The Purge (The Royal Potato Family)
We may never know how saxophreak Skerik came together with keyboard wizard John Medeski and cyborg drummer Adam Deitch under the auspices of Seattle metal-meister producer Randall Dunn, but fans of badass genre-agnostic music will forever be grateful. With Dunn conjuring a dark-hole dense sonic vibe, the three virtuosos weave an instrumental album of gritty mutant funk and sinister, sinuous ambiance reminiscent of early-’80s industrial-electro innovators like Tackhead, Material and 23Skidoo.
Drunk Tank Pink (self-released)
Single by single, we’ve followed along as Andy and Don Ayers, the brothers behind Black Giraffe, developed their sound. After a year of intermittent shows and recording sessions, they’re ready to release their debut—and it’s worth the wait. Drunk Tank Pink fills a void in Seattle’s crowded music scene: slick rock ’n’ soul with equal parts groove and intellect, ambition and ability, landing somewhere between the Foster the People and the Black Keys. More than most young bands in town, these guys are ready for prime time.
Album release party March 13 at the Rendezvous.
This Is the Sonics (Revox Records)
How the hell are the Sonics still so unhinged? They first erupted out of Tacoma’s teen-driven sock-hop scene (srsly) with a ragged roar defined by a raunchy saxophone and a blown guitar amp (ltrly), part of the garage-rock wave that presaged punk. Fifty years later they certainly don’t sound like teenagers—because they’ve always sounded like dirty old men. Augmented by a couple of new members—you know, to replace the ones who died—This Is the Sonics is a time-warped monster of scuzzy, overdriven odes to women, beer, women and women.
March 31; album release show May 2 with Mudhoney at the Paramount.
Rose Windows (Sub Pop Records)
As they’ve slimmed from seven to six members, Rose Windows has refined the nomadic psychedelic rock of their 2011 debut without losing a single inch of their cosmos-spanning scope. Their eponymous new album is both fierier and gentler than The Sun Dogs, and like their late-’60s progenitors—Jefferson Airplane, the Grateful Dead—they prove especially adept at the latter vibe: “A Pleasure to Burn” and “Hirami” are back-to-back gorgeous reveries that close the album.