Mr. Blue Sky 

"Hey you, with the pretty face. Welcome to the human race. A celebration, Mr. Blue Sky's up there waiting, and today is the day we've waited for." I have a funny relationship with this week's song. There have been times when it was brightly lighting up my brain while strolling through the lees of an otherwise tough day. I was recently damaging my ears with it via earbuds when I got hailed by a dear friend I hadn't seen in years; that was lovely. It also crops up in movies and trailers too often, and I don't generally care for its presentation in that format. Then there have been times when the tune seemed like a mockery, something specifically designed to remind me I was on the other side of the glass, sickly and broken, while the world of shiny, happy people zipped around, oblivious to the ghost in the window of the old house. Here's hoping that if the afterlife awaits, I can avoid that eternity. But the song is pure pleasure and that's the thing about pleasure: Its constant stream is a torment rather than a joy. But today and during the course of this week, I am leaning into the joy. And I know when to quit, I promise. Unlike the junky's promise of a similar sentiment, regular readers know that much about me, at least. I am not a creature of constant pleasure, though hopefully, sorrow neither. Have a good one.

Thursday

LASKA is a harmonic folk act from Portland fronted by sisters Mookie and Hannah Morton. They'll be coming round the mountain and stopping at the Outer Space tonight at 7:30 p.m. Also on the bill are a couple of fine local acts, rockers Queen Karma and folk punk heroes Blood Hunny. There is a $5-$20 sliding scale entrance fee, but nobody gets turned away for a lack of coins.

Friday

Blu Egyptian is a Chico-based jam band that does the crossing genre streams thing more than noodling. The group has come through town a few times before and seems to have built up a decent amount of steam from steady touring, so good on 'em there. Tonight's performance will be hosted at Humbrews at 8:30 p.m. Also on the bill are Velvet Sea, about whom I know nothing but have a strong suspicion are named after the Phish song, which might explain quite a bit of my shroud of ignorance here ($15, $10 advance).

Saturday

Los Angeles' Wand has been at it for north of a decade, where over five records and lots have touring have established themselves as lords of a certain perfect sound, almost impossible give justice to by means of explanation, but I'll give it a try in the same way Carl Sagan famously showed a generation of TV viewers what the shadow of a fourth-dimensional object would look like. Wand is music for meandering through a landscape which doesn't exist, but feels like home, and if made physical might look like deserts in a Dyson sphere full of bubbles of starlight. I dig it. I also dig Portland's Jackie-O Motherfucker, a much older group that has played with the vast world of sound since the '90s, creating soundscapes and rock outcroppings worthy of worship. I am going to put this one down as a don't miss if you have the time, and that time begins at 8:30 p.m., at the Miniplex ($15).

Sunday

You know what? Let's keep this one short, sweet, free and easy. If you like crowds and a spectacle, head to the Arcata Plaza anytime after 10 a.m. for the North Country Fair and its famous parade. If you want more intimate Sunday amusement, go to Fieldbrook Winery at noon for an afternoon with the bluegrass stylings of the Compost Mountain Boys.

Monday

It's another quiet one here on the western oceanfront, so in deference to my ongoing suggestions about listening to the departed artists of 2023, crank up something by the songwriter who best navigated across that tightrope of genius hovering over the canyon of schmaltz. I am of course talking about the great Burt Bacharach because the world certainly needs some love right now.

Tuesday

As mentioned in my interview (page TK), the legendary Xiu Xiu is in town, specifically at the Miniplex, which is really hitting some heavy dingers this week, music-wise. The group is here ahead of the Sept. 27 release of its fantastic new record, 13" Frank Beltrame Italian Stiletto with Bison Horn Grips, a lyric from which I can't seem to get out of my head: "I have done almost nothing right my entire adult life." Yeah, that one's very relatable. Catch them at 8 p.m. ($28).

Wednesday

The myth of objectivity in writing has kept me largely outside of the world of polite, professional journalism, which is fine, as I prefer being a writer and occasionally rude to the right people. However, when talking about Palestine, I use words like "genocide" and "apartheid" not to whip up hyperbolic, inflammatory imagery, but to be as honest as I possibly can, even if that honesty upsets some people. Fuck 'em, to paraphrase the political scientist and theorist John Mearsheimer, I want future historians, if they have the chance to exist, to know that there were people of conscience who operated based on the humanism that conscience demands. I'd hate for the kids of tomorrow to think that we were all servile, fascist goons, ignorant dittoheads, and violent racists serving the American death machine and its ghoulish client states. So in that spirit, I'd like to recommend the 7 p.m. showing of the 2012 film Roadmap to Apartheid at the Minor Theatre. ($5-$15 sliding scale). A part of the ongoing Shine a Light on Palestine series, this film, narrated by the writer Alice Walker, will conclude with a panel discussion with directors Ana Nogueira and Eron Davidson. Snag your tickets now if you don't want to miss out on this special event.

Collin Yeo (he/him) welcomes the bloom and the wither in separate, but equal measures. And prefers the in between far more. He lives in Arcata.