SFBG Blogs

Giddy, yup! New Young Pony Club makes us frisky

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By Todd Lavoie

“New Who What Huh?!” All right, maybe the name doesn’t exactly flow from the tongue in gently rolling syllables on the first go-round, but try it with me now, slowly, steadily: New Young Pony Club. Ah, there you are. Very nice. Again. New Young Pony Club. Great. Quick – now three times fast. Now you’re in fine shape for this coming Monday. Why, you ask? That’s when London indie disco-new wave revivalists New Young Pony Club storm the Mezzanine stage, silly.

The five-piece of hip young things and fashion-forward synth lovers insist on their Web site that New Young Pony Club isn’t just a mere dance band, but that they have a mission, a manifesto, even. A subtle manifesto, they add, but a manifesto nonetheless. Since they seem to keep their MO shrouded in mystery – unless, of course, my days of staying two steps ahead are sadly behind me and I just straight up missed the deeper gist of the sloganeering, a serious possibility I must grant as I catch another wisp of gray in my sideburns – I’m going to hazard some crazy-ass guesswork here and offer a theory to NYPC’s driving force. Ready?

Party hard. Oh, and look great doing it.

Unipumpkorn madness

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Intrepid man-on-the-streets Justin Juul discovers the joys of dropping the Pabst and carving a damn pumpkin for once.

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The magic, the mystery of …. the unipumpkorn. Fly, Starfire, fly!

Have you ever seen those professionally carved pumpkins on TV and wondered, how the hell did they do that? Well, I figured it out. Here are the step by step instructions to creating the most awesome pumpkins ever.

1. Go down to Half Moon Bay for some really cheap pumpkins.

2. Find a stencil on the internet. If you have time you should look for an image you really like and then create your own stencil in Photoshop. If you don’t have time you should just search for stencils someone else has already made.

3. Print the stencil out and tape it to your pumpkin.

4. Take a regular pen and trace the image, pressing just hard enough to make an indention without ripping through the paper.

5. Remove the paper.

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Step 1 (wheelbarrow provided, scruffy hipster not included)

6. Go back over the grooves you just made with a permanent pen or marker so that you can see them.

7. Take an Exacto knife and cut the lines out. This is the hardest part and will probably take about two hours. Remember, you’re not cutting all the way through the pumpkin. You’re goal is to remove the skin. Have a paper towel ready because pumpkins are juicy.

8. When you have the skin removed, cut a hole in the top and remove all the shit.

9. Take a large spoon and scrape the wall behind your stencil until you can see light coming though. Just be sure not to pierce the skin.

10. Pop a candle in that son of a bitch and put it on your stoop.

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This one says “fucking awesome” — and it is!

American Journalism Review decries Chronicle as vile cesspool of incomplete chores

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Remember last year when Business Week, in a cover story about Digg.com, described our offices as “grungy,” and several major arteries located in the neck of our boss, Bruce Bruggman, nearly exploded? They also hilariously misidentified us as the SF Weekly.

The lack of imagination in American journalism makes for strange bedfellows, it turns out. In their August/September issue, the American Journalism Review described the Chronicle‘s offices downtown off of Fifth and Mission streets the same way, actually using the word “grungy.”

Christ, assholes, do we really come off as that unkempt? Phil Bronstein didn’t make his bed this morning, and I forgot to shave down south. Perhaps the glossies could teach us all out here on the Left Coast a thing or two about obsessive compulsion.

Or, they can loosen their ties and get a life. Either way, if they saw how neatly organized my cubicle was, they’d find a better adjective. My filing system would give even Jann Wenner an erection.

Give Cheese a chance

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Is there anything better than a grilled cheese sandwich? A cure for cancer would be nice. And I wouldn’t kick World Peace out of bed for eating crackers. But melted cheese and crispy bread? It’s so good, if it ran for President, I bet it’d beat Hillary and Obama (plus, it’s both likable and has experience – at least, as at being a sandwich).

In fact, the only thing better than a grilled cheese sandwich is the Grilled Cheese Invitational, an L.A.-based event dedicated to all things grilled and cheesy. And for the first time, this year the Bay Area’s gonna get its own shot at artery-clogging glory when the good GCI folks bring the competition to Eli’s Mile High Club on October 25.

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Bread of dubious nutritional quality + cheese product of dubious dairy origin = sexy

Hot Swiss Beethoven

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You may not love to listen to Beethoven like Annie Lennox’s fabulously unravelling housewife ….

But would you listen to him if the conductor looked like this?

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Does sex sell classical? Sure!

I know I would. And I will, as young Swiss conductor Philippe Jourdan leads the San Francisco Symphony (and renowned French pianist Pierre-Laurent Aimard) in Beethoven’s lovely, sweeping, and somewhat hot-blooded Piano Concerto #3 — as well as Ludwig van’s Egmont Overture and Richard Strauss’s An Alpine Symphony, October 26-27 at Davies Symphony Hall (and Thursday the 25th in Cupertino). Come for the cutie, stay for the music — that’s what I always slur ….

This Friday and Saturday evening. Click here for more dishy info.

From Norway to our Bay: A Q&A with Lindstrøm

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Over the course of the next week I’ll be posting Q&As with all of the music-makers featured in this week’s “From Norway to our Bay” cover story. What better person to kick things off with than Hans-Peter Lindstrøm, the Oslo maestro behind many great tracks and the man behind Feedelity Recordings? This interview actually dates back to earlier this year, and thus provides an introduction of sorts for other conversations – with Lindstrom’s cohort Prins Thomas, and with SF’s Sorcerer, Hatchback, Arp, and Dominique Leone – soon to come.

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Guardian: What are you up to today?
Hans-Peter Lindstrøm: I’ve been working on a remix. I’ve got a deadline tomorrow.

G: One of my favorite remixes of yours is of “Call Me Mr. Telephone,” by Answering Service [for the comp Confuzed Disco]. I love how dramatic the buildup is before the vocal — the keyboards remind me a bit of John Carpenter.
L: I did that one with [Prins] Thomas, but I have an unfinished version that I did alone that sounded very disco. I was banging my head against the wall, so I asked Thomas if he wanted to jam. We went to the studio and usually he picks up the bass and drums and I play the keyboards.
We decided to change the chords and the structure of the song, starting it without vocals. I’m really happy with that mix because it’s not the traditional way of doing a remix.

And the dreidl will rock

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I have a new obsession: www.jewsrock.org. I found the site while researching an old obsession, NOFX’s “The Brews” (I was trying to prove to a friend that it wasn’t a cover of another song, and that, in fact, the song she thought was the original was actually Manic Hispanic’s cover of “The Brews,” called “Cruise”), and nearly fell off my chair. The only thing I love more than punning and pro-Jewish jokes is rock music. And combining all three? Holy chutzpah, I’m a happy little semi-Semite. Check out the site to find for a guide to who’s who in Jewish rock (The Challah Fame), Q&As with famous Heebs (The Four Questions), features on musical icons like David Lee Roth (“And the Dreidl will Rock”), and essays on music and Jewishness (“Heavy Shtetl”). Even more perfect? Cruise the site while listening to Oakland’s parody of racist punk band Screwdriver, called (of course) Jewdriver. Just make sure you visit before Friday at sundown, because we sure as shit don’t rock on Shomer fucking Shabbos.

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Photo courtesy of Roberta Bayley.
Who knew? Joey Ramone (a.k.a. Jeffrey Hyman) is one of the Chosen. But I wish the goyim could keep Kenny G.

Milk Club tonight — Leno and Migden

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The harvey Milk LGBT Democratic Club meets tonight to consider a parliamentary procedure that could lead to an an early endorsement for state Sen. Carole Migden, who faces a challenge in next June’s primary from Assemblymember Mark Leno. Not surprisingly, the sleaze is flying

We haven’t endorsed in this race, and we won’t until next spring, but I have said, repeatedly, that both sides ought to play fair and keep it clean and try to avoid doing long-term damage to the progressive community. If Migden manages to disenfrancise Leno supporters at Milk, it will be one of those ugly moves that hurts the club’s credibility.

Everyone tries to pack club endorsements. The Milk Club rules are designed to block that, and this may be an unintended consequence. But there are plenty of people who are clearly legit, long-term members of the Milk Club, and if there’s any question about who gets to vote, it ought to be decided in a way that is as democratic as possible.

Migden’s a former club president, and has a lot of strong Milk allies. She’s been a Milk person for years, and Leno has been much more closely allied with the more moderate Alice B. Toklas Club. Migden doesn’t need to play any games here; Leno’s the underdog for this endorsement anyway.

By the way, perhaps the Milk Club members could ask Sen. Migden why she’s so fond of Republican Don Fisher,, and whether she will take the $7,200 he’s given her campaign and turn it over to the Yes on A/ No on H campaign.

And to keep the debate lively, they can ask Assemblymember Leno why he’s so supportive of Mayor Gavin Newsom.

CMJ 2007: Deerhunter, Japanther, Islands, Santogold, and more cake for all

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Mighty Reatard-ed. All photos by Michael Harkin.

By Michael Harkin

There had been murmurs all week among college radio music-director types that this year’s CMJ line-up wasn’t as cool as in years past, and this seems correct to a certain degree. For one thing, there should have been more hip-hop and electronic showcases than there were, even if only to break up the obvious indie-rock bent of the overall conference. That said, the showcases that did go down often felt pretty representative of the best in the various represented genres: this week saw Mariee Sioux, Erol Alkan, Mika Miko, Earthless, and the Dirtbombs pass through the city limits and give it a go amid the abundant crowds of music industry hawks.

It was a week of late nights, little sleep, and perhaps one Belgian fry too many, but there was a lot of music to be taken in each day from 1 p.m. onward, one had to arise by 11 a.m. if he/she wanted a chance at sighting the next big thing. Here are some highlights from the last three days of the NYC festival:

THURSDAY

Memphis’s Jay Reatard is still pretty young, but he’s already got a certain mythological status among garage-punk mavens: as a former member of the Lost Sounds and the Reatards, and now with his solo career, he’s had a King Midas touch of tunefulness that’s ramped up lately. The dude’s on a roll in the studio, having cranked out the spotless Blood Visions LP last year, as well as some brilliant slabs of vinyl on the side, like the glorious “I Know a Place” single, whose B-side is a stunning acoustic cover of the Go-Betweens’ “Don’t Let Him Come Back.” Tonight at a crowded Cake Shop, he greeted the crowd with “Hey douchebags!” and proceeded to play most of Blood Visions at triple speed, finishing his set in less than 20 minutes. Every song was introduced with the song title and a “LET’S GO” – superb punk from a fiery, poofy-haired, tough-looking group of dudes. Jay will be rolling through the Bay Area in November (12 Galaxies and the Stork Club), and he remarked in a conversation after the show that there are a series of singles coming next year, so look out for that!

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Double Dagger take a stab.

Following Mr. Reatard, Double Dagger brought punk of a different flavor: a more sinister, Fugazi-like intensity characterized their set, as vocalist Nolen Strals hap’ly danced about the stage in his blue, black, and white
camo tee. They didn’t face quite as thick a crowd as the preceding set did, but those that stayed paid witness to a spastic stomp-along series of howls and tight bass grooves. These guys channel the nerdy anger of Shellac and the slanted guitar riffs of Swell Maps in a convincing way, and form yet another piece of evidence that the Baltimore music scene is blooming.

Why Vancouver sucks

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Look at all the pretty condos

I’m sick of hearing San Francisco planners, the folks at SPUR and SF Weekly columnists talk about how wonderful Vancouver is, what with all of the slender downtown condo towers that provide walkable neighborhoods, bike paths and a “new urbanist” approach to housing.

Here’s a bit of reality: The New York Times reports that housing costs in Vancouver are soaring. Guess what? All those condos haven’t brought down housing costs, or even stabilized them. The more condos, the higher the prices.

And guess what? Many of those rich condo buyers aren’t from Vancouver:

Fueling the high-end market are foreign and second-home buyers, [Helmut Pastrick, the chief economist for the Credit Union Central of British Columbia] said, though not necessarily from the United States. The weak American dollar, which for the first time in decades is worth less than the Canadian dollar, has been making real estate in Canada more expensive for Americans.

Other foreign buyers make up a significant percentage of the market, according to Ian Gillespie, the president of Westbank Projects. The company is building several residential towers downtown, including the 60-story Living Shangri-La, which will be Vancouver’s tallest building after it is completed in 2009.

“This is a very multicultural city,” said Mr. Gillespie, who cited as an example a pharmaceutical executive from the Middle East, who recently bought a 1,700-square-foot $3.65 million condo at the Fairmont Pacific Rim.

And:

To make room for some projects, hundreds of single-room-occupancy hotel rooms for low-income residents have been lost, said David Eby, a lawyer with the Pivot Legal Society, a legal advocacy group. High prices are pushing out middle-income renters and buyers, he added.

Gee, might there be a different kind of lesson here for San Francisco?

Halloween Specials

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Well, ain’t this special!
A Special Report from the Controller and the Legislative Analyst is recommending the establishment of an Office of Special Events.
The impetus for this special study came, says the report, from Sup. Bevan Dufty in the wake of Mayor Gavin Newsom’s decision to cancel a City-sponsored Halloween this year.
The report is already getting activists nervous.
That’s because one of its main thrusts is reviewing “whether the Entertainment Commission’s unfulfilled responsibility to attract and support special events (including those without sponsors) should officially be transferred to some other unit.”
That unit would most likely be contained within the Mayor’s Office.
Now, Piss-poor communication between the Mayor’s Office and the Entertainment Commission over Halloween 2007 became an open secret this year, after a public records request unearthed emails in which commissioners complained that the Mayor’s Office has been trying to avoid meeting with them to discuss plans to shift the event to the waterfront.
This may be why the Special Report recommends that the two be required to communicate in future, or it could be because, as the Special Report notes, a recent Civil Grand Jury found that “communication between the Entertainment Commission and the Mayor’s Office has not been sufficiently good to allow such efforts [promoting the development of a vibrant entertainment and late-night entertainment industry] to move forward.
Either way, it’s an interesting development ten days before this year’s non-event looms, and a tacit admission that no one in Room 200 is expecting to be able to kill Halloween 2008, which occurs on a Friday.
The report, which reviews the role of all the City’s major special events, not just Halloween, finds that San Francisco could benefit economically and culturally from additional special events, but that no city agency is currently focused on “attracting, creating and promoting” such events.
It suggests that the Convention and Visitors Bureau, which receives 56 percent of its $14 million budget from the City’s hotel tax to promote SF as a tourist destination, or another non-profit such as SF’s Grants For Arts, could play a larger role.
It also recommends that “ unsponsored events like Halloween are likely best managed by the Mayor’s Office in cooperation with a Private event producer.”
Stay tuned.

Dethklok! Dethklok! Dethklok!

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By Duncan Scott Davidson

Dethklok, “the most brutal band in the world” and stars of Adult Swim’s juggernaut of animated murder, Metalocalypse, are on a nationwide tour in support of their recently released Dethalbum (Williams Street), which peaked at number three on the Billboard Hard Rock Album charts and reached number 21 on the Billboard 200, making it the best-selling death metal album of all time. The fact that a cartoon band bested Slayer’s Reign In Blood (Def Jam, 1986) might bum out old tyme metalists, but facts have to be faced here: not even Slayer are more brutal than the almighty ‘Klok.

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Fear them. No, seriously.

Even when tackling stand-up comedy or band therapy, Dethklok are unquestionably dark and unrelenting (and hilarious). As stated by an anonymous fan on metalsucks.com: “I’d pay money to see Dethklok. I’d leave after they were done. Lyrically and musically, they are better than any death metal or metal core band out.” Unfortunately, the band is slated to open for indie rock icons …And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead, who, despite their metal-sounding name, are destined to be decapitated by Dethklok, only to have their headless corpses eaten by ravenous hell bats.

Recently, I called Metalocalypse creator Brendon Small to discuss the carnage.

Free speech in Phoenix

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I’ve had, to say the least, some fights with the company that publishes the SF Weekly. We’re suing the bastards for predatory pricing. I’ve made a few critical comments on the big chain in my time.

But I’m also the First Amendment chair of the Association of Alternative Newsweeklies, and we are strongly supporting the chain’s flagship paper, the Phoenix New Times, and its top executives, Mike Lacey and Jim Larkin, in their battle against a local sheriff and prosecutor in Arizona.

Survival of the fitty: Siouxsie Sioux shows no sign of slowing

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Siouxsie Sioux, right, accepting a Peta
humanitarian award at a 2006 ceremony.
Courtesy of www.peta.org.uk.

By Todd Lavoie

Oh, 50 – it ain’t no thing. Just ask Siouxsie Sioux, the reigning queen of ice-water stares and sublimely detached vamping just hit the half-century mark this May, though you’d never guess it. Fifty, schmifty! I just read a recent interview with the punk/goth/you-name-it icon, and the former Susan Dallion listed off three biggies for keeping the ole middle-age uglies at bay: plenty of water, lots of fresh produce, and a pure blistering hatred of air-conditioning.

She’s lived in the South of France for years and years now – universes apart from the suburban drab-drab of her Bromley, England, upbringing – and she attributes the change of locale to her apparent eternal youthfulness. Proof? Ah, well, peep away at the artwork for Siouxsie’s first-name-only-darling solo debut, Mantaray (Universal), and tell me that’s not one of the most stunning fifth-decade women you’ve ever seen! So what if she’s beddin’ down with beetles, bees, and butterflies? I’m dazzled!

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And do I spot the cracks of a smile on that face, eyes peering upwards and outwards into some warm light beaming down upon her? “Nah, can’t be,” you say? Go on, look again. Call me crazy, but that looks like optimism to me – oh, the Goths will be so disappointed.

India, brothers, the Kinks, and a train

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Hey, Wes Anderson fan – why haven’t you seen The Darjeeling Limited yet? It’s currently playing in both San Francisco and the East Bay, and while it may not capture the genius promised by Anderson’s “My Life, My Card” American Express commercial, it’s still a thoughtful, impeccably stylish look at what happens when three estranged brothers take a train ride across India, stumbling upon moments of spiritual enlightenment, family bonding, and the inevitable slew of life lessons. Anderson, co-writer Roman Coppola, and co-writer and star Jason Schwartzman were in town recently, so I packed my enormous set of monogrammed luggage with tapes and pencils, and took a wild taxi ride through the streets of San Francisco to their hotel.

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Passage to India: Jason Schwartzman, Owen Wilson, and Adrien Brody on the road.

San Francisco Bay Guardian: Wes, I read that you got to know India through the movies. What initially drew you to the idea of setting a film there? When you got there, was the country how you expected it to be?

Wes Anderson: The movie that really made me want to go to India was [Jean Renoir’s 1951] The River, and that’s a different part of India from where we were, and it’s a different time. But I guess we sort of researched it a bit, and I felt like there was a lot that was what I expected, anyway. But then, for as much time as we’ve all spent in India, every day, every hour, we’re learning something new and being surprised by something. It’s just a place where there’s so much, and we’ve only scratched the surface.

Clear Channel loses a big one

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The San Francisco Board of Appeals did the right thing last week and blocked Clear Channel from using its corporate power to shake down small property owners. The board sided with Cheon Hool Lee, a retired Korean immigrant dentist who owns a building on Market Street, who lost a billboard because Clear Channel yanked it down when he demanded fair rent.

The legal issues were tricky, but the principle wasn’t: The giant conglomerate was acting like the mob. It had to be stopped.

And yet, the Board of Supervisors, usually far more progressive than the Board of Appeals, went along with Clear Channel and gave the evil media barons a twenty — that’s 20 — year contract to sell ads on bus shelters in the city. Only Ross Mirkarimi voted no.

I know it was a tough one for progressives — somehow, Muni management, which wants the money from the bus shelters, convinced the union for the bus drivers to lobby for the contract. And I realize that the estimated $15 million a year Muni will get out of the deal isn’t peanuts.

But I have to ask: How much is Clear Channel making? The company won’t say. All we know is that the contract is very lucrative, because the media barons went to great lengths to get it. Which means the city could have built the shelters itself, brought in even more money for Muni, hired even more bus drivers … and sent a message to Clear Channel.

Nope. DIdn’t happen.

Sutter’s assault on the Mission

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So as some of us expected, Sutter Health now wants to effectively shut down St. Luke’s hospital in the Mission and turn it into an abulatory clinic.

That’s terrible news for the southeast neighborhoods; St. Luke’s is the only hospital other than SF General in the Mission area, and when St. Luke’s stops taking patients, they’ll all be shuttled to the already overcrowded public hospital.

Sutter is supposed to be a nonprofit, but it acts like a greedy corporation. The problem with St. Lukes is that it gets a lot of uninsured and Medi-Cal patients; Sutter only likes rich patients with good health plans.

Let’s hope the supervisors remember this when the assholes from Sutter come along and ask for permission to build a giant new hospital on Van Ness.

Only Cool Kids ride bikes

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Digging this hot vid dashing past the usual car worship culture with some pretty fly wheels (and considering that Cool Kid producer Chuck came from near Detroit — big ups Mount Clemens — that’s saying something):

Cool Kids, “Black Mags”

Another fave from a wee l’il bit ago, wherein the bikes clearly beat down the cars (and hey, also from tha D!):

DJ Rolando aka Aztec Mystic, “Knights of the Jaguar”

Britney + Darfur = Johnny Cash

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Intrepid reporter Justin Juul hits the streets each week for our Meet Your Neighbors series, interviewing the Bay Area folks you’d like to know most.

If you’ve ever been to Chaya, the Japanese restaurant on Valencia and 19th streets, then you’ve seen Omer (last name withheld). He’s the little short guy with the crusty Joe-Dirt mullet who pops out of the shadows with a guitar and scares tourists. Omer’s confrontational approach to panhandling seems counterintuitive, but he has found success with Mission-district locals who get off on watching tourists shit their pants when he attacks them with his vicious renditions of classic rock hits.

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I tried to do a regular interview with Omer, but he refused to directly answer most of my questions. That said, I did manage to get some valuable information out of him, and was happy to leave the interview without getting spit on or mauled, which is what I always thought would happen if I ever got close enough to shake Omer’s hand. He’s a pretty funny dude actually… and not mean at all.

SFBG: Hey what’s up man, can I interview you for a magazine?
Omer: Raaaaargh!

SFBG: Was that a yes?
Omer: Yeah sure, why the fuck not? My name’s Omer.

SFBG: Nice to meet you Omer, I’m Justin. So… how’d you find yourself here in the city?
Omer: Well, I don’t know. It’s like… what I’m doing is so perfect for Frisco. I’m just like a guy in a doorway. Britney Spears sells a million records.

SFBG: Fuck that bitch.
Omer: Exactly! Britney Spears sells a million records, and I’m just a guy in a doorway. But the good news is… I’d rather be me than her.

SFBG: Hell yeah, man. So would I.
Omer: I mean… let’s think about the children in Darfur for a minute.

SFBG: Okay….
Omer: Now don’t you feel sorry for Britney Spears?

SFBG: Yeah, I guess.
Omer: No! The answer is no! Now here, buy a cd!

After the jump: Watch Omer in action!

Going after the Go! Team

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By Chris DeMento

If I had been liquored up, like good and wedding-reception drunk, the Go! Team, who appeared Oct. 19 at Mezzanine, would have doubtless been an even more enjoyable show. They crammed their set full of frenetic, fizzpop, indie-hop dance numbers, deviating only twice to play something softer, slower, more coquettish. The better part of it was all getaway cars, poprocks, and coke.

The old stuff – like “Panther Dash” and “Lady Flash” – is written with a recipe that calls for one part rock ‘n’ roll posturing, one part disco synthfunk, and one part hip-hop brio. Mix in a simplistic glockenspiel, substitute semi-inspired harmonica lines, tinker about on toy instruments – and smile pretty and laugh and keep it genki! And throw your hands up in the air and jump and yell, “Yay!” and “Go!” and “Whoo!” a whole bunch of times. The stuff they played off the new album bears a listening, if only for the sake of close comparison to the old. The crazydancy rock-hop formula still works.

The Go! Team should be noted for doing what so many UK bands before them have also succeeded in accomplishing – that is, for putting fundamentally American tropes to colorful, original use. Not to call them Lennons
– far from it. But it’s undeniable that the warm reception they received from their 35-and-younger Mezzanine audience had much to do with their manipulation of popular American forms, specifically hip-hop. Their approach presents itself just clearly enough, without overpowering the other ideas in the music – a convenient influence that remains almost topical so as not to scare off the alt-indie-dance-pop rockers. For the Go! Team, hip-hop works best as a component, a third of their sum polyphony, and in this way, lead vocalist Ninja provides a more rhetorical, rhythmically additive element than any real semantic purpose or tonal value – perfect for white folks who don’t own any Nas records but fondly recall the Rob Bass days. (And this is all right crafty on the part of the band, if you ask me.)

Fisher and his powerful friends

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Why does Republican billionaire Don Fisher have such influence in San Francisco? Why does Mayor Gavin Newsom subvert good planning simply because Fisher tells him to, then sit on the sidelines while Fisher tries to fool voters into creating gridlock in our downtown? Why would Senator Carole Migden want Fisher — who wants to subvert the public education system with vouchers and charter schools — to serve on the State Board of Education, let alone sing his praises in public while appointing him? Why does anyone still listen to the Fisher-sponsored SFSOS, which still draws elected officials to its luncheons? Is our political system so thoroughly corrupted by money that self-proclaimed liberal Democrats are willing to crawl in bed with such an ideological Neanderthal?
At the Yes on A, No on H rally in front of the Gap yesterday, near where they had parked the rented white Hummer (which H deems a “low-emission vehicle,” exempt from parking restrictions), Board of Supervisors president Aaron Peskin framed the issue for those of us who don’t want or need Fisher’s money: “San Franciscans have a clear choice. We can either pursue the Republican policies of the last century and continue to clog our roads and pollute our cities and poison our air, or we can move into the 21st Century.”

Ammiano on same sex water rights

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Schwartzenegger vetoes same sex water rights. “They’re levees, dammit. Not dykes.”

(Message on Sup. Tom Ammiano’s voicemail yesterday, Oct. l8th.)

Go, Go! Team, go: More from cheer leader Ian Parton

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The Go! Team are all about the highly intense positivity. so it’s a little strange to find producer-songwriter-mastermind Ian Parton, 33, so somber and sober, speaking from the UK on the brink of their SF show tonight, Oct 19, at Mezzanine. Oh well, the fun is all over the new record, Proof of Youth (Sub Pop) – and that’s what counts. Here’s a bit more from our talk.

Bay Guardian: Did you have anything that you really wanted to accomplish with this new album?

Ian Parton: I wanted it to be noisier, more kind of ballsier, just a bit more wangy, a bit more kick ass, and a bit more live sounding. I always loved weird tunings and white noise and feedback and more aggressiveness. A bit more Public Enemy and more sing-along.

BG: Speaking of Public Enemy, how did you get Chuck D to perform on the album?

IP: Oh yeah, I never really thought it would happen. I still never believed it up till that very moment. It was six months in the making after the first e-mail was shot off – to nowhere, not knowing if we had the right address and wondering if it was really Chuck that replied or someone fucking around with us.

Tacos, “Widow”‘s peak, Gold beats: make it Fiery Furnaces, Chuck Prophet, and Fool’s Gold

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Whoa, there’s a lot going this weekend, as usual in the fairest of ‘Friscos. Let’s take a tip from our sponsor and take it a one day at a time this weekend.

First, the Fiery Furnaces are up tonight, Oct. 19, with Pit er Pat at Independent – and dang, their new album, Widow City (Thrill Jockey), rocks it old-school. As in feathered hair, air-brushed vans, and double gatefold vinyl, which by chance, Widow City is available on. Hey, it’s a great time to be a widow! (Cue video “Ex-Guru.”)

Next up on Saturday, Oct. 20, you got a hoedown to throw down: the Fool’s Gold Showcase at Mezzanine with A-Trak and DJ Mehdi, Kid Sister, Kavinsky, Nick Catchdubs, and Trackademicks. Let’s hope Kavinsky actually does something (check Michael Harkin’s CMJ blog) – but whatev, Chicago’s Kid Sister will make it all happen – here at SXSW.

Meanwhile on Sunday, Oct. 21, SF singer-songwriter extradordinaire Chuck Prophet is going to be toasting his new acclaimed CD, Soap and Water (Yep Roc) – with tacos, natch.

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Dude has hired a truck to treat the fans on Sunday at the Make-Out Room. Of the aforementioned grinds, Prophet said, “Yes, you heard right. Free tacos for all my friends! The taco truck will be courtesy of El Tonayense. I’m a carne asada man myself, but I hear they do a killer al pastor.” (Dig it – after paying the $10 cover.) Prophet also performs free at Amoeba on Oct. 21, 2 p.m. – so now you’ve no excuse to miss him! (You can also hear the album online here.)

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