Most bands fit neatly into moments in our lives—little fixes for repose, exercise, misery, confidence. Some suit no phase at all. And if we’re lucky, a few seep into every area of us, beyond all those wild fluctuations, and sort us out whenever we need it, for better or worse. Whatever their intent, whatever they’re saying, they’re the wise constant that gets us through. These are the bands we get drugged on and dependent on—and one of mine is Portland punk rockers the Thermals, whose cathartic, conceptual The Body the Blood the Machine (their third album) really has rescued me, more times than a few. If you don’t have that band in your life yet, you can borrow mine.
Tue., April 20, 9 p.m.; Wed., April 21, 9 p.m., 2010