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This summer just got steamy, a welcome change from our usual rainy cloud-covered setting. And trendsetter

Although you may not have heard of him, you’ve without a doubt heard his music. Jesse Harris is no newcomer to the music biz; he has years of experience under his belt.

Father Figure and My Autumn’s Done Come (MADC) are seeing double. The Portland bands, boasting lineups of former Eugeneans, have released a split single record.

Classical music takes a holiday through most of this month, as many of us seek transcendent experiences at the coast, in the mountains, or along the rivers rather than in concert halls. So it’s a perfect time to recommend some new CDs by Oregon musicians.

Thursday at the Cuthbert Michael Franti may be the main attraction, but there’s no reason to brush opener Trombone Shorty aside.

As far as anatomy is concerned, the mouth allows us to breathe, eat, drink, kiss and sing. Magic Mouth, Portland’s spunky, post-funk soul quartet, speaks to this versatility, preferring to bite first and make statements later.

On his 1960 debut single for Chess Records, blues master Buddy Guy begs for his life: “Blues, don’t murder me,” he pleads. “You know you’ll be with me every mornin’, every night and every noon.”

State of Jefferson is a diverse group of musicians who pride themselves on possessing an array of influences and a varied sound. This group is fun, it’s upbeat and it’s got all of southern Oregon buzzing.

Hang on a sec while 14-year-old me squeals, “Peter Murphy is playing Eugene!” Murphy may not mean much to 14-year-olds these days, but there was a time when he was “King Bat” to a whole army of young goth-rockers.

The Shedd may be the hottest place for music in Eugene this month, and not just because of the former church’s ancient, soon-to-be refurbished cooling system. The Shedd’s latest new theatrical production is Rodgers and Hammerstein’s 1951 tale of cultural collision, The King and I.

Sure, the Dirty Dozen Brass Band has more chops than a Cajun kitchen, and its 35-year funk span is like aged hot pepper sauce to the uninitiated.

There’s a nightclub, and you’re in it. Maybe it’s 1942. Maybe it’s last week. Maybe it’s tomorrow. That doesn’t matter. The smell of incense fills the room. Onstage you see the internationally known Slim Richey, “The Most Dangerous Guitarist in Texas.”

The last time Morgan rolled through town, he almost picked a fight with an audience member. There was enough whiskey to do in a horse — both in Morgan and the building, but particularly in Morgan — and enough debauchery to burn down a building. Thankfully everyone came out all right.

The elder statesmen of hip hop are hurtling toward us with fresh new cuts and old-school status. Souls of Mischief, Casual and Pep Love, who hit WOW Hall Wednesday, have been enjoying a year of progress and activity reminiscent of their days together in the Hieroglyphics super crew. 

Like swallows to Capistrano, the prodigal jazzers are flying back to Eugene. Over the past decade or so, the UO music school has regularly cranked out attention-getting young musicians who combine promising technique with creative ambition.

From the dungeons of the underground comes Dumbfoundead — a rhymesayer whose lyricism is capable of reaching to the outermost corners of the hip-hop universe and beyond.

Though the name sounds a bit ominous, Shovels and Rope’s music is nothing short of a good time.

Eliza Rickman is an L.A.-based folk singer but she very well could have been plucked straight out of a dark, twisted fairy tale.

How does one harden the masonry of a legend? The Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland, Ohio, honored Donovan this year with an induction that’s more than well deserved, and as a result he’s emerged from the woodwork to begin touring again.

Even through the muffled sound of a cell phone on some desolate highway in the middle-of-nowhere Midwest, you can hear New Orleans in Mike West’s voice. He and his wife, Katie Eullis, constitute the playful, hillbilly band, Truckstop Honeymoon.

If you’ve spent any evenings out and about in Eugene, you’ve probably met a man called “Fatty,” also known as Joshua Isaac Finch.

Like many serious music fans, my early favorites came from the albums and artists that my father introduced me to — the rock ‘n’ roll heroes of his era that raised a middle finger to conformists in the 1950s.

Peck the Town Crier is a former NYU jazz student turned street performer who busked his way through genres and across the country.

Deep Time is a band that cracks sonic earth in a new epoch.  Known for the past six years as Yellow Fever, an infectiously discordant two-piece pop outfit out of Austin