The Stranger

(SCULPTURE) Tied-up, starving, suffering Iraqis made of salt and melting away before your eyes in the rain in a public square: not the Bush administration's idea of a good 9/11 memorial. Michael Magrath (who devised a salt-based material for casting his life-sized figures) and a team of helpers will deposit the sculptures (based on news photographs of Iraqi men and boys) in Occidental Square early this morning. Given there's rain, the Iraqis will begin to disintegrate. (Occidental Square, Occidental Ave S and S Main St, free.) by Jen Graves

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(FILM) The movie never name-checks Morrissey, but it is about girlfriends in comas and the men who stand vigil over them. The women: a female matador (gored) and a young dancer (car accident). The men: Marco (a heartsick journalist) and Benigno (an obsessive mama's boy). The relationships are startlingly tempestuous, seeing as how half of each couple is unconscious—there are breakups, unexpected romances, violations of trust, and a funny, weirdly sexy film-within-a-film called The Incredible Shrinking Lover. (Harvard Exit. See Movie Times, page 84, for details.) by Brendan Kiley

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(MUSIC) While Jane's Addiction are often cited as Gen-X's definitive gateway band—the band that turned classic rockers on to the alternative underground—Nomeansno performed that same essential service for many, particularly in the Northwest. The BC-based punks sound as vital as ever, having just recorded All Roads Lead to Ausfahrt, a joyfully abrasive record that exudes all the bass-buoyed brattiness and jazz-informed spazziness that has helped them maintain a cult following since the early '80s. (El Corazón, 109 Eastlake Ave E, 381-3094. 9 pm, $10 adv/$12 DOS, 21+.) by Hannah Levin

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(SOUL) Choklate is a local soul singer who has one foot firmly in hiphop, and the other in R&B. Her self-titled CD, which was released this summer, features production work from some of the best of the best: Vitamin D, Jake One, BeanOne, and Amos Miller. If Seattle's soul-music scene were a mountain, then Choklate would be its peak. (Triple Door, 216 Union St, 838-4333. 7:30 pm, $12.) by Charles Mudede

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(PUNK-ROCK BLUEGRASS) I first saw the Meat Purveyors five years ago in a ramshackle house in Chicago's warehouse district that had been converted into an urban juke joint. The band was smart and funny, banged the holy hell out of their instruments (guitar, mandolin, standup bass), played originals and covers (ABBA, Ratt, Bill Monroe), and drank (beer, whiskey). I fell in love. Tonight is your last chance to see them—it's their second-to-last show. Don't miss it. (Tractor Tavern, 5213 Ballard Ave NW, 789-3599. 9 pm, $13.) by Brendan Kiley

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(ART) First came Crispin Spaeth's night-vision dance performance, then Paul Morrison's black-flowered wall painting. Now the darkness descends fully at Western Bridge. In Into Black, named after Jason Dodge's sheets of undeveloped photographic paper exposed to light at the vernal equinox, Olafur Eliasson's neon work Daylight Map, Spencer Finch's theatrical version of The Light at Lascaux, Euan Macdonald's video recording of the onset of dusk from a helicopter, and Neil Goldberg's portrait of passers under a shade tree "explore light—a basic precondition of all images—and its absence." (Western Bridge, 3412 Fourth Ave S, 838-7444. Noon—6 pm, free.) by Jen Graves

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(CLASSIC NOIR) So here's the thing about the original Postman Always Rings Twice: Despite its revered source material (the 1934 novel by James M. Cain), star leads (Lana Turner and John Garfield), and legendary title, it's not a great film, just a really good one. It's a true B-movie classic, and any opportunity to see real noir on the big screen in a cinema that sells booze should be seized without hesitation. (Central Cinema, 1411 21st Ave, 686-MOVIE. Sept 15—17 at 7 and 9:40 pm, $5.) by David Schmader

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