The MoondoggiesBARE: an entirely a capella evening with singers from the Moondoggies, Grand Hallway, the Maldives, Goldfinch, Pablo Trucker. Fremont Abbey, 4272 Fremont Ave. N., 701-9270. 8 p.m. $10. The 1997 reissue of Beach Boys’ Pet Sounds included a disc of 11 songs with all instrumentation stripped out, leaving only those terminally sunny, ethereal vocal lines behind. It’s a fascinating approach to appreciating the innate musicality of the human voice, a characteristic that gets somewhat lost when it’s married to chords and percussion. The flip side of that is that it’s an incredibly vulnerable experience for a vocalist, which is why the brave souls (members of the Moondoggies, Grand Hallway, Maldives and more) participating in tonight’s entirely a capella evening deserve major props for essentially getting naked on stage tonight. HANNAH LEVINKEXP’s Hood to Hood, with Erik Blood, Damien Jurado, Victor Shade, Head Like a Kite. Easy Street Records, 4559 California Ave. S.W., 938-3279. 7:30 a.m. Free. Apparently West Seattle wakes up early – or at least KEXP is hoping so, since they’re kicking off their ultimate block party at 7:30 a.m. But what they have ensured is that the lineup, fittingly filled with West Seattle natives, has something for everyone, from the Chief Sealth High School marching band and superhero-rapping duo Victor Shade to troubadour Damien Jurado and shoegaze-popster Erik Blood. If the music draw isn’t enough, the festival also includes DJ sets at venues across the ‘hood, plus musical family activities at Cupcake Royale for the kids. And with King County Water Taxi offering free trips to the show from Pier 50, your excuses not to find your way to West Seattle are seriously dwindling. NICK FELDMANThe Tripwires, with The Fucking Eagles, Hotels. Skylark, 3803 Delridge Way S.W., 935-2111. 9 p.m. Free. Based on pedigree alone, The Tripwires are one of Seattle’s finest showdogs; they’ve done time with The Young Fresh Fellows, the Minus 5 and the Screaming Trees, to name a few. They’re built from the model of the classic, underrated power pop band; the kind that boils over with sharp, lovesick lyrics that are as self-deprecating as they are clever, with a perfect amount of musical wiggle room for the band to explore the outer limits of the classic 60’s and 70’s pop landscape. The Tripwires absolutely shine when they pull off gorgeous three-part harmonies, and sound just as vibrant bopping around on a stage as they would blasting from, say, an 8-track in a just-waxed vintage Dodge Charger. GREGORY FRANKLIN