I don’t have the space or interest for big elegies or bios just now, but I would like to note the passing last week of two American visionaries who were utterly unique, yet still enabled so much of what is organically fantastic in our nation’s music and cinema.
Steve Albini was a master engineer, and although he hated the term “producer” he is credited as such on some of the foundational records of the last four decades, including Nirvana’s best album. He dealt only in analog tools and capturing sound, rejecting the aspects of an industry defined by digital cheapness and hideous business practices. A favorite track for me is the one I titled this column after, by Jason Molina, aka Songs:Ohia. I was looking at a hand drawn diagram of his studio set-up for the session and was amazed to discover they nailed this tune, full of so much that is inexpressible with words, in one take. Rest easy, maestro.
The other fella was Roger Corman, a director and producer who broke into, and then broke-up, the hegemony of the Hollywood studio system, and in doing so launched the careers of Francis Ford Coppola (more from him below), Jack Nicholson and Joe Dante, and helped create the concept of independent films. There are too many movies to mention with his marks on them, but one that has consistently haunted me is The Intruder, which stars a young William Shatner as a slick, racist grifter who slithers into a desegregating town in the Deep South to provoke the locals into unspeakable acts of white mob violence. It came out in 1962 and was filmed in Southern Missouri, which says everything you need to know about the courage and vision of Mr. Corman.
Have a good week.
Thursday
With the summer heat coming early, our evenings are warm and fragrant, especially near one of our rivers. Few places boast that night perfume like the Logger Bar, where the back patio sits a stone’s slingshot (almost) from the Mad. Tonight at 8 p.m. you can while away the twilight time with some live blues courtesy of The Lost Dogs (free).
Friday
Anybody remember Whomp Wednesdays? That celebration of electronic dance music and its various micro-genres that was usually posted-up at the Jam might not be around in the weekly institutional sense, but its spirit (and production company) lives on tonight at 9 p.m. at the same venue ($15). Come live it up between the deep bass and the tweeters with a lineup of mix-masters including Cloud-d, SUDS, B2B, Treemeista, Curtis B and Christafari.
Saturday
The Arcata Playhouse is a surprisingly versatile venue, a warm wooden temple that is very accommodating to a wide variety of musical and theatrical productions. This flexibility is no more evident than when a prog rock act rolls through town because the acoustics and aura of the joint simply jive. tu:NER is one such act, a trio featuring two veterans of prog royalty King Crimson — Pat Mastelotto and Trey Gunn — as well as German composer and instrumentalist Markus Reuter, a frequent collaborator with Crimson-adjacent groups. This formation is on the road promoting its latest release T2 Tu-Ner for Lovers and, as a fan of the intersection of post-synth free jazz and prog soundscapes, I dig it. Don’t miss this 8 p.m. show if you like your technical weirdness with a playful and flawless paintjob ($25).
Sunday
Australia has a way of cutting out all the bullshit from American culture and leaving in all the greasy and gory fun bits. There are many examples of its righteous offerings since the days of AC/DC and The Road Warrior, but lately there have been a lot of great garage bands breaking containment from the continent, and we are lucky to have one such group in town tonight at the Siren’s Song Tavern. Sydney’s Itchy and the Nits are an all-female trio of bubble-punk boppers who simply lay it out and rip it up. Also on the bill are local rioters The Real DTs and the return of ’00s band Henpecker. The kick-off is at 8:30 p.m. and the price is only 6 dollary-doos.
Monday
One of my favorite flicks from before the film-to-digital transition is getting the big screen treatment at the Eureka Theater tonight at 7:30 p.m. Bram Stoker’s Dracula (1992) is Francis Ford Coppola’s take on cinema’s favorite undead count, but it’s also a detailed homage to the incredible world of practical effects, particularly those of the in-camera variety found in the age of silent films. From the modern and surrealist art direction to the intense score, not to mention a stellar cast with (mostly) great performances, this one has mesmerized me since it came out when I was a boy. I have mentioned before that the epistolary nature of the novel allows the reader to line up a good time of year to follow along with the action and spring has always been my favorite season for Dracula. Nothing offsets ravenous, bloody murder and the cold earth of the grave as the scent of fresh blooms on warming nights. The empty husk of ancient damnation brought back to an artificial mockery of life by the flowery life force of youth. Growth and decay reversed in a perverse curse of … enough gothic purple prose. Just go spend $6.66 (lol) and see the damn thing.
Tuesday
Another formidable international trio comes to town on an off night, this time all the way from Tokyo. LOOLOWINGEN is an avant-blues punk group of textural soundsmiths dedicated to deconstructing western rock traditions in a way that many great bands from that island nation seem to do by instinct. The odd, custom rhythms and arpeggiated guitar wanderings remind me of Marc Ribot and NYC No Wave band DNA in a very complimentary way. Don’t mistake this group as derivative, though — they’re definitely doing something new. Also on the bill are the delightful duo MIDI KITI and Pichea. Roll through the Miniplex by 8:30 p.m. to catch the whole thing and you can save $5 from the $15 door charge if you buy your tickets in advance.
Wednesday
Visionary films are a lot like science fiction: They often come as a breakthrough in format, transcending the trappings of the times while defining a new aesthetic, or as pure prophecy rendered by reading the current era and — as if by magic — correctly project its trajectory into a previously unseen future. Children of Men (2006) is the latter of these two phenomena, a movie that took a snapshot of the Bush/Blair years and created a grim vision of the even more dull and grinding fascism of the capitalist realism to come. A world where everyone has become infertile, living out extinction under a government that despises immigrants. The source novel comes from an unlikely author, P.D. James, a writer known for her crime novels and bedfellow relationship with British upper society. I rewatched it earlier this year, struck by the authenticity of its depiction of a society casually slipping into terminal dystopia through a mix of nihilism and xenophobia. See for yourself if you recognize any themes running current to our own world. Here’s the boilerplate: Sci-fi night, Arcata Theatre Lounge, doors at 6 p.m., show after the 7 p.m. raffle, $6 to get in, $10 to leave with a poster.
Collin Yeo (he/him) is a human being. He lives in Arcata.
This article appears in False Narratives.