Halloween, with all its candy and kiddie costumes, makes light of a pretty serious aspect of the human condition: Ghosts are real. Maybe not in the form of ectoplasmic slimers or furniture-flinging poltergeists, but at least as a metaphorical means of explaining the memories we hold on to long after a person or thing or even a possibility is dead and gone. Who hasn't been haunted by such phantoms? There are plenty of places you can spend your Halloween this year, but if you want to hear some truly haunted music, there's only one show to see: Atlas Sound and Broadcast.

Atlas Sound is the solo recording guise of prolific Deerhunter frontman Bradford Cox. Broadcast are the Birmingham, UK, duo of Trish Keenan and James Cargill. Both bands engage in what music critic Simon Reynolds, borrowing from Jacques Derrida, has dubbed "hauntology": music that explores "the paradoxical state of the spectre, which is neither being nor non-being." In general, this means lots of disembodied voices, echoes, blurry samples and hazes of sound, and a kind of sinister nostalgia or longing. But each of these acts takes a slightly different approach to busting out its ghosts.

Read and comment on the whole thing here.

Mea culpa: Turns out the Triple Door is going to great lengths to make sure you will be able to dance your ass off to Audion on November 16th:

The entire front section is being removed in front of the stage to contain a VIP area that can handle at this time 50 people. I hate to be blunt but at even the best Decibel events over the past three years a solid group of dancers numbering over 75 at any one time is as orgasmic as few and far between. Those that want to dance can and will be ensured more space and intimate contact with Matt than at any other Hecatomb tour date. Add in my belief that this will set a new standard for visuals and sound at the Triple Door, I don't see how a better more promising event could be made on any week night any where on Earth.

Between every section of dinner tables there is an aisle at least 5 feet wide that can handle at least 30 with an unobstructed view. Mix in how I wasn't content with my DEMF Hecatomb experience, Matt has learned to control all the visuals himself and that he continues to release at least one new single a month there was no chance I wouldn't put this in my cats litter closet and still be happier than fuk to experience the very edge in Modern American techno.

Well shit, that sounds just great! And truly, this show will look and sound awesome at the Triple Door:

To add to Segal's praises of Rub'n'Tug/Still Going's Eric Duncan, I submit the following remix of Out Hud (and would submit R'n'T's re-edit of "I'm a Man" if I could find it)—just killer, stripped down-to-the-bone, dance floor gold here:

If you haven't already, you should read Chris Estey's piece on the Sunny Day Real Estate reunion in this week's Stranger. There was a lot of material Estey couldn't fit into that brief article, so Line Out is publishing some outtakes in anticipation of tomorrow night's show. Yesterday covered religion, the media, and the band's break-up. Today: the band's musical roots and hardcore politics.

Jeremy Enigk:

I enjoyed all kinds of music as I was growing up, from Michael Jackson to The Police, but it wasn't until I was about 13 years old that music started to hit me internally and really mean something. That was when I first heard U2 The Joshua Tree. After that I picked up their back catalog as fast as I could and loved all of it.

There are a huge amount of other bands that I'd like to mention, but I'll name few to save time. Early Sinead O'Connor, who had a huge influence on my singing style. R.E.M., especially the albums "Life's Rich Pageant" and "Murmur" and The Cure's "Head On The Door". When SDRE first started the most obvious bands we loved in common were bands like Fugazi and Shudder To Think.

The hardcore element doesn't surface much when I am writing solo music, but there are certain bands I still listen to from that time in my life which still shape my writing style with SDRE. Bands like No Means No and Shudder To Think.

Nate Mendel (speaking to the Stranger from Washington, DC):

I used to get really excited when I’d come here. I’d want to check out D.C. Space, and all the places I’d heard about growing up. Those are my legendary venues—for some people it’s like Madison Square Garden or whatever, but for me it’s like the 9:30 Club and places here in D.C. that I would see on flyers and hear about Lungfish playing or whatever. Those were the places that you would worship like you do when you’re younger—temples of music.

I was in a punk rock band from Seattle called Christ On A Crutch, just as we started doing Sunny Day. COAC was sort of winding down, and I was finding myself disillusioned with super-aggressive, political hardcore. Not so much the music, but we’d just done a tour in Europe playing squats, and it was kind of a wake up call for me that I was kind of over that. And we’d just started doing Sunny Day at that point in time.

But as far as musical influences up to that point it was very much kind of standard-issue American hardcore. I was really into it for a long time, and that music made a lot of sense to me. I was very passionate about it. Especially things coming out of Washington, D.C., the Dischord stuff. That was when people started to turn themselves away from politics and into their own heads: “Let’s make music that’s passionate and means something, and is authentic ... I thought that was a good path to go from being explicitly political to being more personal about lyrics.

And also music started to change at that time too. The people who were playing hardcore got to be better musicians, and started to bring in other influences, and counter-point melodies, and things like that. That’s where I was coming from.