We loves us some Michael Tilson Thomas — we better, because she’s everywhere, darling — but it must be hard to live and gesticulate passionately for the San Francisco Symphony in the shadow of the great MTT. It’s not a competition! I know! Still, it’s a treat to see SFS program a night specifically dedicated to some of the other stellar conducting talents it retains, especially for a total symphony queen like moiself.

Three great classical (bow-tied) tastes: Gaffigan, Bohlin, and Shwartz
The three-day “SFS Conductors on the Podium” series will see Associate Conductor James Gaffigan (who blew me and several thousand peeps away in Dolores Park a while back, conducting the 1812 Overture), Resident Conductor and total cutie Benjamin Shwartz, and fierce Chorus Director Ragnar Bohlin take the stage for a nice, slightly challenging change.

Benjamin Shwartz, making beautiful music
Particularly interesting will be the world premiere of Mark-Anthony Turnage’s jazzy-sounding Three Asteroids: The Torino Scale, Juno, Ceres, conducted by Schwartz, and the sure-to-be-spectral a capella double-choir performance of Poulenc’s Figure humaine — a haunting setting of Paul Eluard’s poems about war and spirituality, conducted by Bohlin. Gaffigan conducts Bartok’s seldom-heard Suite from The Miraculous Mandarin, and the Thursday and Saturday programs will also feature Prokofiev’s ragged, fiery Violin Concerto No. 1 in D Major, also conducted by Gaffigan and featuring SFS concertmaster and string-whiz Alexander Barantschik. Should be a revelation.
SFS Conductors on the Podium
Thursday, June 5 at 2:00pm
Friday, June 6 at 6:30pm
Saturday, June 7 at 8:00pm
$25-$125
Davies Symphony Hall
201 Van Ness
(415) 864-6000
www.sfsymphony.org











Oh, that Girl Talk. All pics by David Schnur DEMF’s day 2 was so pleasant it hurt, and the crowd was full of neon-festooned hipsters (they have them here too!) eagerly passing time before new old-school rap duo Cool Kids and sample-happy girly boy Girl Talk hit the the Red Bull stage, which overlooked the Detroit River. We passed the time in the sunny company of the great Mr. De’ featuring Greg C. Johnson, whose “Sex on the Beach” from back in the day is a protobooty classic. The crowd was going nuts — Mr. De’ schooled the “ghetto tech” kids on some real sensuality.
Mr. De’ sexing the keyboard
Greg C. Johnson, pleased Cool Kids gave a predictably stunner set — even calling out to Detroit and pumping some rhymes over ancient electro — and then Girl Talk came on and the crowd went bananas. I’ve never really warmed to the Girl Talk phenomenon. We have great mashup artists in SF, and dropping some Public Enemy over a Toto sample is sooo 2005. Still, the man’s a genius when it comes to party music and self-promotion: who knew all you had to do was post several YouTube vids of kids stage diving off your laptop platform and you could be famous? Well, maybe everybody knows that now, but Girl Talk knew it first. And who am I to argue, even when he dropped his pants and mooned the crowd in his boxers for half his set while he leaned over his equipment. But this year is indubitably Richie Hawtin’s year — despite other hometown giants Kevin Saunderson, Carl Craig, Stacey Pullen, and Alton Miller on the roster — so after a few Girl Talk singalongs (oh yes, there was stage-diving) we went over to the Beatport tent to catch the Windsor homeboy in a harder mood tan the previous night, at least until he dropped Mory Kante’s “Yeke Yeke” and the dance floor exploded.
Richie Hawtin: Gettin’ Yeke
Waiting for Moby Underground, quite literally. This year, promoter Paxahau Events has reopened the huge concrete-walled basement of the plaza, and has installed the soulful house DJs there, rather than the traditional hardcore noise experimentalists. By two o’clock, heavily muscled dance crews had stripped off their shirts and were throwing down – headspins included – to the sounds of Detroit classicists like Reggie “Hotmix” Harrell and Minx. (That night, freaky Terrence “The Phone Man” Parker and tribal-soulist Stacey Pullen would turn the underground area into a sweaty mass of writhing gay and straight bodies.)
Upside-down to the morning beat
Terrence Parker hits So much for the house – and notably missing so far this year have been the little independent DJ setups sprouting about the plaza like tiny laptop-vinyl mushrooms – what about the four other stages? What about the techno? The main, video-projected-upon VitaminWater stage, where Moby would later thrash about like a puggle to his electroclash-tinged pop-techno throwbacks, got a slowish start with way-cerebral live sub-dub fractal burbles from local DJ-band hybrid trio
The grand, abandoned Michigan Central Train Station, two blocks from my Corktown residence in tha D. (Don’t try to throw a party here, you’ll get srsly busted.) All of which is a belabored way of saying that I didn’t get much afterhours in here in Detroit last night, the “official” pre-party night of 







