
Bay Guardian Archives
SCENE: Nightlife During Wartime
Last Wednesday we unleashed the first issue of our new quarterly glossy supplement SCENE: The Guardian Guide to Nightlife and Glamour to thunderous approval and only a few (disappointing) howls of protest. I want more protest dammit! Where’s freakin’ Fox News when you want ’em! My nails are too long to dial the right-wing media up. Lord, I need a special dialing wand .
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With fashion and photography contributed by House of Herrera and art direction by Mirissa Neff, SCENE took on Nightlife During Wartime. Go ahead and read my intro essay Emergence exits: Getting crazy in a time of crisis — if you dare.
More pics and articles after the jump!
Where are the protesters?
By Tim Redmond
That’s the question ABC news is asking It’s always annoying when this sort of stuff comes from the mainstream media, which always tend to downplay the size of protests. (Note that the Chronicle ran a big story about pro-war demonstrators on Saturday).
But it’s absolutely true that there were fewer people on the streets this weekend than we saw four years ago, and that the crowd was mostly controlled and orderly. Even the die-in was fairly orderly, and the arrests went without incident.
I know there’s a lot of protest burnout going on, and people don’t feel like the White House cares. Which is absolutely true. But there’s also been a shift here: The battle has moved to Congress, and activists are putting pressure on everyone from Nancy Pelosi and the Democratic leadership to the likes of Ellen Tauscher in the East Bay, who is almost certainly going to face a primary challenge over the war.
Remember: We have won the debate. Almost everyone agrees now that the war was a bad idea and has to end. Don’t get discouraged; keep up the pressure.
NOISE: How very SXSW – Federation, Saafir, Jandek, Silver Daggers, “Monotract,” and more
Shame you gotta to go-go-go to Austin to see Bay hip-hop talents like the Federation, Saafir, the Pack, Kirby Dominant, and Rico Pabon. They more than made up for it with a Friday, March 16, showcase at Blender Bar Patio.

Federation get up for Saafir, holding it up (and down) stage left in the audience. All photos by Kimberly Chun.
The rarely seen, good-natured Saafir was great, spitting “Crispy” and “Cash Me Out,” as the Federation cheered from the sidelines.

Saafir makes The Transition live.
After the Pack – who were said to have performed atop booker Todd P’s car at his series of Mrs. B’s house parties earlier that week – Federation got it up for the crazed crowd, bringing out the Pack for the last few songs. More dancing was sighted in the Patio tent than, well, maybe ever…

Federation stun ’em.
The next night, March 17, the Load Records showcase at Room 710 brought out all-ages noise-skronk fave Silver Daggers, who invited the entire audience up on stage at the end. Thurston Moore was in the haus, helpfully finding a wallet on the floor.

The crowd blew it up with Silver Daggers.
Next up, the broken-up NY band “Monotract” got up on stage – and lo, it was Moore with his Ecstatic Peace noise lineup including Monotract’s Nancy Garcia on guitar, Burning Star Core’s C. Spencer Yeh on violin and vocals, and Magik Marker’s Pete Nolan on drums. Nice, nice noise.

Thurston Moore works it out with “Monotract” once more.
On a completely different rock tip, I caught ex-Guardian staffer and Budget Rock organizer Chris Owen’s Hook or Crook showcase. By all accounts, Hank IV ruled; the Golden Boys followed with tuneful garage.
Golden Boys horn in.
Burning Star Core also showed at Holy Mountain’s show at Spiro’s, March 16, alongside Blues Control, Lesbian, Wooden Shjips, and Psychic Paramount. Tokyo psych duo Suishou no Fune built slowly, burned softly.
Burning Star Core on a slow burn.

Suishou no Fune fuming.
SF’s Wooden Shjips drew the biggest crowd that night – thought they sounded great, like souped-up Velvets. The frontperson for Psychedelic Horseshit cheered up front.
Wooden Shjips bend light eerily.
One of the fest’s highlights, however, had to be Jandek’s extremely rare performance, backed by what looked like Oaklander and former Houstonite Tom Carter, at the Central Presbyterian Church. Vulnerable lyrics coursed through thoughtful noise improv – ending with the sole standing O that I witnessed this year.

Is that Jandek or is that a preacher man straight outta Flannery O’Connor that I spy?

NOISE: Doing the SXSW Red-Eye
Contributor Kate Izquierdo sent in her latest dispatch on SXSW, the final days:

Shitdisco is the shit.
Every year, you swear to yourself that you will find alternate routes to maneuver the Sixth Street on St. Patrick’s day, and every year you forget or get too loaded and find yourself backstroking through a sea of jello-shot hoovering, stiletto-tottering, verdantly outfitted U of T students looking to whoop it up. They’re a surreal injection into the conference populace, who are now starting to show the effects of four solid days of drinking, schmoozing, rocking, and ricocheting from venue to venue. Our forearms are purple from wrist to elbow with stamps, the plastic day party wristbands are cutting off our circulation, we’re sunburnt, and, oh, yeah, maneuvering on about four hours of sleep. We’re all ratcheting up to that level of cranky that can only be healed with a two-day nap or a lot of valium.
Don’t get me wrong – the day (Saturday, March 17) was a good one, albeit one that started an ungodly hour. We kicked off at 9:30 a.m. with the Allen Oldies Band over at the Continental for an early morning dose of dance party and jalapeno pancakes, all hosted by club owner Mojo Nixon. Dancing to 96 Tears on no sleep is the cheapest hallucinogen on the market, I guarantee it. Being served chili-spiked pancakes by women in French maid costumes did little to normalize the event, either. Spontaneous chants of “Nine thirty! Nine thirty!” kept erupting, as if people needed convincing it was Saturday morning. For the record, it was still Friday to me.
NOISE: Partay, dude, at SXSW
Ah SXSW, the land of a thousand dances, afterparties, and beery day bashes. You gotta have a good time, even if the bands don’t start on time and the barbecue is far from free. David Cross and company staged a series of Mess with Texas shows as well as a midnight scavenger hunt March 16 – hosted by Andrew WK (sample quote from his power-of-positive-thinking speech, “We have the power to decide how it feels to be us.” Thrill Jockey publicist Jamie Proctor also reported, “Some people might not expect to be philosophically captivated by a man also known for his ability to kick himself in the face on stage, but I think someone should give him a book deal.”).
The great late Arthur mag, along with Lionsgate, threw a soiree over at the French Legation Museum. Good bands, including Bat for Lashes, an all-female Brit ensemble complete with bells, two violins, very Kate Bush-like, Bjork-enstein vocals, and plenty of headbands for all. A harrowing song titled “Sarah” and a moving cover of Bruce Springsteen’s “I’m on Fire” put them completely over with me.
Batty for Bat for Lashes.
Also up at the Arthur/Lionsgate party – Entrance who showed off a new video, started, stopped, and then unfurled the acid jams.
Entrance-a-go-go.
NOISE: South, West, and all sorts of points at SXSW
Oh me, oh my, what to do every day at SXSW – the competing pull of day parties and unofficial showcases and the panels and speakers during the day – and then the night parties and official showcases at night – has me torn like a paper bag full of giveaway matches, condoms, beer bottle openers, and random acts of swag. And outfits and tats and hair. “There’s a lot of hair going on,” said one girly wag in the elevator at my downtown digs. “And lots of interesting facial hair. We’re going shopping.” Inspirational! Oh, yes, and music, music, music.
Oxford Collapse work those stripes. All photos by Kimberly Chun.
Here’s a rundown of a few recent soirees: Brooklyn’s Oxford Collapse busted it up at the Sub Pop showcase early on on Wednesday night. Furious mod aerobics by the bassist. Earlier Seattle’s Tiny Vipers kept it sweet and low. BTW it was impossible to badge your way into the Beggars Banquet and 4AD showcases in the neighborin Emo’s properties – where Calla, Voxtrot, Beirut, Mountain Goats, and Blonde Redhead were rocking. Queue you…
About time.
So with that in mind, I lollygagged over to Beauty Bar where Best Fwends, Holy Fuck, and Crystal Castles were setting it off in the sparkly interior, and the Comas, Langhorne Slim, Jack, Illinois, and Annuals were busting moves in the patio. Amsterdam’s About were pretty durn electro-popping – throwing some bodily force into their boy-girl performance.
Oh. Oh. It’s Oh No! Oh My!
Down the street on Sixth the Dim Mak party was swinging, sweatily, in the confines of Flamingo Cantina. Oh No! Oh My! impressed with proggish indie stylings before Pony Up, Scanners, Willowz, and Har Mar Superstar stepped up.
Pandas on parade.
Australia seemed to be throwing mucho dinero at their homegrown music scene so showcases straight from Oz seemed to be everywhere – or maybe they just had mondo-efficient flierers. One of their number, Panda Band from Perth – what no Koala Band? – started promisingly enough with energetic rock that took intriguing melodic turns.
Slaraffenand – say it 20 times fast.
Jet lag was starting to overtake one’s curiosity around the time Copenhagen, Denmark’s Slaraffenland came on at Mohawk at the Hometapes show. Interesting group – we all edged closer when the sax and trombone and effects pedals came out. I hereby dub the trombone the most ubiquitous unexpected instrument at this year’s SXSW.
Outside on the Mohawk patio, a Steve Earle-like Rob Crow was ripping – sounding like he was channeling Geddy Lee of Rush and playing some delicate, at times moving music. Think he dedicated a song to Corey of the Bay Area label, Absolutely Kosher. Has everyone acknowleged that Mr. Goblin Cock is something of a genius yet?
Crow don’t blow.
More blogging to come – last night I kicked myself down Sixth for missing the afterhours Playboy party out in the boondocks, which word has it was surreal and chock-full of bunnies – hey, cabs were impossible to nab at 3 a.m. Is music sexy again? There did seem a preponderance of bottle blondes at this year’s SXSW.
Tonight, Friday, March 16, I’m looking forward to hyphy at the Beauty Bar with Federation, the Pack, and Saafir – if I can get in – and the Holy Mountain and Ecstatic Peace showcases as well as a Vice afterhours party. Scrape me off the floor when you’re ready to go-go.
“Hazy Memories” is lame-ass
By Sarah Phelan
Pardon my French, but the hazy memories excuse that White House spokesperson Tony snow trotted out today is one of the most lame-ass explanations that the Bush administration has trotted out to date.
Ask yourself this: if you were running this country, would you expect anyone to believe that you could not remember who came up with the radical notion to fire ALL 93 federal prosecutors?
Course not.
And if they really can’t remember, they should not be running a country, least of all the United States. Look what happened the last time they couldn’t “remember” who leaked Valerie Plame‘s name.
The dreaded school letters
By Tim Redmond
The letters go out today assigning kids to SF public schools, and often there is wailing and gnashing of teeth when parents don’t get their very first choice. I agree, the system isn’t perfect, but my advice, as someone who went through it and though he’d been utterly screwed, is: relax. There are a lot of good schools in SF; you don’t have to be in Rooftop or Clarendon.
We visited all the supposedly top schools, applied for seven of them, and got none of our choices. Then on the second round, we discovered McKinley — and we couldn’t be happier.
So don’t freak if you don’t get Clarendon. I complain about the administration all the time (well, not so much now that Arlene Ackerman is gone), but the truth is, the district has come a long way, is improving, and there are lots of great places to send your kid.
So don’t panic.
NOISE: Mo’ SXSW, mo’ Mekons, kissy Black Lips, smoky Ghostland Observatory
Contributor Kate Izquierdo blogs on at SXSW; here’s her latest report:
By Thursday, the rainstorms had gone, the sun was blazin’, and the Black Lips have lost their bass player. In Mexico. No matter, as they bring a good facscimile of their Sandinista flavor replete with a boy-on-boy guitarist make-out session. How can you suck face with a big ass gold grill? Very carefully.
Dusk led us to Jon Langford and Sally Timms “recalling the Mekons,” which loosely translated meant playing a few Mekons songs and commenting on how being in a seminal punk band didn’t exactly put them on the map. Introducing a cover, Langford commented that it was not a Mekons song, “like most of the songs in the world aren’t. And not on the radio. Like all the Mekons songs.”
NOISE: From stone-thrower to powerbroker – Gilberto Gil
Whoa, you really had to catch your breath and race to the Austin Convention Center to catch the major stories, speakerwise, at SXSW. Gilberto Gil took the stage Wednesday midafternoon to talk about tropicalia, new technology, and hip-hop initiatives Brazil has undertaken since he’s become the country’s Minister of Culture.
With a laptop firmly placed in his lap, the disarming Gil gamely tackled words thrown at him like “expediency” (“one of those Latin words,” he mused) and discussed the cultural points program, which provides resources to hip-hop artists in Brazil, and his first encounter with the form in the US. “Someone gave me a Last Poets tape, and I said, what is that? It isn’t music but it’s music,” he said.
NOISE: Going to Townshend at SXSW
Loved seeing Pete Townshend speak to a near-capacity crowd at the Hilton ballroom early on during SXSW. The guy still has his brain cells intact.
Here are a few excepts from his talk:
“What’s to stop us from having a festival at some point, having lets say at SXSW next year, an absolutely international web related moment that looks in all the things that happen, but allows the people out there that can’t get here to be here. Isn’t the internet somethign of an offer in that direction, we don’t all of us have to burn gas to be together. I think the human race muylktiples, music is about congregating, sharing, and knwoing who youre not like, as well as who you’re like. I need to know what class I’m in, the musical class. In hotel I’m stayinbg at, someone is sharing their librqary over the iTunes network, and it’s called Eat My Shit, Bitch. Right in the middle of it are two Cocteau Twins songs, Chrsitmas songs. I said I know I’m not in that class. it’s a nice class, I enjouyed going through it and discovering. but the gathering is meditation. you lose yourself when you listen to good music. musicians call it zen. you think tis going to be two hour gig and then its over. its a timeless zone and hopefully it can be that way for the audienc too.
even tho al gore has taken credit for it, you did invent the internet. with lifehouse,. but that notion of that kind fo scientific, magical communication that would bring the audience together was there.
i hadnt read this book, apapprently arhutr c clark described hwat i described, a grid whreeepole gatehred for survival, a grid, it was like real reality tv. a bit like a video game, writ large. but the otherside of it was the idea that was bang if everybodys connected, what woudl they shgare. what would they share muscially, and how would they produce the music that theyd share. and i came up wit this idea of the lifehouse method., a ssystem where you go to a computerf nad put a
NOISE: If it was Thursday, it must have been SXSW…
Contributor Kate Izquierdo logs on from SXSW:
I’m running way behind shchedule today – nursing the first jack ‘n’ coke of the day, and watching Dirty on Purpose from Brooklyn. It’s a wide-open, delay-drenched moodrock, a mercifully good start to Thursday afternoon.

A little C&B, anyone?
We got in last night amidst horror stories of flashflood warnings and t-storms. Of our intended hitlist, we nabbed moments with the Pipettes, Matt and Kim, Illinois, Hank IV, and Cyann and Ben.
You need Cyann and Ben: you need them now. A French quartet on their inagaural tour of the states, they brought grey crashing waves of early Merc Rev, brittle piano and spare, lush vocals. A perfect crackling lullaby for that ride into hangover land. Over ‘n’ out fer now.
NOISE: SXSW beckons, grins widely, then swallows…
I know what you’re thinking. “Oh, poor you – poor you, having to hear so much music, drink so much beer, inhale so much barbecue, and party so hard with all those rock stars, random actors, and piles o’ Texans.” You can wipe that little sneer off your mug – it’s unbecoming, and I see marionette lines in your faded future. Anyhoo, South By Southwest it was. Expect fresh dispatches daily, when I can slog back to a computer, from yours truly and contributor Kate Izquierdo. Pray for us.
Who were the strange, frisky, equine-masked dudes making loud, frisky punk with a theremin, fer chrissakes? Rubber Robot, I’m told. All photos by Kimberly Chun.
Wednesday, March 14, I finally landed after missing my plane – again! – and hopping on a jet packed with bizzy types hailing each other in the aisles with, “John Schmoe! John Schmoe! Now I know it’s going to be a good South By, seeing you.” It’s a big ole honking reunion partah down south for the music industry. But it’s a working – and listening – excursion for me. So don’t get me too Texas-toasted.
A small sampling of the fliers, mags, and literature around the Austin Convention Center during SXSW. I wouldn’t want to be handed a duster.
Early on I was looking forward to listening to talks by keynote speaker Pete Townshend, tropicalia pioneer and politico Gilberto Gil, and renewed Stooge Iggy Pop at the actual conference (Remember that? Sometimes it’s tough with all the parties, brisket tacos, and 40s in the haus). I wanted to check out panels on the relevancy of music labels, selling music online, and the greening of the industry. I had goals, yes, goals however humble to see and hear, to name just a few, the Fratellis, the Good, the Bad and the Queen, Charlie Louvin, Ghostface Killah, Jay Reatard at the Goner showcase, Thurston Moore’s new project at the Ecstatic Peace hoedown, Cyann and Ben, Peter Bjorn and John, Fujiya and Miyagi, and all those other bands of two names that actually include more than two members. Clever! Misleading! Pass the corned bread and shrimp tacos.
Honestly, despite that a cursory look at the overall fest bill left me slightly underwhelmed – no Whitehouse reunion this year – and other vets concurred. “Everytime you see a ‘special guest’ slot,” said one, pointing to the SXSW showcase sched, “just think, ‘Peter Townshend.'”
Maybe we’re just jaded. Maybe we suck. Yet, ever the optimist, I say our cynical, overcooked state makes us ripe for having our minds blown. Blow me down, babies.
So to get things started, check out the typically Mardi Gras-with-live-music scene down Sixth Street, the entertainment hub, on Wednesday night.
Pizza scarfing, street walking, and loud, loud music thundering down Sixth Street on a subdued SXSW Wednesday night in Austin, Texas.
Calling all nudes: Flesh on Bark moment
By Sarah Phelan
Nothing draws attention to the beauty of an oak tree better than a bunch of nudes draped across its naked branches, their soft curves pressed into the tree’s whorly bark. And trees are, to quote famed nature photographer Jack Gescheidt, “a beautiful miracle that provides shade but that we take for granted.”
Famous for his portraits of nudes
on and among trees, Gescheidt has decided to step into the midst of the debacle surrounding the threatened Memorial Oak Grove at UC Berkeley by taking a photograph using a bunch of nude volunteer models. And by bunch, he means hundreds and hundreds of people.
“I can accommodate 400 to 500 people,” says Gescheidt, noting that this is the first time he’s had advance press for a nude photo, but this time it’s inevitable since this in an existing situation full of tree sitters, university officials, athletes and of course, the trees.
“The trees will help remind me to stay grounded, that there is no rush, and that this is an opportunity for meditation,” says Gescheidt. “I’m a simple guy, but the reason I’m getting involved is that it’s clear there is an alternative to cutting the trees down.”
Save the Oaks organizer Doug Buckwald says people are staying in the trees, even though there is a temporary injunction against removing the trees, “because UC Berkeley has announced that it still plans to cut down the trees and build a stadium.”
“They must have sat in a room and said, what’s the one thing we could do to anger everyone in Berkeley,” says Buckwald of the decision to cut down this grove of 38 mature coast live oaks, which is home to countless squirrels, birds and insects, and frequented by a “wonderfully playful pair of red foxes.”
As for UC Berkeley 3 for I promise to plant three trees for every one axed, Buckwald is unimpressed.
There is no comparison between young sapling s with about 100 leaves and mature trees with 10,000 to 100,000 leaves,” he says. ‘What matters is biomess, which creates more niches and more space for organisms. If you cut down a wonderful old tree, there’s no way you can replace that by planting 3 saplings, or even 10 for that matter, since they take 80-200 years to grow.”
To take part in Gesheidt’s naked photo, meet at the Memorial Oak Grove at 8:30 am.
For instructions to the Grove
go to www. savetheoaks.com and click on the “Find the Grove” button.
Damn Those Dams
by Sarah Phelan
In case you missed it, March 14 was International Day of Action for Rivers, those beautiful silvery slivers of water that feed salmon fingerlings into the world wide mobius of oceans, then draw the adult salmon back to the headwaters where they were spawned, like pods beamed back up to the mother ship.
Only in the case of salmon, who jump six feet on average, returning is impossible if there’s a big fat dam in their way.
Such is the case on the Klamath River in Oregon. Once the third most productive salmon fishery in America, the river is encumbered by four power dams, which were built 80 years ago, average 84 ft in height and stand between the threatened salmon and over 350 miles of historic spawning grounds.
Extra Virgin Spring
40-Year-Old Virgin:
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55-Year-Old Money-Guru Lesbian Virgin:
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SFist takes prize for longest -ist thread EVAH
By Sarah Phelan
You gotta give it up to snarky SFist for snagging the longest comment thread on any -ist site around the world (take that, London, Paris, Rome!).
This achievement occurred as part of the ongoing eruptions around the comments that Mayor Gavin Newsom’s girlfriend, Jennifer Siebel, made after she labeled Ruby Rippey Tourk as “the culprit” in the Chronicle. (Last time, we checked, the comments were up to 429 and people were still posting.)
You also gotta give it up to Jennifer Siebel for opening the gates on what was clearly a repressed longing in this city to find out and vent about a) WTF happened between the Mayor and Ruby, b)why and c) on whose dime.
All with JS starring as a pleasant-to-look-at, bee-saving punch bag who is pitted against Gavin’s former flame, Ruby, thereby creating a cyber cat fight, in which the Mayor comes out looking like a royal jerk.So, as the mayor winds up his trip in NYC, you can imagine how cranky his PR machine is sounding:
“Best to say nothing, Gav.”
“But if I don’t, people will think that what Jen said is what I said.”
“Well, wasn’t it?”
“And that makes me look blamey and pathetic.”
“Er…”
“And If I say nothing it looks as if I’m hanging Jen out to dry.”
“Er…”
“So what am I gonna say?”
See the problem? Especially if the mayor is gonna stay true to his promise to be honest and sober etc.
Maybe the Mayor and JS should model “SFist is the Culprit” T-shirts. As should all you folks who spent the last few days posting/reading at SFist instead of spinning your hamster wheels at work. (What, moi?)
A scary school poll
By Tim Redmond
Kim Knox at leftinsf has posted the minutes of the Community Advisory Committee looking for a new SF school superintendent. Mostly pretty predictable stuff — except for a poll commissioned by a business group that has some really scary results:
To the question, is SF Unified School District going in the right direction or the wrong track:
Right Direction-22%
Wrong Track-54%
To the question, how would you rate the quality of the education provided by SFUSD:
Good to Excellent-28%
Not So Good to Poor-54%
To the question, how well do you think SFUSD manage its funds:
Excellent 20%
Not So Good to Poor 53%
One leftinsf commenter, Nakayama, concluded:
What ignorance. Anybody keeping a close eye on our public schools in SF –whether parent, student or administrator–can readily see that the schools are much better now than they were five or 10 years ago.
Why the misconception?
Because very few San Franciscans have children, and they have no idea what is happening in our schools.
I agree with the first part — I have a kid in the public schools, I’m really happy about his school (McKinley) and I think the public schools have improved dramatically in the past few years. But I don’t think the misconception is entirely due to the fact that most people in SF don’t have kids.
Let’s remember: Of the two superintendents who have been in charge since the 1990s, one ran an administration riddled with corruption; the other, while a talented educator, was arrogant, vindictive and disdainful of the community. That sort of thing doesn’t help with the perception of the district.
The second problem is that the district has spent a lot of money on a public-relations office whose chief job in the past has been to protect and promote the superintendent — so not a lot of effort has gone into promoting the schools in general. That’s changing now, under Acting Superintendent Gwen Chan, who seems to be doing a great job so far — and with a little effort, SFUSD could (and should) organize a major advertising and public-relations campaign to promote the quality and importance of public education in the city. That would help a lot.
Because those numbers really suck. And we all have to work to change them.
Big new pianist
I know this should technically go in the Noise blog, but I didn’t want it to get lost in our upcoming blizzard of SXSW coverage, so here goes …. I LOVE YUNDI LI!
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Last night at Davies Hall, the SF Symphony accompanied this teen sensation in Franz Liszt’s Piano Concerto #1, and it was a storm of fiery pyrotechnics — fingers flew, strings broke, spirits soared, and everything sounded so beautifully complicated and romantic that, at the finale, the audience sprang to its feet and cheered (if you haven’t noticed, standing ovations in this town are very few and far between — too showy, maybe?)
Associate conductor James Gaffigan cut an archetypal “wild romantic conductor with wild romantic hair” figure (guess MTT was in Miami for the Winter Music Conference, heh), driving the symphony to ecstatic heights.


