Halloween starts a week early this year, with two shows this weekend at The Coffin Club on Grand Avenue in close-in Southeast Portland. “Coffin Club, Coffin Club,” you’re muttering to yourself, oblivious of the horrified stares all around you. “Didn’t that used to be The Lovecraft Bar?”

No! Nope! Not at all! You are imagining things, dear reader! And for your sake–for all our sakes–we hope you’ll have the decency to never mention it again, no matter how your waking nightmares are haunted by eldritch colors out of space that could only by analogy be called colors at all. Ignore the unceasing screams, and the terrible undulations, and all the rest. Pour yourself another absinthe, smoke your stinky cheroot, and remind yourself that we’re all DEVO.

The first of these two Coffin Club shows, the one on Thursday, October 24 (tonight, yea, this very night, if you’re reading this on Thursday, October 24) features three cover bands paying tribute to four bands. Thieves is a Ministry tribute band, taking their name from the opening track off the immortal industrialists’ 1989 album The Mind Is a Terrible Thing to Taste (listen to the original here). Seventeen Seconds is, of course, a Cure cover band, one of several that operate in Oregon. And Devo Death–well, this one’s a mashup tribute band, the unholy union of Devo songs and the death rock stylings of Christian Death.

You’ve probably heard of Devo; you probably haven’t heard of Christian Death (unless, like the present author, you had a sufficiently religious upbringing). They got rolling in the early ‘80s, a few years after Devo started their astonishing initial run of albums: Christian Death’s debut, Only Theatre of Pain, came out in 1982, the same year as Oh, No! It’s Devo, the Ohio troupe’s fifth album and hardly their finest hour (it’s the one with the Hinckley lyrics). That the two bands’ musicks work so well together highlights the terrible truth that, in a sense, Devo is just as radically contrary and dangerous to the status quo as a band with an overtly blasphemous name and nature.

Anyways, you can get a taste of what Devo Death sounds like with the video above and over here on their Bandcamp page. This fan’s verdict: these guys are killing it!

The Coffin Club’s Halloweentime festivities carry on through The Evening Itself, but they’re mostly DJ-driven dance nights and thus unworthy of our attention. We do want to highlight that second show, though, the one that happens the night after the tribute bands. On October 25, three bands play Coffin Club: Nox Novacula, Xibling, and Vosh. They’re all spooktacular, gothy, edgy, eighties-loving, female-fronted, synth-heavy bands. One at a time, then.

Nox Novacula is a Seattle death rock band, and their shining virtue is how perfectly they capture That Eighties Sound, the whole Bauhaus/Damned/Siouxsie thing–if you grubbied up their recordings a bit you could probably sell them as some undiscovered London band who all vanished in a horrific and unexplainable series of mysterious circumstances sometime in the cruel, chilly early months of 1980.

VOSH is a DC group, a synthtalicious trio who presumably get all the gloomy vibes they need from the Deep Well of the Deep State. While they’re out here in the dark Pacific Northwestern woods, they’ll also be playing John Henry’s in Eugene. It remains to be seen whether Man or Machine will win this round.

Xibling is the Portland band on this bill, a duo that’s been creeping us all out for almost a decade now, with a sound that is not exactly easy to describe. It’s goes a little something like this:

For tickets and more information on all of this, visit The Coffin Club’s website.

Movie night

Good news everybody! The Saloon Ensemble’s unnerving and mouse-defying Nitemare B4 Xmas is back at Alberta Rose Theatre for another year. Stilt-walkers; a costume contest and a screaming contest; a kickass band; all that delicious Danny Elfman music. What’s not to love? We first noticed them in 2016 (read that preview here), and wrote more extensively about the show three years later (read that enthusiastic review here). Here’s what we had to say about it in 2019:

After the oil runs dry and the lights go out and the climate wars have drowned all the cities, whoever’s left will be huddled in ruined old churches and shopping malls, putting on shows like this one.

Because Saloon’s Nitemare is many kinds of show–a kid’s show, a variety show, a retelling of a seasonal myth, a big-band dance show, an enthusiastic singspiel–and there’s something timeless about that sort of despecialization; the production’s smattering of amateurish elements only added to that feeling. But that’s not to say that any of it was poorly performed–the show was grand, simply grand, and the band kicked ass, with extra points to the vocal trio and to wolf-headed saxophonist Joshua Cliburn for bridging Elfman’s ‘30s-obsessed Weill/Ellington style and the Saloon Ensemble’s hokey Lawrence Welk, Benny Hill, cantina band schtick.

And special extra points go to Saloon leader Wells for making this whole thing happen and keeping it all together without–ahem–losing his head. Dude was doing a hell of a lot of work on this show: as The Mayor, he has a ton of dialogue, and that overlaps with his more general role as Emcee (which he performed with extraordinary grace and large doses of Vaudeville humor). He also played guitar and banjo while leading a dozen-odd musicians through zesty, playful arrangements of Elfman’s zany, twisty songs; if you’ve never led a live theater band in a show with a lot of other moving parts, be grateful. It’s exhausting work, and Wells managed it like a master of light (and a demon of fright, and he’ll scare you right out of your pants).

Then there’s the rest of the variety show, cheesy and sometimes literally cheap but no less entertaining for that. Wells’ mayor costume included a simple paper mask for when the literally two-faced politician turns from cheerful grimace to dismayed scowl; in one memorable scene, a similarly inexpensive bit of paper fire illuminated a little Charlie Brown Christmas tree. The costumes all had a ragged, patched-together, punk-rock quality–just like the ragged, patched-together, punk-rock costumes the citizens of Halloweentown wear in the stop-motion original. How perfectly Portland.

Topping it all off: the “all-ages” aspect. Children (of all ages) sang along heartily to “Making Christmas” (the homemade lyric signs are a nice touch), and the show stopped several times for costume and screaming contests–both of which got snapped up this year by a young audient dressed as Sally, whose prize-winning scream was not only shrill in the ear-piercing supersonic style proper to little girls but also complex and full of all the terrors of the night. That scream is going to haunt me.

The hootenanny, in other words, was a perfect example of what it looks like when the people take matters into their own hands–when a love of music and myth overrides institutional concerns and “the enemy of the good” and creates a living theater. I hope this show runs for a century.

Wells is still in charge, though much of the band itself has changed, Ship of Theseus style, and there’s a new Jack too: stiltwalker and spicy peanut butter crafter Kylee Wegner. Opening acts include Michelle Alany & The Mystics, opening the festivities with their Eastern-European-via-Texas jazzy fiddle-faddle thing, and composer/accordionist Mark Growden. Unless you actively hate this movie and its music, you’ll not find a more satisfying Halloween experience in Oregon.

Nitemare B4 Xmas runs at Alberta Rose Theatre this Friday through Sunday, October 25-27. More information and tickets available right here.

***

Tod Browning’s Dracula–the old one, the black-and-white one, the one with Bela Lugosi and that haunting voice and those haunting eyes–isn’t exactly a silent movie, but it isn’t exactly not a silent movie either. It does have spoken dialogue (“I never drink…wine”) and sound effects and whatnot, but no musical score. It’s a terrifically theatrical production, especially compared to later iterations (the Hammer one with Christopher Lee, the Coppola one with Gary Oldman, the BBC one with Claes Bang, the recent gonzofest with Nicholases Cage and Hoult), and it has a lovely old-timey creepiness that almost feels like a particularly disturbing black-n-white comic book–say, Frank Miller’s Sin City or Alan Moore’s From Hell.

All of which makes it a perfect vehicle for Philip Glass and his beautiful string quartet writing. Back in 2018, when the composer was touring with Kronos Quartet and performing his Dracula score, we had this to say about it:

The music, listened to on its own, doesn’t have a whole lot going for it; as with most film scores, you’re more likely to hear it in suite form unless you’ve got the images to go with. That’s how it’s intended. But to hear a complete film score synched live to film is almost always a treat (the Oregon Symphony does it a few times a year). I should put that the other way around, though: we’re not hearing a score with a visual component, we’re watching a movie with the score performed live. In this way it’s more like watching an old silent movie, with all the nuance a live performance can provide.

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“Nuance,” that’s the pivotal word. A prerecorded film–every single participant is long dead, all that remains is this new flesh document of their creative energies. A “new” score which is itself now almost three decades old. And a fresh performance–in this case, the new Third Angle New Music string quartet (Greg Ewer, Ling Ling Huang, Wendy Richman, Valdine Ritchie Mishkin) performing Glass’ Dracula live-to-film at The Reser with conductor/pianist Michael Riesman.

Now that’s a name every Glass fan knows: Riesman has been playing and conducting this stuff for ages, having joined the Philip Glass Ensemble fifty years ago, in 1974. He’s arguably a better performer and interpreter of Glass’ music than the composer himself. Certainly he knows this score, and the ins-and-outs of making it work as film music for a live audience.

Third Angle and Michael Riesman perform Philip Glass’ “Dracula” at The Reser on October 30. Tickets and more information available here.

The evening itself

And now onto Halloween itself. Let’s start with the perfectly-named Dead Astaire at Mississippi Studios with special guest Saxodelics. Dead Astaire is one of those unknowable bands who wear masks and costumes and thus can’t be readily identified–like Kiss or Kulululu (who really ought to be doing a Halloween show under the moniker Kthulululu).

Which means Dead Astaire could be anybody! It could be Federale or Pink Martini or half the remaining members of Quasi and Dead Moon under there!

Here’s how they describe themselves on this, their 10th anniversary:

Celebrating 10 years since their ominous debut, Dead Astaire are rising from their crypts once again to summon forth a grim spectacle indeed! Join them on Halloween night and allow your party spirit to possess your body and soul. Your feet will caper unbidden, and from your jaws will escape an ecstatic howl as haunted music fills you with unholy vitality!

Dead Astaire features a fiendish cast of Portland music veterans, who each Halloween curate a monstrous collection of morbid rock n’ roll covers to thrill the costume-clad crowd. Prepare yourself to be spellbound by classic tunes from the likes of Oingo Boingo, the Cure, David Bowie, the Ramones, Echo & the Bunnymen, and many more.

Find out why this show is lauded as the best Halloween party in town, and keeps the wailing hordes returning to sold-out venues year after year. Do not waver, lest you be wracked with the torturous curse of missing out!

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Get your tickets right here.

***

Over at Mississippi’s sister venue, Polaris Hall on North Killingsworth, it’s the vocal harmonies of indie-folksters The Apricots and the ever-shifting psych-pop of !mindparade. The Apricots sounds like this:

When we first heard !mindparade, they were at Doug Fir Lounge (RIP) doing this:

And here’s what we had to say about that at the time:

We descended the woody staircase just as the second opener, another Portland act called !mindparade, was wrapping up. “Hail Eris,” I cried, wishing we’d arrived earlier, “that’s an octet!” A delirious multi-colored light show swirled over the band and across a giant white sheet draped upstage behind them. Always nice to come upon these little surprises.

The band’s name suits its zany, vivid music. That initial exclamation point, the big bang of creation, an explosion of joyful consciousness and ass-shaking grooves under gooey pop-psychedlic harmelodics, of Montreal on better drugs, Polyphonic Spree with better costumes. Then, after that, the mind: a shocking recognition of how strange and proggy this poppy stuff really is, sideways jazz harmonies and shifting meters and all the rest. Then, the parade: an eight-person radar array, from busy drummer far stage right, across moogy synth guy and lead singer guitarist guy and chill bassist, over a pair of grinning violinists and a cellist, across to a second bass player on upright, bow and all. The last number was so jolly and jumping that I swear I could feel a conga line almost forming up. Another minute or so would have done it. Maybe next time.

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And their most recent whatsit, Skyscapia, sounds like this:

This time around they’re performing as a quartet, with bandleader and lead mind Alex Arnold “juggling synths and guitar duties,” according to an email we just received from Arnold. He also tells us, “our costume theme is *space*”–what else?

Get your more information and tickets right here.

***

We end, as we must, at Dante’s on West Burnside. For all the crrreepy cosplaying of venues like The Coffin Club, we’ve always found Dante’s to be the actual scariest venue in Portland. Nevermind the physical setting, which is scary enough–that part of Portland around the Burnside Bridge has always been a little rough and always will be. The venue itself though–well, it’s called Dante’s, they host “Sinferno Cabaret” and “Karaoke from Hell,” I mean, Jesus, what do you want, a big sign saying “Here Be Dragons”?

We’re exaggerating, of course–but, having seen hundreds of shows there (and played a few, too) we can attest to the place having a weirdly thrilling dark energy. And that makes it the perfect place for a perfect Halloween party. This year’s bash has three bands on the bill, two tribute acts and a something-or-other. Let’s start with the something-or-other.

Fifi and Les Fauxfauxs describe themselves as “Bushy, butchy, squishy Punk Rock with a side of Shoo-Wop,” which is probably all you really need to know. They’re one of these winking Francophile protesty girlboss groups, the sort who embrace L’esprit de Mai 68 and play covers of Serge Gainsbourg songs and write originals like “Burn the City” and “Madonna/Whore.” Y’know, a Portland band. They sound like this:

One of those “there are two types of people in the world” breakdowns is “people who know about The Cramps and people who don’t.” They’re a special kind of punk band, one of the early groups who invented the genre and therefore never needed to play by its “rules” (see also Troggs, The Stooges, Ramones, Devo). You listen to their early recordings and think “is this a rockabilly band or a horror movie soundtrack band or a surf band on really bad meth or what?” The founding couple–Lux Interior and Poison Ivy–sprang from the deep well of crusty old weird that is Sacramento, California, before passing through Ohio on their way to the notorious CBGB’s in New York, there to join the burgeoning generation of weirdos that were inventing one of America’s final pair of great musical inventions (the other was, of course, hip-hop). Eventually they made their way back to Los Angeles, which is where they always belonged.

Anyways, what makes the Cramps great is not just their sound but their songs–as with the other bands in their scene, especially the Ramones, their songwriting was always contrarily top notch. If you’re one of those people we mentioned a moment ago, you’re already humming “TV Set” or “I Was a Teenage Werewolf” or “Human Fly” or one of their dozens of other ghoulish hits.

Seattle’s 38 Coffin isn’t exactly a Cramps tribute band, but they aren’t exactly not a Cramps tribute band either–their recent album Leopard Spots features the hits “Dead Surfer Girl” and “Black Leather Cat”–and at Dante’s on Halloween they will be exactly a Cramps tribute band. Get ready to do the Monster Mash!

We leave you now, via the eternal return, back where we started, with Devo. It’s probably inevitable that there’d be an honest-to-spud Devo tribute band in town: Devotees, whose claim to legitimacy is solidified by the fact that they apparently are a bunch of old fuckers, just like the real Devo:

More information and tickets here.

Trick or treat

You thought we were done, didn’t you? One more, and it must be brought before your eyes now, tonight, yea, this very night: Goblin is on tour again, with two stops in Oregon (John Henry’s in Eugene on November 5, Roseland Ballroom in Portland on November 6).

As with Cramps, you’re either scratching your head going “wtf is Goblin” or you’re screaming in terror at the prospect of almost missing the greatest of Italian horror movie soundtrack bands. The latter camp is already hearing the creepy bells of Suspiria ringing in their ears:

The band has a funny history: they started as an ordinary Italian progressive rock band with the stupid name Oliver, which their label promptly changed to the equally stupid Cherry Five. In 1975 they found themselves doing soundtrack work for notorious Italian director Dario Argento, who was all pissed off and disappointed with the music that the “normal” composer, jazz pianist Giorgio Gaslini, was coming up with for his latest movie. Argento squeezed Gaslini out (a technique known as “Gaslining”) and hired the band, who then changed their name to the one they were fated to wear.

The soundtrack was a hit, and two years later the force of destiny wrapped itself around Goblin when they paired up with Argento again to score his now-infamous Suspiria. It’s quite possibly the greatest horror soundtrack of all time. Seriously. Its only real competitors are Psycho, The Omen, Halloween, and maybe Sleepy Hollow.

Cut to forty years later, and the band has continued to exist as a band; long after fellow Italian prog greats Il Balletto di Bronzo and Banco del Mutuo Succorso and Le Orme bit the dust, Goblin has kept on making horror movie soundtracks and contemporary Italian prog, as you can hear for yourself on their latest album, 2018’s Fearless (37513 Zombie Ave.):

We saw them at Hawthorne Theater a few years ago (with Secret Chiefs 3 in tow, naturally) and it was eye-opening, to put it mildly. They travel with a screen so they can show off the horror movies while they’re playing the soundtracks, and it can get a little intense–you’re used to being safely wrapped up in a blanket on a couch when you watch this stuff, or at the very least curled up fetal-position style in a popcorn-stained movie theater seat, stress-sucking at your empty soda cup.

But you go watch this band live and you get the scary music turned up to heavy metal volumes, and you’re on your feet moshing along with all the other horror fans and metalheads, and you’re dehydrated and at the edge of ecstasy, and you’re almost wishing you hadn’t come at all–but you can’t leave, you can’t leave now, can’t leave at all, not even to pop outside and light one of those nasty cheroots, and that’s when you realize you’re trapped in the world of Goblin, perhaps not only for now but forever, for all time, in the endless night, world without end, amen, amen.

Beware! More information and tickets over here at Goblin’s website.