The central illusion of human existence is the idea of the individual. A singular will operating at odds, instead of at one with, collective humanity and the living world at large. One place this grand fraudulence is most obvious is in traffic jams, where huge numbers of “autonomous” persons, each operating an automobile, finds themselves trapped by a gridlock that works against the flow of universal Being. “See the world today, in your Chevrolet” is no longer a commercial invocation of freedom, but an ironic mockery of the limitations of our culture, a feral thing caged by its own libidinous excess. Enough nerdy exposition; I have, to quote Roy Batty, seen things, and I did so by traveling to the calcified Mother Brain of the American auto industry. I’m talking Michigan, from Detroit to Traverse City. I motorvated up the Motor State, and I’m back home to bitch and crow about it.
Though largely absent in my recent columns, I have to make a quick pitstop in the politics garage. Just for a bit of speedy tune-up advice for the reader: Don’t be smug or dismissive about the last election. Ignore the trope of red and blue states, particularly when talking about a swing state that went to the former party by less than 2 percent and whose fickle and depressed voters have accurately predicted the general electoral tide of the last decade or so. If 2024 was any indication, the public’s choice between a seated party refusing to lay off the gas on domestic austerity and foreign policy genocide in an effort to head-off the open fascism from the challenging party is not a good way to measure the function of a healthy democracy. That’s basically like asking people for exterior paint color preferences in a burning building where the residents are facing the choice of leaping to their doom or succumbing to the flames. There are more important things to focus on.
Like how the exotic flavors of our differences rhyme with the palate of our similarities. Many cities in Michigan pop out of the wild greenery like half-rotting monsters in found-footage horror movie jump scares, while California unrolls its population centers from Lawrence of Arabia-sized highway vistas into plastic oases designed by a Lego Satan. Humboldt is an exception to this trend, and Michigan has many of those, too. Hamtramck, for instance, is a walkable city inside of greater Detroit, with a burgeoning immigrant Muslim population filling out the contours of a once-predominantly Polish burg named after an 18th century French Canadian soldier. The melting pot is alive and well in cozy ports just outside the spotlights of the vast strip mall archipelago.
Further ahead, Northwestern Michigan runs along the eponymous lake, with high golden dunes tufted with white pines and deciduous greenery cascading into the clear waters of a flat fresh inland sea. An American gothic remoteness that trends more towards a plein air Eyvind Earle or Edward Gorey than Grant Wood. Everything is built around enjoying the summer and enduring the winter, and there are cherry trees everywhere.
The people are a lot like the people here, different accents and driving habits notwithstanding. Generally kind, optimistic and receptive to small talk, while seeming to be psychically furrowed by the same growing panic we are all feeling at the ongoing catastrophe of having cruel, senile idiots running the ship of state. America is full of many good people being driven insane by the screaming winds from the monstrous chasm between the gentleness of our better natures and the demonic malevolence of our national character. I guess this isn’t much of a travel piece, but a quick portrait of you and I, and our friends a few time zones away. Still united across states, trying our level best not to be caught out, injected, then dissolved by the digestive juices of a Big Hungry Thing spoiling our view from lakefront to seaside. I thought this all up while navigating the post-flight gridlock of Bay Area traffic. I’m happy to be back. Go have some fun while it’s still legal.
Thursday
Treasured local poet Jerry Martien has teamed up with Fred Neighbor, Mike LaBolle and Gary Davidson, aka The Usual Suspects for an evening of music and poetry at the Arcata Playhouse. Few events are more likely to capture the glory of a certain era of our beloved home, as only its best chorus can unite and recite an encomium from the dawn to starlight and back again, so treat yourself if you are feeling the love. The show is at 7 p.m., and $18 gets you a seat in the forum.
Friday
Speaking of local treasures from a certain era, the ever-fine Barking Dogma are playing at the Wild Hare Tavern tonight at 8 p.m., where for a mere $5 you can see a Humboldt institution play some gems by Kevyn Dymond in the new skin of the old Jambalaya. Things change and the spirit endures.
If you want something more electronic for later, there’s a big DJ shindig at the Arcata Theatre Lounge starting at 9 p.m. S!ck!ck is a Toronto-based global purveyor of electronic dance music with hip hop flashes and house stylings. He will be accompanied tonight by Esch, D’Vinity, LVSTRNG and Spenny.If you feel like minting a DJ stage name for yourself, try removing the vowels and/adding some punctuation to your legal name or favorite slur. No pressure — it costs the same to get in either way, which is $50, as the advance tickets are sold out.
Saturday
Here’s something completely new: a free all-day and night music festival in Dean Creek Resort just north of Redway. Humgrown Music Festival starts at noon and is advertised to run through to 4 a.m. In addition to vendors, food trucks and a raffle, there will be two music stages featuring DJs and live bands, including Datura Blues, Shiny Eyes, A Banjo Makes 3, Savannah Rose, Trinket, Selecta Rex, Diablinski, Copperton3, Mendofire, Blue Rhythm Revue and many more acts. Worth a shot if you feel like grooving and/or camping in the last gasp of summer.
Sunday
Metal comes a night early this week at Savage Henry Comedy Club, where at 7 p.m. Oakland bands Three Towers and Hypnotic Pattern will be joined by KOI and Burn Canyon for an all-ages bash that’s only $5-$10 sliding scale to enjoy and help keep the lights on at the club.
Monday
Let’s keep tonight quiet and undercover. Save it for another time.
Tuesday
Baltimore is not the first place one associates with high-energy soul music, but singer and frontman Les Greene is putting in a bid to change that, along with his crab shell-tight band The Swayzees.If you find yourself needing an early-week pick-me-up, this funky show will keep the blues away. Swing by the Arcata Playhouse at 7:30 p.m., where $20 ($18 for members) will get your ticket to the dance.
Wednesday
As Belloq, the evil archeologist in Raiders of the Lost Ark pointed out, bury a cheap watch in the desert, dig it up after a millennium, and it becomes priceless. Music acts that stick around long enough undergo a similar process, albeit one with less time and intrigue involved. Take Atlanta’s Yin Yang Twins, for instance. If you had told me a quarter century ago they’d still be grinding into the ’20s, I’d have thought you’d stroked out on too many vodka Red Bulls. Time makes fools of us all. If you still have the itch for the music of the early millennium, roll through the Blue Lake Casino at 9 p.m. and slap down $47. Bubba Sparxxx is on the bill, too, if you want to see the primal ancestor of Jelly Roll do that country-rap crap better. l
Collin Yeo (he/him) kinda missed writing but REALLY missed his cats.
This article appears in Double the Drama.