Freezing rain falls on Southeast Portland.
The heat, breath and sweat of about 60 bodies has blanketed the big living-room window with fine steam. I open the front door, only to find that I've instantly broken House Rule No. 1. The band's called My Little Brother , and it sounds good-hearted and rough around the edges. The winning indie boys of My Little Brother know their way around a shoegazing pop hook, and although their sound remains a little unfinished, they're a perfect opening band, a still-formative appetizer for a night of noise. This friendly gathering, which looked like a cross between a college house party and a retro-optometrist's wet dream, assembled last Saturday night at the invitation of Magic Marker Records , just one of many Portland labels handcrafting its own finely vetted musical concoction.