Todd Rundgren has been making music for 55 years, and the fact that most people only know Hello It's Me and I Saw the Light is the kind of injustice that a live show is designed to correct. Rundgren produced Meat Loaf's Bat Out of Hell, built one of the first home recording studios in rock history, pioneered music video before MTV existed, invented interactive media before the internet existed, and somehow still gets categorized as a soft rock artist by people who never heard A Wizard, a True Star or the Utopia records. The Damned If I Do Tour spans the full catalog — the pop hooks, the progressive experiments, the psychedelia, the production wizardry — and at The Sound's open-air setting, the 78-year-old polymath proves that invention does not retire, it just finds a new stage and a new audience to surprise. Tickets through Ticketmaster. Tuesday, October 27, at 8 PM.
Jazz gets sold as either a museum or a homework assignment, and both framings keep out the exact person who would love it most — someone who likes texture, patience, and a horn that sounds like it is thinking. This is the other kind. The bandleader plays trumpet in an indie rock band the rest of the year, records for a Chicago label that treats an album like an environment rather than a set of solos, and the result is music that people put on to feel a certain way in a room rather than to admire technique. Live, the arrangements loosen considerably; the recorded versions are the outline. Expect long stretches where nobody is soloing at all and the whole band is just holding a color. The Highland Park venue is upstairs in an old Masonic lodge, which means high ceilings and a natural reverb that suits this music better than a jazz club would. Music at 8:00 PM. If this lands for you, the label it comes from has a deep bench of players who rotate through the same rooms all year.
Oct 27 – Oct 28, 2026
Pappy & Harriet's, 53688 Pioneerto…
Being remembered for one enormous song is a strange sentence to serve, especially when the record it came from is full of others that are just as good and nobody checked. Twenty-odd years on, the band that wrote it never stopped — still the same core members, still writing, playing rooms where the audience arrives for the hit and stays for a set that keeps surprising them. That is the actual pleasure of a show like this and it only works live. A Tuesday in a high desert saloon strips away whatever nostalgia-circuit framing a casino booking would impose; out here it is just three guys and songs that were always well made. Music at 9:00 PM in Pioneertown. The audience for these is mostly people who did not realize they still cared, which turns out to be a good mood to be in a room with.
Oct 28, 2026
$25+
The Wiltern, 3790 Wilshire Blvd, L…
Yes, you read that right: a rave for toddlers. Australian sensation Lenny Pearce takes the drops, the bass, and the glowstick euphoria of a real dance party and rebuilds it for the under-five crowd, turning nursery rhymes into techno bangers while a room full of tiny humans and their delighted, sleep-deprived parents lose their minds on a Wednesday morning. It is the most joyfully absurd family outing you will have all year, and the parents secretly have as much fun as the kids. Wednesday, October 28, 2026, The Wiltern in Los Angeles. Wear neon, bring the noise-canceling headphones for the littlest ones, and let your toddler experience their first proper drop. This is the kind of wonderfully strange, only-in-this-era event you'll be telling people about for weeks. Come rave responsibly, juice boxes included.
Monthly· Next Oct 28
✨ New
Free
Vroman's Bookstore, 695 E. Colorad…
Reading alone is fine until you finish something enormous and realise there is nobody in your life you can say the last page to. That is the hole this fills, on the fourth Wednesday of every month, upstairs, for an hour, for free. No application, no reading list you have to have kept up with, no requirement beyond having read the book or being willing to sit there while people who did talk about it. October's is Lincoln in the Bardo, which is George Saunders at his strangest - a graveyard, a grieving president, a hundred and sixty-six narrators interrupting each other - and it is precisely the kind of book that works better out loud with other people than it does alone in a chair. The group skews across four decades of age, which is unusual and is the best thing about it; the retired teacher and the twenty-four-year-old disagree about the same paragraph and both turn out to be right. It is one hour. It meets whether or not you came last month. Second floor of the oldest bookstore in Southern California, every fourth Wednesday, indefinitely.
The second night of Gary Clark Jr. at Humphreys is what happens when a guitarist who already knows the room comes back with the muscle memory of the first show and the freedom to stretch. Clark's setlists shift between nights — more blues deep cuts on one, more of the Grammy-winning rock anthems on the other — and the standing-room-only format means the crowd is close enough to hear the amplifier hum between songs. Night two of a residency is historically where the magic happens, because the performer is no longer introducing themselves to the venue. They are just playing, leaning into the moments that surprised them on night one and building new ones that the crowd on Monday did not get. The Shelter Island marina reflects the stage lights, and the October air on the harbor carries the bass notes into Point Loma. Tuesday, October 28. Doors at 6:30 PM, show at 7:30 PM.
The guitar solo fell out of fashion in America roughly the same decade it became the central instrument of a music scene in the Sahara, played on gear rigged to run off whatever power was available and traded between phones on memory cards rather than sold. Moctar came up in that circuit, in Tuareg, and the band he tours with plays fast enough that people who came expecting something meditative spend the night recalibrating. Comparisons to Hendrix get made constantly and are not really wrong, though they undersell how much of this is a rhythm section doing something unfamiliar underneath. This particular date is seated, which changes the experience — it puts the attention on the playing rather than the room, and for this band that is arguably the better version. Music at 8:00 PM in Ventura on East Thompson Boulevard. Anybody who has followed the West African guitar circuit for a while will tell you these tours are rare and the recordings do not prepare you.
Four women from a seaside English town making guitar pop that refuses to be earnest about anything is a formula with a long history, and this band updates it with better jokes and a rhythm section that has clearly listened to a lot of dance music. The songs are about being in your twenties and unimpressed. Live they are considerably louder than the recordings suggest and the between-song banter is a real part of the act. British bands at this stage of a career play American rooms this size once, before the audience triples, and the people who catch that window are insufferable about it forever. Highland Park's upstairs hall holds a few hundred with a balcony. Music at 8:00 PM at 104 N Avenue 56, a Wednesday. The circuit of UK bands passing through eastside rooms this year is unusually strong and worth following.
Oct 28 – Oct 29, 2026
Pappy & Harriet's, 53688 Pioneerto…
Shoegaze made by people young enough that the original wave is historical rather than nostalgic sounds different — less apologetic, more willing to let a pop song be a pop song under all the reverb. This project works that territory, guitars stacked into weather, vocals sitting somewhere inside rather than on top. The current revival of this sound is being driven almost entirely by an audience that found it through short-form video and then went backwards through forty years of catalog, which makes for unusually well-informed young crowds. A Wednesday in a high desert saloon strips the scene trappings off entirely. Music at 9:00 PM in Pioneertown, out past Yucca Valley. The generation currently rediscovering this music is doing it communally and loudly, and standing in a room with them is the fastest way to understand why it came back.
Lila Downs walks onto a stage the way a prayer enters a room — not asking for silence, but creating it. The Grammy-winning Mexican-American singer has spent three decades turning rancheras, folk, and indigenous Oaxacan music into something that makes a theater full of strangers remember what their grandmothers sounded like humming in the kitchen, even when those grandmothers came from completely different kitchens.
This Día de Muertos concert at the Balboa Theatre is not a Halloween show. It is the real thing — a performance timed to the thinning of the veil, where the songs are offerings and the audience is invited to come dressed in their own remembrance. Downs sings of love, loss, reconnection, and the joy that sits on the other side of grief when you stop running from it. The Balboa's architecture — all gilded ceiling and red velvet — turns into a cathedral for two hours.
A pre-show prelude with a guest lecturer opens the evening. Then the lights go down and something older than the building takes over.
Balboa Theatre, San Diego. Come in Día de Muertos attire.
Oct 29, 2026
$22+
The Casbah, 2501 Kettner Blvd, San…
Black metal is supposed to be cold, misanthropic, and allergic to joy. Then a band turned up calling what they do ecstatic black metal and meaning every syllable of it, and the genre has been arguing about it ever since.
The blast beats and the tremolo storms are all still there. What changed is where they point — up, at the sky, instead of down into the abyss. The result is overwhelming and somehow life-affirming, closer to a religious experience than a funeral, and in a room the size of the one on Kettner Boulevard it stops being something you hear and becomes something happening inside your sternum. Uniform and Pure Hex bring the heaviness on either side of it.
A Thursday in late October, grown folks only, in a small room full of people who already know the secret.
This is for anyone who always suspected the loudest music could also be the most transcendent. Come get leveled and leave lighter than you arrived.
Everyone born after about 1995 recognizes the yellow carpet and the humming fluorescent light, and nobody can quite explain why an empty office hallway is frightening. It is a shared dream that got uploaded, and it belongs to one generation the way campfire stories belonged to an older one.
Somebody decided to build the thing as a party. This series turns a downtown warehouse — concrete acoustics, the kind that make hard dance physically punishing — into the liminal space itself, and the lineup runs hyperpop into breakcore into hard dance, which is the correct soundtrack for a place that is not supposed to exist. The Halloween edition means costume density will be high and extremely specific: not sexy-nurse Halloween, but people dressed as entities from a wiki.
If the aesthetic has to be explained to you, this is not your night. If something moved when you read the first sentence, it is.
East 16th, in the warehouse district — eight until two, Thursday the twenty-ninth.
Cumbia probably arrived in your life through a car stereo belonging to somebody older than you, and for years you had no idea the drums and the cane flutes on it came from a specific town on the Colombian coast where the same families have been playing that way for generations. This bill is that lineage, stacked. One act is the traditional gaita ensemble whose members are the direct inheritors of the form; another is the bassist and bandleader whose arrangements turned it into the sound of Colombian dancefloors in the seventies; the third carries the accordion tradition forward now. Three generations of one music on a Thursday, which basically does not happen north of the border. Expect actual dancing rather than watching — the older couples in the room will make that decision for everybody else within two songs. Music at 8:00 PM at the Ventura room on East Thompson Boulevard. If you have family who would understand what this lineup means, this is the show you call them about.
A rapper whose delivery sounds like a cartoon character telling you something genuinely sad is a hard sell in a paragraph and an easy one in a room. The Detroit artist raps in a strangled sing-song that is instantly recognizable and, once you adjust, extremely funny — jokes stacked on jokes until a line lands that reframes all of them as a hard life described cheerfully. He comes out of a Detroit collective that has spent the last several years being the most interesting thing in underground rap. Live he leans on the humor and the crowd responds accordingly. Highland Park's upstairs Masonic hall is a few hundred people, wood-floored, with a balcony. Music at 8:00 PM at 104 N Avenue 56, a Thursday. This whole Detroit scene travels through rooms this size, and the people who follow it turn out for every one.
Mexican synth-pop is one of the great under-documented scenes of the last thirty years, and Moenia are the reason a whole cohort of people in this city associate analog pads and reverb with their own adolescence rather than with Berlin. Pair them with Maria Jose, who came out of a pop group and rebuilt herself into the person Mexican audiences go to for the big emotional ones, and you get a bill that is half dance floor and half karaoke. The crossover is the interesting part: the Moenia crowd and the synth-and-city-pop crowd in Los Angeles are closer than either group realises, and a night like this is where they discover it. A Thursday is the right night for this - it is a going-out record rather than a sit-down one. Moenia have been at this since the early nineties and still perform with hardware rather than laptops, which is audible in how loose the sequencing gets. Performance at eight on the 29th of October.
Oct 29 – Oct 30, 2026
Pappy & Harriet's, 53688 Pioneerto…
Country songs written by people who worked the jobs they are singing about land differently than country songs written in a Nashville writing room, and a working audience can tell the difference within about eight bars. That is the appeal here — material about labor, money and the specific exhaustion of doing hard work for a long time, delivered without any performance of authenticity because none is required. The audience for this out in the Morongo Basin is largely people who live there year-round rather than weekenders, which makes for a warmer and more attentive room than a city club would give it. Thursday night, wooden floor, a patio with a fire on it. Music at 9:00 PM in Pioneertown. Weeknights out here belong to the locals, and that is the crowd worth being in.
The summer crowd leaves. The hat contest ends. And then the real track comes back.
Del Mar's Bing Crosby Season is the fall meet nobody outside San Diego talks about, and that's exactly why the regulars prefer it. Sixteen racing days spread across October and November, twenty stakes worth over $3 million in purses, and a grandstand that actually feels like a grandstand instead of a music festival spillover. The light is different — gold instead of white. The bettors are serious. The picnic tables have room.
The season runs October 30 through November 30. The first two days share the calendar with something enormous happening in Kentucky — which means the serious local racing crowd has Del Mar almost to themselves. The rest of the calendar is pure fall horse racing — the coast, the paddock, the specific joy of watching a thoroughbred accelerate through a turn when the wind is coming off the ocean.
Del Mar Racetrack, 2260 Jimmy Durante Blvd, Del Mar 92014. Tickets and schedule at dmtc.com.
Every day· Next Oct 30
$150+
NOS Events Center, 689 S E St, San…
Imagine a massive fairground taken over on Halloween weekend by pounding electronic music, towering stages, and, wandering through the crowd, honest-to-goodness freak-show performers, fire-breathers, contortionists, and creatures out of a fever dream. Escape Halloween is Southern California's biggest, strangest Halloween rave, a two-night descent into costumed, neon-lit chaos that runs deep into the morning. Friday and Saturday, October 30 and 31, 2026, at the NOS Events Center in San Bernardino, with an afterparty till 6 a.m. for the truly committed. Wear your most unhinged costume, find your crew, and lose yourself somewhere between the bass and the sideshow. This is dress-up-and-disappear territory, gloriously over the top and a little bit deranged. Bring the friends who never want the night to end. Some Halloweens you remember; this one you survive.
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