Dry the Rain 

I've been enjoying the frantic back and forth between the flood days and warm sun days, so I haven't really paid much attention to January slipping by. Which is unfortunate because it's one of my favorite months. They all have their charm, depending on where you are, and my associations from childhood with our Humboldt winters are all wet, muddy fun. As an adult, that last noun is more subdued and elusive, but I can still get a taste of it despite the world's best efforts. And what a treasure that is, considering how few people out there seem to be enjoying themselves at all these days, not that I can blame them. A world seeming to be without meaning or moral valence can still offer some pleasures. While I reject the annoying buzzword talk about "self-care," I still think it's a good thing from an existential standpoint to get in some harmless kicks in the midst of an absurd situation, and life itself is, no matter what you believe, a very absurd situation. Just ask anyone who has tried to work on something outdoors around here during this time of year. Caught in the rain, completely drenched and buffeted by wind, you miserably put your tools away, pull off the soaked layers and slide into the cab of your vehicle, get the heater going just as the hail comes like snare drums on the roof. Grumbling and defeated, you drive away, right into a rainbow. See you on the other end.

Thursday

Last week had some burnt offerings for the festival crowd of feel-goods out there and this week starts no differently. Papadosio is a quintet that recently hails from Asheville, North Carolina, which in my recollection was always a little hippie bubble in the mid-east South. The sound is very jammy, with organic bubbles of jazzy prog to balance out the electronic elements. Opening duo Desert Dwellers is a longtime locally popular DJ production act from the near southwest whose style mixes the sounds of nature with an electro reverberation ... kind of like camping in the age of Bluetooth speakers. To hear these crickets purr over a digital sandscape, come over to the Arcata Theatre Lounge at 8 p.m. ($30 advance, $80 VIP).

Friday

DJ Kreepeeo is curating Phonk Crypt at the Miniplex tonight at 10 p.m. Expect a clubby appreciation of the mix-tape culture of the '90s -'00s Dirty South sound, with all the grimy crunk and horror-show beauty that put underground rap on the map from Memphis to Houston. It's a $5-$10 sliding scale but (loud enough for the people in the back) this gig is a no-one-turned-away-for-lack-of-funds, aka NOTAFLOF, affair.

Saturday

Tuvan throat singing first came on my radar when I was a teenager, via the documentary Genghis Blues, where San Francisco blues musician Paul Pena learned the art over shortwave radio and was invited to Tuva to perform in one of their festivals. I even saw one of his hosts, the amazing Kongar-ool Ondar, do his harmonic singing live at Amoeba Records on Haight Street, a formative experience that is long gone but not forgotten, like the two artists I just mentioned. So I can say with some authority that any chance to see this music performed live by masters is well worth it. Luckily for us, Tuva's Alash Ensemble is here in our county tonight at 7:30 p.m., and in the Old Steeple, which is a perfect venue for this kind of magic ($30, $25 advance).

Sunday

Hey hey, it's another Grateful Getdown matinee show at Humbrews today at 3 p.m., overseen by some of this county's greatest G. Dead interpreters. Last night's 9 p.m. gig was for adults of drinking age only but today's hoedown is for dead people of all ages. As was the case on Saturday, $10 is the price at the door.

Monday

It's a quiet night in the tidewater section of the entertainment week and, in keeping with the first of two newly minted traditions in this column of mentioning some of the fine musicians we lost in 2023, I suggest you listen to something from Sinéad O'Connor's catalog of work. There's really not much to avoid and too many gems to name, but I've always loved the sea-widow wailing of "Jackie" and her version of "The Foggy Dew" with the Chieftains. Oh, and that other new tradition? Headlining my columns after song titles or albums.

Tuesday

Slick Rick hasn't released a proper solo full length in 25 years, but that's no impediment to his style, which is mostly captured in live settings, singles and guest-spot visitations. The dude has been in the game since the early days of New York City hip hop, and has a permanent spot in the pantheon as a wily and eccentric raconteur and old head. He is worth your time but, to quote LeVar Burton, "You don't have to take my word for it." You can find out for yourself at the Arcata Theatre Lounge at 7 p.m. ($30, $25 advance).

Wednesday

I'm not the first person to point out that the even-numbered OG Star Trek movies are the best ones and the first film to decisively show that was 1982's sequel to Star Trek: The Motion Picture. I'm talking about The Wrath of Khan, most famous perhaps for William Shatner's mid-movie scream of "KHAAAAAAAAAAAANNNN!!" that was so campily acted he spit out a mouthful of scenery. I just rewatched this movie on one of our rainy days and I can tell you that Ricardo Montalbán played the titular villain perfectly, his subdued menace and heavy obsession with revenge works as a perfect nemesis to Shatner's unshakable, be-girdled cockiness. It's good, clean fun and a fine bridge from the technicolor antics of the series and the special effects supernova of 1980s Hollywood. You know the drill by now: sci fi night at the Arcata Theatre Lounge, 6 p.m. for the doors, find your seat before the raffle drawing at 7, five minutes later is showtime. Five bucks gets you inside and $9 lets you leave with a poster, likely featuring KHAAAAAAAAAAANNNN!

Collin Yeo (he/him) has once again failed to receive an Oscar nomination. He lives in Arcata.