And just like that, we are back in the beginning of spooky season, the 10th month of the year — ridiculously and archaically named October — the month that not only ends with Halloween, but begins with what is now the ninth anniversary of my time writing about music, politics, people and art for this publication. I’ve tried to strike a decent balance between those subjects — along with my love of cats and birdwatching — during my time here, but if you feel otherwise, please feel free to email your opprobrium. I will gladly respond, although in-person sessions have a steeper appearance fee than 1-900 calls in the height of the long-gone days of adult magazines and airport conference room seminars. But this isn’t about me at all; I want to talk about Mary Shelley for a moment, or rather, her Frankenstein’s monster.
Shelley understood the hubristic failure of all the men of science in her time and beyond and the grotesque morgue-supplied allure of creating an imitation of life in the bloody surgical theater laboratory of rational inquiry. In her 1818 novel Frankenstein, she predicted the disintegration of the age of enlightenment long before philosophers like Schopenhauer, Nietzsche and Kierkegaard were able to sound out the horrible terrain of the European psychic landscape in the wake of reason’s annihilation of God, mythology, metaphor, magic and nature. She saw the vacuum of Being that split the atom almost 100 years after her death and understood the brutal fire it would scar every successive generation with. She knew the mystic aspects of science and the fascist orthodoxies that tamped down those expressions of existence. The Scottish artist and novelist Alasdair Gray got a hearty glimpse from her work and wrote the excellent novel Poor Things, which, of course, was turned into a dipshit mess for the big screen — by the perverted monsters controlling Hollywood — a stupid movie that missed the salient point of the book because missing the point is the entire point of our dipshit culture. We blind our visionaries when we should be torturing the fools who steal fire from the gods to show us curated shadow plays mocking the majesty of truth. Like Prometheus. Like Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein.
Welcome to October.
Thursday
Blair Gun is a band from San Diego who make “music to be heard in a 2013 Hyundai Elantra.” This is according to the group’s Bandcamp page and while my truck is much older and nastier than that make and model, I split the difference and checked out some tunes on my Chromebook and bricked Bluetooth speaker. The songs I heard slapped and flapped with the sort of frantic energy that our local traffic crackles with when the transplant students show up for the fall semester with their shitty SoCal driving habits. I liked that energy quite a lot in sonic form, so kudos, kiddos. I imagine this stuff will translate well live, but there’s only one way to find out. Head over to Moss Oak Commons after 7 p.m. with some amount of money between $0 and $15. You will be rewarded with sets by Presence and Something Wicked, two of our finest local acts, along with psychedelic visuals courtesy of Gasmo Lightshow.
Friday
The Miniplex is hosting a punk rock zoological cage match tonight around 9 p.m. with Cincinnati trio Jon Q Public linking up with local fauna Dumpster Puppies, Berk & the Jerx and The Smashed Glass. This venue has some of the better underground touring act calendars in the area, but rarely books straight up punk shows, so this should be quite a treat. ($15, $12 for advance tickets).
Saturday
The smoky scents of autumn are once again in the air, which means it must be time for the inauguration of another season of our beloved Eureka Symphony. Last night and tonight’s program is called Bold Beginnings and features a performance of Finlandia by Jean Sibelius, the late-19th century Concerto for Violin, Horn and Orchestra by British suffragette Dame Ethel Smyth, and Symphony No. 2 by the philosopher of music himself, Mr. Ludwig Van. The middle piece features conversational performances by violinist Terrie Baune and horn-player Melissa Robinson-Winemiller, while rumor has it this will be the first time this particular symphony by Beethoven will be played live in our county. It all starts at 7:30 p.m. sharp, and tickets will run you between $21 and $54, which I call a bargain.
Sunday
In the interest of promoting shows which mark a beginning for local artists, I am suggesting an after-Porchfest event in Arcata at 8 p.m. for the first album release show by local singer/songwriter Luna Sofia. What better place to get in at the ground floor of something than at the Basement? Located in the western guts of the Jacoby Storehouse, it’s hard to imagine a better beginning level. There will be some fine local musicians playing in the backing band, and Daniel Nickerson is the opening act ($10).
Monday
Silent night, unholy night. A perfect night for a horror film at home.
Tuesday
Burnstitch Artist Collective is throwing a local band showcase at Savage Henry Comedy Club tonight at 7 p.m. to get some energy going to four groups in the area who deserve some attention. Those bands are punk bands 3.5% and Indexterity,psych rock act Kybos and indie grunge rockers Dune TV. As with every B.A.T. show, this is an all-ages event, with a highly negotiable $5-$20 cover charge.
Wednesday
Ilyas Ahmed is a Portland-based experimental musician who has a long discography full of collaborations with similar West Coast gems, including a lovely record with Jefre Cantu-Ledesma from my favorite ’90s San Francisco dynamic-ambient band Tarantel. He is currently on tour with Seattle’s motorik mashers somesurprises and will be landing at the Miniplex at 7 p.m. for an early midweek gig. Make sure to get there on time so as not to miss Meg Baird from the Winter Band ($15).
Collin Yeo (he/him) believes in the fundamentals of music with an emphasis on the fundament.
This article appears in Xine:wh-ding.