FLEETWOOD MAC

Saturday, May 16

So what am I supposed to feel about this?  I’m supposed to sum up everything everyone ever felt about Fleetwood Mac in 100 words or so. Thanks, Matt Driscoll. Should I just drop trou (short for trousers, faithful and uninformed readers) with straw in hand and wait for the roadie come hither? What with my penchant for wizardry and uppers abounding? Should I reflect on the fact that we are all in a band together and have incessantly swapped hearts, beds, drug habits, and piece of mind while making some of the most meticulous and enthralling anthems of that great stoner/cokehead era called the late ’70s that was the fertile breeding grounds for disappointment, disenfranchisement, disco, denial, debauchery, despair, Datsuns and my fortuitous and formidable birth? Am I supposed to chop a hand off? Am I supposed to stab my own mother in the heart? This is my music, man. Help me Swarner Ron-Kenobi, you’re my only hope, and Rhiannon (that dirty bitch) won’t return my phone calls. Maybe she doesn’t know the area code in Silver Springs. I don’t know, but if you see my reflection in the snow-covered hills, maybe the players will notice while they’re playing and the landslide will bring you down. Ask Rhiannon. My mother will disown me if I diss Fleetwood Mac. Thunder only happens when it’s raining, and I refuse to call it down without warrant, I’m not a Bush. — Owen Taylor

[Tacoma Dome, do you really care if anyone’s opening for them? It’s fucking Lindsey Buckingham and Stevie Nicks, 8 p.m., $49.50-149.50 at Ticketmaster, 2727 E. D St., Tacoma, 253.272.3663]

CRACK SABBATH

Friday, May 15

What do you get when you take five world class jazz artists out of the studio, give ’em some effects pedals and a saxophone and allow them free range of the bar? You get Crack Sabbath. The amazing collaboration of members who have played with Les Claypool, Mad Season, Critters Buggin and Wolves In The Throne Room, just to name a few, are meeting in Olympia to throw down. These dudes are coming to let loose and play some cool shit. They have the ability to hit the funky notes of James Brown and by the next song have you banging your head to the near perfect rendition of Nirvana’s “Breed.”  And they throw in some crazy shit of their own with songs like “Makin Out With My Dad.” — Nikki Talotta

[The Eastside Club, 9 p.m., $7, 410 Fourth Ave., Olympia, 360.357.9985]

ZEKE

Saturday, May 16

Legendary Chicago Bears coach Mike Ditka once said, “There are teams that are fair-haired, and those that aren’t so fair-haired. Some teams are named Smith, some Grabowski. We’re Grabowskis.” Well, some Northwest bands are named Smith too, but not Zeke. They’re Grabowskis. Like Ditka’s Bears, they’re a blue-collar, lunch-bucket crew, busting heads, stuffing it up the middle every down, and Dan Marino and his Isotoner gloves can kiss our hairy butts. A lot of bands have come and gone since Zeke first plugged in back in 1993, and a lot of their Northwest peers have grown a lot more famous than them. And Zeke just keeps on rockin’, punching the old punk clock, record after record, show after badass show. Zeke Grabowski — it’s got a nice ring to it, don’t you think? — Mark Thomas Deming

[Hell’s Kitchen, with Jackmove, I defy, Walk the Plank, One Last Look, 9 p.m., $8, 21+, 3829 6th Ave, Tacoma, 253.759.6003.]

BISON

Tuesday, May 19

Brutal. That sums up this Metalblade Records signee: Bison. With tempos that could drive even the most intense car chase, Bison prides themselves on an intense live show: the smashing of cymbals and bashing on guitars marks the moment when the five members take the stage. Their first full-length album with Metalblade, Quiet Earth, even features an instrumental track noting that Bison knows how to do a bit more than just your average metal compositions. The band just repeatedly proves that they aren’t the metal-band-next-door but a tight musical outfit that is ready to blow your mind. Their Web site likens their sound to “your heart exploding in your chest” — so take caution at Hell’s Kitchen when they share the bill with Hellfyre Empyre and Kill the King, and try to keep the blood loss to a minimum. — Lauren Napier

[Hell’s Kitchen, with Hellfyre Empyre, Kill the King, 8 p.m., no cover, 3829 Sixth Ave., Tacoma, 253.759.6003]

THE FOGHORNS

Wednesday, May 20

The more I learn about Seattle’s self-described “mavericks of anti-folk,” The Foghorns, the less I seem to know. And the more I want to learn. And the harder this article becomes to write.



I should have never interviewed Foghorns frontman and founder Bart Cameron. Everything I needed for a boilerplate riff was right there on their MySpace page: good tunes, a fun bio, even some tasty quotes. (My favorite: “If Bob Dylan recorded a Philip Roth novel with Crazy Horse as a backup band, that would be an enormous influence.”) But no, I had to peer into the soul of The Foghorns. I had to know: What-makes-you-tick?



So I met Bart Cameron at The Red Hot for beers, and now I’m just confused. How do you tell the story, in 325 words, of a band that started in Wisconsin, and then shifted to Brooklyn, and then Iceland (Cameron scored a Fulbright to study there), and then back to Wisconsin, and finally to Seattle? Oh, and then there’s the part about how Cameron was underground on the subway — under Ground Zero, that is — when the World Trade Center fell. And don’t forget the time he was electrocuted onstage at a festival because the third-place contestant from Icelandic Idol had spilled a bunch of water and Cameron’s shoes had holes in them because he was poor as hell, so when he stepped up to the microphone … bzzzzzzzzz! And was that in Reykjavik or Keflavik? And which one did you call “The Detroit of Iceland?” And was that with the full lineup, or just you and the bucket player? And what kind of bucket are we talking? Plastic? Metal? About how big?



The Foghorns’ music is a lot like their story: messy, weird and utterly captivating. Whether it’s just Cameron and a bucket man or the current ensemble of five, their songs rattle and ramble like good tavern tales. They beget more questions than answers. And you always want another round. — Mark Thomas Deming



[Bob’s Java Jive, with Vacant Stairs, The Upperhand, Wednesday, May 20, 8 p.m.. $3, 2102 S. Tacoma Way, Tacoma, 253.475.9843]