Mount Eerie, JEFF the Brotherhood
TWO MOUNT EERIE SHOWS
I've never been one for summer bummers, winter blues, or cruel Aprils, but there's something about the beginning of autumn that always fills me with dread. There are several things I can blame this on: gradually earlier sunsets until the end of daylight saving time, a brain that's been hardwired to loathe the start of the school year, or my inability to pull off wearing a scarf. This year, I'm determined to beat my fall-inspired lassitude head-on, and my first course of action is seeing Mount Eerie play two shows tonight at Cairo. If you haven't been keeping up with Phil Elverum lately, the lo-fi, black-metal naturalist (and pride of Anacortes) put out two albums this past year. Clear Moon, released in May, sounds like a misty early-morning hike that takes you above a gauzy cloud cover, but September's Ocean Roar is, as the title suggests, a much louder behemoth. The opening track, "Pale Lights," just about drags your ears down to Davy Jones's locker, and the rest of album is a similarly unrelenting maelstrom. Of all the ways to mark the changing of the seasons, hearing Mount Eerie's magnificent audio dedications to the Pacific Northwest up close is one of the best. With Bouquet, Ever Ending Kicks, and Hungry Cloud Darkening. Cairo, 7 and 9 pm, $10.
JEFF THE BROTHERHOOD, DIARRHEA PLANET
JEFF the Brotherhood sound like your distant cousins, the ones living way out in the Ozarks or Appalachia, who invite you over to their rambling property every summer to light off fireworks, shoot guns, and swim in the creek. After a while, you barely even notice that the only two CDs in their house are Weezer's Blue Album and Black Sabbath's Paranoid; you're busy having too much fun. Hypnotic Nights, JEFF the Brotherhood's latest record, has some zippy production courtesy of the Black Keys' Dan Auerbach, but live, unadorned, is the best way to experience them. Crocodile, 8 pm, $12.