; a distant sweet synth floats underneath the grim buzzing, like a faded floral couch in the rotting living room of a punk house. PP’s brand-new Captured Tracks release, Say Yes to Love, is slightly smoother; there’s more control, and Graves’s unapologetic/honest/feminist lyrics are easier to decipher. Love also has enough variety to hold my attention—the noisy, buzz-saw riffs are interspersed with slower, swirling distortion and melody, just in time for you to relax your ever-tensing shoulders. With Chastity Belt. EMILY NOKES
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THE POST-PUNK FEROCITY OF COWARDS

(Black Lodge) Attention all black-clad, shifty-eyed, urban paranoiacs out there: Here's the show for you. Vancouver-based Cowards traffic in a virulently anti-social brand of metronomic post-punk, channeling a little of Joy Division's bass-centered, gray-hued grooves and a lot of Wire's po-faced crypticism. Their fellow Vancouverites Lié pedal an equally agitated strain of punk with slightly goth undertones and frantic, lo-fi banshee wailing: perfect music for epileptic body-movin'. The praises of noise-corroded doom-and-gloomers Health Problems and Haunted Horses have been sung (shouted?) in these pages many times before; let’s hope you've taken notice and need no further explanation of their excellence. KYLE FLECK
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Also check out Underage's coverage »


THE BATTLE OF THE PSYCHEDELIC "SUN" BANDS

(Sunset) Tonight is battle of the Sun bands, son. Seattle’s Kingdom of the Holy Sun have been honing their mesmerizing, Doors-y psychedelia from “When the Music’s Over” epicness of their early days to more concise, hooky songs that still sound like the band drank lysergic lemonade before entering the studio. No question, singer Guido Anselmi has Jim Morrison genes in his pipes, but he’s relatively understated with ’em; not once does he bellow/ask if you can petition the Lord with prayer. San Francisco’s Sleepy Sun are usually classified as psych rock, but their sound actually recalls the majestic, heart-on-sleeve stadium rock of ’80s U2 and Nothing’s Shocking-era Jane’s Addiction—and the vocalist sounds like a cross between Bono and Perry Farrell, to boot. Like a lot of modern groups who get called “psych,” Sleepy Sun make music that hews much closer to Earth than it does to their solar namesake. In this contest, the nod goes to Kingdom of the Holy Sun. With Cabana. DAVE SEGAL
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And here's all our recommended music events—tonight, tomorrow, this weekend, and beyond!