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Super Ego

Secret history

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superego@sfbg.com

You say that you love women, you say that you love men … but do you love your robot children?

— "Robot Children" by Catholic

SUPER EGO Thanks to the mid-decade rediscovery, by young people at least, of ’70s gay bathhouse disco and the Hi-NRG club scene it spawned, the Bay is back on international electronic music nerds’ radar. Gay San Francisco wiz Patrick Cowley (1950-1982) — the man behind such essential touchstones as "Menergy," "Megatron Man," Paul Parker’s "Right on Target," and Sylvester’s "Do You Wanna Funk" — is now often mentioned in the same breath as Giorgio Moroder in terms of pioneering electronic dance music. Nightlife historians fetishize Cowley’s early ’80s Menergy parties at EndUp, and his unabashedly homoerotic output is embraced as both the prime source and an exciting alternative to all the gay-centric techno that followed.

In terms of retro styles — our digital century’s shameless obsession — Hi-NRG may well be the final frontier. Buried by AIDS, wondrously reeking of wanton gay sexuality, and lodged for decades in the "utter cheese" category of musical taste, it could only become acceptable in our post-rock, pro-gay, retro-viral moment. No one dared touch this stuff before. Now, straight fans get brownie points for enjoying "gay music," gay fans can relish a period previously blacked out by sadness, and everyone looks cool dancing to bang-up tunes they’ve never heard before. It’s a pretty apolitical revival so far. No one’s agitating for our bathhouses to be reopened, and I’ve yet to attend an underground retro disco party that donates its proceeds to AIDS research. But in terms of audio-archeological exploration, it’s a stunner.

Take the story of Catholic, the genre-exploding act Cowley formed with Indoor Life vocalist Jorge Socarras. From 1975-79, the duo recorded a batch of songs that improbably melded krautrock, synthpop, proto-punk, and electro experimentalism with bluntly gay lyrics ("Don’t you recognize me!" Socarras commands on "I Am Your Tricks.") The tunes were so far-out for their time that Cowley’s legendary label, Megatone, couldn’t handle them, and they languished in label head John Hedges’ basement for decades.

Enter Honey Soundsystem who, along with DJ Bus Station John, are our prime bathhouse boosters. When Honey’s members heard in 2007 that Hedges was planning to retire to Palm Springs, they gained access to his literally underground repository and loaded up a truck’s worth of Megatone tapes and acetates. Among the treasure were the stunning Catholic sessions. The rumor of a golden cache of lost, weird Cowley lit up Europe’s rarified techno scene, and the Catholic tapes found their way to German minimalist Stefan Goldmann, who with partner Finn Johannsen decided to release them on their recently formed Macro label. The result, Catholic, is jaw-droppingly prescient and fills in a wealth of subcultural blanks. (You can stream the album at www.honeysoundsystem.com and www.myspace.com/cowleysocarras.)

But there may be a danger here. "This stuff is so much more popular in Europe with the straight crowd," says Honey’s DJ Pee Play. "Of course the music is for everyone, but a lot of gay people here don’t even know that this is their history." Accordingly, Honey Soundsystem, in association with the GLBT Historical Society and others, is curating a special monthlong exhibit called "Megatron Man: The Life and Times of Patrick Cowley" at Mama Calizo’s Voice Factory. The exhibit incorporates memorabilia, audio interviews, and musical tributes inspired by Cowley, sent in from around the world.

Honey’s Josh Cheon has been painstakingly recording the interviews with key figures of the era, including Cowley’s roommate and sister. "It’s been incredibly emotional," he told me. "Everything is still so wrapped up with AIDS. Patrick died of it, and this is the first chance most people have had to open up about that, to cry about it. That’s the bigger story for us as gay people with this music. It’s a resurrection not just of Patrick’s contributions, but of a whole period that’s never been truly brought to light."

Adds Pee Play, "There were so many sprits at work with this project. Just the way everything worked out, we could feel them watching over us. The whole thing — the exhibit, the release, the parties we’re planning around it — we just wanted to acknowledge that. Before it becomes something else, we want to have our time with it, for San Francisco to dance around with the spirits and reconnect."

MEGATRON MAN

Opening reception, Sun/18, 6 p.m.–10p.m.;

Exhibit through Nov. 18), free

Mama Calizo’s Voice Factory

1519 Mission, SF.

www.voicefactorysf.org

Sing out

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superego@sfbg.com


SUPER EGO The only place social constructivism — and its attendant corollary, relativism — can fully fluoresce as a philosophical trope is in poetry. There, I said it. Never mind simply reverse-engineering facts to reach a mere equivocation. The "deep metaphysical vision" that John R. Searle attributes to constructivists in a recent New York Review of Books article is actually a deep metaphorical vision, one in which objects gingerly materialize through the screen door of mental language, sometimes banging open, sometimes clicking locked. Situations arise from their own plots.


See-line woman

Dressed in green

Wears silk stockings

With golden seams

See-line woman


+++


Was this at last our Balearic summer? Did dance music decisively turn from tracky loops to center instead on a sunny little something called "songs"?

"That Balearic era of music was so formative for me. The Stone Roses, Primal Scream, Happy Mondays, and the Verve are some of my faves," Gavin Hardkiss (www.gavinhardkiss.com), one of San Francisco’s classic Hardkiss Brothers, told me over e-mail, limning the baggier side of early rave. "Recently, I downloaded about 100 Balearic anthems from that era. I didn’t like most of them, though, so it’s not like the entire era was golden." As Hawke, a nom du disque he’s recorded under since 1993, Hardkiss has just released a nifty album, +++ (Eighth Dimension), full of sing-along electronic tunes that not only call up past Madchester glories, but also the intricate audio daydreams of Ultramarine and Orbital.

Hardkiss will forever epitomize the ’90s Lower Haight techno scene — graffiti on concrete, stars in eyes. But he’s all grown up now, and his musical complexity is complemented by the simple, practical lyrics of a new dad. "I love to make beats for DJs, but the new challenge became making songs. For this album, I had no audience in mind other than the fans who live in my house, something the family would enjoy listening to over and over. My two-year-old keeps singing my lyrics, ‘You took my money … you took my money’ and that makes me happier than anything."

He also asked several edgy artist friends to create works based on +++ tracks, which will be displayed Oct. 7-16 at Project One Gallery (251 Rhode Island, SF. www.p1sf.com), accompanied by various party events, including an opening shindig (Wed/7, 7 p.m., free), a sharp Honey Soundsystem kiss (Fri/9, 9 p.m., free) and an appearance by brother Robbie Hardkiss (Oct. 16, 9 p.m., free). Gavin promises that the art "isn’t 15 Swiss Army knife emblems."

IN FLAGRANTI


I’ve been creaming my Sergios for trip-disco lately, which stretches and tweaks rare classics without losing the red-light sensuality of the originals. Coming to a similar conclusion, but with original compositions, is Brooklyn "cut-and-paste" disco duo In Flagranti, who’ve developed an entire aesthetic that incorporates slinky synths, ’70s graphic design, bad ad piracy, horny housewives, and tunes that turn on the fog machines all by themselves.

Wed/7, 10 p.m., $5, 18+. Poleng Lounge, 1751 Fulton, SF. www.hacksawent.com

BLACK, WHITE, AND READ


No, not that kind of "read," you queen — the kind you do (or once did) with a book. LitQuake kicks off its citywide verbal smackdown with a "book ball" that hearkens back to Truman Capote’s celebrity-ridden master masques of yore. Mask yourself as your favorite scribe, light a Thai stick, and flip through the night with DJ Juanita More, rappers Khalil & Glynn, and the SF Jazz High School All-Stars. Perfectly, Miss More will also perform Carmen McCrae’s "I’m Always Drunk in San Francisco."
Fri/9, 8 p.m., $19.99. Green Room, Herbst Theatre, 401 Van Ness, SF. www.litquake.org

Funny face

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superego@sfbg.com

SUPER EGO How could anyone say no to Joan Rivers? The turbulent past, the red-carpet gushes, the petrified visage? Sure, we could blame her for Kathy Griffin and the rise of celebrity culture, but she also created the one true tagline of our time in a Geico commercial that defined a generation: “I can’t feel my face!” Recently roasted, the hysterically hysterical comedian is gracing us with her presence in early October, and the only time she could talk to me was smack dab in the middle of Folsom Street Fair. So I unhooked myself and ducked in to a Porta-Potty to call her in New York.

SFBG Hi Joan, please forgive any background noise. I’m calling you from a Porta-Potty at our giant leather fetish festival, the Folsom Street Fair.

Joan Rivers Fantastic! I’m there with you in my heart.

SFBG I remember you were here in San Francisco this time last year. The gay press published the screaming headline, “Leather Fair a huge success!” with a big picture of your face underneath it.

JR I really couldn’t ask for much more.

SFBG This year’s fair falls on Yom Kippur, so you get the beatings and the atonement all in one. Do you observe Yom Kippur?

JR I do observe it. I’m the matron of my family, so I have a huge dinner to prepare!

SFBG I’ll keep it short and sweet, then. I adore your signature line of jewelry that you sell on QVC. Lately, I’ve seen many up-and-coming drag queens wearing your items.

JR It’s such an absolutely gorgeous collection, and I’m not just saying that because it’s mine. It’s truly exquisite, and I’m sure it looks lovely on the girls.

SFBG It really does. And congratulations on your hard-fought win on this year’s Celebrity Apprentice. You went tooth and nail!

JR The best part was donating my winnings to [meal-delivery service to AIDS patients] God’s Love We Deliver, a charity I’ve been supporting for years. Let me tell you, Marke, it was such a thrilling experience. Would I do it all again? No.

SFBG At 76, you’re still doing standup. You’re doing four shows in two nights at Cobb’s. Good lord! What are the crowds like here?

JR I love San Francisco. I once lived there for a month when I was in residence at the Magic Theater and it was a beautiful time. San Francisco is smart and it’s gay. What more do you need as a performer?

JOAN RIVERS Fri/2 and Sat/3, 7:30 p.m. and 9:30 p.m., $53.50–$55. Cobb’s Comedy Club, 915 Columbus, SF. www.cobbscomedy.com ———-

FEEL THE LOVE

“Our club is for young people,” the promoter of a popular electro club responded cooly when I asked if her tribe would have a presence at LovEvolution, formerly Lovefest, formerly Love Parade, on Saturday, Oct. 3. It’s true that the programming of the massive outdoor raveathon can seem a bit, er, mature. But the all-ages party is bursting with eager youth, with a youthful outlook to match, even as it seems more and more panicky about reeling in out-of-town Big Names. The true local and new will be found on the smaller parade floats, with California Dubstep Republic, Homochic, and the “Janky Barge” looking especially twisty. And this time around, at the satellite parties, the kids are in for one holy cow of a house education. DJ Frankie Knuckles will show them why he’s the godfather of house at Temple (www.templesf.com) and the awesomely gifted and underage Martinez Brothers will represent the next soulful wave at Mighty (www.mighty119.com), both on Fri/2. Also at Mighty, on Sunday, Oct.4, is an event that everyone in Clubland is wetting their drawers for. One of the best parties I’ve ever been to (and spent a ton of frequent flyer miles on), New York City’s Body and Soul, is popping up for one night here in San Francisco, reuniting founding DJs Francois K., Danny Krivit, and Joe Clausell. It’s all too much, and that’s quite a bit of the point.

www.sflovevolution.com

Flesh tones

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markeb@sfbg.com

Like a cold, wet pinky, porn has truly inserted itself into every facet of our lives — even our nightlife. Gay porn, especially, is big business in the Bay, and besides the endless stream of between-flicks go-go boys this provides many mainstream gay clubs and a host of porn-themed parties, most featuring DJ Pornstar, it also draws a lot of international hopefuls to our fair shores, maintaining some diversity on the homoclub scene. You wouldn’t believe the amount of Swiss buttboys I’ve met at the disco, child.

But what about the music of gay porn? Has it moved beyond the stereotypical boom-chaka-wahow-wahow to reflect our hip-hop-infused, electronic reality? I recently talked via hot pink iPhone with The minor9 (www.theminor9.com), a young production duo who’ve been working with Raging Stallion for the past few months, helping to infuse that megastudio’s soundtracks with a little contemporary flavor, from the neo-tango trappings of the forthcoming Hombre to the trip-hop trimmings of shoe-and-weed fetish flick High Tops, which features a sampled recipe for marmalade(!).

Minor9 members Marcus and Chris stepped into the giant shoes of legend JD Slater, a cofounder of Raging Stallion whose soundtrack work helped bring rock, ambient, and industrial sounds into the porn mainstream, and who recently retired to concentrate on his own music. "It’s amazing the amount of opportunity composing for porn provides," says Marcus. "Obviously we’re not out to make a big artistic statement — the director tells us his vision and we do our best to match it in the background. So no grand chord changes or cymbal crescendos at the climax. But in terms of creative outlets, you couldn’t ask for more."

"My greatest triumph was slipping some bassoon into a scene," adds Chris. The local duo share a past as independent musicians and combine live instrumentation with software hijinks to set the right backseat blow-job mood. Chris and Marcus asked me not to use their last names to avoid future employment kafuffles. So, is there still a porn stigma?

"Porn’s such a fact of life now, and my mom said, ‘That’s great!" when I told her about my new job," says Marcus. "But you never know." Chris chimes in, "Let’s put it this way. I used to be a graduate student in math. Talk about stopping a conversation dead. Now I tell people what I do and suddenly I’m the life of the party."

—————

BEARRACUDA MAGNUM

Sweaty gay leather bears packed in hairy shoulder-to-shoulder, grunting to live sets by dark duo Ejector and drag tragedy Christeene, plus electro-pop DJ Francisco Guerra. Fri/25, $10. DNA Lounge, 375 11th St., SF. www.bearracuda.com

BLOWOFF

Another hairy bear woof attack, this time on the rock remix tip, with indie hero DJs Bob Mould and Rich Morel at the first anniversary of this too-popular party. Sat/26, 10 p.m., $15. Slim’s, 333 11th St., SF. www.slims-sf.com

SISSY FIT

"Rock ‘n roll, cheap bear, and sloppy dick" brought to us by the queer punk Trans Am boys. DJs Dirty Knees and Pickle Surprise help usher in the mosh madness. Sat/26, 10 p.m., $6. Sub Mission, 2183 Mission, SF. www.myspace.com/transamtheclub

SS TRANNYSHACK

What’s better than nutso drag? Nutso drag on a boat. Try to stay seaworthy at this swingin’ who’s-who with Heklina, Dirty Sanchez, DJ Juanita More! and more. Sat/29, 8:30 p.m., $45 advance. Pier 41, SF. www.trannyshack.com

Come a cropper

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superego@sfbg.com


SUPEREGO I had absolutely no idea that there was a hysterical ’90s gay dance hits mashup scene!

This was just one of the many, many worlds that opened up for me as Hunky Beau and I girded our burgeoning loins and embarked one recent Saturday on a whirlwind Castro bar crawl. Despite the nutso economics of late, a large new crop of attractively unpretentious San Francisco nightspots has bloomed, from the odd-but-pleasant hunter-themed Bloodhound in SoMa (1145 Folsom, www.bloodhoundsf.com) and multi-chandeliered DJ paradise Triple Crown in Mid-Market (1760 Market, www.triplecrownsf.com) to Potrero Hill’s underground-minded Project One Gallery (251 Rhode Island, www.p1sf.com), the Mission’s jazz-inflected supperclub Coda (1710 Mission, www.codasf.com), and — hurray? — our first "dessert lounge" CandyBar in the Western Addition (1335 Fulton, www.candybarsf.com). Even a few mainstays have had fresh alt-cred life breathed into them, like absinthe-happy Buckshot Tavern (3848 Geary, SF. www.buckshot-sf.com), classy dive the Hearth (4701 Geary), and reinvigorated Madrone Lounge (500 Divisadero, www.madronelounge.com).

It’s a regular autumn harvest of buzz-heavy embarrassment opportunities — a barvest, if you will. But it’s the Castro that’s seen the most openings in the past few months, so that seemed the logical destination for a night of guzzling look-see.

For the sake of my flawless skin, I try to stay positive. Complaining about the Castro is like crapping on a pigeon: you feel a little vindication, but then you realize, "Wow, I just crapped on a pigeon." So you have to just take our increasingly generic, Kylie-nauseating gay Mecca on its own terms, acknowledging that among the upscale influx there’s at least some crazy drag and heartfelt effort at the Lookout (3600 16th St., www.lookoutsf.com), a very nice overdue remodel of the hip-pop Café (2369 Market, www.cafesf.com), with a lot fewer tiny backpacks in line to get in, even a cozy laidback alcoholic outpost called Last Call (3988 18th St., www.thelastcallbar.com), which slid right into the old Men’s Room space. And Q Bar (456 Castro, www.qbarsf.com) hosts some some damn cute weekly parties.

That hoo-hoo gay mashup scene I mentioned — think Armand Van Helden’s rejigger of "Professional Widow" by Tori Amos overlaid with Deee-Lite’s "Groove is in the Heart" and Stardust’s "Music Sounds Better with You" — was rocking a dance floor of five at the distractingly bright Toad Hall (4146 18th St., www.toadhallbar.com) but the nifty back patio was packed, mostly with amply proportioned women who’d probably wandered over from the Castro Theater’s Erotic Film Festival. I suppose apoplectic owner Les Natali is trying to somehow channel the spirit of the original clone-era Toad Hall bar through a blaze of big-screens and several hot pink waterfalls?

The cover at Trigger (2348 Market, www.clubtrigger.com) was $8.

By far the best new arrival to the cologne zone is Blackbird (2124 Market, www.blackbirdbar.com), a relaxed, narrow, and hiply appointed joint around the corner from the former Transfer, now known creatively as Bar on Church (198 Church, www.thebarsf.com). Blackbird has been in the news a lot lately due to the sad death of droll co-owner Doug Murphy from swine flu, eclipsing the happier news that the bar has quickly become one of the city’s more celebrated hotspots. Blackbird’s other co-owner, Shawn Vergara, knows that a few rough edges, a risk-taking cocktail menu — try the sparkling, tequila-based "grape drink" — and a freak-welcoming vibe stick in the mind more than wannabe polish.

As for the rest of the Castro: Is trying to do something different too much to ask? Did I just crap on a pigeon?

Hobbs knobbin’

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superego@sfbg.com

SUPER EGO "My mission is progression," says BBC 1 Radio’s Experimental Show host DJ and left-field electronic music goddess Mary Anne Hobbs. "Everything should point to the future. If there’s any reason I’m here, it’s to build new causeways beyond classic sounds toward symbiotic textures. I cannot hang in suspended animation."

Hobbs is on the horn from Britain, and her droll Lancashire accent and signature breathy enthusiasm, combined with my wet-pantsed fanboy palpitations, is making it hard for me to keep up. I’m gushy, y’all. Because basically Mary Anne Hobbs is one of the coolest people on the planet, not only dedicating her considerable charisma to bringing challenging sounds to a wider audience and galvanizing a disparate community of bedroom knob-fiddlers — but also able to instantly conversation-hop from Kawasaki motorcycles (she’s made a multipart documentary about riding through Russia) to late Bay jazz oracle Alice Coltrane (the title of Hobbs’ excellent new Planet Mu platter of twisted audio thrills, Wild Angels, was inspired by a meditation on harpist Coltrane’s "cosmic arpeggios").

Although she’s been closely associated with dubstep and future bass, Hobbs eschews core genre sounds, yet she recognizes her role in helping dubstep become such a mainstream phenomenon in her native land. "I look after my small country of artists, and if extraordinary talents like Benga or Burial break through, I’m enormously pleased. But there’s still so much out there."

Mary Anne Hobbs, Wild Angels preview

Hobbs laughs when I mention her maternal reputation, but when I bring up the glaring invisibility of women on the scene, she says, "People just aren’t looking in the right places," and launches into a list of about 20 favorite females, including Vaccine, Blank Blue, and Ikonika before deftly nipping my typical American multiculti soapboxing in the bud. "I think many of these artists prefer not to be viewed through the prism of sexuality."

Wild Angels, Hobbs’ third compilation, moves away from dark dubstep toward the esoteric, sticky-starlight synth sound of Scotland’s LuckyMe collective (represented here by Hudson Mohawke, Mike Slott, and Rustie) with some West Coast rep coming from Nosaj Thing. More Cali cuts may make it onto future releases. "I’m so excited to be spinning in California again," Hobbs says. "The energy is incredible. I really feel that’s where it’s at right now." Agreed!

Get Freaky Afterburn featuring Mary Ann Hobbs Fri/11, 10 p.m.-3 a.m., $20/$25. 103 Harriet, SF. www.1015.com

BEAT DIMENSION

Synapse-melting live electronic showcase hosted by NYC’s Soundpieces, with the Austria’s Dorian Concept, Cinnaman, Flying Skulls, E Da Boss, and more…

Thu/10, 10 p.m., $5–$10. Paradise Lounge, 1501 Folsom, SF. www.paradisesf.com

HONEY DIJON

The scandalously fun transgender DJ brings her bubbly brand of runway house hoo-hoo to Temple’s main floor. Solid Bump Records electro-hosts the basement.

Fri/11, 10 p.m., $20. Temple, 540 Howard, SF. www.templesf.com

KINGDOM

Bass-heavy Brooklyn rave revivalist — with a light touch and some Bmore beats — has scored bigtime with his crazy "Mindreader" single on Fool’s Gold. Can he keep it up?

Sat/12, 10 p.m., $10. Elbo Room, 647 Valencia, www.elbo.com

TRIPLE THREAT

It’s a 10-year reunion for groundbreaking turntablist trio Vinroc, Shortkut, and Apollo — could it herald a return for actual vinyl skills? Sure hope so.

Sat/12, 10 p.m.-3 a.m., $15. Mighty, 119 Utah, SF. www.mighty119.com

Werk

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Things I’m loving so much lately, besides the way your new used shoes go with your new used hair: The awesome trip-disco movement, with the Lamb + Wolf and Soul Clap duos in the lead — dig Soul Clap’s "Great White Hope IV" mix at www.wolflambmusic.com — which fills out classic soul and R&B slabs with subtle, supple laptop hijinks. Young SF queen Chastity Belle wholeheartedly reviving old-school Liza, Sondheim, and Showgirls drag histrionics — frighteningly accurate! The new Spanish-German techno, revealed by the likes of Edu Imbernon, Coyu, and Niconé, which harnesses minimal techno and microhouse knob-tweaks to ethereal samba and salsa beats. And my favorite thing ever? BART runs all night on Labor Day weekend, so we can work it out on both sides of the Bay quickly, tipsily, and conveniently. Tube it, baby.

STUDIO SF

Two of our loveliest parties, Look Out Weekend and Go Bang!, combine their electro and disco spirits to update the future sounds of yesteryear for right now, with White Girl Lust, Ken Vulsion, and the always perky Sergio of KALX.

Thu/3 and every first Thursday, 9 p.m., $5. Triple Crown, 1760 Market, SF. www.triplecrownsf.com

AGNÈS

Swiss decks heartthrob expands his ravenous-eared range from dubby minimal tech to roots house for a set that’s guaranteed to be full of audio Alpine peaks. He’ll be joined by Jan Kreuger of Berlin’s delicious Panoramabar.

Sat/6, 10 p.m.–6 a.m., $15/$20. EndUp, 401 Sixth St., SF. www.theendup.com

BLESSED

A truly spiritual monthly Oakland affair, from the soulful house sounds of residents Rafriki, Discaya, and Kimani — plus special guest (and personal crush) DJ Ellen Ferrato — to the blessed out crowd of get-downers.

Sat/5, 9 p.m., free. Somar, 1727 Telegraph, Oakl. www.somarbar.com

GEMINI DISCO

It’s been three wild years for the beautiful-yet-intellectual disco kids of mad monthly Gemini, and this champagne celebration with DJs Nicky B. and Derek Love should be a real corker. Lovely Le Dinosaur hosts.

Sat/5, 10 p.m., $5. UndergroundSF, 424 Haight, SF. www.geminidisco.com

DUB MISSION

Woah — DJ Sep’s groundbreaking dub and raga weekly is now officially a classic, celebrating 13 years, and untold influence on the current SF sound, by hosting a rad "dub summit" that includes Twilight Circus Dub Soundsystem and Yossi Fine.

Sun/6, 9 p.m., $15. Elbo Room, 647 Valencia, SF. www.elbo.com

LABOR D’AMOUR

Funky house and techno party mainstays Sunset and Stompy get wild in their inimitably sunny style at Cocomo, filling the giant patio with, yes, "all styles and smiles" — plus the sounds of Sascha Funke, David Harness, and a dozen more.

Sun/6, 2 p.m.–2 a.m., $10/$20. Café Cocomo, 650 Indiana, SF. www.pacificsound.net

PARADISE LIVES!

Even more disco! Honey Soundsystem name-checks the mother of them all, Paradise Garage, with this special installment of its weekly party, calling down the spirits with legendary Trocadero Transfer master DJ Steve Fabus.

Sun/6, 10 p.m.-3a.m., $2. Paradise Lounge, 1501 Folsom, SF. www.paradisesf.com

SIXXTEEN

I’m totally wetting my petite BVDs about the glorious return, after a decade’s absence, of DJs Jenny and Omar’s raucous rock debauch. Peaches Christ hosts, FLAWK hands out drink tickets to flashiest thrashers and best-dressed punk ‘n’ roll runaways.

Sun/6, 10 p.m.–3 a.m., $10. Cat Club, 1190 Folsom, SF. www.sfcatclub.com

Itches

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markeb@sfbg.com

SUPEREGO "It’s not the heat, it’s the humidity." Actually, having just touched down from the East Coast, lemme tell ya it’s both. No matter how much I may wish I was getting down to Afro-acid in New York’s P.S. 1 courtyard, I know I’d be rabidly itching to claw off my custom polyester Isabel Toledo bunny suit if I had to deal with the Big Apple heatwave. I much prefer to get sweaty on purpose, after dark, in our own climate of nuttiness, thank you very much.

(A note: This column is dedicated to the memory of Daithí Donnelly, a mastermind behind Anu, Swig, Bourbon and Branch, and more who passed away earlier this month. We’ll sorely miss his tireless dedication to SF nightlife.)

DISCO VS. DUBSTEP

"Why the hell not?," I ask you. I’m anxious to hear the result of this new weekly 18+ club experiment at Poleng, as local and international DJs from both sides of the seemingly incongruous musical divide square off or blend their various strains. Firsts up: Kid Kameleon and Lexxus in the dubstep room, and Salva and B. Bravo in the disco room. Stand in the middle.

Wednesdays starting Wed/26, $5 for under 21/ over 21 free. Poleng, 1751 Fulton, SF. www.hacksawent.com

STAY GOLD

There’s so much going on right now on SF’s dark side that occasionally regular parties that I enjoy immensely slip through my liquor-lubricated crack. Thus, I’ve finally gotta give many snaps to the queerlightful monthly Stay Gold party, which features "hella gay dance jamz" from DJs Rapid Fire and Pink Lightning and a beauteous crowd of lezzies, fags, and in-betweens.

Wed/26 and last Wednesdays, 10:30 p.m., $3. Make-Out Room, 3225 22nd St., SF. www.makeoutroom.com

HOLY FUCK

Electronic music, without those annoying synthesizers. Perfect! The Toronto-based experimental rock quartet subs in live drums and bass — plus toy keyboards, effects pedals, and other delicious analog goodies — to reinterpret edgy dance sounds. It really works, and gives rise to some surprisingly heady combinations.

Thu/27, 8:30 p.m., $15. The Independent, 628 Divisadero, SF. www.independentsf.com

KEYS N KRATES

More live electro-emuutf8g shenanigans from Toronto, this time courtesy of the multi-member outfit dubbed "kings of the live remix." Discover in wonder their guitars-and-turntable versions of Justice and other dance floor juggernauts. It’s no joke karaoke, the boys mean business.

Sat/29, 10 p.m., $10. Club Six, 66 Sixth St., SF. www.clubsix1.com

BIG TOP

Once upon a time there was an amazing bar called the Transfer where really fun nightlife things happened. One of those fun things was Big Top, promoter Joshua J’s outrageous circus-themed drag hoo-haw. It was like Cirque du Soleil, but with less French and much more basket. Well, it’s back, now at Club Eight, with three rings of disco-tinged scandal.

Sat/29 and last Saturdays, 10 p.m., $5. Club Eight, 1151 Folsom, SF. www.eightsf.com

MISS HONEY

I went to the premiere of this monthly party earlier this summer, and it was too, too much. Packed with young art stars, energized scenesters, and vogueing — there was indeed a runway — it brought together many of the city’s oft-dispersed up-and-coming movers and shakers. With surprisingly little irony! Ms. Terry and Mani host, with DJs Chelsea Starr, Frankie Sharp, and more.

Sat/29, 10 p.m., $5. Triple Crown, 1772 market, SF. www.triplecrownsf.com

1999: RETURN OF THE RAVE

I’m so scared of this! Were you still raving in 1999? If you were, and you haven’t died of sugar-shock from all those candy necklaces, then you may want to wayback with ages 16+ to those Hot Topic-tinged days of yore.

Sat/29, 9 p.m.–4 a.m., $40. regency Ballroom, 1300 Van Ness, SF. www.skillsdj.com

Alphabet soup

0

markeb@sfbg.com

SUPEREGO ADDICT "That techno shit ain’t nothing but a bunch of clowns tripping their balls off to car alarms," the old saying goes. And it’s almost exactly right! If we’re still in the 1990s — which, by the way, also saw over-tattooed punk and swing revivalists nodding off to black tar and a swarm of bronze-bleached gays mething out to Bryan Adams circuit remixes when they could pry away from AOL chat. (You thought it took forever to download a naked JPEG in 1997? Try doing it on crystal.) Plus: candy-flipping Burners, K-holed zombie househeds, and reams of GHB newbies shitting their pants and dropping half-dead at the unfortunately ambulance-ridden EndUp.

Glancing back with a delicious shiver, the ’90s were a shadow-peopled heyday of designer nightlife drugs, an alphabet soup raining down in clubbers’ peripheries. But, really, from opiate-stoned flappers and Benzedrined mods to the Factory’s orange Obetrols and MDA at the Paradise Garage — when haven’t drugs driven the wee-hours subcultural?

Yes, the music plays into the drug of each scene’s choice, a Pan flute solo wafting over the Valley of the Dolls. You do need to drop E on a crowded dance floor to "get" most strains of techno, or smoke out bigtime for reggae to wobble you to Jah. And drugs drive the music: I’m currently rereading one of my fave tomes, Please Kill Me: The Uncensored Oral History of Punk (Penguin, 1997), and it blows my Swiss cheese brain the sheer piles of drugs everyone was on in the ’70s rock scene. I guess that’s why they got so bloated in the ’80s.

Which leads us, squinting in dawn’s foggy light, to the present. It’s odd that the same prescription drugs kids use to stay well-behaved in math class are the ones most clubbers pop while getting dressed, with a key-snort of terror-funding coke to keep the edge off. But if ’00s electro and fidget house were the sound of Adderall and Ritalin, dubstep derived from hydroponic stank, the disco revival uncorking fresh poppers (see www.homochic.com for your designer bottle), and minimal techno just OCD writ large (a self-consciously undrugged movement?) then the illicit substance center, though cut with baby laxative, at least still holds. And always the liquor flows and flows….

STEVE BUG

Brain-teasing techno label Pokerflat presents a rare showcase of its stable, including deep mentalist Bug and smooth criminal John Tejada.

Fri/21, 10 p.m., $20, Mezzanine, 444 Jessie, SF. www.mezzaninesf.com

DERRICK CARTER

Do-the-doo house is making a shining comeback, thanks in part to the Chicago master’s tireless touring. Shimmy and shake, boogie child.

Fri/21, 10 p.m.- 4 a.m., $10. Temple, 540 Howard, SF. www.templesf.com

KRADDY

"Cybernetic breaks with asymmetrical dub delays" from the former Glitch Mobber, with "global slut psy-hop" queen Ana Sia opening up.

Fri/21, 10 p.m., $10. Mighty, 119 Utah, SF. www.mighty119.com

RONSKI SPEED

Your progressive-trance Burner warmup begins with the Euphonic Sounds tunes of this dapper space octopus.

Sat 22, 10 p.m.- 4 a.m., $15 advance. 1015 Folsom, SF. www.1015.com

JEGA

Wherefore art thou, Ambient Romeo? All around us, of course, as pioneer Jega drops his excellent double-disc Variance (Planet Mu) after nine long years.

Sun/22, 10 p.m., $10. Li Po Lounge, 916 Grant, SF. www.nastysonix.com

Teh ghey

0

SUPER EGO It’s been a coon’s age (is that racist?) since I lifted the bloody glitter-crusted rock of alternaqueer nightlife and peeped with prickled horror at the writhing wigged creatures of darkness beneath. There’s a lot going on this month, so buckle up your birdseed boobs and ride, baby, ride. But first, I’ve got to give a special screechy shout-out to Faux King Awesome and his filthy-excellent trash-club blog, www.dragslag.org. Check it, chicas, that child never sleeps.

HOMO A GO GO FESTIVAL

As Zombie Cher would say, "A-woooaaaah!" And then, "Brains." Four nights of edgy queer music, fashion, film, art, activism, and, yes, parties with more than 50 performers spread out across the city. Italo disco darlings Glass Candy swoop in to join noise-makers like Erase Errata, Katastrophe, Younger Lovers, Hunx and his Punx, Honey Soundsystem, Chelsea Starr, Girl in a Coma, and a spectacular buttload of others. Plus: old-school zine exhibitions, activist workshops, and plenty of classic homopunk/queercore/riot grrrl spirit in the air — so strap on your 16-holes and let’s get mish-moshed.

Thur/13-Sun/16, various times and locations, www.homoagogo.com

THE ROD

"Wet jock strap contest" — are any four words in the English language more titilutf8g besides "five-second rule, bitches"? Almost five years ago, DJ Bus Station John launched his bathhouse disco-drenched tribute to teasingly moistened fabric, bringing many a screw-worthy type through Deco’s doors to compete for $100. (Full dis-clothes-ure: I host the contest when I can remember what’s happening, and Hunky Beau recruits contestants with his "special talent.") All good things must come to a tight little hairy ass end, however, and with this final installment The Rod promises to go out with a sopping bang.

Fri/14, 10 p.m., $5. Deco, 510 Larkin, SF. www.decosf.com

SF GRAND VOGUE BALL

Chop, mop, fierce, and shade, Miss Realness. People have forever been talking about holding a grand vogue ball in San Francisco. Finally the money’s where the mouth is and the chin is on the floor, dropping for you as local houses compete each Friday until the final battle royale Sept. 11. Categories include: Face, Drama, Butch Boyz in Pumps, Look in the Book, Butch Queen Femme, and Old Way/New Way. Walk, work, walk — are there any more?

Fridays through Sept. 11, 8 p.m., free. Yerba Buena Center, 700 Howard, SF. groups.google.com/group/sfgrandvogueball

14TH SAN FRANCISCO DRAG KING CONTEST

It’s big time, y’all, for the sexy kings to come tearing out of the closet in their testosterone Testarossas — and my stubble is itching with adrenaline. For 14 years, Fudgie Frottage and company have brought out the munchable machos to stomp the boards in a quest for the spiky Mr. San Francisco Drag King crown. The talent numbers are uproarious, the crowd bursts with rare hotties, and all involved have a sweaty ball. The whole thing benefits P.A.W.S., so you know you’ll be riding that mustache for a very good cause besides your own.

Sat/15, 8 p.m., $15–$35. DNA Lounge, 375 11th St., SF. www.sfdragkingcontest.com

HERR-A-CHICK

This raucous biweekly Wednesday rock ‘n’ roll lady night at the Eagle just got a reboot of sorts: felch whore Renttecca has climbed aboard Anna Conda’s wig and Juanita Fajita’s taco truck to join them in hosting live bands, drag disasters, and the occasional poetry interlude(!).

Wed/19 and every first and third Wednesday, 9 p.m., $5 (free in drag). Eagle Tavern, 398 12th St., www.sfeagle.com

BJÖRK NIGHT

Oh, how I wish this event were called Björk Wars, and tranny Megabots had to trudge their four-story iridium stilettos across the frozen tundra, transforming with groans into stupendous radioactive igloos housing prancing bands of radical faeries and elfin gals fashioning their own soy jerky shoes. Well, instead we get Trannyshack arising from the grave to pay tribute to the Voltaic princess with stunning low-cost effects and volcanic performances. OK, then.

Fri/28, 10 p.m., $12. DNA Lounge, 375 11th St., SF.www.trannyshack.com

Hold the pickle

0

superego@sfbg.com

SUPER EGO Enough with the gourmet street food carts, already. What this joint really needs is some gourmet street cocktail carts. I can barely see it now: fixie-powered blenders, home-brewed Fernet shots, "shit coke" smuggled Cuban rum margaritas with powdered-sugar rims and laminated dollar-bill straws, bacon-wrapped hot dog martinis, 5-HTP power boosts … Anyone for an heirloom finger banana and Prather Ranch taurine daquiri? No?

BONER PARTY


DJ Richie Panic promises "cupcakes, piñatas, condoms, fashion tragedies, and those that understand the power of songs like ‘Surfin’ Bird’ recontextualized for these fucked-up times" at this tastelessly amazing Wednesday banger. Trust.

Wednesdays, 10 p.m., free. Beauty Bar, 2299 Mission, SF. www.beautybar.com

RIP: A REMIX MANIFESTO


Mashups — in or out? The scene’s still lively, and this SF360 Film + Club night brings together SFs top mashers Adrian and Mysterious D and London’s Eclectic Method, with a screening of mashup doc RiP: A Remix Manifesto.

Thu/23, 7 p.m., $12–$17. Mezzanine, 444 Jessie, SF. www.mezzaninesf.com

NICKODEMUS


The leader of the legendary, decade-old Turntables on the Hudson party just dropped the stellar, border-hopping Sun People (Eighteenth Street) disc, full of interesting, upbeat tribal tracks. "Positivity" is no longer a dirty word.

Fri/24, 10 p.m. –4 a.m., $10. Paradise Lounge, 1501 Folsom, SF. www.paradisesf.com

GLITCH MOB


The heartthrobs of glitch-hop, now whittled down to a trio, bring their effed-up laser sound to Mezzanine’s tables, with L.A. future bass pioneer Daddy Kev opening up. Gangsta rap meets Burning Man? You better believe it.

Sat/25, 8:30 p.m., $22.50 advance. Mezzanine, 444 Jessie, SF. www.mezzaninesf.com

BAY OF PIGS


The night before the raucous and naughty Up Your Alley fair, get your big gay fetish on with this giant man-meet for charity. Am I scared of the kiki party music by DJs Ted Eiel and Luis Cintron? Yes, sir! But scared equals horny here, hello.

Sat/25, 10 p.m. — 4 a.m., $40–$50.181 Eddy, SF. www.folsomstreetfair.org

UNITING SOULS


It’s the 12-year reunion of promoters Ramiro Gutierrez and Mikey Tello’s progressive house and chunky techno outfit — get that post-old-school rave feeling back with good ol’ Doc Martin headlining and a roster of other well-knowns.

Sat/25, 9 p.m.- 4 a.m., $15. Six, 66 Sixth St., SF. www.unitingsouls.com

SUPER HERO STREET FAIR


To the Batmobile (let’s go)! Wonder Woman Underoos are totally go at this huge, charitable outdoor affair. Heroic tunes by Opulent Temple, Afrolicious, Supersonic Salsa Collective, Pacific Sound, Smoove, and more mutant decks X-Men.

Sat/25, 1 p.m.–midnight, $10 with superhero costume, $20 without. Indiana and Cesar Chavez streets, SF. www.superherosf.com

FOR THE FUTURE


This massive gathering of pretty much every Bay techno and house crew benefits NextAid.org, which helps AIDS-affected African kids. Staple, Green Gorilla, Stompy, Dirty Bird, Om … 15 DJs, 14 hours, perhaps a few oxygen tents.

Sun/26, noon–2 a.m., $10–$15. Cafe Cocomo, 650 Indiana, SF. www.cafecocomo.com

MISS $1.98 PAGEANT


They don’t come any cheaper than drag queens Anna Conda and Monistat — or do they? We’ll find out when they host this koo-koo pageant where all the contestants must put themselves together (and fall apart) for less than the price of an, er, Estonian bride?

Tue/28, 10 p.m., $10. EndUp, 401 Sixth St., SF. www.endup.com

Squeeze me

0

superego@sfbg.com

SUPEREGO Obama’s been in office for a whole 200,000 blog centuries, but times are still so tight I have to make my own mascara out of Marlboro butts and melted-down pantyhose. Why won’t he magically fix everything immediately! Flasks are making a flashy comeback on the club scene, spontaneous street parties are all the rage, and 2 p.m. at Dolores Park is the latest rave time for the hip, half-naked underemployed. (The free San Francisco Symphony performance then and there on Sun/19 will be an awesome culture clash.) It’s a freakonomical conundrum that just as delicious-sounding specialty cocktails are taking off and a new crop of fascinating DJs are touring, no one really has the ducats to taste or hear them.

But the worst thing you can do is stay home. Fortunately, some of the best parties in the city are free — and many more, don’t forget, are gratis if you arrive early enough (bring a crossword or something) or pimp inventive drink specials to help you fight the squeeze. Look Out Weekend (Fridays, 4–9 p.m., free. Vessel, 85 Campton Place, SF. www.lowsf.com) is a bumpin’ electroish happy hour that boasts two-for-one well drinks and an überstylish crowd. The weekly hip-hop-laced glass of adventure that is Red Wine Social (Wednesdays, 8 p.m., free. Dalva, 3121 16th St., SF. www.myspace.com/dalva_cocktails) has been getting scruffsters loopy for the better part of a decade, while hip-hop upstart West Addy (Wednesday, UndergroundSF, 424 Haight, SF. www.myspace.com/westaddy) gooses the neon youth. The eclectic Drunken Monkey (Tuesdays, 9 p.m., free. Annie’s Social Club, 917 Folsom, SF. www.anniessocialclub.com) brings together goth and hip-hop — goth hop? Gnip gnop? — while the occasional, usually free Alcoholocaust parties (various dates, Argus Lounge, 3187 Mission, SF. www.arguslounge.com) get your rock rocks off.

The gays love it the free: Honey Sundays (Sundays, 9 p.m., free. Paradise Lounge, 1501 Folsom, SF. www.honeysoundsystem.com) brings the best underground queer sounds in town to a lovely cross-section of post-weekend freaks — and is celebrating its second anniversary Sun/19 — while Charlie Horse (Fridays, 9 p.m., free. The Cinch, 1723 Polk, SF. www.myspace.com/charliehorsecinch) is an actual delicious freakshow, with Anna Conda and her merry band of blackouts dishing out punk rock drag for a packed house. Tiara Sensation (Mondays, 9 p.m., free. The Stud, 399 Ninth St., SF. www.myspace.com/tiarasensation) is a mad mix of outré drag themes — Bea Arthur never died here — and DIY outfits, many of them constructed onscene. Freesational!

WATCHA-CLAN


Breakbeat revival in full effect? Maybe, but how about "world ‘n bass." French-Algerian phenom Watcha-Clan puts a refreshing, live global spin on the fractured obsession of yesteryear, in keeping with our borderless times. The Afrolicious boys crack it all open.

Wed/15, 8 p.m., $10. Rickshaw Stop, 155 Fell, SF. www.rickshawstop.com

JUST ANOTHR PARTY


My fave ‘Loin-hearted electro band, the Tenderlions, will be rocking it with super-naff Ferrari Party kids Jason D. and Primo and glam-slam DJs Sarah Delush, Mario Muse, Pony P. and other razor-sharp untouchables.

Fri/17, 10 p.m.– 3 a.m., $5. 103 Harriet, SF. www.1015.com

SMACK


Could I go at least a week without writing about Detroit? Sheesh, y’all go back home! But not before Smack, a D-lovely affair, that pairs scene queen Juanita More with the Motor City’s Sass and Family crews, with quite-right techno-reppin’ DJ Chuck Hampton, aka Gay Marvine, on the decks.

Fri/17, 10 p.m., $5. UndergroundSF, 424 Haight, SF.

PHEEKO DUBFUNK


More North African dancefloor diaspora, as the man from Oran-El-Bahia rips out some seriously silky smooth house and, well, dubfunk at Temple. Although he became well-known for his sets in South Beach, Miami, Pheeko’s no mere sparkly sunglass-wearing slickster, keeping the tunes deep and intelligently constructed.

Sat/18, 10 p.m., $5 before 11 p.m., $20 after. Temple, 540 Howard, SF. www.templesf.com

Miss u?

0

superego@sfbg.com

SUPER EGO Killer apps available soon for your iClub phone, besides the one where you can fake-snort Adderall, that epilepsy-inducing portable strobe, the virtual cigarette, and — Goddess help us all — the Paul Van Dyk BPM counter and 3-D glow stick:

Breath Blocker.

Douche Douche.

Cops Are Here (for bathroom line clearance).

Midi Jammer (to fuck with laptop DJs).

Instant Breakfast. Better Breakdown. Red Bull Unburp. Take Back What You Told Her. What’s Your Name Again? Third Ear Corrector (for trainwreck mixes). Stiletto GPS (to avoid injury). Bachelorette Banishment. Collar De-Pop. Hands In The Air (for lazies). Center Of Gravity (for twirlers). Personal Space. Interested Face. Sleep It Off. Leave The House. Get Me Home. Cocktail Scan. Dealer Dialer. Bag Locator. Eyes Uncrosser. Name-On-List. Instant Blackout. Armpit Undo. Wardrobe Wand. Singalong Stop. Conversation Erase. Invisible Walk of Shame.

Embedding Disabled By Request.

No More ’80s? Electro Silence? Trance-A-Way? Techno Buffer? Affliction Tee Annihilate? Child, you could make a million. Call me when your cell’s a mirror, and I can look myself up in it.

CLUB 1992

It was the best of times, it was the blurst of times — I think. I was too busy raving with Big Bird. In 1992, "Baby Got Back," "I’m Too Sexy," and "Jump Around" fought it out on hypothetical dance floors somewhere in Mainstreamland, probably, but the most important thing you need to know about that annus horribilis (Queen Elizabeth II’s phrase, not mine) was that something called Super Typhoon Gay threatened Guam. I do the research so you don’t have to. In any case, if irony’s taught us anything, it’s that taste is now a featherless bird that will peck out your brain. And — welcome friends! Awesome hair! — for the hot new gen flooding the clubs at the moment, these songs were its older sister’s jams. I can’t say mine were any more artistically momentous, because a) I’m basically a cultural relativist and b) she blinded me with science. In an undoubtedly canny move, the kids from electro-styley bonanzas Blow-Up and L.O.W. SF are getting all JTT on the TRL, coloring 111 Minna badd with a mess of DJs. Along with the neon pop dollops, "’90s hip-hop" is promised — which I’m guessing means more "getting jiggy" than experimental Quannum mechanics. Question: when will someone do an 1892 party? Now that would be epic.

Sat/11, 10 p.m., $10. 111 Minna, SF. www.club1992.com

PRINCE VS. MICHAEL JACKSON

Alas, I think we have a winner already for the 62nd installment of this seven-year-old monthly party at Madrone. But, despite it’s unabashed gimmickry and slightly worn template — and the fact that you’ve been dancing to MJ everywhere — this DJ battle pitting Purplesaurus Rex against Sparkle Fingers is a poppy blast, if now overshadowed by tragedy. In terms of dance music influence, Prince currently holds the ruling orb (just ask precocious ’80s pinchers La Roux). Michael hasn’t really been in the game since Frankie Knuckles’ masterpiece remix of the R. Kelly-penned "You Are Not Alone" in 1995, despite Rihanna and Justin’s bland efforts and Ne-Yo’s excellent ones. But all that has now been reset, with postmortem reevaluation and exposure forced on us. This party, with its hits, rarities, and remixes, is a good start for hearing things afresh.

Sat/18, 8 p.m., $5. Madrone Art Bar, 500 Divisadero, SF. www.madronelounge.com

Juicy gotcha krazy

0

superego@sfbg.com

SUPEREGO Oh, who the hell cares what I think this week? It’s summer and our party hormones — partymones — are totally going apeshit. Before I get into the upcoming party musts, though, I will leave you with one quasi-abstract musing. The thing I’ll miss most about analog TV, besides the term "vertical hold," is the sound of someone frantically banging the top of the box to stabilize the picture. If anyone’s thinking of sampling that in a killer track, now’s the time. Slap that bitch!

NINJA TUNE


It’s been a coon’s age since the forward-thinking label threw one of its freaky bashes here in San Francisco, and despite some questionable recent signings (Thunderheist? Er, pass), it’s pulling out its new big guns with this one. Before he brought down the house on the Brainfeeder tour last year, I couldn’t look at foppish L.A. synth-master Daedelus without flashing back to my more ill-starred ’80s sartorial choices. But he proved himself up to the minute with edgy future bassism and over-the-top Beethoven-like symphonic flourishes. New New Romantic? Sure. Montreal dancehall warper Ghislain Poirier is back as well, and will benefit from Mighty’s mighty bass boost. Opening up is Daly City’s underground patron saint, Mochipet.

Thu/18, 9 p.m., $10 advance. Mighty, 119 Utah, SF. www.mighty119.com

"THE CREATIVES"


There’s nothing more terrifying to me than a drag queen out of drag. Here I’ll be all gossiping tipsily with someone and say something like, "Oh gurl, that Ambrosia Salad mess truly sucked a big one with her number last Friday." And then he’ll say in a deep voice, "I’m Ambrosia Salad, asshole" — and I’ll have to backtrack faster than Scooby and Shaggy from Bluebeard’s tacky ectoplasm. Luckily, hottie photographer Molly Decoudreaux provides a key with her new exhibition, "The Creatives: Daytime Portraits from a Queer Nightlife," in which she ingeniously snaps notorious movers and shakers in their casual home habitats. Who knew these queens had homes? The opening party should be darling.

Sat/20, 7 p.m.–10 p.m., continues through July 10, free. A.Muse Gallery, 614 Alabama, SF. www.yourmusegallery.com

SUREFIRE


That lively Bay nexus for all things dubstep, Surefire Sound, has gone monthly at Triple Crown (yay) and has a stellar June lineup planned. Distance, a hurricane force from the U.K. whose "Night Vision" track on Planet Mu pummels the darkness into submission, brings his streetwise wobble to the tables. Toronto’s XI gets gnarly, his ragamuffin moments reflective of Canada’s simmering melting pot. And much-admired local DJ Antiserum possesses the just-right combination of longtime jungle and breaks experience and wild viral style to crank the party up madly.

Sat/20, 10 p.m., $10. Triple Crown, 1760 Market, SF. www.triplecrownsf.com

GREEN VELVET


True eccentricity is still a rarity on the techno scene, which tends to forego stand-out personalities in favor of mix-friendly assimilation. This can be a good thing: we don’t need another Prodigy, surely. But Green Velvet, the wacky track producer also known as house pioneer Cajmere, gets the balance between dance floor motion and the conceptually bizarre perfectly. The influence of his earworm cuts like "The Stalker," "Flash," and the oddly Eminem-summoning "La La Land" is strongly felt on recent underground Berlin styles and throughout the goofy Dirty Bird label technoverse. He’ll be in town with bonkers duo Designer Drugs, who manage to make electro-sleaze still relevant-sounding, to help celebrate the birthday of one of my favorite SF DJs, Richie Panic.

Sat/20, 9 p.m., $15 advance. Mezzanine, 444 Jessie, SF. www.mezzaninesf.com

DJ SAID


A decade ago, when the Internet was still booming, Said Adelekan brought some serious dance floor spirit to that oft-soulless go-go period with his local Afro-House movement, his Fatsouls label, and his lovely Atmosphere parties. I’m absolutely delighted that he and Fatsouls have resurfaced — goddess knows we could use a little more Afro-injection — to release a new full-length Fatsouls joint, Sun of Gao. Joining Said (and many familiar friendly faces from those days, I hope) will be the luminous DJ Dedan of the great Brothers and Sisters party in Oakland. Expect everything deeply felt, from Afrobeat to minimal techno — oh, and Nigerian legend Rasaki Aladokun on the talking drum.

Friday, June 26, 10 p.m., free. Otis, 25 Maiden Lane, SF. www.otissf.com

Post-diva, darling

0

markeb@sfbg.com

SUPEREGO "Do you consider yourself a diva?" It’s one of those ridiculously rhetorical nightlife, especially gay nightlife, questions — like "Does this pair of angel wings and neon bob wig make me look dated?" or "Is that muscle queen by the speakers dancing or frantically signaling with both hands for me to call him on his cellular?"

And yet, here I am in the Castro, asking that very question of potential diva-in-training Caroline Lund (www.myspace.com/carolinelund). Lund certainly has all the particulars in place. Freshly released, circuit-friendly remix album of her debut single "Move Your Body"? Snap. A longtime dance presence on San Francisco’s shirtless gay afterhours scene, coordinating riser-writhers at Club Universe in the ’90s and now Wunderland? Snap, snap. Slick video featuring Lund in an array of revealing outfits, gyrating among backup pec-flexers? Of course. And heavy rotation play on Energy, 92.7 FM? Well, not until the Bay’s biggest progressive-pop dance station actually starts playing more local stuff. But soon.

Originally from Ghana, raised in Stockton, and now living in the Haight, the naturally gorgeous Lund even has a beauty pageant past, snagging a Miss San Joaquin sash when she was fresh out of high school ("I scored a few crowns and moved on," she laughs). But despite possessing all the slightly played-out signifiers of divadom, she offers a refreshing departure from the usual hyped-up circuit siren. First, she’s not a wailer. "Move Your Body" is an intensely catchy if unthreatening tune: Lund coos her way through the slinky "Ray of Light"-like slice of 2 a.m. loveliness with understated bravado.

Caroline Lund, “Move Your Body” (teaser)

She’s also disarmingly self-aware. "Look, I’m a track act," she tells me, "and I’ve seen a lot of track acts perform. It’s important not to interrupt the flow of the music with announcements, to flesh it out organically with dancing and costumes that don’t throw off the vibe." I’ll probably choke on an empty poppers bottle before I’ll ever again hear a track act describe herself as a track act. And underneath all the artifice, a real drama queen’s heart beats. The teenage Lund used to sneak out of her parent’s house to attend theater rehearsals, and has an impressive acting resume. "With the new release, I just always loved this type of music — it’s a time in my life to really go for something," she says, her eyes sparkling with resolve.

The bone of contention, of course, has always been divas. My cuticles are still raw from clawing my eyes out in the ’90s, trying to explain to my intransigent friends that house is more than just some lady yowling like a stuck pig to "be yourself" while a hurricane of gym clones twitches and disrobes on the dance floor around you. Not that there’s anything wrong with that scene, but it makes me kind of sneezy, kind of stabby. One could even hear much of the past decade’s underground dance music as a reaction to flagrant vocal house — from electro-clash’s snide, clipped raps, to electro’s Uffie "fuck me" mumbles and dubstep and future bass’s virtual obliteration of the feminine.

Maybe all that was necessary. But now that a diva can be "anyone with a midriff and an attitude" — in the words of DJ Bus Station John, who pretty much reintroduced the sound of women singing to SF’s dance underground with his bathhouse disco revival movement — and Lady Gaga has dominated global charts merely by raiding Grace Jones’ Goodwill bin, can we finally bury the overblown personality-machine and get back to the feeling?

"I’d be honored if anyone called me a diva," Lund says, demurely. "But really, I just want to be part of the energy, not to own it."

———–

STACEY PULLEN

In the early ’90s, along with seminal Detroit legends like Alton Miller, Kenny Larkin, and Carl Craig, ever-cool innovator Stacey Pullen explored and expanded a strain of the early techno sound, implicit in Derrick May’s first releases, that conjured up complex jazz-fusion-like chord shifts and African drum patterns. The results — oh, I’ll just say it — blew out some serious crania. They also helped establish techno as a distinctly black idiom at a time when its definition was being stretched so far it included sampling the Sesame Street theme song. In the late ’90s, when everyone was trying to make money, Stacey ventured into harder, more Euro-friendly mixes — with mixed results, at least to this Motor City queen’s ear. The man behind Silent Phase and Kosmik Messenger is back in his semi-abstract yet supremely danceable comfort zone, though, and should be worth braving the Temple weekend crowd for. Pack your anti-bachelorette spray and prepare to be seriously moved.

Fri/12, 10 p.m., $20. Temple, 540 Howard, SF. www.templesf.com

———-

THE MARTINEZ BROTHERS

Are Steve and Chris Martinez the great Bronx hope of house? The press hook about the dashing, actual brothers is that they’re incredibly tender: now 20 and 17 respectively, they’ve been tearing up global parties for the past couple years. (Don’t ask how they got past the door guys, nosy.) But the real news is that "house" in their case refers to deeply researched, deeply felt mixes that may be ravenous in scope — Kerri Chandler, Pat Methany, and Slum Village all find their way onto TMB’s decks — but are reviving that endangered species: dancefloor soul. This is not to say they’re fuddy-duddies in training, or that there’s cobwebs on the needles. The energetic duo may not yet be, as many have posited, the new Masters at Work (I’ll need to hear a few more releases from them before I’m willing to join that chorus), but when they give the electro-stutter treatment to Roland Clark’s political a capella "Resist" over DJ Spen’s string-driven throwdown "Gabryelle", the old-school spirits come down. House is alive and finding new children to speak through.

Sat/13, 10 p.m., $10 advance. Mighty, 119 Utah, www.mighty119.com

Bull feathers

0

superego@sfbg.com

SUPEREGO I recently found myself in Navajo Nation, munching on frybread at Kate’s diner in Tuba City with Hunky Beau after rocking out to, I shit you not, tech-navajo on the local FM station in the rental. I looked fantastic. We’d just witnessed a fierce two-spirit working the sandwich counter at the Bashas’ supermarket down the street. She/he looked fantastic. Back here in the city, on the nightlife scene, things weren’t so fantastic — another big underground party got busted, Pink Saturday ran into permit snafus, and neighborhood complaints mooted even more regular shindigs. And has anyone else noticed the skyrocketing price of a drink in this town? I’m not saying you need a buzz to bust out (alcohol sales are banned on the rez, so I’m grateful for the option), but dropping a Hamilton for a weak well screwdriver certainly has me rethinking my hollow leg. Still, as immortal shamans ABBA sang, "I can fly like an eagle, I can learn to spread my wings". Spread ’em, children, toss your hair, and let’s keep flying high.

ROLLER DISCO!

The only party in the city where I’m never alone falling on my luscious ass returns — skate rental provided, balance and expertise optional. I can’t lie, I have a total blast at this gig, even if the tunes are fun-yet-familiar and there’s always that one amazingly cute girl whose backspins and pirouettes make me bite my knuckles and wish I were a lot gayer. Like, Brian Boitano gayer.

Thu/4, 9 p.m., $5. Mighty, 119 Utah, SF. www.mighty119.com

"25 YEARS OF HOUSE MUSIC"

Dates and times, dates and times — why quibble? Most approaches to the evolution of house are more organic than any "x" on a calendar. But if a quarter-century celebration, complete with art exhibition, of the underground global movement that foretold the Internet’s interconnectivity is a big enough excuse to get Chicago genius Jesse Saunders behind the decks at Club Six, I’m way down.

Fri/5, 9 p.m.–3 a.m., $15. Club Six, 60 Sixth St., SF. www.clubsix1.com

ZOMBIE BEACH PARTY

"Guaranteed to put the laughter in slaughter" is a tagline that’ll get me every time. And so will any appearance by the Living Dead Girlz, those jaw-dropping undead dancer with a taste for semi-clothed flesh. They’ll be waving, not drowning, from the stage at this tongueless-in-cheek beach blanket bingo bacchanal, along with Sparkly Devil, Honey Lawless, and a mass grave of others. Plus: an undead beachwear costume contest. Paging Annette Funicello …

Fri/5, 9 p.m.– late, $10 street clothes/$7 surfer zombies. DNA Lounge, 375 11th St., SF. www.dnalounge.com

BIG IDEA: RITUAL AND REDEMPTION

Oh, crap. Is it really Pride month again? Time to haul that sequined rainbow thong from out the mothballs and try to get married or whatever. Yerba Buena Center for the Arts is going homo-humongous for its latest, starlet-studded Big Idea party — rounding up the city’s fiercest alternaqueers with its golden lasso, including fab drag disasters Anna Conda and Monistat, DJ Dirty Knees, Pansy Division, Honey Soundsystem, Ex-Boyfriends, and the ever-present, never-sleeping Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence. The Fellini-inspired spectacle also promises free tattoos, after-hours dancing, a taco truck, and "Project Nunway," heh. Best of all, the whole shebang is free — and not sponsored by Miller Lite, Altoids, 2Xist, Olivia Cruises, or Tylenol PM.

Sat/6, 9 p.m.–3 a.m., free. YBCA, 701 Mission, SF. www.ybca.org

WIGHNOMY BROTHERS

Monthly throwdown Kontrol at EndUp breeds absolutely bonkers dancefloor results that are far less fussy than its minimal techno focus, meticulous taste in talent, and somewhat daunting prevalence of miniscule eyewear would suggest. For the party’s fourth anniversary, it’s bringing in Germany’s superstar Wighnomy Brothers, two proudly unkempt vodka-swillers whose Seth Rogen-like public image belies a sizzling bromance with the more lovable, devil-may-care side of dance. The tipsy pair of teddy bears with a penchant for unpronounceable titles (recent release: Metawuffmischfelge) refused to visit the U.S. during that whole Bush thing. Laudable, but we could have used their balls-to-the-wall wig-outs to help us through such foulest ick. Good thing we’ve still got problems!

Sat/6, 10 p.m.–6 a.m., $20. EndUp, 401 Sixth St., SF. www.kontrolsf.com

Aerosol melodies

0

marke@sfbg.com

Ah, Le Poisson Rouge — how I yearn for you. The edgy New York City club and performance space has become a golden nexus for the current rich collision of the indie, electronic, and contemporary classical worlds. Zing go the avant-garde, filter-bent strings in the Bay often enough, of course, especially through the out-there provenance of sfSound (www.sfsound.org), the biannual Soundwave Series (www.projectsoundwave.com), and Berkeley’s Center for New Music and Audio Technologies (cnmat.berkeley.edu). But it took last August’s sold out Herbst Theater one-off by Wordless Music, the Poisson-based org that brings big indie names to the new music stage, to finally hold SF’s flannel-clad fixie pixie population enraptured by the freakier side of symphonica, with the white-noise-drenched West Coast premiere of “Popcorn Superhet Receiver” by Radiohead’s Jonny Greenwood and soul-loosening pieces by Bay boys Fred Frith (“Save As”) and Mason Bates (“Icarian Rhapsody”).

It’s been a massive year for 32-year-old Virginia native Bates, who told me over the phone that he moved from NYC to North Oakland four years ago because he “wanted a house and a short commute to a great city.” In March the Julliard grad debuted a six-movement work, Sirens, commissioned by local vocal greats Chanticleer, right after he wrapped up a three-season young-composer-in-residence program with the California Symphony. Perhaps his biggest break came last month, when the YouTube Symphony Orchestra, assembled via audition vids and led by San Francisco Symphony conductor Michael Tilson Thomas, made its debut at Carnegie Hall, playing a portion of Bates’ latest orchestral suite, The B-Sides. Like many other professional cynics, I had my nails sharpened and painted Jungle Red for this dreadful-seeming Internet marketing buzz-blast, but the inclusion of Bates’ forward-thinking work helped rescue the affair from maudlin crowd-pleasing.

Speaking of gimmicks, here’s what many perceive as Bates’: he plays a laptop onstage with the orchestra. Good heavens! Mere gimmickry’s a sad assumption — sure enough, his YouTube gig has reignited that tired technology vs. “true” classical debate that has periodically raged ever since the theremin took the Paris Opera stage in 1927. But Bates, who has toured clubs in his DJ Masonic guise for years, rises above all that with a deep knowledge of dance music history, which itself claims a long and fruitful entanglement with contemporary classical, and a mission of sonic integration.

“The laptop is a piece of the enterprise, a means of augmenting the texture of an orchestral arrangement and adding a richness that evokes new sonic landscapes,” says Bates, who considers his keyboard a “specialized extension of the percussion family.” As for snap judgments about technology, “it actually goes both ways,” he says. “Of course, some traditional symphony-goers can’t really go there. But it’s important for people from the club world to know that I’m not just orchestrating techno” — like the Balanescu Quartet’s version of Kraftwerk or the Williams Fairey Brass Band’s take on acid house. “I’m not Richie Hawtin for woodwinds and booming tubas. I’m coming from a more ambient, electronica place — I’m always aware that I’m playing off something while delving into unique textures and expanded sonari.”

The B-Sides, which will have its full debut for three nights with the San Francisco Symphony at Davies Symphony Hall, consists of five movements inspired by archetypal ambient moods — from the buzzing insects and tropical evocations of “Aerosol Melody Hanalei” to astronautical voice transmissions and blankets of static in “Gemini and the Solar Winds.” “Wharehouse Medicine,” which the YouTube Symphony debuted, is like a nifty bit of Leonard Bernstein pumped up with chattering clicks and back-ear bass that energetically summons up the chillout rooms of yore. If it seems odd that Bates references vinyl in his title, while combining laptop rumination and live orchestration, don’t sweat it. “I was thinking back to the experimental freedom that B-sides once afforded to groups like Pink Floyd — surgical strikes into trippy terrain.”

Bates will also be bringing his outstanding Mercury Soul project (www.mercurysoul.org), conceived with conductor Benjamin Shwartz and visual artist Anne Patterson, to Davies after the May 22 symphony performance and to Mezzanine (www.mezzaninesf.com) on May 28. Mercury Soul “is almost a negative image of what I do with an orchestra,” Bates says, “where I DJ and we create a club atmosphere interspersed with live performances of contemporary works by the likes of Steve Reich and John Luther Adams.”

“Look, I know a laptop is never going to be as expressive as a fiddle,” Bates says, a twang of his Virginian upbringing coming through. “And a CD installation pack may never rival the power of a written score. But if I can expand and screw around with orchestral space that way, then it definitely meets my intent.”

THE B-SIDES

With the San Francisco Symphony

Wed/20, Fri/22, and Sat/23

8 p.m., $35–$130

Davies Symphony Hall

201 Van Ness

(415) 552-8000

www.sfsymphony.org

Hoof it

0

superego@sfbg.com

SUPER EGO Hey, Shakes, have you puffy-penned and bedazzled your hamdemic flu mask yet? Mine’s totally going for that retro postapocalyptic electro look (so future yesterday!) and says "oink pAArty." I made it by running a pair of florescent New Balances and last-season Bottega Veneta remnants through my vintage Ronco Dial-O-Matic. Then I simply collaged. When the World Health Organization says "panic," I think "personalized nightlife accessory opportunity." Are they still serving bourbon bacontinis at Pop’s Bar on 24th Street? Flask us a threesome of those, text my porky ass from the Powerhouse trough, and let’s greet humanity’s swine song on the dance floor, chop chop.

TOPPA TOP


All praise to invaluable hometown hosts Jah Warrior Shelter HiFi Sound System for this weekly dancehall and reggae refresher at Club Six. None fear dread the mad decent cover, smoked-out vibe, and sticky-fresh deep-needling by the likes of Jah Yzer, Irie Dole, and Ivier at SF’s only "reggae happy hour". Wait, isn’t every reggae hour supposed to be happy hour?

Thursdays, 9 p.m., $5. Club Six, 66 Sixth St., SF. www.clubsix1.com

FREQO DE MAYO


Right after you sleep off your crudo de Cinco, step to this annual wigout’s mixed piñata of up-to-the-nanosecond styles. Vibesquad, a.k.a. Denver crunkadelic producer and DJ Aaron Holstein, brings the dirty future bass. Scuba, my current sonic crush, kills with dubstep depth that suddenly rounds up into sweet release, and New York City’s DJ Sabo is the coolest baile breaks kid on the globaltronic block. Headliner Kid Kenobi is less intriguing — a slick Aussie techno-popper with a B-boy lite patina. But at that point, you may just want to drop a lime and cut loose in your funny hat.

Fri/8, 10 p.m., $15. 103 Harriet, SF. www.1015.com

DIRTYBIRD PAJAMA JAM


Ha ha ha, I feel so spring break. Famed local techno label Dirty Bird matches its goofy sensibility with a no-slumber party, bunny slippers and all. DJs Claude VonStroke, Worthy, Justin and Christian Martin, and up-and-comer J. Phlip bring the post-minimal hijinks, you bring the stripy drawers and stuffed E.T. dolls.

Fri/8, 10 p.m., $15, Mezzanine, 444 Jessie, SF. www.mezzaninesf.com

MALUCA AND ISA GT


Ladies, it’s your turn. I’m fainting for bad-girl MC Maluca’s raw and minimal electro-mambo heartstopper "El Tigeraso" single — her Dominican-via-Brooklyn roots tangle in all the right places. Colombian turntable whiz Isa GT sets her filters on stun and techs up the new-cumbia phenom with some major bounce and rave-y buildups. She’s got big names like Crookers in her corner, remixing her blog hit "Pela’O," but she’ll carve out killer stratospherics of her own in her SF debut.

Sat/9, 10 p.m., $10. Elbo Room, 647 Valencia, SF. www.elbo.com

NICKY SIANO **CANCELED! D’OH!


There is no house, there is no techno — there’s only a vast rainbow continuum of disco. So goes the current theoretical trope of dance music criticism (which unfortunately negates years of pre-mirrorball funk and kraut innovation). Still, if disco is Genesis, then DJ Nicky Siano of legendary ’70s Big Apple club the Gallery, which inspired Paradise Garage and Studio 54, is Adam — and this four-hour farewell set on the eve of his retirement should be a revelation.

Sat/9, 9:30 p.m., $15. Paradise Lounge, 1501 Folsom, SF. www.paradisesf.com

BIONIC


The 11-year-old Sunday chunky house and techno weekly has settled in nicely to its new digs at Triple Crown, just in time for some excellent weekend recovery comfort and joy. Sure, we all miss the great Top in Lower Haight, but the Crown’s primo sound system suits DJs Nikola Baytala, Solar, and surprise special guests quite rightly. Freak factoid: the night started out as "Bionic Peanut Butter" after the classic Gwen Guthrie throwdown. Yummers.

Sundays, 10 pm, $5, Triple Crown, 1760 Market, SF. www.triplecrownsf.com

Wiggletronics

0

superego@sfbg.com

SUPER EGO “Many people confuse us with Spain,” MC Kalaf of worldwide dance sensations Buraka Som Sistema says — a back-end hint of fado-like melancholy mixing into his unfailingly chipper voice — when we talk over the phone about how the fab foursome has finally put their homeland, Portugal, on the club-must map. Buraka, two of whose members hail originally from Angola and two from that sunny strip along the Atlantic, represents a double bubbling up of the repressed: the crew has exploded onto the nightlife radar by melding the underground sounds of Luanda’s bumping kuduro dance movement with Lisbon’s buzzy, overlooked electronic music scene.

Last year Buraka’s sophomore release Black Diamond (Enchufada/Sony BMG) quickly shot up the hit lists of beats connoisseurs by jumping the current trend of streaming developing-world rhythms through the latest sonic technology. “We took the sound of the Lisbon suburbs where many Angolan immigrants live — our suburbs are not like your ‘Desperate Housewife’ suburbs — and used our years of dance music on it, and the crowds loved it,” says Kalaf.

Kuduro is often translated as “stiff bottom,” heh, or “hard ass,” referencing the form of lowdown, hips-wiggling motion that sometimes accompanies the deliciously uptempo sound, a hybrid of sensuous zouk, raucous soca, and free-flow hip-hop that shares an affinity for analog atmospherics with early dub. (Or rather, that dance is mostly reserved for women — men tend to go pop and lock crazy, as you can see in the video below.) Along with Kalaf, Buraka members Li’l John, DJ Riot, and Conductor apply their extensive hip-hop, house, and breakbeat production experience to blow the lid off kuduro’s possibilities. 

The superkinetic results reference everything from Ed Banger hardcore and hyperdub freakouts to Orb-esque kaleidoscopics and the late ’80s Sheffield bleep scene. Scoring MIA to guest on “Sound of Kuduro” helped kick that track up the club charts, and basing the excellent “Kalemba (Wegue-Wegue)” on a misheard lyric from the classic Afro Acid house remix of More Kante’s “Yeke Yeke” gave fanboys a theoretical boner. Live, Buraka’s a tornado, with toasting MCs, fierce singers, and, as Kalaf points out, “anything that makes you scream.” Last time the crew was here, a topless female fan stormed the stage. Kalaf half-joked that an upcoming tour of Japan is brief because “if they throw us out of the country, at least we won’t lose a lot of money.”

Some things get lost in the laptop filtration, however. Kuduro isn’t just a groove; like rap, it’s built on extended narratives of hood life. Buraka jettisons those for catchy calls to the dance floor and global unity “I’m from Angola,” Kalaf admitted, “and even I can’t follow most of what they say.” And, for all the talk on its records of the primacy of Africa, the group has yet to tour the continent. “We’re going in 2010,” Kalaf said, “and to be honest, I’m a little afraid. It may be mental.” But Buraka has helped bring the Angolan guests on its tracks an international audience, while waking up the Western world to yet another vital cultural expression on its edges. Let’s get suburban, y’all.

BURAKA SOM SISTEMA

Tue/21, 8 p.m., $14. Rickshaw Stop, 155 Fell, SF. www.rickshawstop.com For more on Buraka’s kuduro connections, click here.

Bounce to this

0

superego@sfbg.com

SUPER EGO Hold my hair, Bethany — things are gonna get wicked. The Bay’s set to undergo a massive new-bass invasion on Saturday, April 11, and I’m kind of freaking out about it, kind of having outfit trauma, and kind of fiending for a diet coconut juice. Is that postcolonialist?

Perhaps more pressingly: are the low-frequency freakinetics of abstract dubstep, turbo crunk, and future bass vanishing into the headphone red zones of download fanboys and nightlife intellectuals? I mean, has anyone figured out how to dance to any of this mind-blowing shit yet?

That will be one of the looming, booming nightlife questions as critical darlings Flying Lotus, Kode9, and the Bug rumble through Mighty with a gig tagged "The Future," and Ghislain "King of Bounce" Poirier storms the monthly Tormenta Tropical party at Elbo Room. No question, though: both events will melt your face, so pack yourself an extra and hop between them.

When it comes to dance floor poetics, Montreal-based producer, DJ, and mentor Poirier is the shrewdest of the bunch. The Ninja Tune artist has played it both ways from the beginning, tickling cerebellums with growling reveries and laser-chopped academic beats on some tracks, while on others pumping sharp dancehall grinds and grimy ragga as his guest vocalists strike demanding political poses. It’s this second, much more party-friendly "world riddim idiom" Poirier who’ll pop up at Tormenta Tropical, touring for his new Soca Sound System EP, a pulse-pounding glance toward the Trinidadian genre that includes the infectious "Wha-La-La-Leng" with MC Face-T.

And yet, despite Poirier’s intensely straightforward dance-driven live shows and steady stream of lean-and-mean mixtapes, like last year’s excellent Bring the Fire, he’s still mostly known in the States for his forays into glitch-and-sizzle future bass territory. That may be due to his pioneering work in tearing off the 4/4 beats straightjacket and commandeering homemade, bleeding bass lines to glue his ravenously global-eared sets together. Or it may be because people still have trouble seeing the Great White North as the glorious multicultural clusterfuck it is — they’d just rather slap an abstract label on it. Whatever. "Ideas are the best plug-ins," Poirier told Cyclic Defrost magazine last year — but he knows a free mind should be followed by a bumping ass.

In terms of real abstractitude, though, Flying Lotus, the Bug, and Kode 9 swim in the deepest of waters — and each traffics in his own delightful mental aquarium. L.A.’s FlyLo may still be drowning in positive press ink from his incredible 2008 release Los Angeles (Warp) but he hasn’t sacrificed any of his experimental chutzpah, chopping up hip-hop strains into turbulent, prismatic soundscapes. He’s also the smilingest DJ I’ve ever seen. London’s the Bug brings a throbbing, postapocalyptic edge to his dub creations, and his jazz background adds an ethereal sheen to his production style. Hyperdub Records owner Kode9, from Glasgow, is the most mischievous of the trio. His output aspires to a warped dubstep atmosphere that he likens to "drinking acid rain," but he also brings some much-needed humor to the mix — and reassuring connections to dance music’s past. The B-side of his new "Black Sun" single, "2 Far Gone," is a total rewiring of Adonis’ 1986 house classic "No Way Back" that dissolves me into a nostalgic grin.

When these three bass-purveyors passed through San Francisco last year — Lotus and Kode as part of the Brainfeeder Festival at 103 Harriet St., and the Bug at dread bass throwdown Surya Dub — they put in exquisitely thoughtful and uplifting sessions. Alas, they were mostly greeted with appreciative, hella-stoned nodding from the crowd. Only a few hardcore freaks had the gumption to truly take the floor. This time, I say make like the freaks and lose yourself to the beat in your head. The bass is only the basis. It’s up to us to fill in the bounce.

TORMENTA TROPICAL WITH GHISLAIN POIRIER

Sat/11, 10pm, $10. Elbo Room, 647 Valencia, SF. www.elbo,com

THE FUTURE WITH FLYING LOTUS, KODE9 AND THE BUG

Sat/11, 9pm-afterhours, $20. Mighty, 119 Utah, SF. www.mighty119.com

Fluffy bunners

0

› superego@sfbg.com

Look about you, horny toad. There may not be wee lambykins gamboling on your microlawn or the scent of fresh asparagus pervading your water closet yet, but all the mad party signs of spring are sneaking up to floor you: secret sunset shindigs (www.pacificsound.net), hunky Jesus Easter bonnets (www.thesisters.org), blackout drag road trips to Reno (www.trannyshack.com), and, that ultimate in vernal equinoxious signals, a flood of out-of-state gay porn stars looking for extra cash on Rentboy.com and the back pages of the Bay Area Reporter. Spring has sprung! And will probably be passed out in its stiff leather chaps, turquoise Lycra dress shirt, knock off Gucci wraparounds, and George Michael stubble on the corner of 18th and Market soon.

That’s right, those "Oscars of gay porn," the annual GayVN Awards, are coming upon us yet again, as the Castro Theatre plays host to the biggest circle jerk in the butt biz for another year. Downsizing, of course, is out of the question, despite the rash of porno pink slips being fisted out across the industry, which has been hit hard by a combo of economic deflators, internal tussles, and continued grappling with amateur Web competition. (We’ll see if the upcoming onslaught of 3-D dick flicks provides the stimulus package our local studios — second only to backwoods Eastern Europe in terms of sticky-fingered output — so sorely need.)

No, GayVN organizers are gut-pumping all the lubricious glitz they can into a whole weekend of kiki hurrah, with pre-parties, post-parties, Tupperware parties, and brunches that no one will eat at galore. Inflatable personality Janice Dickinson hosts the awards ceremony itself, with backup from homegirl Margaret Cho and Alec Mapa from Ugly Betty (ha!). Online erotic video-on-demand powerhouse Naked Sword, a.k.a. the giant candy-colored Flash octopus that froze my dinky Windows and made me cry with my pants down, will host the official afterparty, Shameless — "the party you’ll never forget, or remember!" — with some big-name DJs and performers I already can’t! It’ll be a wondrous semi-tragedy unfolding in fast motion, worth it if only to ogle the prancing scene. Just please try not to look at the camera when it’s over.

GAYVN AWARDS CEREMONY Sat/28, 7 p.m., $95. Castro Theatre, 429 Castro, SF. gayvnawards.avn.com

SHAMELESS GAYVN AFTERPARTY Sat/28, 10 p.m., $25. Wunderland, 181 Eddy, SF. www.nakedsword.com

———–

TINGEL TANGEL CLUB


The louche cabaret monthly celebrates a year of mingling salacious New York City talent and West Coast underground hotness. Original Cockettes Rumi and Scrumbly, singer Novice Theory, "hypersexual" musicians SlowMo Erotic and more light up the stage, and ever-crushable JD Samson of Le Tigre will Sam Ronson the turntables afterward. Tingel Tangel Le Tigre — it’s an anagram.

Wed/25, 8 p.m., $16. Café du Nord, 2170 Market, SF.

————-

FUCK MIAMI


Oh dear, is it that time of year again? Half our stellar nightlife talents (and a lot of pre-tanned wannabes) will be sucked into the studiously Spandexed and belotioned black hole that is the Winter Music Conference in Miami. If you’re too broke — or too allergic to aggressive slickness and pushy V.I.P. chicks — to jet to the coca beach, share the moment with a slew of worthy left-behinds at this lengthy affair.

Fri/27, 4 p.m.- 2 a.m., free. Mars Bar, 798 Brannan, SF.

————

"HOMELESS NIGHT"


This party promises to be wronger than shitting in a urinal: anarchic drag weekly Charlie Horse is hosting a homeless-themed night. Partially controversial gender clown Monistat joins perky Percocetted hostess Anna Conda to present shameful acts by talented messes to actually help benefit homeless services. La-da-dee, la-da-dah, don’t try to rip the wigs off these queens or they will cut you.

Fri/27, 10 p.m., free. The Cinch, 1723 Polk, SF.

————

LOOK OUT WEEKEND


Happy hours are all the populist rage, especially in these queasy economics, no? One of the biggest and brightest, Look Out Weekend, is moving into new quarters at Vessel off Union Square. The delicious electronic stylings of Oh Land and DJing by the Magnificent Seven complement yummy eats and fashionable freaks at the relaunch. Will L.O.W. 2.0 be as raucous as the first version? Hey, it’s free, so go see for yourself.

Fridays, 4 p.m.-9 p.m., free. Vessel, 85 Campton Place, SF.

————

ROYALTY


Well! It may be a bit bombastic, but the name just fits. SF soulful house music king DJ David Harness inaugurates a new monthly to rain some of that ol’ hands-in-the-air spirit down on the children-in-waiting at the lovely Triple Crown. The Crown’s sound system is winning extreme plaudits, so be prepared for a high-fidelity throwdown.

Fri/27, 10 p.m., $5. 1760 Market, SF.

————-

DEVOTION


A few years ago, DJ Ruben Mancias packed up his little glam-house weekly at the EndUp, Devotion, and skedaddled to NYC to find fame, fortune, and a lot of really neat T-shirts. He’s occasionally popped back into town to show off each, and remind Latin- and soul-tinged house fans of past EndUp glories. Devotion’s eight-year-anniversary will find him back at the space with Oakland house princes Cecil and Dedan warming up. Memories!

Sun/29, 8 p.m.-4 a.m. The EndUp, 401 Sixth St., SF.

Say you, say me

0

› superego@sfbg.com

SUPER EGO Adult contemporary is alive and well and thriving in Southeast Asia. I just touched down from a refreshing jaunt to that worldly hot spot: Cambodia a capitalist riot of beauty and pollution, untamed Laos a communist stoner’s wet dream. Everyone Hunky Beau and I met was gorgeous, despite the odd backpacker overload, which occasioned a few frightful spottings of crocadreadles — northern Europeans sporting poorly waxed dreadlocks, jingle pants, and stomach-churning Crocs.

Memo to the Danes: please stop.

Still, even that led to some perfect Putamayo moments, as when a lovely Jewish-Korean singer at Dead Fish Tower guesthouse in Siem Reap launched into her acoustic version of Daft Punk’s "One More Time." Many of the citizens themselves, however, seemed happily obsessed with Lionel Richie, Westlife, Yanni (it lives!), and Thailand’s answer to Nickelback, Big Ass. The gay clubs were pumping the usual homo-panglobal Kylie Minoguerrhea, sigh, yet the drag was way brill. But alternative DJ and dance music culture — and even the hip-hop aspirations my Amerocentric, quasi-Orientalist mind expected to sense in the region’s rapidly developing economic climate — seemed banished to the land of wind and ghosts.

I’d say I felt a little sorry for the baby-boom youth there, but who am I to make value judgments? Value judgments give me acne, Jessica Simpson — and a few weeks probably aren’t enough time to properly shake out an underground. Besides, here on the other side of the rim our dance charts are clogged with Lady GaGa blah-blah-blah, zombie Prodigy retreads, and something called "Total Dance 2009." Goddess help us all. If ever there was a moment to hit the reboot on Western mainstream dance music — hell, even drag to trash and go running with the night — this may be it.

THE ID LIST

MIKE SLOTT AND KOTCHY


"If you’re tired of all the retro shit, holla," woozes New York City’s Kotchy on one of his typical genre-fuck tracks, blending ambient squelches with trippy bloops from inner space. "Our culture must be in a coma, and I’m not a doctor." Glasgow-based future bass collective LuckyMe brings twilit melodies, brogue-inflected park bench rhymes, and wry Scots humor to the burgeoning genre. Both Kotchy and LuckyMe’s Mike Slott will bruise the speakers with live performances, while graffiti artists sear your sinuses, at this month’s installment of Bass Camp.

Thu/19, 9 p.m., $10–$15. 111 Minna, SF. www.111minnagallery.com, www.myspace.com/basscampsf

DAVIES AFTER HOURS


Do the words "electric strings" excite you as much as they do me? Yeah, that’s right, I’m a geek. The San Francisco Symphony, following in the frisky footsteps of other wildly successful nightlife-aware arts institutions, is launching a monthly post-performance shindig composed of cutting-edge styles. Cellist Alex Kelly’s avant-jazz combo kicks off this month, with electric strings and rock from NTL in April and the massive DJ Masonic with Mercury Lounge in May.

Fri/20, April 24, and May 22, after 8 p.m. concert, free with purchase of symphony performance ticket. Davies Symphony Hall, 201 Van Ness, SF. www.sfsymphony.org

WORLD OF DRUM ‘N BASS


The name may sound like a trade show — and I’m here to tell you that drum ‘n bass fans make pretty great trade — but this huge affair brings serious low-end to Temple’s multiple floors, and a boffo chance to reconnect with, and lose your droopy drawers to, the fractured sound of yore. Chase and Status, Radioactive, 2 Cents, A.I., Havoc, and more break it up. Let’s get ready to rumble.

Fri/20, 10 p.m., $20. Temple, 540 Howard, www.templesf.com

DJ SNEAK


Ah, Sneak, how you play with our heart-shaped equalizers. One minute you’re banging chunky techno tunes, the next you’re upping the bongos for some well-earned soul release — and then you drop some serious freaking Chicago house gangster shit on us and we can’t stop screaming. Through it all you keep a shroom-happy smile on our faces and work the soles off our Keds. Here’s to another 15 years of squeaking the woodwork, and your choo-choo new contribution to the Back in the Box series. With Hector Moralez and Oscar Mirada.

Fri/20, 9 p.m., $10–$20. Six, 66 Sixth St., SF. www.clubsix1.com

CLIVE HENRY


Anyone who caught house legend Francois K.’s head-scratching but still rewarding set at Vessel on March 12 may have taken away the same thought I did — the sparkling Balearic revival of the past few years has now congealed into a full-on non-ironic Ibiza attack. That’s kind of scary, but maybe the crappy-champagne-and-carnival-siren sound is an interesting comment on now. Prolific DJ and producer Clive Henry, of the glittery Circo Loco party based at Ibiza’s humongous DC10, may be the best person to help you rethink the microgenre at EndUp. Whether or not he’ll be sponsored by Got 2 B Magnetik hair gel with pheromones, like most Ibiza denizens, remains to be seen.

Sat/21, 10 p.m., $10–$20. EndUp, 401 Sixth St., SF. www.theendup.com, www.sensesf.com

BOOKA SHADE


The moody duo is still touring — and bridging the gap between thoughtful Berlin minimal and the more laconic side of electro. Yet why would Walter Merziger and Arno Kammermeier ever stop accumuutf8g bonus miles as one of the most acclaimed live acts in dance music, especially with their Get Physical label still scoring kudos and their hoards of ready and willing fans? You may have seen it all before, but that doesn’t mean it’s not the tits.

Sun/22, 8:30 p.m., $22 advance. Independent, 628 Divisadero, SF. www.theindependentsf.com