garbage Archives — Page 2 of 11 — San Francisco Bay Guardian Archive 1966

Who saves the world?

Andrew Lam

May 28, 2013

caitlin@sfbg.com

LIT Even humankind’s saviors need a little help from their friends to max out on destiny. In local writerperson Michelle Tea’s world, that support has been culled from the closely-knit community of queers, feminists, and outspoken loud mouths that make up the extended family of the Sister Spit and Radar reading series that she assembled in the open mic wilderness of early 1990s and 2000s San Francisco.

All good young Bay Area writers know what followed: Tea went onto write a series of smashing, lyrical novels and memoirs detailing her journey from daughter of the beleaguered town of Chelsea, Mass., to sex worker, and finally into the lit star firmament with Valencia, a cult classic about the Mission’s slutty turn-of-century Lexington Club set.

Bully for her, but we can’t all chart such exceptional trajectories. Thanks goddess, then, that in Tea’s second young adult novel Mermaid in Chelsea Creek, help comes to 13-year-old Sophie Swankowski from a more likely cast of characters: a flock of well-spoken activist pigeons, a spell-weaving corner store zhakharka, her grandmother’s hot genderqueer garbage dump assistant, and an absolutely filthy mermaid who assures Swankowksi that despite the six-pack plastic rings stuck in her hair, she is big in Poland.

“It’s sort of a bad world,” the put-upon Swankowski is told by Syrena the mermaid. “I come here to help you fix it.” The declaration arrives while Sophie is playing the “pass-out game” (you KNOW) with her obsessive, set-upon-by-hormones best friend Ella at the polluted creek near their depressing homes. The scene takes place at the start of summertime in Chelsea, where “there isn’t any right side of the tracks,” as our protagonist puts it.

What follows is not the story of Swankowski’s world rescue, but a different struggle entirely: the young woman’s realization that she need not hold to the boundaries erected around her by family and childhood friends. She is, as Angel the dump worker-curandera’s daughter puts it, one of the “girls who knew things and had powers and a certain destiny.”

I refuse to consider this a spoiler because the excellent Mermaid of Chelsea Creek, the first book published under McSweeney’s new young adult imprint McMullens, is but the first in an upcoming trilogy involving Sophie and her motley crew. Believe me, there is a lot in the book you’ll have to read to discover (psst dog-grandfathers and the effect superpowers have on dealing with rude neighborhood boys.)

Tea, it would appear, has had a penchant for the epic recently — the hotly-anticipated movie version of Valencia has been crafted by no less than 21 filmmakers, each in charge of their own story chapter and distinct cast. (Cop your tickets to its June 21 and 27 Frameline world premiere, on sale starting Fri/31, at www.frameline.org.) One of Tea’s next projects is said to be a novel imagining the world in the wake of a 1990s apocalypse.

But enough of this future-mongering, because Mermaid of Chelsea Creek is a triumph in its own right, a stand-alone treat that I could not eat without chortling about to my own social circle at every possible juncture. I hope it makes its way into schools across the country, and trickles across the radar of those too young yet to attend Radar. Young adult literature, thank Harriet the Spy, is not without its strong young heroines, but Swankowski’s working-class journey goes beyond pluck. You never saw Ramona Quimby plump for a cereal dinner in solidarity with a hot-mess single working mom, nor decide, ultimately, that gender ambiguity is fine when it comes to a budding friendship-crush.

Ultimately, the book becomes what all Tea projects tend to be: assertions that survival is possible, if not inevitable — and that through achieving survival, we make the world a better place. Not all pigeons talk, but everyone deserves the freaky, feathered friends they need to get them through the summer.

MICHELLE TEA

Booksmith Pride bookswap

W/ Ali Liebegott

June 7, 6:30-9:30pm, $25 for dinner and open bar

Booksmith

1644 Haight, SF

www.booksmith.com

June 18, 7pm, free

Moe’s Books

2476 Telegraph, Berk.

www.moesbooks.com

Video Premiere: The Trashies do the worm

Tony Robles

May 28, 2013

The view from my studio apartment’s bay windows includes a clear view of my building’s garbage chute. Often times the chute gets clogged and the trash piles high for days. I think about it and freak out over how it will fester and potentially attract vermin. Obviously, I don’t like it when that happens, but I’ve thought to myself, “Man, that dude from Uzi Rash would really love it here.”

So what’s the Oakland frontperson (with an affinity for making his own refuse-themed jams) been up to since the Rash cleared up? Well, as this video post depicts, Max Nordile is literally writhing around in muck and he’s got some friends in the Trashies that have joined him.

“I’m a Worm” off their fourth LP, Teenage Rattlesnakes, is another Dan Shaw-directed VHS video, starring Nordile and his band mates in this gunked-up role. Most of them are from Seattle (including members of Unnatural Helpers, TacocaT, and Shitty Pete and the Fucks), but the East Bay influence is clear.

The video opens with some accusatory name calling before panning over to the band members working through their “mangled Monks worship” as they conduct full-body pantomime as the scum of the Earth. A shrill, descending guitar solo later, each one them has made a mess of their white shorts by the time they’ve reached the finish line comprised of a dilapidated set of instruments.

I’m told wriggling around at Albany Bulb’s mud flats is a gross and “smelly affair”. Seems these worms may never learn.

The West Coast tour, “West Coast Worms Save Music,” starts Fri/31 and coincides with the album release.

In Oakland: June 4 with Courtney n’ the Crushers, Shannon and the Clams and Wet Spots at the Stork Club.

In San Francisco: June 12th with Buffalo Tooth and Scraper at the Hemlock Tavern.

Rep Clock

Andrew Lam

May 14, 2013

Schedules are for Wed/15-Tue/21 except where noted. Director and year are given when available. Double and triple features marked with a •. All times pm unless otherwise specified.

ARTISTS’ TELEVISION ACCESS 992 Valencia, SF; www.atasite.org. $6. "Other Cinema:" "Notebook Filmmaking," book release party and screening with Bill Brown, Sat, 8:30.

BALBOA 3630 Balboa, SF; www.cinemasf.com/balboa. $7.50-10. Rockshow: Paul McCartney and Wings (1980), Thu, 7:30.

CASTRO 429 Castro, SF; (415) 621-6120, www.castrotheatre.com. $8.50-13. "Harvey Milk 2013: Living the Legacy," free discussion and performance by the SF Gay Men’s Chorus, Wed, 7. •Happy Together (Wong, 1997), Thu, 7, and Fallen Angels (Wong, 1996), Thu, 8:55. "Midnites for Maniacs: Dirty Little Munchkins Triple Bill:" •The Bad News Bears (Ritchie, 1976), Fri, 7:30; Gummo (Korine, 1997), Fri, 9:30; and The Garbage Pail Kids Movie (Amateau, 1987), Fri, 11:30. Tickets are $13 for one or all three films. •Rear Window (Hitchcock, 1954), Sat, 2, 4:30, 7, and Body Double (De Palma, 1984), Sat, 9:10. Oz: The Great and Powerful (Raimi, 2013), Sun, 2, 5, 8. •Stoker (Park, 2013), Tue, 7, and Shadow of a Doubt (Hitchcock, 1943), Tue, 8:55.

CHRISTOPHER B. SMITH RAFAEL FILM CENTER 1118 Fourth St, San Rafael; (415) 454-1222, www.cafilm.org. $6.75-$10.25. The Angels’ Share (Loach, 2012), call for dates and times. Blancanieves (Berger, 2012), call for dates and times. In the House (Ozon, 2012), call for dates and times. The Reluctant Fundamentalist (Nair, 2012), call for dates and times. Renoir (Bourdos, 2012), call for dates and times. Rockshow: Paul McCartney and Wings (1980), Thu, 7, and Sat, 1. This event, $15. Midnight’s Children (Mehta, 2012), May 17-23, call for times. Stories We Tell (Polley, 2012), May 17-23, call for times. "World Ballet on the Big Screen:" Giselle, from the Royal Ballet, London, Sun, 1; Tue, 6:30.

"HIMALAYAN FILM FESTIVAL" Various SF and East Bay venues; www.himalayanfilmfest.com. $8-25. First annual festival featuring narrative and documentary "films from the roof of the world," Wed-Sun.

JOE GOODE ANNEX 401 Alabama, SF; www.rawdance.org. $5-10. "One Night, Three RAWdance Films," dance films, Thu, 7:30.

MECHANICS’ INSTITUTE 57 Post, SF; (415) 393-0100, milibrary.org/events. $10 (reservations required as seating is limited). "CinemaLit Film Series: Paddy Chayefsky: Scenes from American Lives:" The Goddess (Cromwell, 1958), Fri, 6.

NEW PARKWAY 474 24th St, Oakl; www.thenewparkway.com. $6-10. "New Parkway Classics:" Shaun of the Dead (Wright, 2004), Thu, 9pm. "Thrillville:" Foxy Brown (Hill, 1974), Sun, 6.

NINTH STREET INDEPENDENT FILM CENTER 145 Ninth St, SF; www.thespaceinvaders.org. $10. The Space Invaders: In Search of Lost Time (Von Ward, 2012), Sat, 8.

"PLAYGROUND FILM FESTIVAL" Various Bay Area venues; playground-sf.org/filmfest. $10-25. Showcasing Bay Area filmmakers and writers and their short work. Through May 25.

PACIFIC FILM ARCHIVE 2575 Bancroft, Berk; (510) 642-5249, bampfa.berkeley.edu. $5.50-9.50. PFA closed through June 5.

ROXIE 3117 and 3125 16th St, SF; (415) 863-1087, www.roxie.com. $6.50-11. The Source Family (Demopoulos and Wille, 2012), Wed-Thu, 7. Upstream Color (Carruth, 2013), Wed-Thu, 9. "I Wake Up Dreaming 2013:" •Bewitched (Oboler, 1945), Wed, 6:30, 9:45, and Five (Oboler, 1951), Wed, 8; •Undertow (Castle, 1949), Thu, 6:30, 9:40, and Shakedown (Pevney, 1950), Thu, 8; •Pickup (Haas, 1951), Fri, 6:15, 9:45, and Wicked Woman (Rouse, 1953), Fri, 8; •All Night Long (Dearden, 1961), Sat, 1:30, 5:30, 9:30, and Sweet Smell of Success (Mackendrick, 1957), Sat, 3:30, 7:30; •Female on the Beach (Pevney, 1955), Sun, 1:15, 5:30, 9:30, and Autumn Leaves (Aldrich, 1956), Sun, 3:15, 7:30; •Killer at Large (Beaudine, 1947), Mon, 6:40, 9:30, and Key Witness (Lederman, 1947), Mon, 8; •The Tattooed Stranger (Montagne, 1950), Tue, 6:40, 9:45, and My Gun is Quick (Victor and White, 1957), Tue, 8. Sun Don’t Shine (Seimetz, 2012), May 17-23, 7:15, 9:15 (also Sat-Sun, 5).

SAN FRANCISCO STATE UNIVERSITY McKenna Theater, Creative Arts Building, 1600 Holloway, SF; www.sffilmfinals.com. Free. "53rd Film Finals," Fri, 7. Award ceremony and reception follows.

YERBA BUENA CENTER FOR THE ARTS 701 Mission, SF; www.ybca.org. $8-10. "Girls! Guns! Ghosts! The Sensational Films of Shintoho:" The Horizon Glitters (Doi, 1960), Thu, 7:30; •Vampire Bride (Namiki, 1960), Sun, 2, and Ghost Cat of Otama Pond (Ishikawa, 1960), Sun, 3:45.

Ultimate zero

Andrew Lam

May 14, 2013

rebecca@sfbg.com

In January, Mayor Ed Lee appeared on the PBS NewsHour to talk up the city’s Zero Waste program, an initiative to eliminate all landfilled garbage by 2020 by diverting 100 percent of the city’s municipal waste to recycling or compost. “We’re not going to be satisfied,” with the 80 percent waste diversion already achieved, Lee told program host Spencer Michels. “We want 100 percent zero waste. This is where we’re going.”

But somewhere in Te Anau, New Zealand, an environmental scholar tuning into an online broadcast of the program was having none of it. “I sat there thinking, no, you’re not. It would be great if you were, but you’re not — for obvious reasons,” said Robert Krausz, who’s working toward a PhD in environmental management, describing his reaction during a Skype call with the Bay Guardian.

Krausz, a Lincoln University scholar originally from Canada, spent three years studying municipal zero-waste initiatives internationally, and completed an in-depth, 40-page analysis of San Francisco’s Zero Waste program as part of his doctoral thesis.

He may as well have taken aim at a sacred cow. The city’s Zero Waste program has near-universal support among local elected officials, and has garnered no shortage of glowing media attention. San Francisco’s track record of diverting 80 percent of waste from the landfill is well ahead of the curve nationally, scoring 15 percent higher than Portland, Ore., a green hub of the Pacific Northwest, and 20 percentage points or higher above Seattle, according figures provided by Recology, San Francisco’s municipal waste hauler.

Despite the city’s well-earned green reputation, Krausz arrived at the pessimistic conclusion that “San Francisco’s zero waste to landfill by 2020 initiative is headed for failure.” In seven years’ time, he predicts, the program deadline will be marked with a day of reckoning rather than a celebratory gala. “I think the city is setting itself up,” Krausz told the Guardian. “Somebody’s going to be holding the bag in 2020.”

ANOTHER AFFLUENT CITY

Sporting a goatee and glasses, Krausz comes across as the type you might find locking up his bike outside a natural foods store with canvas bags at the ready. When he visited San Francisco, he said he was ready to be wowed by the example of an ecologically enlightened city, yet ultimately left in disappointment. “It was just another affluent American city, in terms of consumption.”

The problem, he argues, is that people are still buying way too much disposable stuff — and a significant amount can’t be recycled. Plastic bags, food wrapping, pantyhose, plastic film, pet waste, construction materials with resin in them (like the popular Trex decking), and particularly disposable diapers have nowhere to go but into the landfill.

San Francisco produces a total of about six kilograms of trash per person per day before diversion is factored in — three times the U.S. national average. That’s a sobering figure that puts a slight dent in the city’s eco-conscious image. It’s not really fair to denizens of the city by the Bay, because it counts trash generated by 20 million annual visitors, daytime employees, developers, and businesses as well as residents. Nevertheless, the trash output ranks well above the per capita average for the Eurozone, which clocks in at a minimalistic 0.5 kg per person per day.

The city has earned its bragging rights for making strides toward diverting waste from the landfill — yet truckloads of waste still leave the famously green city every day. Since 2003, Krausz notes, San Francisco’s overall waste generation has actually increased, from 1,900 to 2,200 kilograms per person per year. At the same time, the per capita amount of waste going into a landfill has dropped, from about 1,000 to 500 kilograms per year. That’s still a lot of garbage.

Krausz argues that San Francisco has no comprehensive plan for achieving Zero Waste, while at the same time having little control over “top of the pipe” consumption, which generates a glut of trash. “While the city has achieved success at managing waste at the end-of-pipe, it has thus far failed to address the fundamental problem of consumption, which is driving waste generation,” his study notes.

Guillermo Rodriguez and Jack Macy of San Francisco’s Department of the Environment counter that there is a strategy, involving a host of different measures ranging from education, to policy initiatives, to incentive programs aimed at reducing waste. They think zero waste is possible. “We’re probably at 99 percent diversion here in this office,” said Macy, who serves as the city’s Commercial Zero Waste Coordinator. “At least 90 percent of the discard stream is recyclable and compostable,” he added. And as for the last 10 percent, “that pie will be shrinking as we find more markets” for recyclables.

Krausz also raised skepticism about Recology’s bid for a landfill contract that would extend until 2025, five years beyond the deadline for all waste elimination. To that, Recology’s Eric Potashner responded that state law requires 15 years of disposal capacity to guarantee a safety net, regardless of municipal aspirations.

Krausz is critical of San Francisco officials for promising zero waste, but he acknowledges that manufacturers of disposable goods, not city officials, are to blame. Ambitious legislative measures such as San Francisco’s mandatory composting program and a ban on plastic bags have been enacted and achieved tangible results, but for items like ubiquitous thin-film plastics, dirty diapers, synthetic materials, and the like, good solutions have yet to be found.

Krausz’ study also determined that no city on the planet that’s set out to do so has ever actually succeeded at achieving zero waste. “If you are a city that is a member of Western civilization as we know it, you’re not going to be zero waste to landfill, because you participate in the global economy,” Krausz states plainly.

SF’S TRASH PIT

On a recent Friday morning, Recology’s Potashner and Paul Giusti led a tour of the city’s recycling and waste processing facilities. It featured a stop at the transfer station, housed in a large warehouse off of Tunnel Road where all the refuse from the black trash bins is deposited before being carted off to the Altamont Landfill. A sweet, pungent aroma hung in the air. “We call this the pit,” Giusti explained as we approached a sunken area that could have contained multiple Olympic-sized swimming pools, extending a story or two below us into the earth. “This is the last frontier,” Potashner added. “The last 20 percent.”

It was filled with an astonishing quantity of trash, making a tractor that ambled awkwardly over top the mound to compact it down appear toy-like in comparison. The sea of discarded material contained every hue, and floating around in the debris were orange juice containers, cardboard boxes, and thousands upon thousands of (banned) plastic bags. Between 200 and 300 garbage trucks eject their contents into the pit each day, and a single truck can hold up to four tons of trash.

Giusti started working for Recology, formerly NorCal Waste Systems, in 1978, following in the footsteps of his father. Back then, the pit was more like a mountain: “When I would dump my truck, I could walk up this pile,” he said, gesturing toward a set of sprinklers suspended from the ceiling to indicate how high it once extended. State data confirms the story: In 2011, according to CalReycle, San Francisco sent 446,685 tons of waste to the landfill. That number has steadily declined over time; in 2007, it stood at 628,914 tons.

Asked for his reaction to Krausz’s thesis that the Zero Waste program won’t ever actually get to zero, Guisti turned the question around by asking, what’s the harm in trying? “Let’s say you said, zero waste is unattainable,” he said. “Then what’s the number? I think zero waste is an ambitious goal — but if we get to 90 or 95 percent, what a tremendous achievement.” Setting the highest of bars is important, he said, because striving for it provides the motivation to keep diverting waste from the landfill.

In order to actually reduce the city’s garbage from 446,685 tons to zero in the next seven years, Zero Waste program partners Recology and San Francisco’s Department of the Environment face a twofold challenge. First, they must prevent compostable and recyclable material from getting into the landfill pile. Second, they must find solutions for diverting the waste that currently has nowhere else to go but the landfill. With a combination of seeking new markets for recyclables, using technology that can sort out the recyclable and compostable matter, and implementing incentives and educational outreach programs, they’re still focused on the goal. “It’s hard to tell how close we’ll get to zero in 2020,” Macy said. So even if zero waste does not actually mean zero waste in the end, that goal “sends a message that we want to move toward being as sustainable as we can.”

Every night is teen night

April 25, 2013

VISUAL ART What if every artistic high schooler were taken aside and taught how to write a grant proposal? At the risk of sounding hyperbolic, the world would be a different place if every young person with a spark had the tools and know-how to fund their work. Or if nothing else, the gallery scene would be a hell of a lot more interesting.

I’d certainly be down to see a show comprised of the work of the three young women who were sharing space with me in a back room of the Yerba Buena Center for the Arts. Hoi Leung, Annie Yu (17 and 16 years old, both from Lowell High School), and Ronniesha Ford Spears (18 years old, Hercules High School) are among the 25 high schoolers participating in YBCA’s Young Artists At Work residency program, a year-long arc during which they spend every Tuesday and Thursday at the downtown art center.

They’re kind of freaking me out about how smart they are.

“What is a professional artist?” Leung, the tech expert with a budding Tumblr full of avant-garde knit masks (stuff-by-hoi.tumblr.com) asks me to qualify when I ask the three if they want to turn this into a career. “That’s a vague term. But yes, this program does give you some kind of perspective on that kind of work.”

The YAAWs, as they are affectionately dubbed by Laurel Butler, YBCA’s youth arts manager, audition to become a part of the group. They attend performances, are taught by visiting artists in master classes geared specially towards them. They take seminars on the practicalities behind making art — promotion, the aforementioned grant writing. Each YAAW uses the new skills towards producing a piece that they show at YBCA at each year’s end. About half return the next year to do it all over again.

Butler — with the aid of a well-timed grant — was adamant that the program this year be tailor made to each young artist to counteract the normative high school experience. “To presume that any one curriculum could represent the needs of the 25 YAAWs — that’s not the model that we want to replicate,” she tells me.

So this year the YAAWs have project advisors (usually YBCA staff) who help them tackle a project addressing pressing social issues. Each one also partners with a community group to inform their piece.

Respectively, Leung, Yu, and Spears are making: a creepy-cool process piece built around Internet privacy rights sponsored by the Electronic Frontier Foundation; remixed movie posters that raise awareness about the Great Pacific Garbage Patch with the help of the Aquarium of the Bay; and an accessible theater program for kids with chronic illness for which CoachArt, a nonprofit is advising.

The work involved in each seemed vast. But with less than three weeks ’til showtime at YBCA’s Teen Night Fri/26 (all 25 projects will be featured, with teen DJs providing the soundtrack for the YAAWs opening night), the three young women are ahead of the game, and willing to humor me about my inquiries about what it was like to spend your day in high school classrooms, and then head downtown to mingle with pro artists, create year-long projects.

Before the four of us splintered off, I got to watch the 25 YAAWs talk about how each had been promoting Teen Night. Flyering lockers, tapping their school’s radio show, tweeting, recruiting art teachers to spread the word — next time I plan an event, I vowed to ping them on Facebook.

“People here, they care about stuff,” Leung told me. “At school, people hide behind their desks.” Most importantly, they said, the program is an opportunity for young people to use their voice. “I learned how to speak my mind a lot more here,” says Yu, who has been known to make watercolor-like digital renderings of Pikachu costume-wearing men (applesoy.deviant.com) when she’s not protecting the environment.

“I learned the meaning of the word limitless,” Spears chimes in. She calls herself “addicted” to the stage, to being seen and heard.

The YAAWs I spoke with affirmed that the hours that they spent at YBCA, though, weren’t necessarily geared towards turning the performance or gallery scenes on their heads. They go deep. “When you get into art, you learn a new dimension of yourself,” says Yu. “And the program’s great after a bad day at school,” Spears says, to the murmured agreements of her fellow YAAWs.

YOUNG ARTISTS AT WORK TEEN NIGHT

Fri/26, reception: 6-8pm, free; dance party with the Prophets of Funk: 8pm, $10

Yerba Buena Center for the Arts

701 Mission, SF

www.ybca.org

Laid bare

April 23, 2013

marke@sfbg.com

LIT “I met Johanna at a party in New York in 1998 — actually I was talking to her boyfriend first, barrettes in his dyed black hair and painted nails, I was trying to figure out if he was a fag or from Olympia.”

If you were “alternative” in the ’90s, that priceless sentence should ring strikingly true, as will this one: “Obviously we believed in attitude: if someone said something about not wanting to judge people, that was New Age garbage. New Age garbage was almost as bad as a trust fund, it was the same thing as stealing from your friends because you were stealing their rage.”

Mattilda Bernstein Sycamore — outspoken queer anti-assimilation activist, genderblending thriftstore style icon, archetypal Mission District character, huge-hearted den mother, insufferable gadfly — is the posterchild for all that was culturally alternative in San Francisco in that pierced-lip poser decade, while at the same time possessing one of the loudest voices cutting through the bullshit clamor back then and questioning it all.

She’s also a brilliant writer, with two novels and several anti-assimilationist essay anthologies, including last year’s Why Are Faggots So Afraid of Faggots?, under her sparkly little purple belt. Her new memoir The End of San Francisco from City Lights Books is written in such a hypnotically elliptical style (summoning City Lights’ Beat poet legacy) and contains so many spot-on observations and era-damning epigrams that anyone who lived through the period described will cling to its pages while wishing to hurl the book at a wall in embarrassed self-recognition.

Searing, funny, maudlin, elegiac, infuriating, and confessional, The End of San Francisco is a deliberately disordered collection of vignettes dealing mostly with Sycamore’s span living in the city and launching the highly influential Queeruption, Fed Up Queers, and Gay Shame activist movements.

“At some point I realized that the book centered around the myths and realities of San Francisco as a refuge for radical queer visions in community building,” Sycamore told me via email.

“I first moved to San Francisco in 1992, when I was 19, and it’s where I figured out how to challenge the violence of the world around me, how to embrace outsider visions of queer splendor, how to create love and lust and intimacy and accountability on my own terms. I left San Francisco in 2010, and in some ways this book is an attempt to figure out why or how this city has such a hold on me, in spite of the failure of so many of my dreams, over and over and over again.”

Along the way we get drug overdoses, AIDS, lesbian potlucks, heroin chic, crystal meth, ACT UP, the birth of the Internet, the dot-com boom, the dot-com bust, mental breakdowns, outdoor cruising, phony spirituality, Craigslist hookups, hipster gentrification, Polk Street hustling, fag-bashing, shoplifting, house music, the Matrix Program, crappy SoMa live/work lofts, “Care Not Cash,” gallons of bleach and hair dye, and processing, processing, and more processing.

It’s definitely not a nostalgia-fest: Juicy passages about SF club history, ’90s queer life in the Mission, and Gay Shame’s internal dynamics and gloriously kooky pranks (guerrilla Gay Shame Awards ceremonies blocking Castro traffic; a Pride adjacent, corporate-sponsor-tweaking “Budweiser Vomitorium” where you could “barf up your pride”) are accompanied by an Oprah-load of issues including chronic pain, incest, personal betrayals, anorexia, depression. The moving opening chapter describes Sycamore confronting her father in the upscale Washington, DC home she grew up in about her recovered memories of his sexual abuse, as he lay dying.

And Sycamore has surprising words for those who think queer punk, riot grrrl, the bathhouse disco and clone-look revival, or the scene at the SF Eagle were essential to the queer activist movement (Kathleen Hanna of Bikini Kill makes a memorable appearance — Sycamore befriended her without knowing who she was, and later attended the first Le Tigre show.) Her habit of questioning everything can often paint her into corners of abrasive self-absorption, but she continues to raise interesting points about the fetishization of machismo in the FTM, leather, and punk communities, the emptiness of hipster activism, and the capitalist-colluding hypocrisy of “alternative culture.”

As usual though, she saves her heaviest judgments for the mainstream gay morass, its Borg-like drive toward cultural hegemony via marriage, military, and consumerism — even as she acknowledges the necessary symbiosis that binds queer outcasts together. At 1993’s March on Washington, “where suddenly there were a million white gay people in white t-shirts applying for Community Spirit cards”: “Gays in the military was the big issue and what could be more horrifying but here’s the thing: freaks actually found one another — we were so alienated that we went right up and said hi, I like your hair…”

This, then, is the tenderness that drives Bernstein to keep speaking out, despite the personal costs. As we weather another dot-com boom of homogenizing gentrification, The End of San Francisco is a timely reminder of the community that can spring from resistance.

MATTILDA BERNSTEIN SYCAMORE reads Tue/30, 7pm, free at City Lights Bookstore, 261 Columbus, SF. www.citylights.com, and Thursday, May 9, 7:30pm, free at the GLBT History Museum, 4127 18th St., SF. www.glbthistory.org

420 trip(tych)

Andrew Lam

April 22, 2013

caitlin@sfbg.com

STREET SEEN Snoop wore rhinestone-dripping dichotomy to his 420 concert at the Fillmore. Trust, I was stoned enough to come up with theories based around it.

This year’s preposterous stoner holiday weekend in San Francisco featured a Haight Street-Hippie Hill clusterfuck that snarled traffic lanes for those hoping to flee the THC clouds for lands with slightly more manageable level of good vibes. Down South in Santa Cruz, cops confiscated a two-pound joint stuffed with an estimated $6,000 worth of Cali green from the traditional festivities in the hinterlands of the town’s UC campus.

I stayed far from such daytime fray, though we did manage to snap some photos of Hill-bound bridge-and-tunnelers seeking the 71 bus in their UNIF “Weed Be Good Together” tank tops (available, of course, at Urban Outfitters for some astronomical sum.) They seemed nice enough. I hope they weren’t the ones who left Golden Gate Park trashed with 10,000 pounds of garbage. Yes, that’s an actual park worker estimate.

Not mad at tasteful stoner styling. All park photos by Caitlin Donohue

My camera and I opted for the slightly more local version of 420 at Dolores Park, where neon Spring Breakers fashion trumped pot leaves and the gentleman proudly sporting a Rastafarian flag as a cape was the exception, rather than the bleary eyed rule to the sunburning throngs. Capturing flicks of various, impressively large picnic buffets, I was proud of my fellow stoners for the most part. Has weed culture progressed to the point where we need not don fake dreadlocks or shiny plastic leaf necklaces to proclaim our affinity to legalization? Down.

Cool cape, breh.

So many snacks. Ladies came prepared. For more DP style, click

KNUCKLE PIECE

Later that evening, after clearing the multi-layered gauntlet of security at the Fillmore (I don’t remember there being metal detectors the last time I came through for a hip-hop show, granted that was for Macklemore) and waiting for his hour-late, $75-ticket appearance, Snoop Dogg put on a predictably fun show. “Classic smash hits” were performed, as promised by the show’s promotional materials. Nate Dogg was piped in for choruses, back from the dead. The crowd sang along to each song, unchallenged by the repertoire of a man as familiar to the world’s hip-hop fans as the MTV logo. He covered “Jump Around,” but even this seemingly unnecessary riff seemed in keeping with much of the first half of the show’s reliance on material from eras gone by.

All Snoop photos by Matthew Reamer

But pacifist, Bunny Wailer-blessed Snoop Lion and his Major Lazer-produced album Reincarnated was entirely absent. Perhaps I was the only one harboring hopes of a surprise appearance by tween daughter Cori B. — whose turn on the hook for “No Guns Allowed” I like to imagine as payback from Daddy for the time those cops found firearms in the family home.

You could see it in his bling, this lack of commitment to his new persona. Though a rhinestone lion swung from Snoop’s slim neck, far more apparent was the garish fist-covering knuckle “Snoop Dogg” piece, which partially obscured his microphone. One wonders if the Lion persona will stick around long enough for Snoop to compile an impressive, be-maned collection of accessories. Maybe not — much of the shtick seems redundant for a rapper already famous for smoking more weed than federal agent bonfires in Humboldt County.

But old school the entirety of the set was not. Singles by Katy Perry and Bruno Mars in which Snoop guest-raps each made the hip-hop purists in the crowd spit. Despite the overwhelming scorn around me, I bopped to Perry’s “California Girls” — but even I couldn’t stomach the aging rapper juxtaposed with the chorus of Mars’ “Young, Wild, and Free”. I wondered if he could be convinced that “No Guns Allowed” ventures far closer to “classic good hit” arena than pop prince crossovers ever will.

MILE HIGH

Uhhhh, like, what else happened? Oh right, there was a shooting at Denver’s massive 420 celebration, the first since Colorado legalized the stuff for recreational use. The news would have been a bummer, had I not gotten to catch up with my girl Coral Reefer, who was a speaker on the Cannabis Cup’s first panel discussion about social media and weed.

“It has been amazing,” said the chipper Reefer, who runs a near 24/7 train of political information and nug glamour shots on her various social networks and Stoney Sunday YouTube potcasts. “Colorado’s been so hospitable and generous.”

News of the shooting — which left two attendees at Denver’s Civic Center Park with non-life-threatening injuries and several with injuries sustained while being trampled during the ensuing chaos amid the estimated 80,000 crowd — didn’t reach attendees at the Cup until a few hours later, Reefer said.

“It was complete sadness. Everyone I spoke to was so disappointed that we had experienced such a great day of community and positive vibrations, and a few miles away something so terrible had happened.”

But at the Cup itself, peace reigned, with the possible exception of the grumblers stuck in the at-times hours-long wait to get in. Reefer says the sophistication of marijuana concentrates continues to improve at these mega-events, and the variety of pot accoutrements — like local brands of vape pens — is impressive. “There’s so much issue with crossing state lines with cannabis products, it seems like each state has developed their own economy when it comes to cannabis goods.”

For Reefer, even the chaotic Civic Center scene signified a growing interest in marijuana she sees as positive. “We need to understand there are millions of people on our side and we need to be prepared when they come to us,” she said.

She also wanted to reinforce that this is one party the Golden State wants in on. “More and more people are celebrating cannabis in Colorado. California needs to step up and legalize, because it’s getting really fun out here.”

Perhaps — a la Snoop’s schizophrenic accessories — someday no one will feel the urge to don crocheted red-yellow-and-green beanies, or make a reggae album, merely to proclaim allegiance to marijuana. Dear government, if we drop the culturally derivative stoner trappings, will you accept that weed has been a part of us all along?

WTF, Chuck: Repeal the bottle bill?

Zelda Bronstein

April 4, 2013

Now, I thought we were all going to have to pay money to read the wisdom of C.W. Nevius, but here it is, for free, right on sfgate: Nevius is calling on California to repeal the “bottle bill,” the measure that requires a (modest) deposit on cans and bottles and that has been widely credited for making this one of the leading places in the world for recycling.

His argument: People are stealing recyclable material and selling it. This leads to drugs. (Seriously, this leads to drugs: “It hurts everybody,” says Adam Alberti, a spokesman for Recology, the city’s garbage collection firm. “We have heard reports of (scavengers) being paid in drugs instead of cash.”)

And, of course, criminal syndicates that underpay desperate people. The old Haight Asbury Recycling Center, which Chuck hated so much, demonstrated how the syndicate racket doesn’t have to work, since small-time individual bottle-pickers could get there without a truck and keep all the money. Oh, but that was also leading to drugs. So now it’s gone. Amazing, Chuck, the law of unintended consequences.

Anyway: Criminal syndicates aren’t a good thing. Wall Street, for example. Certain landlords and businesses that prey on the weak and don’t pay their taxes. Or the people who cheat their low-wage trash-diving workers.

But on the scale of all the things wrong in the world, and the city, this has to be pretty small-time. Because the bottom line for me is this:

The stuff is getting recycled.

That’s what we want, right? We don’t want bottles and cans in a landfill. From a strictly environmental viewpoint, it makes no difference if Recology picks the stuff up and makes money off it, or if a poor person picks up the stuff and makes money (except not in the Haight any more) or if some explotive syndicate hires people to pick the stuff up. It gets to the same place.

Again: Not supporting the criminal syndicates. Their workers should get fair pay, like all workers. Still, repealing the bottle bill seems like a pretty crazy way to address this modest problem.

The garbage rate hike

Zelda Bronstein

March 21, 2013

Yes, your garbage rates are going up. As much as 23 percent, maybe. That’s what Recology, the local trash monopoly, announced March 15.

The rate hike isn’t as bad as some people expected, nor is it as high as earlier predictions. More important, the way the company charges for the three bins we all use is going to change rather profoundly: No more free recycling and compost bins, but you can save money if you cut back on the amount of unrecyclable crap you shouldn’t buy anyway that’s headed to the landfill.

Here’s how it’s going to work:

Instead of paying $27.31 a month flat rate for garbage service, every household (and every apartment unit) will pay a $5 a month fee, plus $2 for every standard-sized green (compost) bin and recycling (blue) bin. Then there’s a $25.51 charge for a 32-gallon black (landfill) bin.

You can downsize to a 20-gallon black bin and upsize your recycling and compost to 64 gallons (that’s a LOT of compost for a city dweller; dude, quit throwing so much food away) and the monthly tab would be $26.94 — a little less than what you pay today.

The idea is that the city has mandated Recology to reach the level of zero waste — that is, 100 percent diversion away from landfill — by 2020, which means there won’t be any black bins any more, and an economic model based on charging for a service that won’t exist isn’t going to work.

Plus, the cost of fuel is going up, labor costs continue to increase, etc. We all know the story.

We also know that Recology never has to bid on the lucrative deal to collect waste in the city, and recently defeated a ballot measure that would have required competitive bidding. And unlike garbage companies in other cities (and other companies like Comcast and PG&E, that do business on city streets), Recology pays no franchise fee.

To make the whole garbage thing more complicated, a group from Yuba County is suing to overturn the deal that will allow Recology to haul San Francisco landfill waste 125 miles north to the Ostrum Road landfill in Wheatland. It’s really complicated, but essentially Recology did have to bid on that part of the deal (since the waste hauling takes place out of the city), won the bid against Waste Management, Inc., and is going to be loading about 400,000 tons of waste onto a rail line out to Wheatland.

This is, if the San Francisco Superior Court doesn’t toss the deal on the grounds that the Environmental Impact Report wasn’t adequate.

The Yuba Group Against Garbage petition for an injunction will be argued March 27 — and in the meantime, the group, along with some San Francisco advocates, is calling for the city to re-open the bidding process. YuGAG, obviously, doesn’t want the Ostrum Road Landfill to expand. The group’s lawyer, Brigit S. Barnes, sent out a statement March 20 outlining here case:

By failing to conduct any environmental review prior to its decision to enter into a Facilitation Agreement with Recology San Francisco, the City violated procedures clearly defined by CEQA, the terms for its own Request for Proposal, and the City’s own Administrative Code. Approving the project prior to completing a satisfactory CEQA review amounts to a failure to proceed in a manner required by law. The City’s subsequent attempt to fix the CEQA violation by terminating the 10-year agreement with Recology is ineffective because the statutorily mandated order of actions [first to certify the EIR document and then to consider the project, including any essential mitigations] is reversed.

Waste Management Inc., tried unsuccessfully to block the deal; WMI, which runs the landfill in Alameda County, wants the city’s trash to continue going there, which isn’t a perfect option either (and WMI is hardly a flawless company). So garbage is a mess. What else is new.

Inspiration is bliss

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks

February 12, 2013

arts@sfbg.com

DANCE What a fine mess Anthony Rizzi’s An Attempt to Fail at Groundbreaking Theater with Pina Arcade Smith was. Presented by Kunst-Stoff Arts, which shows some of the edgiest performances in town, Attempt succeeded brilliantly, just about drowning the audience in an onslaught of visual and sonic images, truisms, history, conundrums, harangues, punch lines, some gorgeous dancing, and a passionate sense of life as theater. It was a wild ride and worth every one of the 80 minutes it took for Rizzi’s ecstatic twirling to be swallowed up by the dark.

In 1985, the ballet-trained Rizzi joined William Forsythe’s Frankfurt Ballet — which was quite unknown at the time — because no American ballet company would hire him. It probably was the smartest move he could have made, enriching him in ways he could not have imagined.

Rizzi has become a multi-talented artist who, on this occasion, impressed with the sheer skill with which he shaped this unwieldy material. As a performer he easily slipped into the roles of frustrated creator, impatient observer of social trends, hopeful believer, and stand-up comic, and all of them felt true. He looked like a juggler with everything up in the air, and yet he remained in complete control. He reminded me of the “fools” that kings once kept, perhaps apocryphally, because they needed somebody to tell them the truth. Rizzi, as a modern man, is not that ambitious; he is happy “to go for a kind of truth.”

Perhaps most remarkable about Attempt was Rizzi’s cut-to-the-bone honesty, which he uses in “a time of stupidity” to slash through the garbage that fills his life as an artist, as a man, and as queer performer. (His definition of queer as “non-conforming” is one of most succinct that I have yet to come across.) Much of the material was autobiographical, from his encounter with nuns in Rome to one with an orthodox rabbi in Antwerp. Both of them involved love. Some of these anecdotes were hilarious; others made you cringe. His observations on art and dance making in contemporary culture were fiercely sardonic. He took the scalpel of his wit to living via Facebook, post-modernism, dramaturgy, arts education, and dance training, among others. He could affect the stance of a whiner as easily as that of an impassioned teacher when he talked about love as a political act.

Despite all its frantic energy, behind Attempt lies a deep sadness about the world as it is. When (in a reference to an early Pina Bausch work) Rizzi fails to climb a mountain — in the form of bunch of ladders — he puts it on his back in the shape of a huge black bag he physically wrestles with.

The people whom Rizzi admires most are not driven by a desire for success, but by their willingness to risk failure while trying to be “as good at what they do as they can.” These include Bausch, founder, or as he says “re-creator,” of European Tanztheater; New York performance artist Penny Arcade, and filmmaker Jack Smith (1962’s Flaming Creatures). Arcade and Smith were pioneers of the avant-garde in the 1960s; Arcade is still working, Smith died of AIDS in 1989.

If in the first half of the show Rizzi channeled Smith as kind of narrator, in the second half he literally crawled into Bausch and Arcade’s skin. One half of him sported a tight sequined skirt with padded buns and boobs; the other was flat as a board with stringy long hair. These encounters became Attempt’s most theatrical element, with much of the conversation taken literally from the artists’ own words. Their back and forth had a slapstick comedy to it that ran thin rather quickly.

Rizzi was not alone on stage. Former Frankfurt Ballet colleague Irene Klein acted as stage manager. She also became Bausch when he first tried to drag her up the mountain from which “a cry was heard.”

“You should eat more. It fucks up your brain,” Rizzi tells the superbly trained but slender dancer. But it was Klein’s focused and quietly modulated solos that brought an ethereal quality to Attempt. They spoke more eloquently than torrents of words. In one of his many quotes Rizzi said to “dance as if nobody was watching.” Klein did.

Norman Solomon: Washington’s war-makers are in a bunker

February 11, 2013

Norman Solomon is co-founder of RootsAction.org and founding director of the Institute for Public Accuracy. His books include “War Made Easy: How Presidents and Pundits Keep Spinning Us to Death.” He writes the Political Culture 2013 column

With the tenth anniversary of the Iraq invasion coming up next month, we can expect a surge of explanations for what made that catastrophe possible. An axiom from Orwell — “who controls the past controls the future” — underscores the importance of such narratives.

I encountered a disturbing version last week while debating Col. Lawrence Wilkerson, former chief of staff to Secretary of State Colin Powell. Largely, Wilkerson blamed deplorable war policies on a “bubble” that surrounds top officials. That’s not just faulty history; it also offers us very misleading guidance in the present day.

During our debate on Democracy Now, Wilkerson said: “What’s happening with drone strikes around the world right now is, in my opinion, as bad a development as many of the things we now condemn so readily, with 20/20 hindsight, in the George W. Bush administration. We are creating more enemies than we’re killing. We are doing things that violate international law. We are even killing American citizens without due process. . .”

But why does this happen?

“These things are happening because of that bubble that you just described,” Colonel Wilkerson told host Amy Goodman. “You can’t get through that bubble” to top foreign-policy officials, “penetrate that bubble and say, ‘Do you understand what you’re doing, both to American civil liberties and to the rest of the world’s appreciation of America, with these increased drone strikes that seem to have an endless vista for future?’”

Wilkerson went on: “This is incredible. And yet, I know how these things happen. I know how these bubbles create themselves around the president and cease and stop any kind of information getting through that would alleviate or change the situation, make the discussion more fundamental about what we’re doing in the world.”

Such a “bubble” narrative encourages people to believe that reaching the powerful war-makers with information and moral suasion is key — perhaps the key — to ending terrible policies. This storyline lets those war-makers off the hook — for the past, present and future.

Hours after my debate with Wilkerson, I received an email from Fernando Andres Torres, a California-based journalist and former political prisoner in Chile under the dictatorship of General Augusto Pinochet. Referring to Wilkerson as “that bubble guy,” the email said: “Who they think they are? No accountability? Or do they think the government bubble gives them immunity for all the atrocities they commit? Not in the people’s memory.”

Later in the day, Torres sent me another note: “Not sure if we can call it a bubble, ’cause a bubble is easy to break; they were in a lead bunker from where the bloody consequences of their action can pass unnoticed.”

Wilkerson’s use of the bubble concept is “a tautology, a contradiction implicit,” wrote the co-editor of DissidentVoice.org, Kim Petersen, in an article analyzing the debate. “Often people escape culpability through being outside the loop. After all, how can one be blamed for what one does not know because one was not privy to the information. Can one credibly twist this situation as a defense? Wilkerson and other Bush administration officials were in the loop — privy to information that other people are denied — and yet Wilkerson, in a strong sense, claims to be a victim of being in a bubble.”

In that case, the onus is shared by those inside and outside the bubble. Wilkerson said as much when I mentioned that a decade ago, during many months before the invasion, my colleagues and I at the Institute for Public Accuracy helped to document — with large numbers of news releases and public reports — that the Bush administration’s claims about Iraqi weapons of mass destruction were full of holes.

From there, our debate swiftly went down a rabbit hole, as Wilkerson took me to task for not getting through the bubble that surrounded him as chief of staff for Secretary of State Powell. “I didn’t see a single one of your reports,” Wilkerson said. “So, nobody called me from your group. Nobody tried to get in — nobody tried to get into my office and talk to me from your group. Other groups did, but your group never got into my office, never called me on the phone — never talked to me. Other groups did. Why didn’t you?. . . You didn’t call. . . You didn’t call. . . You did not call.”

Non-apology apologies have been a forte of former impresarios of the Iraq war. It speaks volumes that Col. Wilkerson has been more apologetic than most of them. The scarcity of genuine public remorse is in sync with the absence of legal accountability or political culpability.

The partway apologies are tethered to notable narcissism. It’s still mainly about them, the seasoned ones who have worked in top echelons of government, whose self-focus is enduring. At the same time, scarcely a whisper can be heard about renouncing the prerogative to launch aggressive war.

So, when faced with occasional media questions about Powell’s WMD speech to the U.N. Security Council six weeks before the Iraq invasion, both Wilkerson and Powell routinely revert to the same careful phrasing about their own life sagas. Interviewed by CNN in 2005, after his three years as Secretary of State Powell’s chief of staff, Wilkerson described his key role in preparing that speech as “the lowest point in my life.” Last week, in our debate, he called the U.N. presentation “the lowest point in my professional and personal life.”

As for Colin Powell, guess what? That U.N. speech was “a low point in my otherwise remarkable career,” he told AARP’s magazine in 2006. Yet the U.N. speech gave powerful propaganda support for the invasion that began the Iraq war — a war that was also part of Powell’s “otherwise remarkable career.”

So, too, a dozen years earlier, was the Gulf War that Powell presided over as chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff in early 1991. On the same day that the Associated Press cited estimates from Pentagon sources that the six-week war had killed 100,000 Iraqi people, Powell told an interviewer: “It’s really not a number I’m terribly interested in.”

The illustrious and sturdy bow on the entire political package is immunity — a reassuring comfort to retired and present war leaders alike. Former Bush officials and current Obama officials have scant reason to worry that their conduct of war might one day put them in a courtroom dock. They’ve turned their noses up at international law, lowered curtains on transparency and put some precious civil liberties in a garbage compactor with the president’s hand on the switch.

Normalizing silence and complicity is essential fuel for endless war. With top officials relying on their own exculpatory status, a grim feedback loop keeps spinning as the increasingly powerful warfare state runs roughshod over the principle of consent of the governed. Top officials dodge responsibility — and pay no penalty — for lying the country into, and into continuing, horrendous wars and other interventions.

Without an honest reckoning of what did and didn’t happen in the lead-up to the Iraq war, a pernicious message comes across from Wilkerson, Powell and many others: of course we stuck it out and followed orders, we had private doubts but fulfilled our responsibilities to maintain public support for the war.

It’s a kind of role modeling that further corrodes the political zeitgeist. The upshot is that people at the top of the U.S. government — whether in 2003 or 2013 — have nothing to lose by going along with the program for war. In a word: impunity.

Fanboy ruminations on the new My Bloody Valentine

Tony Robles

February 6, 2013

Here I am, listening to m b v for the umpteenth time since Saturday night, and I still can’t believe it exists. Up until last week, I had grown used to “the Loveless follow-up” as a punchline in hipster water-cooler conversation, a tall tale in the canon of guitar-rock mythology. But now, after two decades of broken promises, My Bloody Valentine’s fabled third LP is here. And I can dance to it. And it shows up on iTunes like everything else. This can’t be happening.

After he nearly bankrupted his label, striving to recreate the reverberacious sounds swirling around in his head, MBV’s guitarist and production mastermind Kevin Shields exited the studio with 1991’s seminal Loveless, an album that re-imagined the textural possibilities of guitars and vocals within the pop framework. The effect was equally seductive and menacing: a record swarming with haze and fuzz, yet with an undercurrent of Pet Sounds pop purity cutting straight down the middle. This ethereal, borderline-electronic approach to guitar-rock, and its use of androgynous, vaguely intelligible vocals as a background instrument, has spawned a thousand imitators, but no worthy successor, resulting in one of the modern era’s few truly legendary recordings.

That said, it’s hard to overstate the cultural baggage attached to m b v from the get-go. Seriously, if you’re Shields, how do you move on from what everyone from Brian Eno to Phish has embraced as the the greatest musical achievement of the ‘90s? The band’s third full-length presents several answers to that question, with a mixed bag of laid-back meanderings, abrasive left-field experiments, and a handful of vintage MBV anthems to feed that long-neglected Loveless fix.

Although it continues to open up and reveal itself with each listen, here are some observations from my first weekend with this incredibly unlikely album.

“she found now”
My Bloody Valentine’s first statement of the new millennium is a quiet, low-key one, without drums, that leaves Shields’ fuzzy, undulating guitars to support his and Bilinda Butcher’s entangled, hushed vocals. First time around, I was underwhelmed. Comebacks should start with a bang, right? After a few listens, though, it all made sense; this is the sound of Shields and Co. waking up after a two-decade hibernation, collecting their bearings, and taking a moment to reflect before getting on with the show. A poignant gesture, after 22 years of silence.

“only tomorrow”
And we’re rolling. I can’t remember the last time the band sounded this funky. Shields’ guitar has an earthly, familiar crunch to it, paring down from the otherworldly pink-noise that defined Loveless, and Colm Ó Cíosóig’s shuffly drums sound fuller, boomier, and more dynamic than ever before. Yet, it’s unmistakably MBV, from the complex, angular chord changes, to the sound of Butcher’s vocals succumbing to Shields’ towers of distortion.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UUc5y1NljXI
“who sees you”
This is the jewel of the album, the track that delivers on all the expectations I had convinced myself were unreasonable. All of Loveless’ trademark qualities are right upfront, from the emphasis on heady, impressionistic texture, to the inextricable pop DNA at its core. The chord changes are as seductive as ever, and Shields’ guitars haven’t skipped a beat since ‘91. Most amazingly, though: we’re finally hearing a Loveless-caliber MBV song, approached with a muscular, dynamic, 21st century production sensibility. This is too good to be true.

“is this and yes”
Loveless’ brief, Final Fantasy-esque intro, “Touched” suggested an alternate direction for the band, which “is this and yes” explores in depth for the first time. Guitars are absent, and drums are minimal; the wispy synth tones coalesce with Butcher’s soft vocals to resemble the relaxed, samba-ish lilt of a Stereolab ballad. Simple and repetitive, but always engaging and never tedious, it offers a new perspective on MBV’s crafty songwriting abilities, and a nice moment of calm between thick slabs of pop/noise.

“if i am”
Relatively open and uncluttered by MBV standards, yet permeated by the band’s signature vertigo, “if i am” is a nice reminder that Shields’ aesthetic isn’t all smoke and mirrors, distortion, layering, and plain old big noises. If the two previous pop songs felt a bit formulaic and deconstructable, this track emphasizes the mystery and vagueness of MBV’s squirmy, seasick sound. Also, Shields on a wah-pedal is a nice surprise.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VpoOjoiYcWY
“new you”
The most melodic, bubbly, and downright fun song MBV has ever committed to tape, “new you” is like a window into an alternate universe, where MBV revved back up in ’96 and took the charts by storm. Recalling the work of Garbage, Chapterhouse, and other bands who carried the shoegaze-baton in more populist directions in the post-Loveless wake, it’s essentially a vintage MBV song, with all the noise peeled away. From the upfront vocals, to that irresistible synth melody, to the generous low-end that practically dares you not to dance like a fool… it’s a real treat.

“in another way”
While the first two-thirds of m b v, and all of Loveless, are largely held together by a strong harmonic undertow, “in another way” finds the band ripping that foundation out from under our feet, and playing with colder, spikier textures. The harsh, punky guitar squalls, and discordant vocals, resemble Isn’t Anything at its crudest, while the skipping, hopping drums and weirdly anthemic synths feel like an extension of their foray into dance territory on “Soon.” It’s a compelling experiment, and it’s neat to hear MBV hinting at new directions for their second act, but the lack of harmonic warmth keeps me from embracing it entirely.

“nothing is”
Ever repeat a word over and over, until it becomes a meaningless mishmash of sound? “nothing is” achieves the same sort of minor transcendence through repetition, looping a one-second stab of guitars and drums up and down a sine wave for over three minutes. It’s an easy space to get lost in, and fairly un-tedious, despite the odds. Similarly to “in another way”, though, I’m not finding a visceral connection to this one. I like it; it’s captivating; but love? Not quite.

“wonder 2”
Given the number of rock-band reunions defined by a disappointing sense of by-the-numbers conservatism, m b v’s final third sounds especially brave. “wonder 2” is the album’s boldest experiment: an uninhibited, atonal blur of a semi-pop song, laid atop a reverb-soaked drum and bass beat, and set inside that metaphorical “jet engine” that MBV fans are always talking about. Like most of their songs, it combines dissonance with pop structure. Yet, unlike the “great” ones (“Only Shallow,”“When You Sleep,” “Honey Power,” etc.), the pop warmth is missing. This one might take awhile to sink in though, as new layers of metallic noise continue to reveal themselves upon each listen.

—

In the long-run, m b v’s reputation will likely depend on where Shields and Co. choose to go from here. If they call it quits again, experiments like “nothing is” could ultimately be seen as vaguely disappointing, in their failure to completely justify a 22-year wait. Yet, if the band continues to create and explore, m b v’s third act in particular might wind up as another signpost on their weird, wonderful journey as an ensemble, leading to bigger rewards down the stretch.

If this is indeed the band’s closing statement, we’re incredibly fortunate to have a new handful of vintage MBV songs, like “who sees you” and “new you,” to live and love by for decades to come. At this point, m b v sounds too scattered and impulsive to compete head-to-head with Loveless’ obsessive commitment to pink noise, but were we really expecting that? The fact that in 2013, a new My Bloody Valentine album manages to reach those glorious heights, even on occasion, leaves us with so much to be thankful for.

No surprise: Your garbage rates are going up 23 percent

Zelda Bronstein

December 12, 2012

No surprise: Your garbage rates are going up 23 percent

As expected, Recology sent in its application for a rate increase Dec. 11, and most residential customers will see a hike of 23.5 percent, or about $6.50 a month. The hikes will be more complicated for commercial operations and apartment buildings, depending largely on how much waste those outfits can divert into recycling or compost.

The proposal would change the way rates are charged: Residential customers, who now pay a fee for the black cans holding landfill-bound garbage, will start paying a monthly $5 fee overall and $2 for compost and recycling.

The most dramatic increases will fall on large apartment buildings, which under the current rate structure are heavily subsidized, Eric Potashner, a spokesperson for Recology, told me. “We needed to restructure so the larger residential sector was paying fairly,” he said.

Most large landlords absorb the cost of garbage service as part of the rent they charge. So the new costs may not get passed on to existing tenants.

Recology is facing a mandate to eliminate all landfill waste by 2020 — and that’s a bit of a problem: For years, the company only charged for black bins, which, if all goes according to plan, will eventually go away altogether. “And the trucks, the fuel costs, the drivers are all color-blind,” Potashner said. “It costs the same to pick up the blue bins as the black bins.”

The rate application is complicated, and I haven’t been able to analyze every page. The city has hired an outside contractor to do exactly that, and the process takes months. The current proposal would take effect in June, 2013.

It’s a significant increase, although not as high as some had predicted — and not as high as 2001, when the company asked for almost 50 percent. Back then city staffers recommended the hike be cut almost in half, but then-Public Works Director Ed Lee gave Recology most of what it wanted.

Some of the money will go to cover additional costs Recology faces since the city has asked the company to pick up large refuse (you know, those old couches) that are left on the street.

But overall, according to Recology’s application, the higher rates cover “increased costs and lower than anticipated revenues” — in other words, the sucess of the recycling program has meant less income for the garbage company. Still, while Recology is a private company that doesn’t release financial information, there’s no indication that it’s actually running in the red.

YEAR IN MUSIC 2012: Beach squelch shimmy

December 11, 2012

arts@sfbg.com

YEAR IN MUSIC Imagine a frustrated ghost floating above his own funeral. He might hear someone getting the eulogy wrong or even see an unwanted guest. One of the benefits of having your band come to an end rather than your own demise is living to react to retrospectives of your creative output and impact. But as I write this, Uzi Rash isn’t quite dead yet. In fact, it has one last breath of doing what it does best — live performance.

PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT?

It was the type of weather where you only sometimes need a coat and had been raining on and off. Wearing too many layers, I found the address where the band said it’d be practicing. The garage was wide open and I got a friendly wave to come in.

The group’s final incarnation, featuring founding band leader Max Nordile, Steve Oriolo (Steve0) on bass, and new drummer, Erin Allen, was preparing for a new recording and its first national tour. Aptly titled “End Days — Last Tour” it would be its last altogether. (This was solidified when I was handed a swag pair of generic party-dude shades wrapped in cellophane. I opened them and found Uzi Rash 2007-2012 boldly written in black on white on one of the temples.)

A live sneak-preview performance of the cassette, The Garbageman’s Uniform (Minor Bird Records) was preceded by stage-ready versions of more familiar sounding songs. We talked baseball a bit during a beer run, even though the postseason hadn’t yet begun. The A’s were still doing well and that’s where we were — on MLK in Oakland.

“You truly are a noise-ician. Keep it stupid, stupid,” Nordile, clad in a Grass Widow t-shirt, quipped to his drummer on a particularly up-tempo number. Earlier, he complimented the newest member’s ability to learn over 20 songs in about a month and a half’s time. Allen smiled at some of the mistakes that were made and the three wondered if they needed to dumb it down even more.

They ran through another song twice because Nordile said it went too fast. His bassist conceded with the line, “You’re the maestro.” To which he lightheartedly replied, “The maestro has decomposed.” After a few chuckles practice ended somewhat abruptly when Nordile’s guitar string broke.

COMMUNITY WASTE

Despite any corrections or control, it didn’t seem like perfection in a refurbished sense is what he was going for. I don’t think they were hamming it up for me when they foraged from bins of discarded food, which included some less-than-fresh looking bagels outside a church down the block. Nordile would later articulate part of his concept as a stance against the desacralization of nature.

“Waste, detritus, trash and garbage are documents, like fossils of the wasteful and destructive aspects of civilization,” he said. It’s that very affinity for what some consider undesirable that has fueled themes, inspired songs, and had allowed for five years of non-stop live shows that thrived on chaos and confusion (sometimes there was blood).

The industrial-strength cacophony is apparent when you listen to the final product of Uzi Rash recordings. What started as a solo project out of Nordile’s desire to not have to depend on anyone became a virtual who’s-who of East Bay-band inbreeding some 30-plus members later. Ultimately, Nordile would be calling the shots, but he’d rely on his like-minded community of supporting players and embrace their complimentary abilities by having them around. Something he considered a huge improvement.

By the time you read this, their last performance will have come and gone and Nordile will have screamed along to “I’m a Trashbag” with the deepest conviction. Oakland has long served as a gritty breeding ground for so many acts that never got their fair due or enough recognition, but with Uzi Rash, we recognize their ability to put Dylan in self-deprecating drag, to recycle a riff, rip a melody (sometimes a whole song title straight up), but to put their own “beach squelch shimmy” spin on it and make it exciting.

“Rock’n’roll has been mostly boring white boys with guitars. I am too, but I realize it and strive to acknowledge it and move on.” With that we take the boogie or, booji, as he’d say in stride and wait while Nordile casually contemplates his next music project because five years is up.

Shit happened

Andrew Lam

November 13, 2012

CASH FOR TRASH

Recology, the city’s garbage monopoly, has a problem: It charges residential customers only for the black cans full of unrecyclable material headed for the landfill — but thanks to city policy and environmental consciousness, there’s less and less traditional trash out there. Ultimately, the company wants to get rid of the big black cans altogether.

So a business model based on offering free recycling and compost doesn’t work any more — and everyone has known for some time that it had to change.

But there was no discussion of rate changes earlier this year; in fact, Recology folks said there were no plans for an immediate rate hike in the works. That’s because the June ballot included a measure that would have created competitive bidding for the city’s garbage contract — and the last thing Recology wanted was the threat of a rate hike to drive voters toward amending the 1932 City Charter provision that gives just one company complete control over the lucrative waste franchise.

Ah, but the June election is long over, and Recology beat back that effort — so the rate hike we all expected is now on the table.

On Sept. 11, Recology informed the city that it intends to apply for a new rate structure — and while the process is long and convoluted, we’ll see the details in a few weeks, and you can expect to start paying more for your service by next summer.

There’s no formal proposal yet — that will come in December. The director of the Department of Public Works has to approve it, and so does a Rate Board made up of the city administration, the controller and the head of the Public Utilities Commission. But both Recology and the city say there will be some significant changes in the way San Franciscans pay to have their refuse removed.

“We can’t focus our financial operations on a black can if we’re trying to get rid of it,” Recology spokesperson Eric Potashner told us.

Douglas Legg, the finance director at the Department of Public Works agrees. “As we’ve been pushing diversion, the blue and green cans have been pretty heavily subsidized.”

But shouldn’t good habits, like recycling, be subsidized? Should people who recycle and compost more be penalized? “That’s the challenge,” Potashner said.

And in the end, it’s going to be more than a shift in which bins cost how much. There’s no doubt that your bills will be rising, perhaps by a significant amount. “I assume it will go up,” Legg said. “There hasn’t been a cost-of-living increase since 2010.”

Which, of course, brings back the competitive bidding point. If others had a chance to make a play for the city contract, might rates be lower? Or might the city get more out of the deal?

Retired Judge Quentin Kopp, who helped spearhead the campaign for competitive bidding, thinks so. “If we had competitive bidding,” he told us, “these rate hikes would be more moderate.”

OPENING THE LAST CLOSET DOOR

While most everyone’s attention was focused on electoral politics in late October, Supervisors David Campos and Christina Olague were talking about a different level of political issue, one that’s still a huge taboo: Gay men in professional sports. At an Oct. 30 press conference, the two LGBT supes joined with representatives of The Last Closet, an SF-based campaign that’s trying to get gay professional athletes to come out.

It’s remarkable (or maybe, sadly, it isn’t) that in 2012, not one openly gay man has played in any of the Big Five pro sports (football, basketball, hockey, baseball and soccer). There are, everyone knows, plenty of gay athletes, and the NFL, NBA, NHL, MLB and various soccer associations all have gay players. Some of them have come out after they’ve retired. But on the field (or on the floor, or on the ice)? No way.

Why does anyone care? Because youth sports are still, even in this town, full of homophobic language and homophobic attitudes, and it’s hard to imagine what young LGBT football or basketball players have to endure. Even one gay player could make a world of difference.

“What I saw with the San Francisco Giants, all of the Latino players, was such a source of pride to Latino boys and girls,” Campos told us. “We can’t feel that in the LGBT community. We know there are gay baseball players, but the LGBT youth don’t have those role models to look up to.”

The Last Closet campaign emerged out of a documentary film project that sought to look at homophobia in pro sports. “It became clear that some members of the sports hierarchy were not going to make themselves available to speak about this taboo subject,” the group’s website notes.

In fact, Fawn Yacker, one of the project directors, told us that nobody in a senior position in any sports organization was willing to talk — and that’s turned the movie into a political campaign. “We want the fans to push the sports leaders to address this,” she said.

In fact, all The Last Closeters want right now is for the commissioners of the major sports leagues to make a statement that homophobia is unacceptable and that the leagues will do everything possible to make sure that out gay players are accepted. Seems like a pretty simply no-brainer — but so far, not one sports official has gone along.

It’s pretty crazy, considering that it’s almost inevitable that a few major sports athletes will come out in the next few years — and the leagues are going to look foolish if they pretend it’s not going to happen. Any bets on which sport is going to be the first? “I don’t know,” Yackey said. “I think it might be hockey.”

Get ready for a garbage rate hike

Zelda Bronstein

November 12, 2012

Recology, the San Francisco garbage monopoly, usually comes to the city to ask for a rate increase once every five years or so. It’s been almost seven since the last one — and it’s not as if the company’s costs have come down. Anyone who’s running big diesel trucks and paying for fuel has been hammered in the past year or two.

So why did the folks at Recology wait until this fall — Sept. 11 — to let the city know they want to change the way they charge for trash — and most likely rise rates at the same time?

Well, for one thing, there was a ballot measure back in June that would have broken up the lucrative monopoly and opened the waste-removal franchise to competitive bidding. That’s Recology’s worst nightmare. Since 1932, the company (through its predecessors) has had the exclusive right to pick up residential and commercial refuse in San Francisco; unlike virtually every other outfit that does this level of business with the city, the contract never comes up for renewal and nobody else ever gets to bid. There’s virtually no chance that anyone but Recology would ever win a bid for the deal anyway — we’re talking about a unionized, worker-owned local company, and all of the other big garbage outfits are nasty out-of-state operations with bad management and environmental records. But if there were other bidders, Recology might have to sweenten the city’s deal — keep the rates lower or give some more money to City Hall.

Ant any rate, the ballot measure went down under a flood of Recology money, and to nobody’s surprise the rate hike is now on the table.

Your rates won’t actually go up for a while — the process is long and complicated and both Recology and the Department of Public Works agree that the earliest any new pricing would go into effect would be next summer. We won’t actually see a firm proposal until December.

But already, the company’s talking about ending the current practice of charging for the black (garbage-to-the-landfill) cans and picking up recycling and compost free. The city and the company are both trying to reduce the amount of landfill material that gets discarded — and ultimately, everyone would like to eliminate the black cans altogether. But that, Recology spokesperson Eric Potashner told me, doesn’t work with the current business model: “We can’t rocus our financial operations on a black can if we’re trying to get rid of it.”

Which leads to a dilemma: If you want people to recycle and compost more, how do you get away with charging them more to do it? “That’s the challenge,” Potashner said.

Either way, the rates are going to go up. “There hasn’t been a cost-of-living increase since 2010,” Douglas Legg, finance director at DPW, told us. The increase might be fairly steep, too — after all, it’s been seven years since the last one.

All of which comes back to the competitive bidding question. If this weren’t a monopoly, and Recology had to compete for the contract every once in a while, “these rate hikes might be more moderate,” retired Judge Quentin Kopp, a longtime critic of the company, told us.

Our Weekly Picks: October 17-23

Andrew Lam

October 16, 2012

WEDNESDAY 17

Bob Dylan

What does one need to know in order to decide whether or not to go to one of the upcoming Bay Area Bob Dylan concerts? What more can you say about a legendary singer-songwriter who has left an indelible mark on the fabric of American culture for 50 years — the man who earlier this year was given the Presidential Medal of Freedom for his contributions to this country via his more than 600 songs, including “The Times They Are A-Changin'” and “Blowin’ in the Wind?” All you need to know is that Dylan is in town, there are still tickets available, and you will never forgive yourself if you miss the opportunity to see this one of a kind icon. (Sean McCourt)

With Mark Knopfler

Wed/17-Thu/18, 7:30pm, $59.50–$125

Bill Graham Civic Auditorium

99 Grove, SF

www.apeconcerts.com

THURSDAY 18

Makers Nightlife

Do you need to have a reason to engineer cool robots and get generally crafty? If your answer is, “No, just do it!” you might like Maker Faire, a showcase of DIY creativity and cool technology. And there doesn’t seem to be a better place to see it than inside the living domes of the California Academy of Sciences. Many projects will be on display for you to ogle and nerd-out on, including pieces by Applied Kinetic Arts and a jukebox-style dancing robot. If the creativity gets you itching to work with your hands, the event will be ready with a craft table for making freak flags. Or you can just sit back and enjoy a live performance by the very cerebral, digital painter, J-Watt. Either way, it should be a fun night of quirkiness, creativity, and intellectual stimulation. (Molly Champlin)

6pm, $12

California Academy of Sciences

55 Music Concourse

(415) 379-8000

www.calacademy.org

FRIDAY 19

Jason Lytle of Grandaddy

It’s been a great year to be a Grandaddy fan. Not only did 2012 yield a handful of unexpected reunion shows for the Modesto space pop band (including an excellent Outside Lands night show at the Independent), but now frontperson Jason Lytle has just released Dept. of Disappearance, his second album of solo material. Just as on 2009’s Yours Truly, the Commuter, Lytle’s new batch of tracks maintains his knack for penning achingly beautiful songs full of swoon-worthy keyboard lines, touching lyrics, and warmly lush DIY production. (Landon Moblad)

With Sea Of Bees

8pm $20

Swedish American Hall

2174 Market, SF

(415) 861-5016

www.cafedunord.com

Stolen Babies and the Fuxedos

While there’s a good chance that you’ll be terrified, bemused, appalled, or amazed by the aggressively madcap triple-header of Darling Freakhead, the Fuxedos, and Stolen Babies, you most certainly will not be bored. What with the polymetric layers of Darling Freakhead’s nihilistic introspection, the twisted, sideshow extroversion of the Fuxedos’ leader, Danny Shorago, and the steampunkish dark carnival menace of Stolen Babies, plus plenty of puppet carnage, costume changes, and apocalyptic accordion interludes, this is one evening guaranteed to haunt your consciousness, as well as your eardrums, for a long time afterwards. (Nicole Gluckstern)

9pm, $12

Bottom of the Hill

1233 17th St., SF

(415) 621-4455

www.bottomofthehill.com

Tiger Army

Berkeley-spawned rocker band Tiger Army released its self-titled debut record 13 years ago this month — so it’s a fitting time to return to the Bay Area for two special shows, part of “Octoberflame,” a fifth annual run of gigs that take place around each Halloween. Here’s hoping the band kicks off with its classic intro of “Nightfall” and “Nocturnal,” a psychobilly-tinged combo from the early days that would set the standard for the group’s darkly melodic sound — it would be a most appropriate soundtrack for the season. (McCourt)

With the Goddamn Gallows, Death March (Fri.); Suedehead, God Module (Sat.).

Fri/19-Sat/20, 8:30pm, $23

Slim’s

333 11th St., SF

(415) 255-0333

www.slimspresents.com

SATURDAY 20

Trolley Dances

The idea started in San Diego, where streetcars actually are called trolleys. This hasn’t stopped the yearly version of San Francisco Trolley Dances to become a major hit among (some) tourists and (lots of) locals. Now in its ninth year, this mini-festival of public art has yet to run out of steam. More and more artists — and not only dancers — seem to be excited about the format. The offerings this time around include stilt walkers and circus artists, dance theater companies, carnival performers, and dancers from street to modern to African. You can do the whole tour on foot or on a bike if you are so inclined. For a map, consult the website. (Rita Felciano)

Sat/20-Sun/21, 11am- 2:45pm (every 45 min), free with Muni ticket

Starts at Mission and Fifth Street, SF

(415) 226-1139

www.epiphanydance.org

The Hula Show 2012

You might think about hula and imagine rapidly shaking grass skirts finishing off a day spent lounging on refreshingly warm, blue beaches. If you feel that Hawaiian vacation nostalgia hitting you, let Na Lei Hulu I Ka Wekiu transport you back. Evoking the slow pace of Hawaiian life, their dances allow you to luxuriate in each movement like a cool breeze rustling through palm trees. But it’s not all poi and roasted pig — the San Francisco-based troupe brings things up to the city pace by mixing traditional Hula with more contemporary music and styles to create a dynamic stage performance. Be prepared to open your eyes to Polynesian dance as an art form in a way you’ll never see at a tourist-attraction luau. (Champlin)

Through Oct. 28

Sat/20, 8pm; Sun/21, 3pm, $35-$45

Palace of Fine Arts Theater

3301 Lyon

(415) 392-4400

www.palaceoffinearts.org

Wax Idols

Wax Idols’ badass frontperson Heather Fedewa (who goes by the moniker “Hether Fortune”) has dubbed her refreshingly unique garage pop-punk-death rock genre “morbid classics” and cites Christian Death as a prominent artistic influence. This raucous Oakland-based quartet brings it on heavy, but its fun, sardonic tunes are quite accessible to the less-than-devout death rockers among us. Fortune’s songs focus on morbidity, love, and defiance, and the band’s sound oscillates between the sunny, upbeat punk of “Gold Sneakers” and the dark and raw introspection of “The Last Drop.” Wax Idols recently finished recording their second LP, so stay tuned! (Mia Sullivan)

With Wymond Miles, Evil Eyes

8pm, $10

Brick and Mortar

1710 Mission, SF

(415) 800-8782

www.brickandmortarmusic.com

Masquerotica

Those suffering post-Folsom exhibitionist blues need no longer wear overmuch clothing, for one night at least. Masquerotica takes over one of the largest venues in town — which, hooray, isn’t the hard to get to Cow Palace. The Concourse Exhibition Center is way closer to the center of town, way less mileage to truck your thigh highs and stripper-envy through. The bash promises a stadium-sized assortment of erotic artists, DJs, acrobats, and fetish designers vending their leather and lace wares. Rest assured that T&A won’t be the only stars present: Kink.com talent, contortionist Sylvia Currin, the ladies of Trannyshack, and lascivious visual artists will all be featured at the second year in a row of this no-streetwear-allowed blowout. (Caitlin Donohue)

8:30pm-3am, $55–$125

Concourse Exhibition Center

635 Eighth St., SF

www.masquerotica.com

SUNDAY 21

Kaki King

A talented guitarist who has done the indie-rock thing and just married her partner in New York last week (seriously California, get on it), don’t let Kaki King fool you; she’s not another Tegan and Sara. More about the music than the iconery, Kaki King is exploring life through her love of guitar and the result is genuinely heartfelt and evocative work. She began learning the instrument at the age of four but soon became more serious about drums. Luckily for us, she returned to guitar for her classical training in college. Percussive techniques remain a signature of her style though and are just one way she explores all that the instrument can do, including unique tunings and steel lap guitar. Her new album, Glow, is entirely instrumental and a little more experimental than previous work. She describes this step in a new direction as one of those things that you can’t believe you’ve made, like something bigger than you must have been helping out. (Champlin)

With Lady Lamb the Beekeeper

7pm, $20; 9pm, $15

Yoshi’s SF

1330 Fillmore, SF

(415) 655-5600

www.yoshis.com

MONDAY 22

Ultraísta

Few artists split the difference between alt and mainstream as convincingly as Radiohead/Beck/R.E.M. mega-producer Nigel Godrich. Yet, while he’s built a giant reputation as a behind-the-scenes figure, the guy’s true musical sensibility has always remained somewhat of a mystery. Until now, with the development of Ultraísta: a hypnotic, Afrobeaty, Krautified synth-pop band he can proudly call his own. Think of them as a 21st century equivalent to Garbage: another supergroup of sorts, featuring assertive female vocals, synth contributions from an elusive knob-twiddler for the stars (in their case, Nirvana producer Butch Vig), and deep, layered production that’s constantly busy but never muddy or overstuffed. On Ultraísta’s self-titled debut, Godrich’s angular, heavily syncopated King of Limbs aesthetic remains in full force; we’re just glad to hear him writing the hooks this time around. (Taylor Kaplan)

With Astronauts, etc.

8pm, $18

Independent

628 Divisadero, SF

(415) 771-1421

www.theindependentsf.com

TUESDAY 23

Dan Deacon

If there were anything that could top the hyperkinetic charm of a Dan Deacon album, it would likely be a Dan Deacon show. The Baltimore-based experimental electronic musician treats live performances as joyous, life-affirming events full of enthusiastic crowd participation, all spearheaded by Deacon himself. America, his newest LP, continues to evolve the more nuanced and fleshed out sound he first dabbled with on Bromst in 2009. As a result, this tour’s live shows will include a full backing ensemble to help recreate America‘s frenetic blend of electronic composition and live orchestration. (Moblad)

With Height with Friends, Chester Endersby Gwazda, Alan Resnick

8pm, $16

Great American Music Hall

859 O’Farrell, SF

(415) 885-0750

www.slimspresents.com

SF Stories: John Ross

Andrew Lam

October 16, 2012

46TH ANNIVERSARY SPECIAL Coming out of the underground

On the BART escalator,

The Mission sky

Is washed by Autumn,

The old men and their garbage bags

Are clustered in the battered plaza

We once named for Cesar Augusto Sandino.

Behind me down below

In the throat of the Earth

A rough bracero sings

Of his comings and goings

In a voice as ronco y dulce

As the mountains of Michoacan and Jalisco

For the white zombies

Careening downtown

To the dot coms.

They are trying to kick us

Out of here

Again

They are trying to drain

This neighborhood of color

Of color

Again.

This time we are not moving on.

We are going to stick to this barrio

Like the posters so fiercely pasted

To the walls of La Mision With iron glue

That they will have to take them down

Brick by brick

To make us go away

And even then our ghosts

Will come home

And turn those bricks

Into weapons

And take back our streets

Brick by brick

And song by song

Ronco y dulce

As Jalisco and Michaocan

Managua, Manila, Ramallah Pine Ridge, Vietnam, and Africa.

As my compa QR say

We’re here now motherfuckers

Tell the Klan and the Nazis

And the Real Estate vampires

To catch the next BART out of here

For Hell.

John Ross (1938-2011) was a street poet, shit disturber, author, and for some 20 years, the Bay Guardian’s Mexico City correspondent

‘Fire’ insight: talking with David Wojnarowicz biographer Cynthia Carr

Sue Vaughan

October 2, 2012

‘Fire’ insight: talking with David Wojnarowicz biographer Cynthia Carr

The following interview took place with Cynthia Carr, author of Fire in the Belly: The Life and Times of David Wojnarowicz (Bloomsbury USA, 624 pp., $35), on an early fall afternoon at the old Odessa Restaurant on Avenue A in the Lower East Side, New York City — one of the few places left where you can still pretend you’re in the LES of Wojnarowicz’s day. Carr will be at the San Francisco Art Institute Wed/3 to discuss her book. Read Erick Lyle’s review of the book here.

San Francisco Bay Guardian Your book is the first real biography of David Wojnarowicz. Up until now, the best book on him I thought was that Semiotext(e) book, David Wojnarowicz: A Definitive History of Five or Six Years on the Lower East Side. Your book has a lot of that same feel, the layers and layers of neighborhood detail. But, of course, your book has the advantage of having all of David’s thoughts and perspective on the same events because you have his journals and his correspondence. How were you able to access all of that material?

Cynthia Carr All of his papers are at Fales Library at NYU — all of his journals and the letters he kept. And I did get letters from quite a few other people, like his boyfriend in Paris, Jean-Pierre. At the beginning of the relationship, David wrote to JP at least every other day and later at least once a week.

When I went to Paris I took a scanner with me and back home I printed them out. The stack was like four inches thick! It was filled with information about what he was doing or working on every day. While the journals from those times are mostly about him going to the piers for sex, which he didn’t tell his boyfriend too much about! [Laughs.] The letters, though, are all about where he was living or where he was working, or … really, most of the time, he was looking for work… I was very fortunate to get that.

SFBG How long have you been working on this?

CC Five years. I started in ’07.

SFBG One of the things I think is really great about the book is how you break down the reporter objectivity and place yourself into the narrative. And I think it works because it’s really a story in a way that only you could tell, because it has the rich detail that could only come from an observer who was really here in this place the whole time. What led you to take this on? What was your inspiration to tell the story of David or of the neighborhood through him?

CC Well, David’s last boyfriend, Tom Rauffenbart, actually mentioned to me that he would really like there to be a book about David and that he thought I should be the person to write it. I had written another book and when that came out in 2006, I wasn’t at the [Village] Voice anymore. I was freelancing, which is rough, as you know. And Tom had mentioned this to me, and I thought maybe I should give it a try, writing a book about David.

I wasn’t sure of all the details of David’s life, but I thought it seemed like a compelling life story. Over the years, too, people had questioned “the mythology,” — I mean, people didn’t believe his childhood stories, so I thought maybe there was a mystery there I could figure out. It was a period of time when I had lived in the same neighborhood as David and this would give me a chance to write about the East Village arts scene, the AIDS crisis, and the culture wars of the 80s all in one book, because he was a central player in all of those things.

SFBG In the end of the book, David approaches you and starts to tell you things about his life before he dies. Do you feel like in some way he knew you were a reporter and he was choosing you to do this book?

CC That might be a little too mystical to get credence, but he did open up to me and reach out. He started calling me to come over a lot. He also chose Amy Scholder who will be on stage with me in San Francisco. She was an editor at City Lights and he got to know her and chose her to edit his journals.

SFBG Those last couple years of his life — even though we know how it ends, that part of the book is so full of suspense Because it was amazing to see someone be so driven to do everything they wanted to die before they died and to actually almost do it all! It was really amazing to see how much art he was able to make across so many different media in such a short time.

CC David had tremendous inner strength and very solid will power that got him through all of this stuff. For the last year or really eight or nine months of his life he actually wasn’t really able to work, but he always talked about it. He always wanted to. I describe him as workaholic who had trouble holding a job. He worked constantly.

There was a trip he went on with Tom and their friend, Anita, near the end of his life that I describe in the book. One day, they find David just lying contentedly in a hammock and Tom says, “Look! He’s not working!” Because David was always working. Like, if he was walking with you on the beach, he’d also the whole time be picking up twigs or shells or driftwood that he thought he could use in a piece. It was like that.

SFBG So obviously you were already pretty far along with this when the latest controversy with David’s art happened at the “Hide/Seek” show at the Smithsonian. What were you thinking when that happened?

CC In a way, I liked that it happened because it drew attention to David and a lot of people didn’t know who he was, so I thought it would be helpful for the book. But in another way, it was shocking that he would get back into the news in this absurd way, which was for about 11 seconds of a film that he didn’t even finish that was completely misinterpreted by everybody. I mean, even the art world people who defended David by saying that the film was about AIDS didn’t have it right.

SFBG It was such a weird déjà vu … I first encountered Wojnarowicz as a teen during the era of that culture war controversy. There was his work, the Piss Christ, Karen Finley, Mapplethorpe, of course. That’s when I first heard about a lot of cool art! But I couldn’t believe it was happening all over again. Like, “Are we still HERE?” Not really, I guess, but they are. It’s really incredible.

CC It shows that David still has the power to be a lightning rod.

SFBG Why do you think that is?

CC David was very blunt in both his imagery and his feelings about things. He didn’t pull any punches. He used powerful symbols that are hard to explain as sound bites, so it’s easy for the Right to pick them up and take them out of context.

SFBG Personally, I’ve always felt like David’s writing is more timeless than his art. Some of the art is so linked to the time and place of the AIDS/culture war era that it sometimes seems dated to me, whereas the writing is this beautiful, timeless narrative of the outlaw in America, the outsider. But it was interesting that those artworks from that time and place are still so triggering, so perhaps they are timeless after all.

CC There are certain themes of his that really live on. His work is in major museums, of course.

SFBG You’re doing this panel tomorrow at the Brooklyn Book Festival. What is it? “The Creative City”?

CC Yeah, I think it’s about the 70s and 80s in NYC…

SFBG Here’s the notice: “The Creative City: The 70’s, 80’s, AND BEYOND”! [Laughs] Beyond? That must be like a blank, white space on the map…

CC Right! [Laughs]

SFBG In the past couple years there has been so much nostalgia for the NYC of the 70s and 80s in books and films. It’s coming from all sides. What do you think accounts for all of the interest in this lost time and place?

CC Well, the city has changed so much and the culture has changed so much. I think people look back to the freedom of that era when there was so much more uncolonized space, even in Manhattan, and it was cheaper to live here so people could just come here and try things. There was room to experiment. You didn’t have to make a lot of money immediately. You could just, say, go to a vacant lot between Avenue B and C and put on a performance with a cast of 30 or 40 people and no one would bother you. I saw many things like that then but there’s no way that could happen today. It’s starting to feel like everything has a stricture on it.

Not everybody looks back with longing for those days, of course. And when I look back with longing, I try to remember how dangerous it was then, because it really was very dangerous here. There was more crime, more rats, more garbage…

SFBG The price of freedom!

CC [Laughs] Right! But it starts to look like this golden age of Bohemia because there’s nothing like it now. Everyone’s so spread out. Williamsburg is completely gentrified. There are artists living all over the city from Red Hook, Brooklyn, all the way up to the Bronx. Also, people are starting out in MFA programs and artists are going to graduate school, so it’s a different way of coming up in the art world. David was so uneducated. I was thinking tomorrow on the panel I would read something about the piers. Not just the sex piers but the two art piers where David sometimes painted and took photos. There you had people making this art in this abandoned space with a total freedom and also working with the knowledge that it was not going to last, that it would be destroyed. David loved that part of it.

SFBG That’s one of the most poignant things about the book. David really identified with this idea that the Empire was falling, that the civilization was in ruins. Like the painting he titled, Some Day All of This Will Be Picturesque Ruins. But then it turned out that it was really just his own civilization or community that would soon crumble and disappear. And now a generation later, the inhabitants of this new Lower East Side are walking around on top of this lost civilization that has disappeared without a trace and is buried just under their feet. Could anyone at that time have imagined that the neighborhood would turn into what we have here today?

CC Oh, I think not. It was clear from as early as 1990 that the neighborhood was undergoing changes. The galleries had to leave because the rents were going up. I lived between Avenue A and B and I heard about someone buying an apartment for $250,000 on my block! I couldn’t believe it. But now you have luxury hotels up in the LES and every old parking lot has a high-priced condo on it. But when you’re younger, I guess, you don’t really think about what things will turn into.

SFBG Do you still live in the neighborhood?

CC Yes, I do. I can’t afford to move! I have a rent-stabilized apartment and have been there since the 70s. When I moved in there was only one bodega between Houston and 14th street on Avenue A – that and the Pyramid Club. Before that I lived between Avenues C and D, and people wouldn’t come over to visit me.

SFBG Where do you think your book fits into this flow of books full of nostalgia for that era, then? To me it’s almost a corrective to the nostalgia, since it’s not romantic at all. It shows the struggle and loss that happened from there to here.

CC I don’t know that those other books really went into what happened in the AIDS crisis. The AIDS epidemic is a shadow that was behind the East Village arts scene the entire time right from the beginning and no one knew it. I found news stories about people coming down with Kaposi’s Syndrome as early as the late 1970s. It was starting to spread then and no one knew it. And the people that died from AIDS were the biggest risk takers, the people who were most creative… the people who had the biggest impact on the arts scene. Losing all those people changed the world for the worse.

SFBG So, the building where David lived his last few years and where he died was his late best friend, Peter Hujar’s loft. Am I right that Hujar’s loft is now that multi- screen movie theater on Second Avenue at 12th?

CC Yeah.

SFBG Have you been to see movies there?

CC Oh yeah! It’s really weird! I haven’t seen a movie there in a few years, but I do think about, about David dying right upstairs. I’ve been told that the loft is now an office space. The first time I went to the theater part of the building was for Charles Ludlum’s memorial service. It was still being converted then from an old Yiddish theater into the cinema multiplex. It’s been a couple years, and I can’t remember what I saw there last, but, sure, I’ve gone to see films there.

SFBG Where was David’s room in the building? It’s such a strange layout for a theater.

CC Well, he was up on the Third floor. There are windows shaped like Old West tombstones that face 12th street and that was where his kitchen table was, where he sat and worked. Recently, I was thinking that out of all of us who were there taking care of David in those last months, none of us took a picture of the place. I wish now I could remember what all the piles of stuff were, because David was just such a pack rat. There were piles not just of art projects and supplies, but piles of paper, The NY Post — he liked using the tabloids in his collage pieces…

SFBG That Nan Goldin photo in the book is so great. What is he sitting with here? Like are those giant sperm?

CC Yeah, they are sperm — homemade props from his In the Shadow Of Forward Motion performance. And there is his baby elephant skeleton. And some movie posters he must have brought back from Mexico…

SFBG Well, let’s talk about David and San Francisco. For such a noted queer artist and activist, he seems to have surprisingly limited connection with San Francisco. But he did make it to the city a couple of notable times, right?

CC One of his early goals in life was to go to City Lights Books and he actually took a bus all the way across the USA just to go there.

SFBG Well, he’s not the only one. That’s so great!

CC And when he took this early hitchhiking and rail-riding trip in 1976, he went to SF and stayed there at the YMCA in the Tenderloin for awhile. He liked San Francisco.

SFBG Did he also appear at the SF Arts Institute?

CC I believe he performed In the Shadow Of Forward Motion there. But he also did a reading for Close To The Knives in SF at the bookstore, A Different Light. That was the only reading he did for that book tour. His first idea was to drive across the country and do readings here and there, but he just wasn’t feeling well enough. So he decided he would only do one reading and it would be in San Francisco. That same day, he joined in a march about AIDS awareness in SF.

SFBG What do you think is next for you?

CC It might be time for me to move my work out of the East Village. My first book was a collection of my Village Voice articles and now there’s this book, so maybe I’ve told all of my story here. I got so exhausted with this. I really worked every single day except Christmas Day, working around the clock, and I got really depleted. So I’m recovering from all of that work.

SFBG Well, that work really paid off! This book is very special. Is there anything you want to add to this?

CC Well, one thing I’ve noticed is that reviewers tend not to talk about the love stories in the book. The importance of Peter Hujar and Jean Pierre to David. And Tom Rauffenbart. And maybe it’s natural that people focus on the art and the AIDS crisis. But the love stories are to me really important.

SFBG I got that from the book. His life was so improvised. He never reached a place of safety or security where he had the luxury of saying, “OK, here’s what I’m going to do next.” It was like he was reacting all of the time to whatever came up. He had difficulty trusting in the future or in relationships with other people. I think all of that is common with people who have abuse histories and I think you got that across.

CC Yes, he always reacted to stuff. Like he found an obscene drawing on the street where someone had scrawled “Fuck you, faggot fucker!”. So he used it in a painting and based a whole work around the drawing and called it Fuck You Faggot Fucker! He was always responding. The things that troubled him became the subject of his work. That is what inspired him.

David Wojnarowicz: Cynthia Carr and Amy Scholder in Conversation
Wed/3, 7:30pm, free
Lecture Hall
San Francisco Art Institute
800 Chestnut, SF
www.sfai.edu/event/CynthiaCarr

Downtown development

October 2, 2012

LIT/VISUAL ARTS The term “Mission School” was coined in these pages by Glen Helfand in 2002 to describe a loose-knit group of artists based around the Mission District who were then just beginning to break through into international art world success. These artists — including Barry McGee, Margaret Kilgallen, Chris Johanson, Alicia McCarthy, Rigo 23 and others — made use of found materials and shared an informal aesthetic that was influenced as much by the low rent streets of the city around them as a relaxed, collective Bay Area vibe.

A decade later, it seems safe to say that the Mission School was probably the last major art movement of its kind in this country, and itself the end of an era. For over three decades, significant art and music breakthroughs in this country were linked to specific urban neighborhoods (hip-hop to the South Bronx; Warhol’s Factory to downtown Manhattan, riot grrrl to Olympia, Wash.; grunge to Seattle; Fort Thunder in Providence, RI, etc.) Today, with the rise of the importance of MFA programs as a means to enter the art world, and the lack of locality fostered by the internet, the era of geographic specificity as arts incubator has perhaps passed us for good.

Two new books take us back to those freer, more experimental days at the inception of the SoHo and East Village arts scenes of New York in the 1970s and 80s. 112 Greene Street: The Early Years (1970-1974) (Radius Books, 192 pp., $50) is a brief, but invigorating oral history from the early years of what we now know as SoHo. This just-released catalog to last year’s exhibition at Zwirner Gallery in Chelsea brings to life the sense of discovery and improvisation of the nascent neighborhood scene that centered around the legendary pioneering alternative arts space and its north star, the late Gordon Matta-Clark.

In October 1970, when Jeffrey Lew and Matta-Clark opened 112 Greene Street in the storefront of a “rundown former rag picking factory,” the area south of Houston Street was a wasteland of abandoned former textile factories known as Hell’s Hundred Acres. The space, with its lack of heat, and its raw walls, uneven floors, and poor artificial lighting resembled the city then falling apart all around it. The ruins of the city not only influenced the work; sometimes they literally became work.

Alan Saret remembers walking near Canal Street with Matta-Clark one night when a cornice simply fell off a building right in front of them. Saret found some other cornices on the ground nearby and paid the crew of a passing city garbage truck to haul them back to 112 Greene where they became part of a sculpture piece he called Cornices.

Far from the uptown galleries where Manhattan art world power then was consolidated, 112 Greene’s isolation and state of decay fostered a certain kind of “anything goes” artistic freedom and collaborative spirit. For the first opening at 112 Greene, Matta-Clark jackhammered a hole in the basement floor and filled the area with dirt, where he planted a cherry tree that he kept alive all winter with grow lamps. For a later exhibition, George Trakas wanted to do a two-story sculpture, so he simply cut a hole in the floor so his piece could rise up out of the basement into the main floor. The only rule seemed to be that work had to be created on site and could not be made for sale.

Perhaps predictably, with this last rule, the space could barely keep its doors open. Yet, there is a timeless lesson here for those running arts spaces today: the downfall of 112 Greene came ironically only after it finally achieved financial stability. When Lew landed a big NEA grant in 1973, pure art experimentation and spontaneity gradually gave way to formal scheduling and programming guidelines from the funders in DC, who demanded more and more say in the operation of the space. “The excitement that anything could happen waned as paperwork and schedules were enforced,” remembers Lew. The core group of artists slowly drifted away from 112 Greene, just as the original SoHo, too, was beginning to change all around them into the high-end shopping district it is today.

The SoHo model has become a cynical real estate gentrification strategy, as developers create prefab arts — and shopping — neighborhoods in empty warehouse districts across the country from Miami to Portland, Ore. to Brooklyn. But if, say, Bushwick’s art scene feels less like a real place than the shores of a desert island where hundreds of young artists have been randomly washed up by the storms of the global economy, 112 Greene Street reminds us that the first art neighborhoods were formed organically around genuine community. In 1971, Matta-Clark and artist Carol Goodden started an artist-run collective restaurant in SoHo called Food. By all accounts, Food was not some relational aesthetic stunt; it was a well loved and sincere attempt to provide cheap meals, a gathering place, and jobs to artists in the scene.

112 Greene Street ends before Matta-Clark’s untimely death from pancreatic cancer at age 35 in 1978, and before the artist would famously take the work he developed in the ruins of 112 Greene out into the ruins of the city with a practice he dubbed “Anarchitecture.” He took the city as his canvas, transforming raw space by sawing dramatic cuts in the floors and facades of abandoned buildings in the South Bronx and industrial parts of New Jersey. But the charm and dreamy freedom of the era 112 Greene Street depicts comes through in Matta-Clark’s film, Day’s End. In it, Matta-Clark works calmly with a blowtorch, cutting holes in the steel ceiling of an abandoned city pier on the Hudson River (with no apparent fear of getting caught) as the space slowly fills with radiant light.

A decade later, another artist who would die too young, David Wojnarowicz, would also find a wide-open playground in the rotting piers along the river. Wojnarowicz would spend hours at the piers, writing about what he saw there, having sex with strangers, and drawing murals or writing poetry on the crumbling walls. Wojnarowicz delighted in the ruins and saw the piers as a sign that America’s empire was fading away before his eyes. That today we know it was actually only Wojnarowicz’s world that was about to disappear is just one of the many poignant aspects of Cynthia Carr’s beautiful new book, Fire in the Belly: The Life and Times of David Wojnarowicz (Bloomsbury USA, 624 pp., $35), the first comprehensive biography to date of the artist, writer, and activist who died of AIDS at the age of 39 in 1992.

On the run from an abusive father, Wojnarowicz started sleeping with older men for money while living on the streets in his teens. Drawn to other criminals and outlaws, his first published writings were based on interviews he did with street hustlers, travelers, and homeless people he met in skid row waterfront diners and on hitchhiking trips. In the works of Jean Genet, he found a literary moral universe that helped him make sense of his own worldview. One of his earliest surviving works, a collage entitled St. Genet, depicts the French writer wearing a halo in the foreground while in the background, Jesus is tying off to shoot up. While Wojnarowicz would continue to use such blunt religious imagery in his work, the collage resonates in other ways. Carr reports that it was Kathy Acker who first called Wojnarowicz “a saint” when she appeared with him at his final public reading in 1991. The identification of Wojnarowicz’s life and work with the tragic loss of so many daring, outlaw artists to AIDS is so complete that Wojnarowicz has become a patron saint to young queer and activist artists today, his life story surrounded by an aura of myth.

Carr, a former arts reporter for the Village Voice, carefully picks apart myth from fact: Wojnarowicz didn’t actually start selling his body for money at age nine as he often claimed and he also wasn’t a founding member of ACT UP as many people suppose (though he did participate in some ACT UP protests). Yet, the complex and more human Wojnarowicz that Carr leaves us with is no less inspiring a figure — a self-taught artist whose lifelong struggle to make meaningful art out of his own experience, sexuality, and ultimate diagnosis with an incurable disease would almost by chance place him front and center in the story of the AIDS crisis and the great culture wars of the late 1980s and early ’90s.

Carr, a resident of the East Village now for four decades, became friends with Wojnarowicz late in his life, and she refreshingly breaks journalistic “objectivity” to insert her own eyewitness perspective into the narrative at many key junctures. One senses Fire in the Belly is so good precisely because it is a story only Carr could personally tell. Built on years of observation, Fire in the Belly has the ambitious scope and rich detail of a novel, and, more than a biography, is the story of a fabled East Village scene now irrevocably lost.

Wojnarowicz arrived in a gritty East Village where whole blocks had been abandoned to heroin dealers and bricked up tenements. A nihilistic neighborhood arts scene embraced the decay of the streets as an aesthetic, and galleries like Civilian Warfare Studios presented a giddy cocktail of downtown punk and queer culture mixed with the freshly born graffiti and hip-hop scenes of the South Bronx. Carr relates now-famous events like Gracie Mansion’s “Loo Division” show (mounted in the bathroom of her E. Ninth Street walkup), Keith Haring painting on the snow on the street in front of his show at Fun Gallery, and the exploits of the Wrecking Crew — a team including Wojnarowicz and other artists who would binge on acid and stay awake for days, filling galleries with creepy and crazed collaborative installations.

The artists’ isolation would not protect them from the art world for long. Soon, limos were disgorging passengers at openings on the heroin and rat-filled terra incognita east of First Avenue. East Village stalwarts like Jean-Michel Basquiat and Haring became rich and internationally famous, and even Wojnarowicz became a fairly established up-and-coming art star. The rags-to-riches story of the East Village scene might be the same kind of innocent tale of lost Bohemia as that of 112 Greene, were it not for the AIDS crisis shadowing it the whole time. Carr skillfully juxtaposes the narrative of openings and parties with chronological news reports of the then-unknown new disease. Carr describes a party on Fire Island in July 1981: writer Cookie Mueller read a story from the New York Times out loud to the room about a strange, new “gay cancer”. Photographer Nan Goldin, who was present, remembers today, “We all just kind of laughed.”

Carr’s tale picks up suspense after Wojnarowicz himself is diagnosed with AIDS. Over a breathtaking two-year period, Wojanrowicz embarks on an urgent mission to complete every single art project he’d ever hoped to accomplish in the time left to him in life. In the process he almost reluctantly becomes the fiery AIDS activist we remember today. While working on his career retrospective, he also battles the harassment of his landlord who is determined to evict Wojnarowicz and convert his loft in the gentrifying East Village into a cinema multiplex. He struggles to complete his memoir, even as his work becomes the focus of battles over government funding of art. Soon, Republicans denounce the dying man’s work as obscene and anti-Christian on the floors of Congress, and Wojnarowicz becomes a target of conservative Mississippi preacher Reverand Donald Wildmon’s public attacks. Wojnarowicz absorbed these attacks and the era’s stunning homophobia and turned them into what became the most powerful work of his career, the myth of his own life.

Carr’s book stands along with recent work like Sarah Schulman’s Gentrification of The Mind as a corrective to the uncritical nostalgia for the lost New York City of the 1970s and 80s that seems to have flowed like a river from Patti Smith’s 2009 memoir, Just Kids. These works unromantically detail what has been lost and then lovingly describe exactly how painfully it was all lost. Yet, perhaps all is not lost. While arts neighborhoods like the ones described in 112 Greene Street and Fire in the Belly seem like a thing of the past, the towering myths left behind by figures like Matta-Clark and Wojanrowicz still bring young artists against all odds to the rehabbed neighborhoods of San Francisco and New York today. Everytime Sara Thustra serves a meal at an opening at Adobe Books on 16th Street or Homonomixxx shuts down a Wells Fargo bank, we walk, if just for a short time, the streets of our old familiar city.

David Wojnarowicz: Cynthia Carr and Amy Scholder in Conversation
Wed/3, 7:30pm, free
Lecture Hall
San Francisco Art Institute
800 Chestnut, SF
www.sfai.edu/event/CynthiaCarr

Our Weekly Picks: September 26-October 2

Andrew Lam

September 25, 2012

WEDNESDAY 26

Amanda Palmer and the Grand Theft Orchestra

Massachusetts singer-songwriter Amanda Palmer has had a busy year. Well, actually she’s had a busy career. Palmer is a previous high school thespian, street performer, co-founder of the Dresden Dolls, subject of a coffee table book, half of musical duo Evelyn Evelyn, and a prolific blogger — and she’s just getting started. This year alone she’s written a song and produced a music video in defense of pubic hair, starred in a Flaming Lips video, released a new solo album, and now she’s back on the road. When Palmer decided to fund her second solo album Theater is Evil on Kickstarter earlier this year, few would have guessed over $1 million would pour in, shattering the site’s record with more than 24,000 individual donations. It looks like she won’t be slowing down any time soon. (Haley Zaremba)

With The Simple Pleasure, Jherek Bischoff, Ronald Reagan

8pm, $25

Fillmore

1805 Geary, SF

(415) 346-3000

www.thefillmore.com

Ghost Parade

Over the past six months, San Francisco-based progressive rock band Ghost Parade has steadily revealed its inaugural tracks, including the particularly catchy “Reach,” whose chorus features the group’s tagline: “we are fast and real.” Intense at times and always poetic, Ghost Parade encourages you to get lost in its hard and fast wall of sound while, simultaneously, inviting you into its stories. These musicians are no strangers to Bottom of the Hill, but this time around they’re headlining. Come for the energy, come for the nascent artistic merriment and, if that’s not enough, come for vocalist-guitarist Justin Bonifacio’s hair. It ranks among the best in San Francisco. Hands down. (Mia Sullivan)

With Stomacher, Soonest

9pm, $10

Bottom of the Hill

1233 17th St., SF

(415) 626-4455

www.bottomofthehill.com

Obituary

It may be hard to believe, but pioneering death metal titan Obituary has been grinding out tracks such as “Chopped In Half” and “Turned Inside Out” for more than 25 years now. The Florida based quartet just wrapped up a series of festival shows in Europe, and is now back for its first tour of the US in several years, part of the epic Carnival of Death tour, slaying stages alongside Broken Hope, Decrepit Birth, Jungle Rot, Encrust, and Feast. The band is promising a fan-favorite set, comprised largely of songs off of its first three classic albums, Slowly We Rot, Cause of Death, and The End Complete. (Sean McCourt)

With DJ Rob Metal

6:30pm, $14–$18

DNA Lounge, 375 11th St., SF.

(415) 626-1409

www.dnalounge.com

THURSDAY 27

“Shocktoberfest 13: The Bride of Death”

The Thrillpeddlers have been killing it lately, with endlessly extended runs of Cockettes revivals and a recent hit production of Marat/Sade. Now the company is poised to kill it again — live! Onstage! With gruesome gore! — in its annual “Shocktoberfest” production. This year’s lucky 13th incarnation includes a classic Grand Guignol one-act (Coals of Fire by Fredrick Whitney, which caused a scandal in 1922 Britain); two contemporary world premieres about mad scientists (The Bride of Death by Michael Phillis and The Twisted Pair by Rob Keefe); and Scrumbly Koldewyn’s “musical spectacle” Those Beautiful Ghouls. And if you think you’re safe just sitting in the audience, wait until the uniquely terrifying spook-show finale — if you’re not afraid of the dark, you will be! (Cheryl Eddy)

Through Nov. 17

Opens Thu/27, 8pm; runs Thu-Sat, 8pm, $25-35

Hypnodrome

575 10th St., SF

www.thrillpeddlers.com

FRIDAY 28

“Animate Your Night: Where It’s AT-AT”

As part of the Walt Disney Family Museum’s new “Animate Your Night” series of after-hours events, tonight’s “Where It’s AT-AT” party celebrates the opening of a new exhibit, Between Frames: The Magic Behind Stop Motion Animation, which looks at the innovative ideas and technical wizardry of the art form that has brought life to a host of magical characters and creations. Among the items party-goers will be able to get a first look at is a classic Gumby figure, the armature of the “Robot Chicken” mascot, and a model of the awesome AT-AT Imperial Walker made by Phil Tippett, as seen in The Empire Strikes Back. (McCourt)

7-10pm, $5–$10

Walt Disney Family Museum

104 Montgomery, SF

(415) 345-6800

www.waltdisney.org

Vir

While “on” Vir, I can’t decide if I’d rather take mass quantities of psychedelics and, well, gaze at my shoes, or embark on an epic, intergalactic quest with a few of my closest tribesmen. Luckily, these options aren’t mutually exclusive. This Oakland-based experimental noise pop trio originally hails from New Zealand and cites Kiwi post-punk groups Gordons, Bailter Space, and HDU as chief influences. Characterized by driving, tribal beats, sardonic, echoing lyrics, and ample fuzz pedal, Vir’s music is, at times, like marching through a lush jungle-like space field and, at other times, like My Bloody Valentine. Could it get much better? (Sullivan)

With Here Come the Saviours, Erik Blood

9:30pm, $7

Hemlock

1131 Polk, SF

(415) 923-0923

www.hemlocktavern.com

SATURDAY 29

Balboa Skatepark opening ceremony

Shredding (on a skateboard) and shredding (with a guitar) go together like pizza and hot dogs — which, incidentally, there will be a whole lot of at the Balboa skateboard park opening this week. While skaters grind their newly opened park behind, local thrasher act Haunted By Heroes — a.k.a. the world’s youngest rock band — along with the Nerv, and Big Shadows will perform out front. Plus, the free event includes the aforementioned ultimate snack foods, skateboard accessory giveaways, and the Youth DJ Collective with DJ/MC Ace, of Reality Check TV. Make like the ramp locals of Thrashin’ (1986) and bring your board, check out frenetic live music, munch cheesy pizza, and relive youth, glorious youth. (Emily Savage)

Noon-5pm, free

Balboa Skatepark

San Jose Avenue and Ocean Avenue, SF

Facebook: BalboaSkateparkOpening2012

Vintage Couture Ball

Let’s hear it for the grown and sexy. While the rest of us drink beer and chug from flasks in the bathroom, they drink Manhattans (up) and sip from nicer flasks, out in the open because unlike some, the motion only serves to make their surroundings more G&S. Class it up and join their ranks for this weekend’s openair fashion gala in the Fillmore — the Vintage Couture Ball (once called the Black Couture Ball) brings Chicago step dancing, a vintage car show, burlesque and swing dancing to SF’s jazz district. Most importantly, heed the dress code — everyone’s fancy black gowns and suits should make the evening pop. (Caitlin Donohue)

7pm-1am, $20

Fillmore between Eddy and Geary, SF

(800) 352-4315

www.vintagecoutureball.com

SUNDAY 30

Hot Water Music

It’s been an exciting year for post-hardcore. It marks the release of industry pioneer Hot Water Music’s first album in nearly a decade and the 19th anniversary since the band’s foundation in 1993. In these two decades, the band has broken up and reunited three different times, taking years off to explore side projects and family life. Though it has been touring sporadically since 2008, the Gainseville band’s eighth album Exister truly marks its triumphant return to the rock scene. The first single off the album, “State of Grace,” tackles the issue of the additives that we ingest every day in our over-processed foods. Whether you care about GMOs or not, you’ll want to catch this tour before Hot Water Music disbands again. (Zaremba)

With Dead To Me, Heartsounds

8pm, $21

Slim’s

333 11th St., SF

(415) 255-0333

www.slimspresents.com

Bebel Gilberto

New York City and Rio de Janeiro are a potent combination. As proof, we offer you Bebel Gilberto, daughter of famed bossanova boss João Gilberto and international star in her own right. Bebel’s 2009 release All in One relies less heavily on the electronic bends and flourishes of her past, its mainly acoustic, gentle guitar strums and chimes behind Brazilian coos. In other words, go to this concert to lower your blood pressure, it will smooth you out. In fact, we’d be hard pressed a better soundtrack to your weekend comedown, or swayfest with that new boo you picked up on last night’s dancefloor. (Donohue)

7pm, $35-70

Herbst Theater

401 Van Ness, SF

www.cityboxoffice.com

Maria Minerva

Like a ’90s TRL countdown as envisioned by Peaking Lights, Maria Minerva’s fuzzed-out hypnagogia is the stuff of bygone pop anthems, filtered experimentally and relentlessly through Macbooks, cheap software, and a boatload of filters and effects. Commended by The Wire for her contribution to the blossoming meta-pop movement, the elusive Estonian producer strikes a captivating balance between high art and radio trash, traditional top-40 conventions and anarchic nonconformity. Minerva’s newly released Will Happiness Find Me? might be her most accessibly structured statement yet, but that doesn’t stop her dubby sonic fog from enshrouding everything in its path. Fans of electronic hooliganism everywhere: meet your new pop diva. (Taylor Kaplan)

With Father Finger, Bobby Browser, EpicSauce DJs

8pm, $12

Rickshaw Stop

155 Fell, SF

(415) 861-2011

www.rickshawstop.com

MONDAY 1

Garbage

When it first arrived on the alternative rock scene back in the mid ’90s, Garbage could have been some sort of pre-fabricated hit machine, considering its members consisted of some of the biggest producers of the time — Butch Vig, Steve Marker, and Duke Erikson — with ex-Angelfish singer Shirley Manson joining the fold. As fans know, however, it quickly became evident that they were much more than that, a band that coalesced as one and produced some of the most memorable tunes of the era. After a series of hiatuses, the quartet is back with an excellent new album, Not Your Kind of People, and a welcome return to the live stage. (McCourt)

With Screaming Females

8pm, $38–$48

Warfield

982 Market, SF

(415) 345-0900

www.thewarfieldtheater.com

The Guardian listings deadline is two weeks prior to our Wednesday publication date. To submit an item for consideration, please include the title of the event, a brief description of the event, date and time, venue name, street address (listing cross streets only isn’t sufficient), city, telephone number readers can call for more information, telephone number for media, and admission costs. Send information to Listings, the Guardian, 225 Bush, 17th Flr., SF, CA 94105; or e-mail (paste press release into e-mail body — no attachments, please) to listings@sfbg.com. Digital photos may be submitted in jpeg format; the image must be at least 240 dpi and four inches by six inches in size. We regret we cannot accept listings over the phone.

Music Listings

Andrew Lam

September 25, 2012

Since club life is unpredictable, it’s a good idea to call ahead or check the venue’s website to confirm bookings and hours. Prices are listed when provided to us. Visit www.sfbg.com/venue-guide for venue information. Submit items for the listings at listings@sfbg.com. For further information on how to submit items for the listings, see Picks.

WEDNESDAY 26

ROCK/BLUES/HIP-HOP

Ryan Bingham, La Santa Cecilia Slim’s. 8pm, $26.

Claybourne, Kate Brown 50 Mason Social House. 7pm.

False, Blown to Bits, Lycus Elbo Room. 9pm, $7.

Felsen 50 Mason Social House. 9pm.

Ghost Parade, Stomacher, Soonest Bottom of the Hill. 9pm, $10.

Local H, Ambassadors Brick and Mortar Music Hall. 9pm, $12-$15.

Lonesome Heroes, Mariee Sioux, Jeffrey Manson Cafe Du Nord. 9pm, $10.

Menomena, PVY Bimbo’s. 8pm, $20.

Nathan and Rachel Johnny Foley’s. 9pm, free.

Obituary, Broken Hope, Decrepit Birth, Jungle Rot, Encrust, Feast DNA Lounge. 6:30pm, $18.

Owl City, Matthew Koma Regency Ballroom. 7:30pm, $25.

Amanda Palmer and the Grand Theft Orchestra Fillmore. 8pm, $25.

Papa Bear and the Easy Love, Kelly McFarling, DonCat Great American Music Hall. 8pm, $14-$16.

Steakhouse, Wounded Men, El Cajon Hemlock Tavern. 8:30pm, $6.

Soul Train Revival with Ziek McCarter Boom Boom Room. 8pm, $5.

Todd vs Guido Johnny Foley’s Dueling Pianos. 9:30pm.

JAZZ/NEW MUSIC

Cat’s Corner with Nathan Dias Savanna Jazz. 9pm, $10.

Cosmo AlleyCats Le Colonial, 20 Cosmo Place, SF; www.lecolonialsf.com. 7-10pm.

Dink Dink Dink, Gaucho, Eric Garland’s Jazz Session Amnesia. 7pm, free.

Ricardo Scales Top of the Mark, 999 California, SF; www.topofthemark.com. 6:30pm, $5.

“SF Underground Music Fest” 50 Mason Social House, SF; www.50masonsocialhouse.com. 8pm, $5. With Felsen, MK4, Real Numbers.

Paula West Yoshi’s SF. 8pm, $30.

FOLK/WORLD/COUNTRY

Bebel Gilberto Herbst Theater, 401 Van Ness, SF; www.cityboxoffice.com. 7pm.

DANCE CLUBS

Booty Call Q-Bar, 456 Castro, SF; www.bootycallwednesdays.com. 9pm. Juanita MORE! and Joshua J host this dance party.

Coo-Yah! Som., 2925 16th St, SF; (415) 558-8521. 10pm, free. DJs Daneekah and Green B spin reggae and dancehall with weekly guests.

Full-Step! Tunnel Top. 10pm, free. Hip-hop, reggae, soul, and funk with DJs Kung Fu Chris and Bizzi Wonda.

Hardcore Humpday Happy Hour RKRL, 52 Sixth St, SF; (415) 658-5506. 6pm, $3.

Obey the Kitty: Justin Milla Vessel, 85 Campton Place, SF; www.vesselsf.com. 1pm, $5.

THURSDAY 27

ROCK/BLUES/HIP-HOP

Marina Caviglia 50 Mason Social House. 7pm.

Dreamdate, Parlour Suite, She’s, Ian Fays, DJ Neil Martinson Brick and Mortar Music Hall. 10pm, $7-$10.

Grannies, Jetsinns, Psychology of Genocide Thee Parkside. 9pm, $7-$100. Blixafest/Bloomfest 2012.

Grass Widow, Rabbles, Apogee Sound Club, Future Twin Cell Space, 2050 Bryant, SF; www.sfcriticalmass.org. 7pm, $10-$20. SF Critical Mass 20th Birthday Party Bash.

Hey Champ, Frank and Derol, popscene DJs Rickshaw Stop. 9:30pm, $12-$14.

Hydrophonic: Scochella with Electric Shepherd, Rawdad, Vinyl Intermissions by Children of the Funk Slim’s. 8:30pm, $12.

John Lawton Trio Johnny Foley’s. 9pm, free.

Mark Sexton Band, Illusion of Self, Lemay Boom Boom Room. 8pm, $7.

Meiko Independent. 8pm, $15.

Moggs, Keiki, Goldring/Tompson Hemlock Tavern. 8:30pm, $7.

Panic is Perfect, Oceanography, DJ Blondie K Amnesia. 9pm, $7-$10.

Rare Animals, Ancient Mariner, Year of the Fist Bottom of the Hill. 9pm, $10.

“Stephan Jenkins Birthday Party and Concert: A Benefit for Classical Revolution” Great American Music Hall. 8pm, $20. With Classical Revolution Orchestra.

Rags Tuttle vs Todd Johnny Foley’s Dueling Pianos. 9:30pm.

JAZZ/NEW MUSIC

“Jazz Beyond Genre” Red Poppy Art House. 7pm, $12-$15. With Andrea Wolper, Hafez Modirzadeh, and more.

Stompy Jones Top of the Mark, 999 California, SF; www.topofthemark.com. 7:30pm, $10.

Ned Boyton Trio Bottle Cap, 1707 Powell, SF; www.bottlecapsf.com. 7-10pm.

Paula West Yoshi’s SF. 8pm, $30; 10pm, $20.

FOLK/WORLD/COUNTRY

Twang! Honky Tonk Fiddler’s Green, 1330 Columbus, SF; www.twanghonkytonk.com. 5pm. Live country music, dancing, and giveaways.

DANCE CLUBS

Afrolicious Elbo Room. 9:30pm, $5-$7. With DJ-host Pleasuremaker spinning Afrobeat, Tropicália, electro, samba, and funk

All 80s Thursday Cat Club. 9pm, $6 (free before 9:30pm). The best of 80s mainstream and underground.

Base: Roman Flugel, Galen Vessel, 85 Campton Place, SF; www.vesselsf.com. 10pm, $5-$10.

Dixon, Solar Public Works. 9pm, $15.

Tropicana Madrone Art Bar. 9pm, free. Salsa, cumbia, reggaeton, and more.

FRIDAY 28

ROCK/BLUES/HIP-HOP

Afromassive Boom Boom Room. 8pm, $15.

Father John Misty, Jenny O. Independent. 9pm, $15.

Colleen Green, Plateaus, Courtney and the Crushers, Memories, Pamela Thee Parkside. 9pm, $8.

Hatebreed, Whitechapel, All Shall Perish, Deeznuts Regency Ballroom. 7:30pm, $23.

Institution, Ray Frankly, Cheating Daylight, Wesley Project Slim’s. 7pm, $15.

Kasey Johansing, Bart Davenport, Anna Ash Brick and Mortar Music Hall. 9pm, $9-$12.

Jonah’s onelinedrawing, Iamani, Ben Flanagan, Safiya Martinez, MacClain and Cole Bottom of the Hill. 8:30pm, $10.

Kim Lenz and Her Jaguars, B-Stars, Rocketship Rocketship Verdi Club, 2424 Mariposa Ave., SF; www.verdiclub.net. 8pm, $10.

Pine Box Boys, King City, Trainwreck Riders Elbo Room. 9pm, $10.

Starbaby 50 Mason Social House. 10pm.

This Charming Band, For the Masses Cafe Du Nord. 9pm, $12.

Todd, Rome Balestrieri, Jason Marion Johnny Foley’s Dueling Pianos. 9pm.

Top Secret Band Johnny Foley’s. 9pm, free.

Vir, Here Come the Saviours, Erik Blood Hemlock Tavern. 9:30pm, $7.

Zodiac Death Valley, Finsh Ticket, Dandelion War, Chaw Rickshaw Stop. 8pm, $12.

JAZZ/NEW MUSIC

Audium 1616 Bush, SF; www.audium.org. 8:30pm, $20. Theater of sound-sculptured space.

Black Jazz Orchestra Top of the Mark, 999 California, SF; www.topofthemark.com. 9pm, $10.

“Bunker A/V Sessions Pt. 3” Monarch, 101 Sixth, SF; gafftabunker3.eventbrite.com. 9pm, $10-$20. With Peter Van Hoesen, Derek Plaslaiko.

Terry Disely Bottle Cap, 1707 Powell, SF; www.bottlecapsf.com. 5:30-8:30pm.

Peter White Yoshi’s SF. 8pm, $26; 10pm, $22.

FOLK/WORLD/COUNTRY

Baxtolo Drom Amnesia. 9pm, $7-$10. Live music, gypsy punk, belly dance.

Kato-vento Brazilian Ensemble Community Music Center, 544 Capp, SF; www.kato-vento.com. 8pm, $10-$15.

Taste Fridays 650 Indiana, SF; www.tastefridays.com. 8pm, $18. Salsa and bachata dance lessons, live music.

DANCE CLUBS

Direct to Earth 222 Hyde, SF; www.residentadvisor.net. 10pm, $20. Creator Series event with Truncate.

Joe Lookout, 3600 16th St.,SF; www.lookoutsf.com. 9pm. Eight rotating DJs, shirt-off drink specials.

Deniz Koyu, Ron Reeser Vessel, 85 Campton Place, SF; www.vesselsf.com. 10pm, $10-$30.

Old School JAMZ El Rio. 9pm. Fruit Stand DJs spinning old school funk, hip-hop, and R&B.

Paris to Dakar Little Baobab, 3388 19th St, SF; (415) 643-3558. 10pm, $5. Afro and world music with rotating DJs.

Project Mayhem DNA Lounge. 9pm, $10-$15. With Flinch, Bassex, Liam Shy, Atom One, Harris Pilton.

Public Access 2: Andy Stott, Demdike Stare, Balam Acab, oOoOO Public Works. 10pm, $10-$12.

SATURDAY 29

ROCK/BLUES/HIP-HOP

Back Pages Johnny Foley’s. 9pm, free.

Beat Junkies Mighty. 10pm, $20.

Daniel Bedingfield, DJ Haute Toddy Cafe Du Nord. 9pm, $15.

Erin Brazil and the Brazillionaires, Hang Jones Amnesia. 9pm, $7-$10.

Carlton Melton, Phil Manley Life Coach, White Manna El Rio. 10pm, $8.

Firewater, Damon and the Heathens Independent. 8pm, $15.

Scott Kelley and the Road Home, Mike Scheidt Hemlock Tavern. 9:30pm, $12.

Aimee Mann Fillmore. 9pm, $35.

Melvins Seals Birthday Celebration Great American Music Hall. 9pm, $30. JGB with Melvin Seals, Dave Ellis.

“Polk Street Blues Festival” Polk Street from Jackson to California, SF; www.polkstreetbluesfestival.com. 11am-6pm. With Buckaroo Bonet, Bobbie Webb and Smooth Blues Band, Andre Theirry, SF Rock Project, and more.

“Ripstar Musicfest” Sub-Mission. 8pm, $7-$10. With Oddville, Straight Ups, Chunky Turtlenecks, Elegant Trash, and benefiting the Red Cross.

Rock on Broadway 50 Mason Social House. 8pm.

Rodriguez Bimbo’s. 9pm, $20.

Rustangs Riptide. 9:30pm, free.

SafetySuit, Go Radio, James Leste Bottom of the Hill. 9pm, $15.

Scooter and Lavelle, Ross FM Vessel, 85 Campton Place, SF; www.vesselsf.com. 10pm, $10-$30.

Spotted Botanists Sub-Mission. 4pm, $5.

Todd, Jason Marion, Rome Balestrieri Johnny Foley’s Dueling Pianos. 9pm.

Trainwreck Riders, Saything, Slow Trucks, Ugly Winner, Speak Friend, Quiet Americans Thee Parkside. 2pm, $10.

“UnderCover Presents: Joni Mitchell’s Blue” Brava Theater, 2781 Mission, SF; www.undercoverpresents.com. 7:30pm, $12-$35. With KillBossa, Kelly McFarling, Amy X Neuberg, Seshen, and more.

Welcome Matt Exit Theater, 56 Eddy, SF; Facebook: Song Writer Saturdays. 9:30pm, free.

William Elliot Whitmore, Samantha Crain Slim’s. 9pm, $16.

Yo Mama’s Big Fat Booty Boom Boom Room. 8pm, $15.

Youngblood Hawke, Young Digerati, Young Science, DJ Aaron Axelson Brick and Mortar Music Hall. 9pm, $10.53.

JAZZ/NEW MUSIC

Audium 1616 Bush, SF; www.audium.org. 8:30pm, $20. Theater of sound-sculptured space.

Peter White Yoshi’s SF. 8pm, $30; 10pm, $22.

FOLK/WORLD/COUNTRY

Shook Twins, Country Mourns, Dirt Floor Band SF Live Arts Music Series at Cyperian’s, 2097 Turk, SF; www.noevallleymusicseries.com. 7:30pm, $12.

Craig Ventresco and Meredith Axelrod Atlas Cafe, 3049 20th St, SF; www.atlascafe.net. 4-6pm.

DANCE CLUBS

“A Night of Local House Music from Mother Records” Raven Bar and Lounge, 1151 Folsom, SF; www.ravenbarsf.com. 10pm, free.

Bootie SF: Bootie Hoedown DNA Lounge. 9pm, $10-$15. Bootie DJs spin country-western roadhouse mashups.

Paris to Dakar Little Baobab, 3388 19th St, SF; (415) 643-3558. 10pm, $5. Afro and world music with rotating DJs including Stepwise, Steve, Claude, Santero, and Elembe.

Sweater Funk Elbo Room. 9pm, $10. Four-year anniversary with all members including Mamabear and Shred One.

SUNDAY 30

ROCK/BLUES/HIP-HOP

Album Leaf, Blackbird Blackbird, Drew Andrews Bottom of the Hill. 9pm, $15.

Coyote Grace, Mamuse Great American Music Hall. 8pm, $12-$15.

Rick Estrin and the Nightcats Biscuits and Blues. 7 and 9pm, $20.

Hot Water Music, Dead to Me, Heartsands Slim’s. 8pm, $21.

Inner Ear Brigade, Marco Eneidi’s Shattered, Mutual Aid Project Hemlock Tavern. 8:30pm, $7.

John Lawton Trio Johnny Foley’s. 9pm, free.

Canyon Johnson 50 Mason Social House. 8pm.

Jason Marion vs Nathan Temby Johnny Foley’s Dueling Pianos. 9pm.

Maria Minerva, Father Finger, Bobby Browser, Epicsauce DJs Rickshaw Stop. 8pm, $10-$12.

Mission Bells, Bear Crossing, Torches Cafe Du Nord. 8:30pm, $8.

“Polk Street Blues Festival” Polk Street from Jackson to California, SF; www.polkstreetbluesfestival.com. 11am-6pm. With Ed Earley Band and Jay Bonet, BABS Caravan of All-Stars, James Moseley Band, Juce Garcia Band, and more.

Tomten, Flying Childers Brick and Mortar Music Hall. 9pm, $5-$8.

“UnderCover Presents: Joni Mitchell’s Blue” Brava Theater, 2781 Mission, SF; www.undercoverpresents.com. 6pm, $12-$35.With Beth Custer Ensemble, Kitka, Adam Theis of Jazz Mafia, Bhrathi Palivela and Daniel Fabricant, and more.

“Under the Central Freeway” Public Works. 2-9pm, $15. With Kelley Stoltz, Religious Girls, Sweet Chariot, Will Sprott.

Vows, Blank Tapes, Ash Reiter, Li Xi, Cannons and Clouds, Fpod Bpod, Upstairs Downstairs Thee Parkside. 2pm, $10.

JAZZ/NEW MUSIC

Slippery Slope, Daisy Spot Yoshi’s SF. 7pm, $14.

Snarky Puppy Boom Boom Room. 8pm, $12.

FOLK/WORLD/COUNTRY

Twang Sunday Thee Parkside. 4pm, free. With Jinx Jones and the King Tones.

DANCE CLUBS

Dub Mission Elbo Room. 9pm, $6. Dub, roots, and classic dancehall with DJ Sep, Vinnie Esparza, Lud Dub.

Jock Lookout, 3600 16th St, SF; www.lookoutsf.com. 3pm, $2.

Sunday Soiree Phoenix Hotel, 601 Eddy, SF; sundayphoenix.eventbrite.com. 1-8pm. With DJ Shorkut, Jeremy Sole, Vinroc and King Most.

MONDAY 1

ROCK/BLUES/HIP-HOP

Blood Red Shoes, Happy Fangs, Starskate Rickshaw Stop. 8pm, $10-$12.

Damir Johnny Foley’s. 9pm, free.

Former Babies, Koko Beware Hemlock Tavern. 6pm, $5.

Garbage, Screaming Females Warfield. 8pm, $38-$48.

Grouplove, Alt-J Fillmore. 8pm, $25.

Ariel Pink’s Haunted Graffiti, Dam Funk, Bodyguard Bimbo’s. 8pm, $20.

JC Rockit vs Guido Johnny Foley’s Dueling Pianos. 9:30pm.

JAZZ/NEW MUSIC

Bossa Nova Tunnel Top, 601 Bush, SF; (415) 722-6620. 8-11:30pm, free. Live acoustic Bossa Nova.

DANCE CLUBS

Crazy Mondays Beauty Bar, 2299 Mission, SF; www.thebeautybar.com. 10pm, free. Hip-hop and other stuff.

Death Guild DNA Lounge. 9:30pm, $3-$5. Goth-industrial dance night with Decay, Joe Radio, Melting Girl.

M.O.M. Madrone Art Bar. 6pm, free. DJs Timoteo Gigante, Gordo Cabeza, and Chris Phlek playing all Motown every Monday.

Soul Cafe John Colins Lounge, 138 Minna, SF; www.johncolins.com. 9pm. R&B, Hip-Hop, NeoSoul, Reggae, Dancehall, Reggaeton, Salsa and more with DJ Jerry Ross. Happy hour all night.

Vibes’N’Stuff El Amigo Bar, 3355 Mission, SF; (415) 852-0092. 10pm, free. Conscious jazz and hip-hop from 1960s-early ’90s with DJs Luce Lucy, Vinnie Esparza, and more.

TUESDAY 2

ROCK/BLUES/HIP-HOP

Communist Daughter, Sporting Life Elbo Room. 9pm, $7.

Colin Ludlow and the Folks, General 50 Mason Social House. 8pm.

Ron Pope, Jerad Finck, Anjus Pale Blue Eyes Cafe Du Nord. 7:30pm, $15.

Port-Royal, Dryft, Another Electronic Musician DNA Lounge. 8pm, $12.

Psychedelic Furs, Chevin Bimbo’s. 8pm, $30.

Sidekicks, John Moremen’s Flotation Device Bottom of the Hill. 9pm, $8.

Space Vacation, Ironwitch Hemlock Tavern. 8:30pm, $7.

Stan Erhart Band Johnny Foley’s. 9pm, free.

Rags Tuttle vs Randy Johnny Foley’s Dueling Pianos. 9:30pm.

Patrick Wolf Great American Music Hall. 8pm, $21.

JAZZ/NEW MUSIC

Clarice Assad Yoshi’s SF. 8pm, $22.

Gaucho Bottle Cap, 1707 Powell, SF; www.bottlecapsf.com. 7-10pm.

FOLK/WORLD/COUNTRY

Belle Monroe and Her Brewglass Boys Amnesia. 9pm.

DANCE CLUBS

Eclectic Company Skylark, 9pm, free. DJs Tones and Jaybee spin old school hip hop, bass, dub, glitch, and electro.

Nite Trax: Re-enter Kingdom

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks

September 21, 2012

You can’t talk contemporary American bass music without starting right off at Kingdom, a.k.a. LA’s Ezra Rubin. (He appears here Sat/22 at the Lights Down Low party at Public Works, in a bananas lineup that includes Kim Ann Foxman, Miracles Club, jozif, and MikeQ.)

Two years ago, his bounce-rave masterpiece “Mindreader” and the low-creeping, R&Bleepy That Mystic EP popped the top of critics’ lists and club faves, and injected some mad energy into the scene on these shores. That was followed by last year’s acclaimed Dreama EP, which blueprinted some interesting bass possibilities, swinging from cinematic vogue-warps to post-grime gamer spaciness.

Kingdom also provided a crucial link between London’s fantastic label-club Night Slugs scene, in which he came up in the late ’00s, and the somewhat scattered US bass scene that operated outside the Diploshere. His Fade to Mind touring collective and label, launched with Prince William, became a focal point for underground American fractal-bass musicmakers like Nguzunguzu and Total Freedom who could hype a club through their disparate styles, but didn’t mind getting a little arty about it.

Although Kingdom seems to tour constantly and has appeared here a few times over the last couple years, it’s been a minute since he released any new material. I wanted to catch up with him over email about what he’s got cooking, and his feelings about the current direction of the American bass music scene. Also, who cuts his hair?

SFBG That FadeFM live set you dropped in July hit me as a bit darker than expected. We’re all eagerly awaiting the follow-up to the Dreama EP — are you being drawn in a darker or harder direction, and might your future output reflect that? Can you give us any news about upcoming releases?

KIngdom The new tracks I’m working on are just more extreme! I’ll be releasing two projects through Fade to Mind this fall. My new solo tracks are darker and more minimal than my previous releases, and on the other end, the second project will be more melodic than any of my previous work, and will feature vocals from Fade to Mind’s first official vocalist, Kelela Mizanekristos. Can’t wait for the world to hear our first song together!

SFBG The Night Slugs scene maintains its high level of quality, but its been kicking around for what seems like an Internet eternity — a lot of other bass labels have faded in the meantime. What’s the current environment for the Night Slugs (and your own personal) sound — do you find it’s still considered “underground”? Has a different generation taken to it?

KIngdom I think it’s timeless and will always weave in and out of what resonates with a certain type of music fan. Everyone in the whole Fade to Mind-Night Slugs continuum is producing different types music, music that is true to who they are, so regardless of passing trends the music stays true to itself and its maker.

SFBG How has the experience of being a part of the Fade to Mind collective and label been? It’s been pretty amazing to watch artists like Nguzunguzu and MikeQ gain some fame in the broader hip hop and dance worlds …

Kingdom Part of? I created the label, alongside Prince William, and its the best feeling in the world to see them doing so well. MikeQ and Nguzunguzu are also close friends from before the label existed, so that makes it even more rewarding.

SFBG How do you feel about the “trap” moniker being attached to a lot of trippy bass music these days, including music that’s only peripherally influenced by the original Houston trap scene? I’m finding a lot of Night Slugs joints being tagged with the trap genre label, and wondering if that might help wider audiences grasp what the sound is in the dubstep-EDM pop world of these United States…. which may be a blessing or a curse.

Kingdom Many members of the collective have been listening to southern rap music forever and drawing influence from it. When people try to ride any microgenre it makes us all cringe, especially one so terribly and insultingly named. Girl Unit really pioneered the sound a couple years back, but he gave it his own twist and made sure it was produced impeccably. Most of the stuff being made now has no production value and you can tell by listening that it’s made by former hard electro and dubstep producers.

SFBG I think a big part of your image is your great (and consistent) look — can you give us some drop on any labels or designers you favor? Who cuts your hair?

Kingdom Haha! I mainly support my friends who run their own labels like Cassette Playa, Hood By Air, Telfar, and Gerlan Jeans. Aside from that I just hunt through garbage really. As for my hair, that’s a trade secret, but I by no means invented this hair cut.

SFBG You released your own genius twist on a vogue ha track with “Stalker Ha” — and I’m sure you’ve witnessed the rise of vogue beats to the fore of cutting-edge bass music. Can you tell me a bit about the genesis of that track, and how much influence vogue beats have had over you productions?

Kingdom I wanted to make a scary and cinematic “Ha” beat. The original bootleg demo I made had Missy’s rap verse from Monica’s song “Knock Knock” which is about a dude bugging her and trying to come up to her house begging her to take him back, so it fit with the stalker vibe of the song. For the final version I stripped out the rap. Vogue beats have been an influence on my music forever, it’s crazy raw energetic music, but also off-kilter and jagged in its own way.

SFBG The last time I saw you was in October 2010, you were playing Mustache Mondays in LA. And I was kind of blown away at how great the combination of a mostly gay freak crowd and your beats was. Do you find yourself playing many queer-oriented parties outside of NYC or LA? If so, how has the reaction been?

Kingdom I haven’t been booked at many queer events recently, mostly straight clubs, and mixed events, too. I find I get a good reaction from both scenes!

SFBG Who are you listening to a lot right now?

Kingdom R&B is always on my playlist, loving the resurgence of a lot of my favorites. Brandy has new material out right now, Missy just dropped two new singles with Timbaland, Ciara’s new song “Sorry” is an anthem, and the new Jeremih mixtape is crazy. Also listening to Beek and Divoli Severe from MikeQ’s Qweenbeat label a lot, as well as the masters we just got back for the next Fade to Mind release, which consists of five new compositions by Fatima Al Qadiri.

Alerts

Andrew Lam

September 11, 2012

Thursday 13

Coalition on Homelessness 25 years SomArts Cultural Center, 934 Brannan, SF; www.cohsf.org. 5:30pm, $25-75. The Coalition on Homelessness has been working for the rights on the homeless for 25 years, always with a focus on people defining for themselves what their needs are and how to meet them. San Francisco has the Coalition on Homelessness to thank for more than a thousand supportive housing units, an expanded substance abuse treatment system, rental subsidy programs for poor families to access housing, and so much more. Show them some love back at their anniversary celebration., an art auction and benefit for the organization.

Friday 14

Human be-in Kezar Gardens, 780 Frederick, SF; www.humanbein.org. 3pm, free. Beginning Friday and spanning three days leading up the anniversary of Occupy on Sept. 17, this festival in Golden Gate Park celebrates coming together in pubic spaces and the commons. Musical performances are booked all weekend, a film festival will be screened in the evening, and workshops and skill-shares ranging from rainwater harvesting basics to bread baking to living without conventional currency fill the weekend, as well as yoga and meditation. But don’t just come to check out what the organizers and participants offer. As they put it, “you are invited to teach a workshop, facilitate a discussion, share a skill, play music, make art, cook a meal, or simply be.” They did it in 1967 — come create the modern Human Be-in this weekend.

Saturday 15

Odd couples Modern Times. Author Anna Muraco’s has done loads of interviews with “odd couples” — friends who don’t fit the norms of what genders go with which platonic and romantic relationships. “Odd Couples” examines friendships between gay men and straight women, and also between lesbians and straight men, and shows how these “intersectional” friendships serve as a barometer for shifting social norms, particularly regarding gender and sexual orientation,” say event organizers. So come here Muraco speak and examine the relationships and norms in your life.

Monday 17

Fight foreclosure Spear Tower, 1 Market Plaza, SF; www.occupybernal.org. 3pm, free. Occupy Bernal, Occupy Noe, and foreclosure fighters will rally at the offices of Peter Briger, board co-chair at Fortress Investment Group. These anti-foreclosure occupiers have zeroed in on Briger for involvement buying up distressed mortgage bond debt and selling it to turn a profit, a process Briger calls “Financial Services Garbage Collection.” As people resisting foreclosure with these Occupy groups put it, “we’re not garbage!”

Occuanniversary 555 California, SF; www.occupyactionsf.org. 5pm, free. One year ago, “Occupy the Financial District San Francisco” met at this spot, the massive Bank of America San Francisco headquarters and Goldman Sachs offices. The meeting was called in solidarity with Occupy Wall Street, and the first San Francisco occupiers began camping out at 555 that night. Celebrate a year of resisting the 1 Percent and taking back power with a debt burning. Organizers ask that participants bring copies of debt papers to burn symbolically, and pots and pans for a loud casserole march. There will also be music and guerrilla movie screenings.

Community Not Commodity 18th and Castro, SF; www.bayoccupride.com. 2pm, free. Community Not Commodity came together to protest commercialization and corporate greed at Gay Pride this year. Join the group today to celebrate the one-year anniversary of Occupy Wall Street. Protesters will march on the banks, hold a sit-in at Harvey Milk Plaza to protest the sit-lie ordinance that forbids San Franciscans from sitting or lying on sidewalks during the daylight hours, then meet up with other occupy anniversary events at 555 California at 5pm.

Tuesday 18

Connie Rice book reading Prevention Institute, 221 Oak, Oakl; preventioninstitute.org. 4:30-6:30 p.m., free. Civil rights attorney Connie Rice worked to reform the Los Angeles Police Department, filing case after case in an attempt to end police brutality against LA’s communities of color. She’s also Condoleezza Rice’s cousin. She will speak and read from her book, Power Concedes Nothing: One Woman’s Quest for Social Justice in America, from the Courtroom to the Kill Zones.

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