Beer

Beadeviled

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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1
Beadeviled

CHEAP EATS Dear Earl Butter,

As it turns out, the whole purpose of Mardi Gras is to catch beads. There are also little plastic cups and stuff, but what I want is a football. I want to make a leaping spinning catch, like a halftime Frisbee dog, bring it on home, lay it at Coach’s feet, and pant.

Do you think she will pat me on the head?

Do you think she will let me play in the season opener (this weekend!) even though I’ve missed every single practice since training camp?

I don’t know.

She texted me yesterday to ask how my lesbianism was coming along. I said, We’re at a parade, recording the crowd and the sounds of feet, and taking pictures of the childerns. I said I was trying real hard to catch a football for her, but so far … beads.

She expressed her disbelief (which I share) that I was ever even thinking of France over Mardi Gras. Then she texted again and said, for clarification, "Boobies!!!!!"

I paraphrase. There might have only been four exclamation marks. The point is, Earl, that when people think of Mardi Gras, they think of tits. Well, I am here to tell you — you, Earl, of all people, because I know you are more interested in subtlety and nuance than most of my two lesbian friends — that this is about so much more than that.

For example: ass.

I’m kidding. I’ve been to four parades already and I’ve seen about as much skin as I would have seen if I went to church. Admittedly, I haven’t been hanging out in the French Canadian Quarter, let alone on Bourbon Street, which is what everyone associates with Mardi Gras, not to mention New Orleans. But that’s like thinking of San Francisco as Fisherman’s Wharf.

Which would be what? Ridiculous. Yes. So my own personal, privately-held, and highly journalistic insider’s impression of Mardi Gras so far is that it’s a family affair, featuring marching bands of pimply teenagers and cute-ass kids punctuated by horses, trucks, and tractor-pulled floats from which ridiculously attired adults shower the citizenry and streets of New Orleans with insanely cheap and even more insanely coveted toys and trinkets. You can imagine my joy!

Boobs be damned, Earl, I am catching Coach a football or my name ain’t whatever my name is.

Dear Li’l Sister,

That is great. Me and Diane went to Katana-Ya in downtown San Francisco after seeing the greatest western movie of all time. Diane called my tongue unsavory, which you would think would put me in a funk, but, I don’t know, I just blew it off somehow.

Which is kind of what happens in this western we seen. This guy kind of gets his tongue blew off. It’s an odd way to start an afternoon when you are going to write about food. But it is not too odd.

We both got ramen. Big bowls of delicious noodle soup with prizes, like pot stickers. Hers was vegetable with soba noodles ($11) and mine was the katanaya, which had fried chicken and pork and pot stickers (get to the pot stickers early or they get a little chewy) and corn and fried potatoes and seaweed and scallion and barbecued pork and boiled egg. That is a lot of prizes ($12.90).

We talked of how we were both going to find us mates. Her plan was, I forget. And my plan was to get a garage space in my building and then get a car and a motorcycle. I believe it is the parking inconvenience that has hindered me all these years.

We also had edamame.

And Diane had a lollipop, seeing that there was a bowl of them on the counter and they were free. That is supposed to be a good sign.

Yers,

Earl

Katana-Ya

Daily: 11:30 a.m.–1 a.m.

430 Geary, SF

(415)771-1280

MC/V

Beer and wine

Our Weekly Picks: March 9-15

Andrew Lam
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0

WEDNESDAY 9

FILM

San Francisco Ocean Film Festival

Featuring more than 50 fascinating films about the ocean and its importance in nature, along with the role it plays in our society, the San Francisco Ocean Film Festival features programs ranging from documentaries on marine life and environmental science to surfing videos and panel discussions on International Marine Protected Areas. Highlights for this year’s fete include a program dedicated to sharks (and the ongoing debate over the sale of shark fins) and a chance to meet the filmmakers who work among the denizens of the deep at a special opening night benefit fundraiser. (Sean McCourt)

Wed/9–Sun/13

Tonight, 6:30–9:30 p.m., $60 (most festival programs $5–$12)

Theatre 39 and Aquarium of the Bay

Pier 39, SF

(415) 561-6251

www.oceanfilmfest.org

 

MUSIC

Damien Jurado

Despite a start with Sub Pop in the late 1990s and a steady stream of beautiful, literate albums ever since, Damien Jurado has always flown a bit further under the radar than some of his contemporaries. The Seattle-based singer-songwriter recalls echoes of Nick Drake’s sparsely intimate folk and combines it with modern arrangements full of strings, pianos, and clanking percussion, all of which is perfectly displayed on his 2010 LP, Saint Bartlett. The higher registers and slight twang that creep up in Jurado’s voice help bring his character-driven songs to life with a hushed, fragile clarity that can make you want to hang on his every word. (Landon Moblad)

With Viva Voce and Campfire OK

9 p.m., $12

Bottom of the Hill

1233 17th St., SF

(415) 621-4455

www.bottomofthehill.com

 

MUSIC

Castanets

Spawned from the quirky, vintage-clad loins of the early-aughts freak-folk movement, Castanets is sort of like psychedelic country without too much acid trippy-ness. Portland, Ore., (by way of San Diego) bandleader Raymond Raposa works with a merry-go-round of accompanists; his latest release, Texas Rose, the Beasts, and the Thaw, is just shy of 39 minutes — though a review posted on label Asthmatic Kitty’s website insists it is “Pink Floyd gone epic.” The review also notes, in case you were worried, that Texas Rose is “not a hippie record.” Even squares can have a ball. (Jen Verzosa)

With Holy Sons and Dolorean

9 p.m., $8

Hemlock Tavern

1131 Polk, SF

www.hemlocktavern.com

 

PERFORMANCE

The Islanders

Ever want the words you read to leap off the page and come to life? Word for Word Performing Arts Company makes it happen, and in this book-loving city they are truly at home. Known for staging performances of top-notch literary fiction, Word for Word presents The Islanders, a story about the bonds of friendship as two women reunite for a trip to Ireland, by best-selling author Andrew Sean Greer and directed by Sheila Balter. If you’re feeling fancy, come for Friday’s performance, which includes a champagne reception with the artists and a post-show conversation between Andrew Sean Greer and Daniel Handler (the face of the mysterious Lemony Snicket). (Julie Potter)

Wed/9–Fri/11, 8 p.m.;

Sat/12, 3 and 7 p.m., $15–$40

Z Space

450 Florida, SF

(415) 626-0453

www.zspace.org

 

THURSDAY 10

FILM

Human Rights Watch International Film Festival

On its opening night, the 2011 Human Rights Watch International Film Festival premieres “Youth Producing Change,” a collection of short films by teenagers from across the globe who’ve candidly captured their day-to-day experiences. As they document their realities on film, they give a face to important human rights and social issues: child labor, LGBT acceptance, the struggles associated with seeking political asylum, environmental contamination, land and water rights, refugee life, and ethnic persecution. Several of the young artists will be on hand to discuss their experiences. (Verzosa)

March 10–31

Tonight, 7 p.m., $6–$8

Yerba Buena Center for the Arts

701 Mission, SF

www.ybca.org

 

MUSIC

Triumph of Lethargy Skinned Alive to Death and Cave Singers

Though the Murder City Devils haven’t released a new record in almost 10 years and only play the occasional reunion show now and then (and are sorely missed by fans!), most of the band members have gone on to form other outstanding groups,. Two of these come to town tonight on the heels of recent excellent releases. Singer Spencer Moody appears with Triumph of Lethargy Skinned Alive To Death, whose Some Of Us Are In This Together came out in January, while Derek Fudesco brings the Cave Singers, whose No Witch was released last month. (McCourt)

With Lia Ices

8 p.m., $15

Great American Music Hall

859 O’Farrell, SF

(415) 885-0750

www.gamh.com

 

PERFORMANCE

Atlacualto (The Ceasing of Water)

José Navarrete and Violeta Luna, SF artists originally from Mexico City, summon the figures of the Aztec god and goddess of water for their multimedia performance, Atlacualto (The Ceasing of Water), which sheds light on the serious ecological issues of water rights and shortages. Highlighting the roles of water as sacred and as a commodity, Navarrete and Luna shift between striking ritualistic tableaus and humorous yet compelling scenes including an overzealous street vendor. The work combines contemporary dance, performance art, new music, visual art installation and video, stirring thought about this life-sustaining substance in the modern world. Water anyone? (Potter)

Thurs/10–Sat/12, 8 p.m., $25

Yerba Buena Center for the Arts

701 Mission, SF

(415) 978-2787

www.ybca.org

 

FRIDAY 11

DANCE

13th Floor Dance Theater

If you like weird, Jenny McAllister is your woman. I mean, would you want to make a piece about the fun of being hit by lightening several times? Even the extreme weather nuts run for cover when Zeus starts throwing his thunderbolts. But then McAllister is not exactly your workaday choreographer: she has shared her skewed — and at times hilariously funny — perspective on weddings, Christmas, and everything that creeps, crawls, and walks. McAllister was half of Huckabay McAllister Dance for 15 years; last summer she started her own company, the 13th Floor Dance Theater. The current program, a collaboration with writer Kim Green and visual designer Michael Oesch, presents two works: Lighting Strikes Anonymous and Under the (Periodic) Table. (Rita Felciano)

Fri/11–Thurs/13, 8 p.m., $15–$18

ODC Theater

3153 17th St., SF

(415) 863-9834

www.odctheater.org

 

EVENT

Star Trek Convention

Bay Area Trekkers (Don’t call them “Trekkies!”) should set their coordinates for San Francisco this weekend as an official Star Trek convention takes over the Airport Hyatt. Joining them will be two of the most esteemed names in the Trek universe — Leonard Nimoy (Mr. Spock) and Nichelle Nichols (Lt. Uhura) — make appearances, chatting on stage about their careers and meeting with fans. Other notables set to participate include Rene Auberjonois (Odo), Bobby Clarke (the Gorn), and Grace Lee Whitney (Yoeman Janice Rand). Fans also will be able to peruse a galaxy of vendors and participate in seminars, workshops, and parties. Live long and prosper! (McCourt)

Fri/11–Sun/13, times and prices vary (general admission, $20–$40)

Hyatt Regency

San Francisco International Airport

1333 Bayshore, Burlingame

www.creationent.com

 

MUSIC

Pogo

Electronic music has an obvious relationship with technology, but South African Nick Bertke, a.k.a. Pogo, is indebted to one specific medium, YouTube. Pogo first gained attention with a video-based on Alice in Wonderland, which mined the 1951 Disney classic for new sounds, chords, and lyrics to create hypnotically familiar original music. The formula led to further sanctioned work from studios including Pixar. But if that all sounds a little too twee princess, Pogo’s selections surprise, taking musical inspiration from films as wide-ranging as The Terminator (1984) and The Apartment (1960). As previewed in “Gardyn,” a video recorded in his mum’s flower patch, Pogo hopes to extend the project to sample the world. (Ryan Prendiville)

With Lynx

9 p.m., $16

Slim’s

333 11th St., SF

(415) 255-0333

www.slims-sf.com

 

SATURDAY 12

MUSIC

Red Fang

Rock and roll! Hoochie coo! Truck on out and spread the news: Three bands, spawned from two cities of skinny-jeaned, tatted-up, new-boho meccas. One stage. My guess is Portland, Ore.’s, Danava, with its harmonized fuzz and searing synth, will flow seamlessly from the shreddy, Dixie-prone assault of Lecherous Gaze, an Oakland band boasting members of the now-defunct Annihilation Time and boldly claiming to embody “the future of rock and roll.” With tones of Black Flag, Thin Lizzy, and Queens of the Stone Age, can we up the rock ante any further? Yep: headliners Red Fang, also hailing from Portlandia, culminate a rawk-ous, piss-beer soaked night. Lordy mama, light my fuse. (Kat Renz)

With Danava and Lecherous Gaze

10 p.m., $12

Bottom of the Hill

1233 17th St., SF

(415) 621-4455

www.bottomofthehill.com

 

DANCE

“Dance Repertory 2011 Showcase”

As a professional dancer and educator, Donnette Heath became painfully aware of the gap between student dancer-choreographers and the professional world. So for the last 11 years, her dRep company has offered young artists performance opportunities through the yearly Vision Series Dance Festival. Participants are chosen on a first-come, first-served basis, and the festival has attracted participants from Northern California high schools, private studios, and colleges from as far as Modesto. What was initially a modest event has become an intriguing showcase for those interested in what the next generation is up to. Now Heath is taking the next step by putting four of these high-caliber student groups — chosen by adjudication — on the same stage with professionals such as Kunst-Stoff. (Felciano)

8 p.m., $15–$20

Cowell Theater

Fort Mason Center

Marina at Laguna, SF

(415) 345-7575

www.fortmason.org

 

MUSIC

Slough Feg

Cultivating a vaudevillian approach that knows no equal or analog in the world of metal, Slough Feg is a San Francisco treasure. Though the strength of its recent album Animal Spirits has seen the band’s profile rise toward a more deserved apex, you can still catch the quartet in the close confines of the Hemlock Tavern, where the inimitable Mike Scalzi — the Lord Weird Slough Feg Himself — will be within spitting distance. The promised presence of incendiary Washingtonian NWOBHM troupe Christian Mistress and Portland, Ore., doom merchants Witch Mountain just adds to the already burgeoning excitement. (Ben Richardson)

With Christian Mistress and Witch Mountain

9:30 p.m., $8

Hemlock Tavern

1131 Polk, SF

(415) 923-0923

www.hemlocktavern.com

 

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Appetite: Three reasons to visit Gitane

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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1
Appetite: Three reasons to visit Gitane

Sexy, sultry Gitane had me at “hello” when it opened over two years ago. There is no other place in SF with quite its seductive charm. (In the neighboring alley to Gitane’s Claude Lane, Irish Bank is a festive, beer-soaked hang-out.) Gitane lures you into its tiny space with sherry cocktails and Spanish-Moroccan food. 

With a chef (Bridget Batson) and bar manager (Alex Smith) change months back, Gitane blossoms into further radiance. Still evoking romance with a bold, modern spirit, its charged with new tastes that should draw you back if you’re already a fan, or bring you in if you have never been. Do yourself a favor and make a reservation or pull up to the bar for dinner soon… 

P.S. Reservations often need to be made weeks ahead for prime hours as tables are few, and don’t forget to check out what is one of the more fascinating bathrooms around. 

1. Alex Smith’s Cocktails

If you subscribe to my Perfect Spot newsletter, you’ve been hearing me rave about Smith’s sophisticated cocktails over the past month. Sip the increasingly meaty, much-lauded La Convivencia ($12), made of Four Roses bourbon, East India sherry, sweet vermouth, Nocino, and Smith’s house-made chorizo bitters (vegetarian version also available). Or try the light, luscious La Tardor ($13): No. 209 gin, ruby port, cherry heering and lime, soft with honey and egg white, with sweet, earthy nuance from vanilla bean and white peppercorn. Ask for the off-menu Autumn Flip ($11), creamy with whole egg, Laird’s bonded apple brandy, bitter cinnamon cordial and salted maple syrup. You won’t even need dessert. Cocktail aficionados will marvel at the complex layers of Martyr of Cordoba ($14): Copper Fox‘ white rye, Dry Sack sherry, Dimmi, absinthe, apricot liqueur, sweet vermouth, Peychaud’s bitters. There’s just a hint of each element. When you think you are about to call out the ingredients, they slip away, elusive and intriguing.

Lamb Tatare at Gitane. Photo by Virginia Miller

2. Lamb Tartare

Order this dish. Do not fear the raw lamb. Do not expect gaminess. Rather, prepare for fresh, succulent meat to rival the better beef tartares you’ve had. Chef Batson’s lamb tartare ($18) is an unexpected surprise of silky meat, bright with flavor. The added bonus is three dollops of worthy spreads, from an eggplant compote to a mix of pomegranate, walnut, red pepper. There’s currently no other dish like it in town. 

3. Grilled (and stuffed) Calamari

After two recent visits to Gitane, I violate my usual policy of always ordering something different to re-order grilled calamari ($16) stuffed with bacon and onion in a cast-iron skillet. Swimming in an addictive, buttery garlic and herb broth, dotted with Manzanilla olives, cherry tomatoes and heirloom potatoes, I sop up the broth with grilled toasts, my breath happily redolent of garlic. It’s a hefty portion and works as dinner on it’s own. 

–Subscribe to Virgina’s twice monthly newsletter, The Perfect Spot

 

Hot sexy events: March 2-8

Andrew Lam
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0
Hot sexy events: March 2-8

Those bedazzled emissaries of SF morals, the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence, are once again emerging from their pancake makeup-encrusted cloisters to spread the good word. Indeed, on Sun/6 they’ll be hosting not one, but two benefits involving liberal doses of alcohol and private part-focused celebrations.

In SoMa, the sisters invite you to take a sacrament of all-you-can-drink Bud Lite at Chaps to benefit the group’s anti-hate crime “Stop the Violence” campaign. Of course, pants are optional – the event is entitled, after all, Jock Off. Eee! Pacifism is sexy! Pull your trousers halfway up to trek across town for the concurrent Quadroboob, whose ra-ma-tazz lineup (including the spectacular Lady Monster) guarantees that even as you are raising funds for the Breast Cancer Emergency Fund, you will be simultaneously putting your knockers to good use. That means shake ’em, ladies (and gents).

 

Leather Alliance Weekend

A whirling dervish of chaps and kicky hide hats descends on SF this week, as the Leather Alliance and its entourage gear up for the Mr. Leather Contest on Sat/5 at the Hotel Whitcomb – oh, and the SF Citadel meet and greet (Thurs/3) and assorted beer busts and cigar celebrations in honor of the chosen one. Last year was New Mexican transman wheelchair-user Tyler McCormick‘s time to shine, who will wear the leather crown this year?

Thurs/3-Sun/6 $15-35 for weekend’s events

Various locations, SF

www.leatheralliance.org


International Sex Workers’ Rights Day Art XXX-hibition

Not to be confused with the International Day to End Violence Against Sex Workers (that’s December 17), International Sex Workers’ Rights Day brings a whole bunch of creative works by and of those that supply society with a much-needed dose of climax-for-hire. Annie Sprinkle will be selling her prints, and St. James’ Infirmary workers Rachel Schreiber and Barbara DeGenevieve will share their photographs of sex workers at the center. 

Fri/4 6-9 p.m., free

Million Fishes Art Gallery

2501 Bryant, SF

www.millionfishes.com


Kinky Dating

How does the dating game change when the night of your dreams ends with you in shackles and him holding a whip and a plan? Edukink’s one-off workshop explores the etiquette of courting in the BDSM world, lessons that all you kinksters can get down on regardless of sexual orientation. The class is part of the program’s monthly “Newcomer’s Series,” so feel free to stop by even (especially) if you’re new to the dungeon scene. 

Fri/4 7:30-10:30 p.m., $15-25 sliding scale

SF Citadel

1277 Mission, SF

(415) 626-2746

www.sfcitadel.org


Quadroboob

Over 12 performers will prance about Bernal Heights’ superlative dyke bar to raise funds for breast cancer. Bonus round: the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence’s Sister Sara Femme Fatale is emceeing, implying that more of her otherworldly siblings may well be in attendance.

Sun/6 5-9 p.m., $10-20 suggested donation

Wildside West

424 Cortland, SF

(415) 647-3099

www.thesisters.org


Jock Off

An anti-hate crime benefit with unlimited booze and jock contests to boot? Where else would you spend the end of your weekend, one might well ask.

Sun/6 5-9 p.m., $8

Chaps

1225 Folsom, SF

(415) 255-2427

www.chapsbarsanfrancisco.com


Asking for What you Want in the Bedroom and Beyond

You’ll never know what will make you feel slutty, shameless, and satiated if you can’t ask for it! Which is why your perpetual best friend in the bedroom, Good Vibrations, has contracted a one Marcia Baczynski, sex educator, to elaborate on the intricacies of sexual proposition. How to make asks in a way that is inspired, assertive, and sensitive will be covered, as will be handling rejection and the best course of action to take if what you asked for turns out to suck. 

Tues/8 6-8 p.m., $20-25

Good Vibrations

1620 Polk, SF

(415) 345-0500

www.goodvibes.com 

 

 

No easy baskets for St. Mary’s

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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0
No easy baskets for St. Mary’s

culture@sfbg.com

SPORTS It was January in Nashville, and it was cold as balls. Snow had fallen two days earlier and was still lying on the skinny slivers of road where the cars hadn’t repeatedly passed over yet. Inside Vanderbilt University’s Memorial Gym, a cold reality of a different sort was being served up by the Vanderbilt Commodores to San Francisco’s accomplished St Mary’s men’s basketball team, ranked 22nd in the nation by the Associated Press at the time.

For those who don’t keep a close eye on college basketball, St. Mary’s team had flown under the national radar for the past few years until it really began turning heads about a year ago. That’s when the tiny Catholic college from the East Bay town of Moraga upset second-seeded Villanova in the second round of the NCAA tournament and advanced to the Sweet Sixteen for the first time since 1959. At viewing parties across the country, salsa was spit out of mouths, glass coffee tables were karate-chopped, remote controls were flung to shatter priceless antique mirrors. And the following Monday that cocky asshole from accounting had to walk over to the 20-year old intern who’d probably never filled out an office pool bracket in his life and hand him a wad of his beer money.

None of that magic came with St. Mary’s Gaels to Nashville. They lost 89-70. It still ranks as their worst loss of the season, and it came on the heels of 11 straight wins. But as they prepare for this week’s West Coast conference tournament in Las Vegas and then the national tournament — assuming they qualify — should all conclusions drawn from one game like this one be thrown out the window? Or is it noteworthy that some weaknesses were exposed?

“Definitely you can learn a lot of lessons,” says Gaels guard Matthew Dellavedova, sitting and facing a cluster of postgame cameras and reporters after the Vanderbilt game. “And we’re going to learn some from today.” With the Australian’s shaggy hairdo, it might help to imagine a pothead younger brother, if you’ve got one, or at least a very misplaced surfer. That kind of stigma was amplified, and seemingly justified, once Dellavedova was bombarded by strange Southern interviewers with slow drawls that must have seemed pretty foreign from the perspective of the sophomore, who himself speaks in deep, slow-cadenced Aussie near-mumbles. He hesitates after every question and glances over at his coach, as if to make sure he’s heard everything right. “Definitely it could have been a different ending if we could have taken the crowd out of it,” he says. “But, yeah, we did have chances. We just didn’t make the most of ’em today.”

But Dellavedova didn’t really owe anyone much explanation after the loss. He scored 19 points, while other usual hot hands, like the more conventional scorer Mickey McConnell (six points), went suspiciously silent. And Dellavedova maintained his focus through the Vandy student section’s syncopated chants of his nickname, “Psych-o Cave-Man … clap, clap, clap-clap-clap,” every time he stepped up to the free throw line in Nashville.

Dellavedova is one of the best hard-nosed street ball type players in America. A deft ball-handler, his name can usually be found among the country’s leaders in assist-to-turnover ratio. Some of those unorthodox shots he makes really drew out a humorous cross-firing of spattered curse words from the flustered opposing fans in Nashville.

The problem was that after playing so well early in the season, the St. Mary’s team had to seriously struggle against the Commodores’ brutish man-to-man defense. St. Mary’s was limited to 41.9 percent accuracy in shooting from the field, and went 6 for 23 from the three point range. The Gaels came in second in the country in field goal percentage (.511) and made three pointers per game (9.6).

The Commodores achieved these unprecedented results with their notably longer-armed players. In the South, that’s the norm; to West Coast teams, it presents problems offenses aren’t used to. Vanderbilt, a team easily among the best 20 or 25 in America, had a hand in every passing lane and contested nearly every shot. “Length is all over our league,” says Vanderbilt coach Kevin Stallings. “When you step out of your league and play in a league like ours, it can be bothersome. St. Mary’s is a much better team than we saw today.” The question now is, how much better?

St. Mary’s followed its loss to Vanderbilt with an impressive win at Gonzaga (the first of two games the teams played against each other the season). But having lost the last three games to the University of San Diego, Utah State, and its round two with Gonzaga, the Gaels once again have something to prove. They came into this season with pundits saying they’d struggle to replace last year’s star big man Omar Samhan, but Dellavedova and McConnell’s play silenced that early negativity. Now they will be playing for their tournament lives with the conference tournament looming and, if all goes well, the NCAA tournament after that.

It is in those tournament formats that the Gaels have succeeded most in the past. Teams are left to scramble to prepare for their unique offense, often with much quicker turnarounds between games than in the regular season. But given the way Dellavedova and McConnell shoot coming off a ball screen, it would be unwise to rule out the possibility of the Gaels getting back to the Sweet Sixteen.

If they do make it back, their coach, Randy Bennett, will look like a genius in the eyes of the national writers for scheduling a tough non-conference road game in late January, against convention. Just don’t expect the Psycho Caveman to get too bothered by any regular season loss. He says the memory of last year’s tournament run will make his team respond as they continue their fight for a tournament berth. “They played pretty good defense today,” Dellavedova says. “And hopefully that helps us later in the season.”

 

BAY AREA COLLEGE MEN’S BASKETBALL ROUNDUP

UC Berkeley: The Golden Bears have a good shot at the NIT. They played one of the country’s most difficult schedules this season, but their conference and overall records are hovering just above .500.

Stanford: The Cardinal is in a similar position to Cal. But with the team’s softer non-conference schedule, it really needs to make a big splash in the Pac-10 tournament to turn any heads.

San Jose State: The Spartans will not get into the NCAA tournament unless they win their conference tourney. But since they are near the bottom of their standings, there is little reason to expect it this season. Even so, the team still has a shot to finish with a winning record.

University of San Francisco: The Dons have proven they can beat every team except St. Mary’s. To earn a trip to the big dance, they will either have to beat the Gaels or hope someone else does.

Santa Clara: Like the Dons, the Broncos have lost twice to St. Mary’s. They will end up with a winning record this season, but to take the next step they will need to get past the Gaels.

Get hammered

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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10
Get hammered

culture@sfbg.com

Until recently, its existence has played out quietly in Alabama basements and Vermont backyards. If you’ve seen anyone engaging in it, chances are it was a group of raucous bros on YouTube or Elijah Wood and Jimmy Fallon on The Late Show. If you saw it up close, you may have fled the general area.

Though its origins are obscure, most agree that Stump, the rather insane game in question, comes from some densely wooded part of Maine. It’s since been zigzagging its way across the country, through college campuses and rowdy backyards. Recently it made its way to the Bay Area.

“I first learned about it because I walked into my friend’s basement and there were 20 people screaming drunk throwing hammers. It turned out they’d been having these Stump parties every week for a while,” said Richmond resident Elon Ullman. “After a while, we got good at it and started adding our own variations.”

“Beer pong and flipcup are pretty one-dimensional,” adds Penn Chan, who attends Bard College in Annandale-on-Hudson, N.Y., (where the game was introduced by a Wisconsin girl called “Sparky”) with Ullman. “Stump evolves as people who’ve played in different areas come together and discuss how they’ve played.”

The fundamentals are simple: a hammer, some nails, and a stump. You toss the hammer in the air so that it revolves completely, catch it, and bring it down on the nail without breaking its momentum. If you drive your opponent’s nail all the way into the stump, you win. It’s usually played as a drinking game — you drop your hammer, you drink. You catch it awkwardly, you drink. You drink if you miss the nail and hit the stump, or if you hit your own nail, or if somebody else hits your nail, etc.

Rowan McCallister demonstrates a double toss

Because Stump is usually played in large, chaotic groups, hitting anything at all is a matter of chance. But if you take it seriously as a game of skill, a whole series of choices opens up, starting with where to place your nail. A stump that’s seen a few games has its own unique geography. Nail “cities,” twisted lumps of jagged metal, spring up in heavily used areas of the stump. Danger can attend: it’s possible to put your nail so close to an opponent’s that, in trying to hit your nail, he risks shredding his knuckles.

“The first rule of Stump is, if you bleed you have to bleed on the stump. The second rule is, no coagulating,” says David Liefert, who’ll be a junior at San Francisco State University this fall. On a warm Saturday a couple weeks ago, he invited me over to watch a few games. He and his friend Rowan McCallister, also a student at SF State, started playing Stump with Elon last summer, and created their own variations. Longer, thicker nails make for a longer game. Gold nails sink faster. Players can flip the hammer more than once, and can choose whether to flip it forward or backward.

Blood on the stump

Then there’s the question of the hammer itself. Metal hammers are evenly weighted, while the head of a wooden hammer is much heavier than the shaft. This tends to make the hammer spin fast and wild — it’s harder to control, but it’s also easier to make it flip over twice. Liefert and McCallister play a few rounds with a wooden hammer, then switch to the metal hammer for a two-flip game. The change throws them both off. On his first toss, McCallister miscalculates and wings the hammer over his shoulder. “Shit,” they both call out automatically, following the arc of the flying hammer.

“It looks like we’re doing something really wrong,” Ullman says. “I’ve always wondered what would happen if I were to play in Golden Gate Park. Could we be charged with anything?”

San Francisco park rangers could not be reached for comment, but Article Four of the city’s Park Code — under the heading “Disorderly Conduct” — contains at least three sections that might apply, including injunctions against “throw[ing] or propel[ling] objects of a potentially dangerous nature,” damaging or removing existing wood, and, crucially, “consumption of alcoholic beverages in the Panhandle, Stanyan Meadow, and Sharon Meadow.”

When I’ve watched people playing Stump, I’ve been struck by how often the word “respect” comes up. If a player flubs a throw and graciously declines to take his shot, it’s traditional for his opponents to say “respect” and drink. Unlike other drinking games, though, correct technique is emphasized and style is rewarded. “It’s chaotic but intellectual,” says Ullman. “It’s like physical chess.”

If you’re interested in playing Stump, e-mail David Liefert at baystump@yahoo.com.

Local hire victory party a political who’s who

Mary Magee
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2

The atmosphere at the local hiring victory party that Laborers Local 261 held at its Union Hall this week  was positively elated. Beer, wine and yummy pupusas flowed, commendations were made, and live drumming gave the event a playful edge. And it didn’t hurt that the place was crammed with political candidates, past, present and future, as San Francisco gears up for a a mayor, D.A. and sheriff’s race, this fall.

Sup. David Campos, who hasn’t thrown his hat in the mayor’s race, at least not yet, described the mood as “exciting.” “Who would have thought a year ago that we’d be having this victory,” Campos said, crediting fellow progressive Sup. John Avalos and the community for “great legislative work.”

Sup. John Avalos, who isn’t showing signs of running in the mayor’s race despite his legislative victories, saw implementation and resistant building trades as the biggest hurdles, moving forward. But he felt city departments will lead the way in showing how to implement the new law, when it kicks in March 25. “The San Francisco PUC has shown that local hire can be successful,” he said. “The new PUC building is at 48 percent local hire across all trades.”

Avalos hoped the building trades will come to see local hire in a more positive light. “They need to understand that it’s good for this city, their unions and union membership,” he said.

Avalos noted that he recently met with members of the San Mateo Board of Supervisors to address concerns that SF’s local hire would lead to job losses in San Mateo.Just before Christmas, the San Mateo supes voted unanimously to urge Newsom to veto Avalos’ local hire policy, but it turns out they had been misled around the law’s impacts. ”I met with [County Sups.] Carole Groom and Adrienne Tissier and said, ‘We have a huge misunderstanding,” Avalos said, noting that Jerry Hill’s recent grandstanding against local hire appears to be going nowhere.

Mayor Ed Lee, who insists he’s not planning to run for mayor in November, urged folks to focus on implementation of Avalos’ legislation.
“We are not just here to celebrate a legislative victory but the first jobs we create,” Lee said. “The world does not just turn by signing legislation.”

Board President David Chiu, who dropped by towards the end of the party with Sup. Jane Kim,Board President David Chiu, said he is “still thinking” about running for mayor, and acknowledged that the road to implementing local hire could be challenging. “But during this Great Recession, we have to do everything we can to make sure San Francisco residents get put to work, and local hire is an important part of that.”

Sup. Ross Mirkarimi, who has just announced that he is running for sheriff, linked high recidivism rates in San Francisco to the need to do a better job of hiring local residents. “We have a 70 percent repeat offender rate,” Mirkarimi said. “That’s 3 out of 4 folks.” Noting that there are 1800 parolees in San Francisco daily, Mirkarimi observed that if folks can’t get a job when they come out of the criminal justice system, they are way more likely to re-offend.

Bayview resident Deanna Rice, who got out of a federal penitentiary a year ago, and is still looking for work, said unemployment is another barrier in the way of her trying to regain custody of her kids, who are 9 and 10 years old.

Laborers Local 261 Business Manager Ramon Hernandez acknowledged that more work needs to be done to make local hire a go.
“We will try to do the best we can to get everyone on the same page,” he said

Local 261 Secretary-Treasurer David De La Torre said their membership is struggling and hurting, existing members and residents are not working
“Local hire is not about a sense of entitlement,” he said. “We gotta put people to work and build the local economy. It’s not about race. It’s about community, a disadvantaged community.”

Greg Doxey of the Osiris Coalition pointed to the economic benefits of local hire.
“If you hire local, people are going to shop two, three blocks from home, the economy will get stronger, they’ll be more tax revenue, and folks could even qualify to buy homes

CityBuild’s Guillermo Rodriguez praised the Board, department heads and Mayor Ed Lee “for getting together with labor” to pass Avalos local hire legislation.

But despite the happy vibes at the party, I left wondering if there is going to be adequate investment in workforce development side come budget time, if folks will try to game the system by using the address of locally-based subcontractors to establish local residency, and whether local efforts to sabotage the legislation are going to escalate now that the San Mateo Board no longer seems opposed to the law. But I also left knowing that folks like James Richards, President of Aboriginal Blacks United, have made it clear that if local hire doesn’t get  implemented, they’ll keep protesting until it does. So, stay tuned….

 
 
 

5 Things: February 24, 2011

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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0
5 Things: February 24, 2011

Each day, SFBG staff pick five (or so) things that might interest you

>>1. BEARING JOY A little while ago, a Potrero Hill resident took the concept of neighborhood watch to new (artistic) heights when he came across some brazen red graffiti scrawled across the side of the Cor-o-van building on 17th street near Texas. “I just got sick of looking at it,” the impromptu artist said.

His solution was to paint over the mess, and he admits that he “got a little carried away.” The stretch of corrugated steel now blooms with red flowers, an orange tree, a rabbit in a hole, and a family of posy-sniffing bears. The artist has been adding to his outdoor menagerie on select sunny days for a few weeks now, serenaded by IZ Kamakawiwo’ole’s “Somewhere over the Rainbow.” 

>>2. REFRESHING FACE SALAD A partial list of superfoods: lemon, ginger, tomato, potato. Delicious, all, and now available for your face. Imperial Spa sells facial masks infused with the aforementioned treats – we got tricked out in the tomato the other day during our 90-minute aromatic acupressure treatment and it left us feeling fresher than a chopped salad. If you’re on a budget you can always sport the masks in the spa’s cheap-to-use day facilities. 

>>3. HEBREW-HOP Four-DJ Israeli juggernaut Soulico is rolling into Public Works tonight. (It’s free before 10:30 and only $5 after.) Soulico mostly teams up with quite famous US hip-hop acts like Lyrics Born, Rye Rye, and Ghostface Killah to produce a madly fun, well-produced hybrid of Israeli folk music and good-natured rap. But they also showcase some Israeli rappers that are little-known elsewhere, like Axum, whose hilarious and charmingly low-tech Soulico collab video below for “Pitnum Banu” makes us feel simultaneously hungry and stoned. Or something? Axum probably won’t be on tour with Soulico, but we’re hoping theyll brng their musical mischief (and may some good falafel) our way soon.

>>4. CINEMATIC MAPS If you haven’t read Rebecca Solnit’s amazing Infinite Cities, which reveals and collages hyperreal cartographies onto our Baghdad by the Bay (particular favorites: butter fly habitats vs. queer public spaces, the Third Street Phantom Coast, 2008 murder sites vs. 2009 Monterey Cypress growths) — then you’re in for a real alternative historical treat. Rebecca will be at the Red Vic tonight, helping raise money for another awesome project, Cinematic San Francisco, a “a multi-media event to address the past and future” of San Francisco’s presence in the movies, and its dreamlike, projected presence in the imagination. Are we still a city of fantasies?

>>5. HELL FREEZES OVER So Zeitgeist has re-opened after its remodel, to raspy sighs of relief from every raggedy biker (and wannabe) from here to the Excelsior. The rapacious rumors of outdoor bathrooms have not yet born fruit — though construction activity in the back of the patio against the building suggest that soon you’ll have more options for emptying those pitchers out of your bladder — but there is about 1,000 more beer taps now, in classy aisle formation behind the bar. HOWEVER by far the most exciting upgrade is the veggie burger the Zeit kitchen is now using – those things flirt with being an inch think! That’s a lot of animal-free deliciousness. And hey, weirder things can happen.

Contributors: Emily Appelbaum, Caitlin Donohue, Marke B.

Herrera’s crackpipe crackdown

Zelda Bronstein
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45
Herrera’s crackpipe crackdown

I lived at Hayes and Fillmore in the 1980s, at the height of the crack epidemic, and a spectacularly unsuccessful dealer hung out on my corner. He was so bad at selling the stuff (or else was smoking so much of it) that he was constantly broke and used to knock on my door late at night ask to borrow a buck to buy a can of beer.


At one point he owed me about $10, and offered to pay me back with “some hubba.” He proceded to open his fist and show me a couple of grimy rocks rolling around in his filthy, sweaty palm.


It looked so appealing. I politely declined.


That was my one and only chance to smoke crack, and I passed it up. So when I heard that city attorney Dennis Herrera was going to sue a bunch of local stores for selling crack pipes, I must admit I was curious: What’s the definition of a “crack pipe?” How can you tell what a piece of smoking apparatus is going to be used for?


I asked Jack Song, a spokesperson for Herrera, and he told me it was pretty clear. “They’re glass, and they have certain characteristics,” he said.


Again: I’ve never actually smoked crack, so I have no personal experience with crack pipes. But I used to have a really nice glass pot pipe, which unfortunately was seized by the police in upstate New York many years ago. I went on Google images, the source for all truth, and checked out “crack pipes,” and some of them looked a little like the one I used to use for what we now consider a legal medical treatment.


According to the press reports, an undercover cop went into these stores and asked to buy a crack pipe. The store owners allegedly offered up a specific device, which would not have been terrible smart; when we used to buy bongs in Connecticut, where selling any sort of drug paraphernalia was illegal, the salespeople would talk loudly about how to load “the tobacco.”


In this case, Herrera’s even going a bit beyond crack pipes:


At all times relevant to this Complaint, up to and including the present, in addition to
the permitted tobacco products, Defendants have also displayed and sold smoking paraphernalia, including a large array of pipes and devices commonly referred to as “bongs.”


But Song told me marijuana devices wouldn’t be targeted.


At any rate, the legal case is now going to rest, I guess, on what defines a “crack pipe.” (Apparently there are “meth pipes,” too, which are a little different from crack pipes. I feel so old and uninformed.)


And while I understand the neighbors griping about the stores attracting a nasty element (my old pal on Hayes and Fillmore was harmless enough, but your typical crackhead isn’t great company), I wonder about the ultimate impact of this particular, uh, crackdown.


Herrera’s lawsuit notes:


By providing their customers with a way to ingest illegal and dangerous narcotics, Defendants are creating and contributing to conditions which are injurious to the health, safety and welfare of their customers, neighbors, and the community at large. Defendants’ conduct causes or contributes to offensive and annoying conditions, including, but not limited to: illegal and dangerous trafficking of controlled substances, illegal and dangerous use and abuse of controlled substances, public intoxication, and the crime and nuisance related thereto.



I get that the city attorney considers these stores a community nusiance, and he may well be right. But I don’t think this is going to do much about crack and meth use.


I mean, can’t you smoke crack out of a pot pipe? Can’t you pretty much smoke it out of anything? When I was in high school people stuck their pencils into apples and made holes to smoke pot out of; in college, I learned that, in a pinch, Tampax wrappers made perfectly adequate rolling papers.


Druggies (of the sort who use crack pipes, anyway) may be violent and otherwise fucked up, but they’re notoriously creative. They may stop hanging around these particular stores in these particular neighborhoods, but they’ll find someplace else.


It seems likely that the only ones who are going to suffer for this are the store owners; the crackheads will be just fine. In a manner of speaking.


 

The shakes

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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0
The shakes

THEATER When your free-form sister (Amy Resnick) arrives from Los Angeles with a yoga mat, but without a job, a place to go, a return ticket, or a care in the world—except for an unopened package some guy named Bulldog asked her to hand off when she got to Minneapolis — it’s unsettling. What’s even shakier, though, is such a visit combined with a marriage teetering on the brink, a job or two in the balance, and a worldwide economic depression. It’s then that foundations critically loosen, supports buckle, things suddenly fall apart. But is it all just Rumsfeldian “stuff” happening, or some human-made flaw in the system?

That’s a question lurking teasingly, even frustratingly at the heart of Allison Moore’s Collapse, an inconsistent but often bright new comedy now enjoying a sure and high-spirited production under director Jessica Heidt at Berkeley’s Aurora Theatre. And by heart we mean the play’s operative real-life metaphor: the deadly Aug. 1, 2007 collapse of a Minneapolis bridge. The piece of Interstate 35W that plunged into the Mississippi River that day was in heavy and regular use, a standard steel-truss arch bridge whose soundness no one would have thought to question. A broken stretch of it appears here as the impressive principal feature in Melpomene Katakalos’ scenic design, filling the length and height of the back of the stage and looming over the action throughout.

Officials pronounced the likely cause of the accident a design flaw, coupled by extra weight. That’s a description that could fit the whole socioeconomic system girding the play’s action and themes. Set in 2009 against the literal backdrop of the bridge and the figurative one of the current economic crisis, nothing is as secure as it once seemed in the staunchly middle-class home of attorney Hannah (Carrie Paff) and her husband David (Gabriel Marin). David, we learn, has not been going to work much and has become a queasy, quasi-alcoholic—more of a poser than anything else, since he secretly drops most of his beer on the house plant, but anything to justify his ungovernable fear since miraculously surviving the bridge collapse in 2007.

As flaky sis Susan (played with a hilariously reckless, chirpy energy by Resnick) arrives from LaLa Land with her disturbingly large suitcase, Hannah has been concentrating the couple’s energies on having a child. A professional and beautiful woman used to getting her way and now (in Paff’s nicely nuanced performance) increasingly at a loss as things slip out of her grasp, Hannah pushes the baby idea to erase another recent, related tragedy, even as her position at the firm looks precarious.

She also pushes David (played by Marin with a comically anxious, hangdog moodiness) toward AA. Somehow she ends up going instead, on his behalf, as David decides to deliver the shady mystery package himself. When in the hallway Hannah meets a charismatic black man named Ted (a charmingly imposing Aldo Billingslea) — nickname, Bulldog — an affair looks in the offing, and a crime caper, to boot.

Heidt’s strong cast transforms the unmoored quality among these four characters into some good laughs. But Moore’s writing is up and down. The dialogue is crisp at times, labored at others. Moreover, the characters can come too laden with undeveloped contradictions. Most unsettling is the sudden shift in the final scene, which forgoes comedy for a forced sincerity that brushes any larger political point under the condo rug. When an emotional David asks his wife, “How do we keep collapsing?,” her response tolls an unsatisfying reaffirmation of marital harmony: “Maybe we can’t. Maybe we can just figure out how to fall together.”

While set amid an ongoing social crisis, Collapse edges away from that terrain as if from a dizzying height and retreats into personalizing discourse about romantic love and middle-class domesticity. That’s the kind of turn that leads from the potentially subversive back toward the status quo. 

COLLAPSE

Through March 6; $34–$55

Aurora Theatre

2081 Addison, Berk.

(510) 843-4822

www.auroratheatre.org

 

Appetite: 1 Bourbon, 1 Scotch, 1 Beer

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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0
Appetite: 1 Bourbon, 1 Scotch, 1 Beer

We San Franciscans are lucky to have a place like the Boothby Center for the Beverage Arts. Debuting last year at SF Cocktail Week as home base for the Barbary Coast Conservancy of the American Cocktail, this year sees the launch of Boothby classes, tastings and events on all things drink.

Naturally, there’s cocktails and spirits heavily represented. But there’s also going to be coffee classes from many of our local favorites on everything from brewing to roasting. There will also be tea and wine seminars, and founder H. Joseph Ehrmann’s Mixology 101 series (with three levels of advancement) for budding and experienced bartenders. 

Price ranges will vary but at this week’s cognac class, a mere $20 provided over an hour and a half of cognac education from New York experts, a side-by-side sampling of four cognacs, and three well-made cocktails from classics to modern inventions. The room was a mix of bartending industry folk and curious tasters, all with a hunger to learn (and imbibe).

Watch for Boothby Center parties during big drink weeks like a whisky-themed event around Whiskies of the World next month. This week clear your calender on Saturday night for 1 Bourbon, 1 Scotch, 1 Beer, a special SF Beer Week tasting where you’ll sample 15 beers and 15 whiskies (from rye to white dog) for the mere sake of discovering their complimenting flavors. Oh, and because they taste good.

1 Bourbon, 1 Scotch, 1 Beer
Sat/19, 6:30-9:30pm
$45 ticket
1161 Mission Street, Suite 120
bourbonscotchbeer-eorg.eventbrite.com 
www.sfcocktailweek.com

–Subscribe to Virgina’s twice monthly newsletter, The Perfect Spot: www.theperfectspotsf.com

Don’t trip

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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0
Don’t trip

New Rkelly album out Dec 14th that I will soon be immensely non-ironically enjoying
2:48 PM  Dec10th via web

sometimes listening to KMEL all day feels like an insane psychological experiment
4:15 PM Dec 9th via web

Damn…Aretha Franklin is dying? 🙁
3:02 AM Dec 9th via Echofon

nothing is worse than a one man beatbox loop station band unless he is breakdancing or juggling or doing graffiti at the same time
11:31 PM Dec 5th via web

reggie watts- the quirky comedian who incorporates beat box loop station songs into his act. I will regret that youtube search for life.
11:16 PM Dec 5th via web

Just informed someone who didn’t know that dio was dead. Heavy moment
7:36 PM Dec 3rd via Echofon

I wonder what kind of pussy the guys in Trans-siberian orchestra get?
11:10 PM Dec 1st via web

2nd bubba sparxx record is so good.
Sunday, Nov 28, 2010 10:51:05 PM via web

Your house is my nitrous den. I leave my gear there RT @ALEXISPENNEY just saw the cannister and balloons that @swiftumz left in our pantry
2:04 PM Nov 25th via Echofon

K-Ci and JoJo have a reality show!!
2:24 PM Nov 25th via web

everyones “beatles on itunes” jokes fucking suck
2:24 PM Nov 17th via web

wow…singer from blur and FLEA are working on an album of AFRICAN music with Tony Allen…THIS IS NOT A JOKE
1:01 PM Nov 17th via web

“I like any bar I can lay down in”
11:14 PM Nov 12th via Echofon

Been thinking about the west Memphis three a lot lately- about how much I don’t care.
11:12 PM Nov 12th via Echofon

trey songz “bottoms up”is like the best shit out right now.
1:32 PM Nov 12th via web

wow just saw the most racist mcrib commercial ever
5:49 PM Nov 11th via web

leaving hateful comments on local bands youtube pages
12:36 AM Nov 11th via web

I’d like a time lapse film of the healthy, fresh organic food I buy at the beginning of the week slowly wilting in my fridge.
11:55 PM Nov 10th via web

Jackée and Rodney Dangerfields duet of “Great balls of fire” is the definitive version of that song.
5:41 PM Nov 6th via Echofon

@HunxandhisPunx watching ladybugZ 🙂
4:49 PM Nov 6th via Echofon

almost every outkast song gets exponentially shittier each time you hear it.
5:14 PM Nov 15th via web

Die Antwoord is like the worst phenomenon
12:51 PM Nov 5th via web

Big Momma’s House 3 better be in 3D
5:48 PM Oct 27th via web

I hope Eddie Rabbitt wasn’t a stage name because that’s a bad one
1:51 AM Oct 24th via Echofon

I love a rainy night (RIP Eddie Rabbit)
1:50 AM Oct  24th via Echofon

just told drake to shut up and angrily turned off the radio.
1:56 PM Oct 21st via web

they need to invent more dimensions so movies can have more sequels
5:17 PM Oct 11th via web

really happy the Usher/Tre Songz tour is called the “OMG tour”. Gonna be bummed when this era is over.
12:29 PM Oct 7th via web

Always excited to meet someone with an “Anticon” hoody cuz I can tell them all about actual good music to listen to. Especially rap
9:18 PM Oct 1st via Echofon

Last night while complaining about Marley children, I was informed that marc bolans son performs t Rex covers under the name “Rolan Bolan”
3:53  PM Sept 28th via Echofon

wearing a different michael jackson shirt than yesterday.
3:15 PM Sept 15th via web

true story: when I saw pantera in high school I threw an employees hat I took from taco bell onstage and dimebag wore it for the whole show!
2:09 AM Sept 14th via web

making more hits with superproducer @mylesusa today!
6:57 PM Sept 11th via the web

I do really love how earth wind and fire never abandoned the kalimba.
5:23 AM Sept 4th via web

spent 21$ at 7-11 now playing guitar in the mirror as things are heating up
4:52 AM Sept 4th via Echofon

Congratulations to Cee Lo for writing a song worse than “crazy”, no fuck YOU cee lo.
6:51 PM Sept 3 via Echofon

the playlist entitled “me” on my itunes is morphing into a super good album
12:06 AM Sept 2 via web

BART tickets are the best DIY floss
2:35 AM August 13th via Echofon

So stoked on my team of super producers @mylesusa @commasounds @staylucid @swiftumz
10:47 PM Aug 11th via Echofon

@HarlemWhateverr put on the Go-betweens and call it a day. Duh
12:03 PM July 30th via Echofon in reply to HarlemWhateverr

The Hannah Montana movie on second viewing blurs the lines of reality way more than inception or the matrix.
2:12 AM July 19th via Echofon

She also described someone she thought was cute as “thom yorke-like”…double doozy
7:41 PM July 13th via Echofon

Not talking to this lady anymore who isn’t excited about Weird Als upcoming show at the Warfield. #dealbreaker
7:40 PM July 13 via Echofon

lyric from the new prince song: “from the heart of minnesota, here comes the purple yoda” #notjoking
10:58 AM July 12th via web

Starting mixtape at 3am…no Jim Nabors
3:09 AM July 9th via Echofon

Jim Nabors record thrown out of my 4th story window #jimnabors
3:07AM July 7th via Echofon

Listening to Jim Nabors record #timeforbed
3:06 AM July 7th via Echofon

i’m wearing swim trunks and an oversize ICP shirt right now
10:19 PM July 6th via web

“someone spilled a beer in the doritos?” actual quote
2:29 AM July 3rd via Echofon

my iPhone recognizes “chillwave” as a word
11:05 July 1 via Echofon

I wish someone would just organize a flash mob of people punching themselves in the face
11:16 PM Jun 25th via web

Hmmm I wonder how that new sushi place that just opened across the street from the JAIL is…
4:15 PM Jun 25th via Echofon

listening to GAS at work, makes my whole day like an episode of twin peaks
3:01 PM Jun 25th via web

JAH- please make it rain on everyone trying to see Pavement tonight. =D
1:16 PM Jun 25th via web

Toni tone Tony “house of music” LP hasn’t left my record player for a week. A seriously great album.
1:11 AM Jun 24th via Echofon

Whoa macy gray is on TV…always wondered what happened to him
12:52 AM Jun 24th via Echofon

@truepanther sorry dean-nice try, but i’m already signed
3:13 AM Jun 19th via web in reply to truepanther

inhaling insane amounts of sour diesel and listening to durutti column right now #lifeisgood
2:58 AM Jun 19th via web

I should go to bed but I can’t stop listening to mercyful fate #worshipsatan
1:07 AM Jun 17th via web

ouch! curtis mayfield just made me shed a little tear right here at my desk
2:47 PM Jun 11th via web

maybe betty white could join RUNDMC as the DJ???
5:55 PM Jun 3rd via web

is anything stupider than graffiti? Maybe beatboxing?
1:04 PM May 25th via web

Every time I clean my room I find a hit of E
7:07 PM May 18th via Echofon

Listening to Alice Coltrane “universal consciousness” and I have not one shitty thing to say about it. #positivity #universalconsciousness
6:53 PM May 18th via web

this improvisation battle between brian setzer and the country bears fiddle player is intense
11:59 PM May 17th via web

i’ve already given country bears a four star rating on netflix based on the first three minutes.
11:18 PM May 17th via web

holy shit this live action country bears movie is fucking horrifying!!!
11:17 PM May 17th via web

Every time wyclef says “one time” on killing me softly a small part of me dies #shutupandlettheladysing
11:35 AM May 5 via Echofon

I reckon cypress hills bongo player is among the best i’ve ever seen #\:=D
10 PM April 20th via Echofon

These children just handed us a lit joint as big as my index finger
8:55 PM April 20th via Echofon

A new teenage fanclub album and big mommas house 3 in the same year? regained my will to live.
1:15 Pm April 20th via Echofon

I wish the voice in my head was Lee Hazelwoods or Harry Nillsons, maybe then I’d listen to my conscience.
3:41 Pm April 16th via web

Fuck you bjork, you’re the dave matthews band of weird chicks
5:50 PM Mar 31st via Echofon

Bob Marley’s kids are whiter than Michael Jackson’s kids
10:24 PM Mar 17th via Echofon

The oscars r so backwards…that lady is going to win for ‘the hurt locker’ when she should have won for ‘point break’
11:08 PM Mar 4 via Echofon

“do you like noise music?” “no I like that song on the new cat food commercial”
4:44 PM Mar 4 via Echofon

Kinda wish yoko would stop talking about peace and stuff and just brag to the crowd about how great it felt to be filthy rich
10:40 PM Feb 23rd via Echofon

I’m excited to see yoko Ono tomorrow because deerhoof is opening and I want to hate on them
6:20 PM Feb 22nd via Echofon

seriously “on the beach” is like the last thing i’d want to listen to on the beach
12:43 PM Jan 29th via web

Just got asked my favorite question when I’m carrying a guitar in public. “Do you play music?”
3:29 PM Jan 23rd via Echofon

KMEL just had a mini Aaliyah marathon. Not complaining.
4:53 PM Jan 14th via web

I’m confident that I can play guitar better than the following people – Bono, mick jagger, eddie vedder, and the guy from puddle of mudd
12:59 Am Jan 8th via web

“puddle of mudd” performing on tv. shit like this amazes me.
12:57 AM Jan 8th via web

I’m serious when I say the lady who plays the cello for the go betweens can outshred anyone
4:36 PM Jan 6th via Echofon

swiftumz’ album Don’t Trip is coming out on Holy Mountain in spring 2011

“He will probably drown in his beer hat”: the post-punk vegan hits SF

Andrew Lam
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Isa Chandra Moskowitz is a believer in the power of baketivism. Emerging from the wilds of Food Not Bombs mass meals and the New York City punk scene, Moskowitz started a community access TV show, The Post Punk Kitchen in 2003. Since then she’s gotten five animal product-free cookbooks published, starting with the seminal Vegan Cupcakes Take Over the World (Da Capo, 168 pages, $15.95) and progressing to her latest, Appetite for Reduction (Da Capo, 336 pages, $19.95) — a collection of low-fat recipes (a couple of which we featured over the holidays), the result of Moskowitz’s doctor’s suggestion she cut back on fat after being diagnosed with a hormone imbalance.

 She’s vegging out in SF this weekend — you can catch her doing a cooking demonstration and book signing at the Ferry Plaza Farmer’s Market on Sat/12 — and hell, read that bio again, awesome. So we interviewed her and now we know where to get vegan cheese that actually tastes good, among other highly salient points.

 

San Francisco Bay Guardian: When and why did you become a vegan?

Isa Chandra Moskowitz: My vegan journey began over 20 years ago, when I was 16. Yes, it’s a journey, just like on the “Bachelorette.” It was pretty simple for me, I just couldn’t see any reason to eat animals. I’ve always been an animal lover and the thought of any animal suffering or being killed just drives me nuts. I didn’t want any part of it. 

 

SFBG: Have you seen a change in the animal product substitutes offered in stores since your early vegan days?

ISM: Yes, and what’s even more drastic is how widely available vegan meat substitues are. I’ll be honest, I don’t really care for many of the products — I prefer to cook whole foods. But I appreciate that the subs exist and there are some yummy ones out there, like the Field Roast sausages [editor’s note: soy-free, yay!] and Tofurkey slices, which make great sandwiches in a pinch. In terms of pastries and sweets it’s like we’re living in a completely different world. Sweet & Sarah Marshmallows are to die for, and there are so many awesome cookie companies that they’re too numerous to count. And ice cream is much better, especially the coconut milk varieties. 

 

SFBG: Do you think the US qualifies as a vegan-friendly country now? Where, in your eyes, are the best places for vegan dining?

ISM: Yeah, for sure. I mean, it’s such a big country. Of course there are more vegan-friendly places than others. The best places are probably pretty similar to the best places for food in general – NYC, Portland, and here in San Francisco. Those are also the places where I most often find myself, so go figure!

 

SFBG: What (if any) has been the most compelling argument you’ve heard NOT to be a vegan?

ISM: I honestly haven’t heard anything that sounded like a good argument. The only thing that makes sense to me is when people are like ‘well, I don’t really care.’ I mean, at least it’s honest! 

 

SFBG: When I became a vegan, I had to deal with a lot of flack from family and friends, even those that were totally cool with my ten years of vegetarianism. Did you run into that when you decided to go animal product-free? Why do you think people get so crazy about the dietary choices of others?

ISM: I hear this type of thing a lot and I have to say I did not experience it at all. I mean, there’s always that annoying guy who’s like ‘PETA means People Eating Tasty Animals!!! Guffaw! Snort!’ but he’s not my friend and he will probably drown in his beer hat so I’m not too worried about it. But in terms of friends and family, people either didn’t think anything of it or didn’t get into it with me. 

 

SFBG: What’s the best vegan cheese you’ve run into out there? I’m having issues with that one.

ISM: I am not crazy about any of the US cheeses on the market at the moment, but I had the most amazing vegan cheese from Switzerland called Vegusto. It’s not available here, unfortunately, but if anyone is listening and wants to make a million dollars, strike some sort of deal with that company and bring it to the US. It will change your life. In any case it’s good to know that a delicious creamy vegan cheese is possible, hopefully it will exist here someday. 

 

SFBG: It seems like a lot of vegan cooking revolves around processed animal product substitutes. How do you feel about that?

ISM: Ha, this whole interview was about products and processed food and yeah, in all my books I pretty much make it clear that I’m not into that. I cook with whole foods. 

 

SFBG: Finally, where/what are you planning on eating in SF?

ISM: I’m definitely going to eat a couple million burrito spots, but also Millenium, Cha-Ya, Gracias Madre and hopefully a kind soul will bring me something from Cinnaholic because I don’t think I’m going to make it over to the East Bay. I already went to Papalote tonight and then had the tiramisu at Cafe Gratitude so I’m happy.

 

Isa Chandra Moskowitz

Sat/12 11:45-12:30 p.m., free

Ferry Plaza Farmer’s Market

One Ferry Building, SF

(415) 391-3276

www.cuesa.org

 

Date with Satan? “Mosh Potatoes” to the rescue!

Sue Vaughan
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Date with Satan? “Mosh Potatoes” to the rescue!

Sure, Julia Child was a badass in her own way — but do you think she ever blasted Seventh Son of a Seventh Son while cooking up beef bourguignon? (Gonna guess … not. I saw the movie so I’m kind of an expert.) For all the would-be chefs who prefer their kitchen adventures with a side of Satan comes Steve “Buckshot” Seabury’s Mosh Potatoes: Recipes, Anecdotes and Mayhem from the Heavyweights of Heavy Metal (Atria Books, $15).

Mosh Potatoes isn’t the first-ever metal-themed cookbook (see also: Hellbent for Cooking: The Heavy Metal Cookbook by Annick Giroux, which similarly features recipe contributions from famous headbangers). But Mosh Potatoes has the better name. Also, download site Loudtrax.com is running a contest (it ends Monday, a.k.a. February 14, a.k.a. Valentine’s Day) in conjunction with the book. For brave culinary warriors only, “We Dare You to Cook Up Lemmy!” offers Kilmister-approved prizes for folks willing to attempt the Motorhead legend’s contribution to the book. (Details here; the recipe involves chocolate syrup, curry powder, brandy, and fire, among other things. It is called “Krakatoa Surprise,” and I wouldn’t get near it even if you offered me a suit made out of Ove Gloves.)

For those with less suicidal palates, Mosh Potatoes offers a variety of appetizers (“Opening Acts”), main dishes (“Headliners”), and desserts (“Encores”), explained in first-person style by whoever contributed the dish. Some of the recipes are more Food Network-ready than others (Dave Witte of Municipal Waste‘s surprisingly sophisticated Turkey Gyoza with Soy-Vinegar Sauce; Aaron from Red Fang‘s Red Fang Pad Thai); some are worth reading just because of the anecdote (see: Life of Agony’s Joey Zampella’s lobster-hypnosis tips) or suspicious items in the ingredient list (I lost track of how many people included beer or booze, not for the food but for the chef to drink while cooking.)

I’m generally crap in the kitchen, but I can definitely mix a bunch of ingredients together and shove them in an oven. So in lieu of Krakatoa Surprise, I decided to make “The Best Blueberry Muffins,” created by Darkest Hour‘s Paul Burnette. I made sure to pick a recipe from a band I actually know and like; the book’s artists are overall pretty cool, but there are a few odd numbers (Mudvayne? Come on now.)

The muffins call for all the usual ingredients (butter, sugar, eggs, vanilla, flour, etc.) plus a boatload of blueberries. They were delicious, though the note about waiting for the muffins to cool before taking them out of the pan was key. Lots of blueberries = lots of molten blueberry juice waiting to sear anyone who dared try and nudge a muffin out of the pan before due time.

They were best within the first 24 hours — I’d recommend making them fresh before, like, a brunch and (after they cool off, f’reals) sharing them with a group. Not too sweet but full of blueberry goodness — perfect for hangovers. My batch of batter made around 18 smallish muffins and they were dee-lish.

Here’s my quarrel with Mosh Potatoes, and I suspect it’s simply due to the number, er, nature of the beast: though author Seabury says he tested out all the recipes while compiling the book, the instructions here aren’t as thorough as you’d find in a typical cookbook. If you’re a kitchen-phobe like me, expect to be intimidated by vague or imprecise instructions for some of the entries. Even something simple as muffins, I would’ve liked to have known how many muffins the batch was going to make before I started out, which is something a reg’lar cookbook would’ve divulged.

But while Julia Child always offered thorough instructions, she certainly didn’t pepper her recipes with drinking games (to my knowledge), and she never used Jägermeister as an ingredient (did she? If so, contact me ASAP with deets). Mosh Potatoes may be light on haute cuisine, but it’s heavy on nacho-salsa-guac varieties, groupie gossip, bad puns (“Kale ‘Em All,” har har), and does contain at least one recipe that should not be read while eating (talking to you and your barfy “ball cheese,” Michael Starr of Steel Panther). For those about to cook…

Hot sexy events: February 9-15

Andrew Lam
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Hot sexy events: February 9-15

So Rihanna made an S&M video. No really, it’s called “S&M.” And yes, it does feature her walking Perez Hilton – not the sexiest choice – on a leash, while wearing a latex dress and a killer day-at-the-races hat-thing, plus her singing while hanging from the ceiling, men in restraints and gags, and creative use of duct tape. Yep, yet another celebrity discovers BDSM. While the video itself is not thrilling and not all that arousing (for my money, Rihanna’s made hotter), the girl’s got a way with outfits – she has a penchant for performing in latex, and sports a pretty incredible hood and stockings latex ‘fit in the new video, which already has 9.3 million views on YouTube, fyi. Perhaps she could be convinced to share the wealth at one of SF’s two kinky costume swaps this Sun/13 — at Kinky Salon and the SF Citadel respectively. Even if RiRi’s not in attendance, the event should be a good opportunity to re-up on some gear to wear to the next wild-and-wacky costumed sex party. Or nearly any of this weeks’ sex events, for that matter…

 

 

Bawdy Storytelling: “Slut or Whore?”

Four years of Bawdy Storytelling already? And it doesn’t look a day over “once upon a time”! At any rate, four years of exhibitionist show-and-tell deserves a little contemplation, so this month’s theme makes perfect sense. Sexologist Carol Queen and fowl-about-town Chicken John will be sharing scenes from their crazy line-toeing lives – maybe we can all sit back and think on what it means to get paid for it, whatever our career may be.

Weds/9 8 p.m., $10

The Blue Macaw

2656 Mission, SF

www.bawdystorytelling.com


Lyon-Martin Beer Bust

You’ve heard by now, no doubt, about how trans and woman-friendly Lyon-Martin Health Services is being threatened by these toughie economic times. Things are looking good for the clinic though, if one is to judge by the magnum-sized avalanche of fundraising events that have come down the chute from organizations and businesses all over the city. You can find a list of them here, by the way. And here’s a fabulous option: the Eagle will be busting beers out all afternoon in honor of safe, respectful, and effective reproductive health care – go drain a bottle, donate some cash to the cause, and buy some raffle tickets while you’re at it – your community will thank you.

Sat/12 3-6 p.m., free

The Eagle Tavern

398 12th St., SF

(415) 626-0880

www.lyon-martin.org


Valentino’s Casablanca

Here’s looking at you kid – you and your valentine(s, not trying to be limiting here) are welcome to get fuzzy at Stefanos invocation of Bogart’s bar. Sip on noir-style cocktails and look sultry while you check out violinists and sky-suspended roped beauties. Plus, there’s that big old dungeon to frolic in. Trust, this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship(s, again, not tryin’ to hold you back here).

Sat/12 8-10 p.m., $30 singles, $60 couples, $90 trios

SF Citadel

1277 Mission, SF

(415) 626-2746

www.brownpapertickets.com


Kinky Salon Costume Swap

It can get rough attending themed swingers’ parties week in and week out – there’s only so many times you can wear those pink cat ears before their frisky fun seems a little worn out. Luckily, Kinky Salon’s got your back – show up at this naked person party (when you’re changing outfits people, game faces please) with an armload of the fetish funwear you’ve grown luke-warm on, and pick up another armload of your kinky peers’ cast-offs. Remember to clean everything before you bring it down.

Sun/13 4-6 p.m., $10 with costumes to swap, $20 without

Mission Control 

www.missioncontrolsf.org


Swap it Out!

Just like the one above, only the Citadel’s swap is a true naked lady party – only women and the female-identifying are allowed at this trade. Bring your threads (street clothes welcome at this swap) – the ones that no one picks up will be shipped off to charity at the end of the three hours. 

Sun/13 2-5 p.m., free

SF Citadel

1277 Mission, SF

(415) 626-2746

www.sfcitadel.org


Pop-Up Dildo Shop and Icecream Social

Now this will be all kinds of fun: an event at Fifty 24’s pop-up store with a little something for everyone. To whit, raunchy comedy by Will Franken, free organic icecream from Three Twins, a class on how to choose the perfect sex toy with Carol Queen, giveaways from Good Vibes, even free PBR! My goodness, and hot ’60s pop act Female Trouble to soundtrack the whole thing? Can you wait til Sunday, even? 

Sun/13 3-5 p.m., free

Fifty 24 SF Gallery

252 Fillmore, SF

Facebook: Good Vibrations’ Pop-Up Dildo Shop and Ice Cream Social


Club Neon Underwear Party

Now let’s not get ahead of ourselves here, folks. This is an underwear party – which does not mean that you’re guaranteed nookie (when are you, really), but the talent will be much easier to scope than in your typical nightclub scene. That stud over there seem awfully full in the boxer brief? Sweaty sweetie by the bathrooms shaking that demi-bra with the skills to pay the bills? Play your cards right and you may have found your valentine. 

Mon/14 9 p.m.-2 a.m., $5, free before 11 p.m. with no pants

The Knockout 

3223 Mission, SF

(415) 550-6994

Facebook: Club Neon Underwear Party

 

Meat-cute

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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Meat-cute

le.chicken.farmer@gmail.com

CHEAP EATS The things that New Orleans throws at you! Example: a wall of doors, so metaphoric it hurts. My goal is, for the length of this column, to not let it mean anything, just … a wall of doors. Yep.

So this wall of doors separates our yard here from the neighbor’s, which isn’t a yard so much as a couple of feet between houses, a walkway. And, instead of a picket fence, door door door door door. All wooden, all weathered to varying degrees and in different ways. A few still have their knobs on, and these sparkle in the sunshine — albeit meaninglessly. One has no knob, but yes hardware, which is rusty and does not sparkle.

Shine or no, each door is beautiful in its own way; some are bare, others getting there but with swaths of prehistoric primer still, or paint. One had been covered so thickly, so many times, in a now-yellowing white, that the cracks in it resemble giraffe skin. Another has window panes, four quarters: two still have glass, and two are blank space. I could pass a cold beer through to the workers working on the dilapidated house next door.

New Orleans is a ragged and broken city, which is of course part of its charm. The streets have potholes the size of swimming pools. The sidewalks end, drop off, bend and crack. I’m afraid to ride my bike. Walking is an extreme sport. The zoo is just across the street, and I take the Doughboy there because it is safe and smooth. We are becoming friends with the zookeepers, and already they have let us pet a snake.

End of the day, when I told his mummy about this snake-petting business, she wondered what my own personal “spirit animal” was.

“Giraffe,” I said, without even thinking about it. Before, as you know, it was chickens. Why — since I am famous for eating me my meat — do I always identify with the vegetarian, and the prey?

My new New Orleans friends, the human ones, are meat meat meat eaters, and music music music lovers, which makes perfect sense because food and tunes are what this town is all about. You can imagine my giddiness. Hedgehog, the one I am kissing, works on a TV show I’ve never seen, because I don’t have a TV, let alone HBO, so I feel especially qualified to give it an especially objective review. I mean, how much more objective can you be than to never have even seen a thing? So: not enough plot. Or character. Oodles of fantastic music.

I base this impression solely on comments made by my TV-having friends back home when I’ve mentioned that, yo, I’m hanging with someone from Treme. Then when I tell them that she does sound, then they are impressed.

On Monday, Hedgehog and me walked along the Mississippi River, drank vodka in a gay man bar, and ate at a place called Green Goddess, which (hee hee hee) is all about meat — pulled pork flapjack for me, and a bacon meatloaf samwich for her.

Mind you, that’s at the Green Goddess. So you can imagine what goes down at the restaurants called Butcher, and Pig — but in French, which here doesn’t mean pretentious. I’m in heaven!

Next evening, four of us gathered after work for $2 taco night and $2 Red Stripes at the Caribbean-influenced Rum House. Just some of the stuff my own personal tacos featured: lamb vindaloo, barbecued ribs, roasted duck, and goose cracklin. Um, that’s four different animals crammed into only three $2 tacos.

You know how after-work gatherings go: the televisionistas are unwindingly griping, their shitty day this, their shitty day that, and I’m just serenely sipping my Red Stripe because I’d had an awesome day, changing diapers.

Tomorrow we’re eating at Patois, and Sunday we’re having a little Super Bowl party. I’m making my patented barbecued eggs, and Hedgehog is bringing her patented gumbo tacos, and what the fuck? I can’t get me no lesbian love in queer central, San Francisco, where I’m popular. Or in Boston, where I rock. Whereas one week into New Orleans, where my most ardent admirers are a nine-month-old boy and a handful of zookeepers, and I’m squeezing me a hot hot hottie who’s won a goddamn Emma.

Or whatever that’s called. Bragging? Not really. I’m just looking out my window at a wall made of doors.

NEW ORLEANS

The only place in this country that’s cooler than San Francisco.

Where the Magik happens

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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Where the Magik happens

arts@sfbg.com

MUSIC Because of the rusty pieces of corrugated sheet metal crudely affixed to its exterior, I almost mistake Tiny Telephone, a recording studio, for a very large, dilapidated storage unit. But on a brick-red door, alphabet letter magnets spell out “tiny,” and only bits of dried glue and fragments of “telephone” remain. This must be it.

Through the door, a two-wall art installation made of reclaimed redwood (by resident artist Claire Mack) in the lounge/kitchen area catches my eye. I’ve seen pictures of it on the studio’s website. This is it. It’s easy to imagine Death Cab For Cutie or San Francisco songstress Thao drinking beer, shooting the shit, and jamming in this room.

Once I plop down on the couch, pop-folk icon John Vanderslice, owner and manager of Tiny Telephone, pulls up a chair. Minna Choi, the artistic director of Magik*Magik Orchestra, the studio’s official house orchestra, takes a seat on a tan area rug.

“It’s probably like how everyone feels when you’re from San Francisco and you move to the East Coast and there are no good taquerias,” Vanderslice says, laughing, when I ask him about the history of Tiny Telephone. “I was in a small local band,” he elaborates. “We wanted to make a record. We toured every local studio. It was like there were only either rehearsal places with garbage on the floor, or posh, unaffordable, hardwood-floor, uptight-owner situations. There was nothing in the middle.”

In September 1997, Vanderslice opened Tiny Telephone to give independent musicians the opportunity to make affordable hi-fi recordings. Magik*Magik Orchestra entered the picture in 2008. “We wanted to simplify the process of incorporating classically-trained musicians into a nonclassical environment,” Choi says. “So I e-mailed [John].”

“It was like genius!” Vanderslice blurts out.

Adding the orchestra to Tiny Telephone is in tandem with Vanderslice’s evolution as an artist. On 2004’s Cellar Door (Barsuk), he strayed from electric guitar and used acoustic guitar and keyboards. “[Electric guitars] really take up a lot of territory,” he explains. “It’s a little bit like a cock-block. [Keyboards] can sit in one area, and then you can put something directly above them and below them in the frequency spectrum, so there’s plenty of room for, like, a French horn.” This year’s White Wilderness (Dead Oceans), finds Vanderslice’s tenor accompanied by acoustic guitar and a 19-piece ensemble gleaned from Magik*Magik Orchestra’s roughly 180-person membership.

“It’s great to go in a different direction,” Vanderslice says. “It’s great to move on.”

We all stand to start the tour. As I walk across the aqua blue floor, my hand grazes Fender amps that line the walkway to the main recording room. Inside, it’s dimly lit. When Vanderslice flips a switch, a white deer head becomes illuminated — like a statue of an idol — by Christmas lights strung on a pump organ. In one breath, he enumerates some of the equipment that is available: 14 guitar amps, a Hammond b3, a grand piano, keyboards, an EMT reverb plate. The lexicon of music recording equipment is dizzying. Vanderslice points to the walls: “These are all untreated cedar panels. This is cotton batting.” As we leave the room, he pauses to mention that the studio has been booked for more than 400 days in a row.

We climb a few rickety stairs to enter the control room, where we’re joined by Ian Pellicci, Tiny Telephone’s house engineer. With its UV meters, faders, and colored knobs, the room’s Neve console, built in 1976 for the BBC in London, looks like a prop taken from the bridge of the original Star Trek‘s Enterprise. This is the tape machine,” says Choi. “I’m proud to say that I was here when they put all of the light bulbs in, then all of a sudden it came alive like Wall-E.”

To encourage analog recording, Tiny Telephone provides free two-inch tape to clients. “Not that digital is terrible. But the technology has a ways to go,” Pellicci says. “There’s a greater dimension to the sound [of analog].”

Next we shuffle into the isolation room. “We’re basically in an anechoic isolation room where people can do vocals, drums — ” Vanderslice begins to explain. But with the room’s door open, I can hear the raucous sounds of construction taking place down the hallway.

Next door, what once was an auto shop is being converted into a separate studio, a “B Room” Opening in June, the B Room will be set up as an arts nonprofit modeled after The Bay Bridged and 826 Valencia. Unlike Tiny Telephone, which costs $350 per day plus engineers, the B Room will cost $200 daily. “We wanted to give bands a low-cost option to record on a tape machine, on a real console with microphones, in a space where they can make as much noise as they want,” says Vanderslice.

“With this other price point, [Vanderslice] is tapping into another group of bands and artists,” Choi adds. “There are probably so many diamonds in the rough — crazy talent waiting to be discovered.”

As the tour winds down, Vanderslice shares his vision of Tiny Telephone and the B Room: “We’re going to put a picnic table outside, a basketball hoop — we’re going to build community. And that’s what it’s all about.”

Delicious love

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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Delicious love

V-DAY What if this year Valentine’s paired romance with a visit to one of SF’s best new restaurants? Here are new additions to the local dining scene in 2010 that will please food lovers (and who isn’t, in this city?) while offering a range of price points in love-worthy settings.

 

FOR AMOROUS EXPERIMENTALISTS: COMMONWEALTH

Anthony Myint and chef Jason Fox are reinventing fine dining. Your edgy foodie date will be impressed. Myint was a mastermind behind Mission Street Food and Mission Chinese Food. Here at Commonwealth with Chef Fox, he delves into deliciously experimental creations with a fresh, unpretentious approach. And shockingly, no dish costs more than $16. Dine on goat cooked in hay while sipping a liquid nitrogen aperitif, finish with porcini thyme churros with huckleberry jam. You may be packed in tight in the spare, modern space, but you’ll both leave glowing from stimulating flavors and presentation.

2224 Mission, SF. (415) 355-1500, www.commonwealthsf.com

 

FOR OLD WORLD ROMANTICS: COMSTOCK SALOON

The Barbary Coast comes alive in this bar-restaurant gem that feels like a timeless classic … and isn’t too taxing on the wallet. From Victorian wallpaper to restored dark woods, the spirit and history of the space entice. Filling up on rich beef shank and bone marrow potpie or bites like whiskey-cured gravlax on rye toast is happy respite on chilly nights. Pair with a perfect Martinez cocktail or a barkeep’s whimsy (bartender’s creation based on your preferences), and see if your date doesn’t cozy up with you next to that wood-burning stove. Comstock exemplifies the best of what a modern-day saloon with Old World sensibilities can be.

155 Columbus, SF. (415) 617-0071, www.comstocksaloon.com

 

FOR LOVING LOCAVORES: GATHER

Gather is the best thing to come along in Berkeley in ages, and ideal for your local or locavore-y date. It reads typical Bay Area yet goes further: local, sustainable, organic everything, including spirits, wine, and beer. A rounded room with open kitchen is holistically casual and urban. All the raves you’ve heard about the vegan “charcuterie” are true. Marvel at the artistic, affordable array of five different vegetable presentations on a wood slab, like roasted baby beets with fennel, dill, blood orange, horseradish almond puree, and pistachio. Executive chef Sean Baker and team do meat right, too, whether sausage/pork belly/chile pizza or house-cured ham topped with crescenza cheese. Gather displays an ethos and presentation one can only dream of becoming a standard everywhere.

2200 Oxford, Berk. (510) 809-0400, www.gatherrestaurant.com

 

FOR BEEF-LOVING BEAUS: THE SYCAMORE

Skip the Valentine’s Day’s hoopla and take your sweetie out for a night that will make you feel like kids again — to the Sycamore, which offers a delicious “famous” roast beef sandwich. A glorified Arby’s staple on grocery store-reminiscent sesame buns with BBQ sauce and mayo, the sandwich salutes the native Bostonian owners’ roots. But the roast beef sandwich isn’t the only item that shines at this humble Mission eatery, which doubles as a cozy beer and wine bar. Pork belly-stuffed donut holes in Maker’s Mark bourbon glaze are pretty near orgasmic. A slab of pan-fried Provolone cheese is enlivened by chimichurri sauce and roasted garlic bulb. I applaud its all-day hours and prices under $9.

2140 Mission, SF. (415) 252 7704, www.thesycamoresf.com

 

FOR PURIST PARAMOURS: HEIRLOOM CAFÉ

The menu (less than 10 starters and entrees) is so simple I almost got bored reading it. But each dish served in this Victorian-yet-modern dining room was so well executed that my skepticism vanished. More than a little Chez Panisse in its ethos, Heirloom will delight that special someone with a purist take on food, with ultra fresh, pristine ingredients, impeccably prepared. Savor a mountain of heirloom tomatoes piled over toasted bread with pickled fennel, cucumbers, and feta, or a flaky bacon onion tart loaded with caramelized onions. Heirloom’s added strength is owner Matt Straus’ thoughtfully chosen wine lists covering wines from Lebanon to Spain.

2500 Folsom, SF. (415) 821-2500, www.heirloom-sf.com

 

FOR SENTIMENTAL GOURMANDS: SONS & DAUGHTERS

Like Commonwealth, Sons and Daughters is another opening where young, visionary chefs create fine molecular fare at reasonable prices ($48 for four-course prix fixe, à la carte from $9-$24). But this space particularly lends itself to romance: intimate, black and white, with shimmering chandeliers and youthful, European edge. Dishes are inventive and ambitious, like the highly acclaimed eucalyptus herb salad of delicate curds and whey over quinoa, or the seared foie gras accompanied by a glass of tart yogurt and Concord grape granita. It’s a place to hold hands and gaze into each other’s eyes while never neglecting your taste buds.

708 Bush St., SF. (415) 391-8311, www.sonsanddaughterssf.com

 

FOR NEW YORKER HEARTS: UNA PIZZA NAPOLETANA

Yes, this one’s casual, and you’ll have to wait outside in line. But if your sweetie has New York roots, she will thank you. Pizzaiolo Anthony Mangieri closed his beloved New York City institution, Una Pizza, and moved west. As in NYC, Una Pizza is a one-man show with Mangieri single-handedly crafting each pie (which partly explains the no take-out policy and long waits; popularity accounts for the rest). All this may make it hard to frequent Una Pizza, but if you make the commitment, you will be rewarded with doughy heaven. With only five vegetarian pies, I dream of the Filetti: cherry tomatoes soaking in buffalo mozzarella, accented by garlic, extra-virgin olive oil, basil, and sea salt. On the plus side: all that waiting in line for a hand-made pie will give you and your sweetie pie plenty of time to talk.

210 11th St., SF. (415) 861-3444, www.unapizza.com/sf

 

FOR AMORE ITALIANO: BARBACCO

True, Barbacco can get obnoxiously noisy and crowded. But it’s a good alternative to its parent restaurant, Perbacco, offering the same outstanding quality at a great value ($3-$14 per dish). For a bustling Italian enoteca-style date, this is the place. Heartwarming food and a thoughtful wine list make it an ideal urban trattoria and a comfortably affordable night out. Order a glass of Lambrusco, the fried brussels sprouts, and raisin and pine nut-accented pork meatballs in a tomato sugo, then marvel at the minimalist bill.

220 California, SF. (415) 955-1919, www.barbaccosf.com

 

FOR YOUR SWEETIE PIE: BAKER AND BANKER

With dark brown walls and booths, the space exudes a warm elegance. Husband and wife team Jeff Banker and Lori Baker get it right from start to finish with his dishes (vadouvan curry cauliflower soup, brioche-stuffed quail in a bourbon-maple glaze) and her memorable desserts (XXX triple dark chocolate layer cake, pumpkin cobbler with candied pumpkin seed ice cream). Extra points if you buy him a box of pastries to go for the next morning from Baker and Banker bakery next door.

1701 Octavia, SF. (415) 351-2500, www.bakerandbanker.com

Fried

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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Fried

I don’t have a lot of pet peeves — that would break my lease. Other than, say, invading a country for no reason, making fun of people with mental illnesses and addictions, refusing to pay taxes because you think people of color are moochers, or ordering Uggs online, still, not much reliably gets my goat, ties it down with friendship bracelets and Danish dreadlocks, and forces it to listen to Ke$ha remixed by Tiësto while wearing Juicy Couture or Pink by Victoria’s Secret.  

Baaa.

I do however have an eensy beensy problem with fried food in bars. It may be because I recently quit smoking — farewell, dear Marlboro Man, please moisturize — but lately the combined and pungent waft of cheese-smothered freedom fries, bleachy bar-cleaning solution, and, heaven forfend, deep fried pickles (they have these at Truck in SoMa, they’re frickin’ delicious) makes me want to hurl rainbow Santorum. Could it be that I’m finally pregnant? We’ve tried so hard!

Alas, clouds of steamy trans fat, the unerotic kind, are what one must brave to enjoy Buck Tavern on Market Street, notorious for its new owner, former supervisor and mercurial rabble-rouser Chris Daly. It offers a full menu of yummily evil things whose scent can overpower the atmosphere. But other than that, and perhaps a slight overbrightness of lighting, I have no beef with the place. I’d been there before, when it was a sparsely occupied pool haunt (population: one large drag queen with a pool cue and a frightened-looking bartender) which served only beer and soju cocktails. Now, crowded with cute, diverse folks deep in interesting conversations, full call liquor bottles lining the wall, and the sound of cheerleaders screeching on the flatscreens, it feels downright cozy.

Others may fear clouds of a different sort — and yes this is a progressive wonk’s paradise. Daly can be found behind the bar many nights, and you’ll usually see some political player like John Avalos or Ross Mirkarimi or David Campos or “who the hell knows cuz they’re all slightly brown dudes with the same goatee-hair-tiny glasses thing going on” downing a well-priced pint. There’s even a spread-eagle copy of the Guardian to read over the urinal. (Aim high, haters.) But don’t worry, there’s no ideological purity check at the door, just a friendly sense of come-what-may. In fact, I think we may be witnessing the sudden materialization of some boisterous and idyllic parallel universe City Hall. With cheeseburgers, even!

BUCK TAVERN 1655 Market, SF. (415) 874-9183

 

PUPPY PILE

With newish monthly parties like Beatpig, Chickenbear, and OH! the Powerhouse is rapidly erasing its rep among queer youth as a bland haven for desperate cruisers into carnival techno and so-so blowjobs. This special benefit for Pets Are Wonderful Support brings together two of those parties, Chickenbear and OH! for a night of flying feathers (i.e., a bachelor auction) and rock ‘n’ roll hijinx.

Sat/5, 10 p.m., $5. Powerhouse, 1347 Folsom, SF. www.powerhouse-sf.com

 

PINK MAMMOTH SEVEN-YEAR ANNIVERSARY

I smell Burning Man! And it smells expensive. Luckily, I can enjoy some of the nuttier crews right now, for less than the price of one of the actual mammoths that scientists are hoping to clone this summer. (Imagine riding an actual mammoth onto the Playa. Imagine it with your mind!) So much glitch-funk, chunky techno, zen dubstep fun galore at the fuzzy pink tribe’s seventh hootenanny. Oh goddess, they have their own iPhone app and a hot dog bar. Nothing can stop them now.

Sat/5, 9 p.m.-late, $10–$15. Mighty, 119 Utah, SF. www.pinkmammoth.org

 

EGYPTIAN LOVER

I don’t know if this is timely or not? Current events electro, people. The pioneer of electronic funk puts on one hell of a show, and has been jamming the box and rocking Planet Rock for like three decades now. He’ll be joined by Jaime Jupiter for a journey through the Electric Kingdom.

Sat/5, 10 p.m.-late, $20. Public Works, 161 Erie, SF. www.publicsf.com

 

MISS HONEY

Fashion-addict club kids, runway voguing, hip-hop DJs in the stripper pole room, and NYC’s Miss Honey Dijon on the main turntables. Work it out.

Sat/5, 10 p.m., $10. Supperclub, 647 Harrison, SF. www.supperclub.com

Travels in a strange sushi

Andrew Lam
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Tanuki Restaurant on California and Sixth Avenue was my first taste of the Richmond and my millionth of raw fish. On a quiet block in unfamiliar territory far from Mother Mission, I saw her “Open Sushi” neon sign and walked towards the light. But before I go on, I should admit that my heart belongs to another: We Be Sushi on 16th and Valencia. Theirs is simple, clean, casual, and delicious fish. But as every baby bird must one day leave its nest, so must I leave my small, insular universe to discover nourishment in new land.

The Richmond – what are you? I took the #33 past Golden Gate Park and – I know I am a ridiculous Mission idiot – entered the Twilight Zone. Where were all the people? Why are the streets so wide? Why is the sky so big? I guess there were some inhabitants, but they all seemed eerily calm, mustache-less. And there was so much space between them. There I was: a stranger in a strange land trying to get a spicy tuna roll.

The disconnect was heightened upon entering Tanuki, where my friend and I were faced with that awkward bad thing where you try to give the other tables space, but your server forces you to sit next to them anyway. I comforted myself with the thought that cultural immersion really is the best way of getting to know a place.

 

Counter attack. Photo by Alex Fine

And what a place! We were in a 1970s ski lodge. Well not literally, you’d have to ignore the long white counter and glassed-in fish with industrious chef behind — but with the low ceilings, suspicious wood paneling, and ESPN playing on the TV that hung over the small center dining room I caught a fresh-faced, schussing vibe. There were a few other tables near us: two hetero single lady couples complaining about men, one deliriously happy Midwestern-looking middle-aged duo, and a table of dudes desperately trying to make it known that they were a band. Everyone was white. But enough about the vibes, you crunchy Mission-ite. How was the food?

I am but a casual fisherperson. Virtually all I know about sushi is based on subtle inclination, hunch, and rumor that I can’t remember the origin of. I don’t think I’m alone there. But whether or not sushi is an ancient Japanese art or a conspiracy created by the US government, most of us can agree that it’s lovable fare (even when it’s not from We Be). 

But as far as I’m concerned, there are two kinds of sushi. One, a simple, minimal kind that allows you to fully taste its one or two ingredients. Two, the kind where the rolls are named things like Kamikaze and Oompa Loompa Sex Party and contain a million varieties of mayonnaise, teriyaki sauce, and what basically amounts to ketchup. 

I enjoy both — and I’m not making any sort of heady, stuck-up judgment about which is better (see my knowledge-of-sushi caveat above). But what I am saying is that Tanuki was inching towards the latter kind. And it was a little expensive — most menu items were between $10 and $20. 

On that menu: hot hamachi, oyster shooters, carpaccio, and clams in miso soup, to name but a few offerings. Everyone around us was ordering one oyster shooter after another – delicacies I still can’t categorically define, but “shooter” anything and I start to have my doubts. 

We started with a large green salad and a seaweed salad. The seaweed salad was good, but seaweed salad is hard to screw up. The green salad was huge and semi-warm with mushy tomatoes and watered-down miso dressing. It grossed me out, but you couldn’t tell from the way I wolfed it down. My friend got a huge bowl of shrimp tempura in udon noodle soup. Halfway through she exclaimed, “I want a beer and a peanut butter Snickers.” I tried it and thought the udon noodles were fun and chewy, the broth satisfying. But I agreed that Snickers might be in order. 

I had a house roll: crab, salmon, tuna, and avocado in a moat of spicy mayo and teriyaki sauce. It was great because it was huge, and spicy, and I was starving. I didn’t pay much attention to the fish — how could I? It was covered in creamy sauce. There’s nothing wrong with that, but it does seem rather base to smother something expensive in sriracha mayo. 

I’m not whining. Much. I’m just saying that, as I finished the last droopy bites of my pal’s udon, the servers throwing me shade nearby, and the sound of show tune instrumentals playing softly overhead, it dawned on me that sometimes; it’s ok to stick with We Be Sushi.

 

Tanuki Restaurant

Mon- Sun 11 a.m.–10 p.m.

4419 California, SF

(415) 752-5740

Beer and Wine

MC/V

Moderately Noisy

Wheelchair Accessible

 

Po’ girl

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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0
Po’ girl

le.chicken.farmer@gmail.com

CHEAP EATS It was minus two in Boston when I got on the airplane. I was all bundled up in borrowed and stolen clothing, trying to tap what was left of the warmth from our show there. Between 200 and 300 bodies, and, no, I didn’t get laid, but on the other hand I never felt more loved. There may have been one or two dry eyes in the house, but there were not a lot of dry pairs of underpants. Myself, I was completely creamed by the whole thing. I’m still a little shaken.

At the airport, on the weather on the news on TV, they showed a live shot of San Francisco, just before dawn, and said that it was 60 there, that San Franciscans would wake up to a clear, beautiful day.

But that wasn’t where I was going. I was going to New Orleans. New Orleans is where I am, and I intend to have a lot to say about the food scene here. Crawdad de la Cooter, who grew up in this neck of the swamp, thinks I’m not going to want to come home. I think it’s going to take more than red beans and rice and gumbo to change my life at this point.

Now Kayday, she gave us all a scare. After nine months of not finding a job in San Francisco, she found a job in L.A., and on the day before the big move, she got a call from her new employer saying that she’d been, in effect, laid off. Talk about cutting it close! She called me right afterward.

“I have good news,” she said. Then she told me the bad news.

“How are you feeling about this?” I asked.

She was shocked, she said, and also euphoric.

I said, “I’m sorry.” I said, “Congratulations!”

This was, unequivocally, bacon for my own musical future. When I come home now, my new band will be all in one piece and place, which is important for things like bands and chandeliers.

Last night while I was sleeping, a curtain rod did not fall on my head. However, almost the whole rest of my household here was of the opinion that one had. New Orleans is like that. It’s a haunted city. Things go bump in the night, and clang and crack and “Ow! Goddamn it!”

So far I am charmed. My first meal was a fried oyster po’ boy, and the first thing I saw when I left the house this morning was three giraffes — real, live, leafy-toothed giraffes that were not in any way a figment of my imagination, because it turns out there’s a zoo just across the park.

Tell you why I’m here: one of the families whose cute little nine-month-old childern I care for just moved from Berkeley to New Orleans, just for the semester. This childern, both his moms are perfessers, one at State, and one — uh oh — at Tulane. I’m here to help, but also to eat myself silly and have scary adventures to write home to you and/or Earl Butter about.

Since the fried oyster po’ boy I imbibed last night was, as the saying goes, nothing to write home to you and/or Earl Butter about, I will instead regale you with misinformation about a meal I ate with Kayday before I even left San Fran.

On a cold, cold and windy, windy night, the likes of which you haven’t seen and are not likely to see in some time, according to The Weather Channel, Kayday and I ventured our way over to Bernal Heights around dinner time. We were going to squeeze in one last practice at Bambam’s house before Kayday moved to the city of Angels and I to the city of Saints.

It all seemed like Not A Bad Idea at the time. To get something to eat first. So we wound up at Blue Elephant on Cortland Avenue. And we ordered imperial rolls, duck curry, and something else that I have forgotten. But the imperial rolls were not forgettable. They were great. And the duck curry, which is of course a red coconut milk curry with tomato, pineapple, and roasted duck, was fantastic.

Kayday told me she was going to make a blog about living in L.A. called “My Year of Living Los Angelesly,” and I thought that that was a fairly brilliant idea.

I still think so, but now someone else is going to have to do it.

BLUE ELEPHANT

Daily, Lunch: 10:30 a.m.–3 p.m.;

Dinner: 5 p.m.–10 p.m.

803 Cortland, SF

(415) 642-9900

AE/D/MC/V

Beer and wine

Ollie beats

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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0
Ollie beats

caitlin@sfbg.com

MUSIC Tommy Guerrero likes to skate down Potrero Hill. He’s been doing it since he was a young pup street boarder — one of the first to go pro, in fact — cruising down those steep residential declines that, looking south from SoMa, resemble like nothing so much as that scene from Inception where the dream city folds on top of itself. Guerrero skates smoothly from one legendary SF career to another, a shape-shift neatly illustrated by the release party for his eighth solo album Lifeboats and Follies at Cafe Du Nord Saturday, Feb. 5.

Despite the requests for autographs that he still gets; the occasional cravings his beat-up body experiences for skating (“It’s so raw and the energy is so fucking gnarly. Once you’ve had a taste of it, there’s no turning back.”); and a job that most ex-skate rats would kill for — he’s the art director for Krooked, a subset of Potrero Hill skate company Deluxe — he’s really more into music these days. “I would love to have all that time to work in the studio. I want to retire [from skate design] in a year,” he says, half-jokingly — but still longingly.

Maybe it’s a grass-is-always-greener thing, but until now he’s done a good job of balancing his various passions. Even in the 1980s and ’90s when Guerrero was grinding out his signature moves on the driveways and suicide hills of the city, back when he was popularizing Public Enemy in Japan by skating to the group’s tracks during competitions, music was always playing a supporting role. He and brother Tony played in punk bands, including Free Beer (a name that made for alluring concert flyers).

Nowadays Guerrero makes layered instrumental music that’s appropriately enough a mix of many different elements: chill jazz with electronic crescendos, a little Latin percussion, maybe a horn solo easefully inserted. Guerrero has a DJ-like impulse to play with genres. “I just hear so much shit in my head, this is what comes out.” Apparently his albums cause havoc in the Amoeba cataloging system. “I’ve seen it in electronic, rock, alternative, even experimental or some shit,” he laughs, sitting cross-legged in a patio booth at Thee Parkside, black leather Vans (his own signature design) on his feet.

He’s in the middle of doing some promotional work for Lifeboats and Follies, but like the rest of his projects, you get the feeling that Guerrero would be doing the same thing even if he never got paid a dime. After failing to resolve differences with his old label, Quannum, Guerrero bought the entire stock of his last album, From the Soul to the Soul, back from the company. He’s mulling over what to do with it — maybe give CDs away at Saturday’s show?

Guerrero never gained the Thrasher notoriety he got from skating in his musical career. But he casually mentions that he is, as the saying goes, big in Japan. He performs there a lot and gets off on being able to take risks with in his live performances that wouldn’t go over well with American audiences looking to hear the same old thing. “They can love J-pop and, at the same time, they can love John Zorn,” he says of his Japanese fans. It makes sense that Guerrero would gravitate toward an audience looking for a more diverse experience, one that trusts that whatever he’s popping off with — on the skateboard or mixing board — is gonna turn heads. 

TOMMY GUERRERO: LIFEBOATS AND FOLLIES RELEASE PARTY

Sat/5 9:30 p.m., $12

Cafe Du Nord

2170 Market, SF

(415) 861-5016

www.cafedunord.com>

Our Weekly Picks: February 2-8

Andrew Lam
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0

WEDNESDAY 2

MUSIC

Billy and Dolly

Have you noticed? Like clockwork, the buds on the ornamental plum trees are starting to power pop their thin pink petals, making sidewalks more poetic all across the city. Ephemeral yet impressive, the changing season awakens melodies of Billy and Dolly, the local singing and songwriting duo formerly of the Monolith. The guy-girl combo is backed by the Tell-Tale Hearts, a sonic unity of 20 Minute Loop’s rockin’ guitar-bass team and the Monolith’s drummer. The harmonies are deliciously poppy and achingly bittersweet, reminiscent of Elliott Smith, were he not so chronically bummed and had a lovely lady voice as a complement. Beware: between the trees and the tunes, it’s all so pretty, it just might hurt your heart. (Kat Renz)

With Tristen and the Corner Laughers

8 p.m., $10

Rickshaw Stop

155 Fell, SF

(415) 861-2011

www.rickshawstop.com

 

MUSIC

Hymn For Her

You think living in a studio apartment with two roommates is cozy? Well, think again. ‘Cause you’ve got nothing on Lucy Tight and Wayne Waxing, of Americana duo Hymn For Her that live, record, and tour in their 16-foot, 1961 Bambi Airstream trailer — along with a baby and dog. And they somehow manage to fit a three-stringed, broom-handle cigar box, banjo, dobro, bass drum, hi-hat, and harp in there, too. In true Hymn For Her fashion, its newest release, the cleverly spelled Lucy and Wayne and the Amairican Stream, was recorded at various campgrounds and friends’ driveways while on tour. Better catch them before they pack up Bambi and hit the road. (Jen Verzosa)

With Tippy Canoe

Wed/2, 7 p.m., free

Mama Buzz Café

2138 Telegraph, Oakl.

(510) 465-4073

www.mamabuzzcafe.com

With That Ghost

Thurs/3, 9 p.m., call for price

Amnesia

853 Valencia, SF

(415) 970-0012

www.amnesiathebar.com

Sun/6, 9 p.m., $6

Hemlock Tavern

1131 Polk, SF

www.hemlocktavern.com

 

THURSDAY 3

DANCE

Jess Curtis/Gravity

Jess Curtis/Gravity is a company that lives up to, and defies, the connotations in that noun attached to the name of its artistic director. Choreographer-performer Curtis and his eclectic collaborators display an alternately cool and passionate, always irreverent intelligence, wholly immersed in the unfathomable ocean of the human body. They’re the Jacques Cousteaus of this deep: its champions and endlessly curious, enthralled students. For audiences, that means a good time, a weird time, a heavy-breathing and emotionally up-heaving time, and a time to question things we thought we knew. The company’s latest voyage, Dances for Non/Fictional Bodies, is a sprawling work whose central event — a subjectivity-shifting convergence of “nontraditional” dancer-bodies — sets sail this weekend. (Robert Avila)

Thurs/3–Sat/6, 8 p.m., $25

Yerba Buena Center for the Arts

701 Mission, SF

(415) 978-2787

www.ybca.org

 

MUSIC

Ozzy Osbourne

Though he’s backed by a new lead guitarist (Greek virtuoso Gus G.) and brandishing a new album, Ozzy Osbourne isn’t likely to conquer much new territory on his 2011 Scream tour. Nor does anyone want him to. The Prince of Fucking Darkness is still revered by a healthy portion of the headbanging public, a polity that will undoubtedly spend the show demanding a hearty helping of songs from his ant-snorting, dove-decapitating, “Crazy Train”-riding salad days. Whatever your opinion on the world’s most incomprehensible celebrity, his charisma can still get an arena rocking. Whether that’s because of — or in spite of — his infallible propensity for mooning the audience, no one can say. But as the Blizzard of Ozz would no doubt put it: “who fucking cares?” (Ben Richardson)

With Slash featuring Myles Kennedy

7:30 p.m., $44–$92

H.P. Pavilion

525 West Santa Clara, San Jose

(408) 287-7070

www.hppsj.com

 

FRIDAY 4

EVENT

“San Francisco Bike Party February 2011 Ride: Love Your Bike”

It’s prettiest much the buzziest thing on SF bikes since American-made handlebar beer can — uh, cup — holders: the SF Bike Party, spawned from the San Jose Bike Party and a member of the same family as the East Bay Bike Party. Sources say the mass bike ride, which makes complete stops for traffic lights and the occasional drink-and-mingle sidewalk party, marks a logical evolution for the city bike activism. Despite what the comments on SF Gate say, cycles in the city are no longer the purview of a handful of iron-calved fixie followers — there’s room for a little softness among the two-wheeled, which explains this month’s V-Day-ready ride theme: “love your bike.” A map of the route will be available on the group’s website closer to push-off. (Caitlin Donohue)

7:30 p.m., free

www.sfbikeparty.wordpress.com

 

MUSIC

Madlib

Titles are de rigueur in hip-hop. O.D.B. once attended a debutante ball that ended before his introduction finished. (His date was devastated.) Otis Jackson Jr., best known as Madlib and other variations (Madvillain with fellow schizo MF Doom, Jaylib with late sobriquet champion J Dilla) has racked up numerous names over the last two decades. For Madlib, the aliases are appropriate given the diverse projects he tackles as DJ, producer, MC, and uber stoner (expect at least a contact high.) His latest release, Madlib Medicine Show, is a gargantuan monthly series of 12 albums that attempt to fill in the blanks on your understanding of hip-hop. (Ryan Prendiville)

With Robot Koch, Change the Beat, and more

10 p.m., $15

103 Harriet, SF

(415) 431-1200

www.1015.com

 

DANCE

“Rotunda Dance Series: Leung’s White Crane Chinese Lion Dancing”

Just a day after Chinese new year begins, the blaring drums, clashing cymbals, soaring lions, and dancing dragons of Leung’s White Crane Chinese Lion Dancing appear in San Francisco City Hall, bringing the colorful ancient tradition to the free lunchtime Rotunda Dance Series, copresented by Dancers’ Group and World Arts West. The three Leung brothers — Kuen, Kwan and Allen — moved to SF in the 1970s, carrying the Lion Dancing teachings of their master Kwong Boon Fu from Hong Kong. Performing internationally and teaching in Chinatown for more than 35 years, they are treasured for their larger-than-life performances in the city’s Chinese New Year Parade. (Julie Potter)

Noon, free

San Francisco City Hall

One Dr. Carlton B. Goodlett Place, SF

(415) 720-8830

www.dancersgroup.org

 

SATURDAY 5

EVENT

“Free University of San Francisco Teach-in”

An idea this crazy just might work! Sick of the gouge-y tuition hikes in our public and private education systems, a band of merry SF radicals have decided to launch an ambitious campaign to free learnin’. After a surprisingly light number of planning meetings, this is the first of the Free University’s offerings: a weekend of classes to inspire and hopefully serve as a community-builder for those who think our current university system is broken. On the lectern: beat poet Diane di Prima on 19th century visionary poetry, revolutionary poet Bobby Coleman on SF labor history, classes on criminal procedure, paganism, Kerouac, and more. (Donohue)

Sat/5, 9:30 a.m.–4 p.m.;

Sun/6, 9 a.m.–4 p.m., free

Viracocha

998 Valencia, SF

www.fusf.wordpress.com

 

SUNDAY 6

FILM

Every Man for Himself

Forever the enfant terrible of cinema, Jean-Luc Godard is skipping the lifetime achievement lineup at this year’s Oscars. This has stirred up a predictably dumb controversy in the American press over bullshit claims that Godard is anti-Semitic. Never mind the philistines — we’re still awaiting a local screening of the maestro’s 2010 Film Socialism. In the meantime, a 35mm restoration of 1980’s Every Man for Himself at the Red Vic does nicely. Godard called this lyrical examination of art and commerce intertwined his second first film, and its formal ingenuities and philosophical knots remain refreshing. Support the Red Vic by ponying up for extra popcorn! (Max Goldberg)

Sun/6–Mon/7, 7:15 and 9:15 p.m.

Also Sun/6, 2 and 4 p.m., $6–$9

Red Vic Movie House

1727 Haight, SF

(415) 668-3994

www.redvicmoviehouse.com

 

MONDAY 7

EVENT

“Replikaaa Silent Happening: A Multimedia Performance Art Event”

Sometimes you just don’t have much to say. Or perhaps your ears are ringing from all those noisy bars. To exercise the other senses visit this chic silent cocktail party where guests practice the art of nonverbal communication, watching and connecting without words. The unusual and participatory social experience presented by Al’Myra Communications includes a preview screening of Tayeb Al-Hafez’s silent film Replikaaa, a mysterious and futuristic work about five DNA and organ traffickers, to be followed by local artist performances. Reserve a free ticket online and then shut your mouth. Whether you wink, gesticulate, or show some funky dance moves is up to you. Chatty Cathys discouraged. (Potter)

7 p.m., free

Z Space

450 Florida, SF

(415) 891-9544

www.replikaaathemovie.com

 

TUESDAY 8

MUSIC

Sebadoh

In the vein of Guided By Voices and Pavement, Sebadoh has been dubbed “the quintessential indie rock band of the 1990s” — and like that decade’s flannel-shirt trend, they’re back. After getting the heave-ho in 1988 as bassist of alt-rock band Dinosaur Jr. (he rejoined in 2005), multi-instrumentalist Lou Barlow focused on the DIY project he had started with Eric Gaffney. Sebadoh soon became infamous for its bipolar swings from lo-fi, touchy-feely folk to experimental noise rock. With the addition of bassist Jason Loewenstein, the three-piece became a hit among the hip. Eventually Gaffney jumped ship (he rejoined in 2007) and was replaced by drummer Bob Fay. This lineup recorded the band’s most accessible albums, 1994’s Bakesale and 1996’s Harmacy, both of which are being re-released by Sub Pop Records this year and are the reason for the current tour. (Verzosa)

With Quasi

7 p.m., $20

Great American Music Hall

859 O’Farrell, SF

www.gamh.com

 

FILM

The Ipcress File

Move over, Christopher Walken: there’s a new star du jour for celebrity imitation freaks. You can’t help but try your hand at Michael Caine’s Cockney accent after watching the hilarious clip from the BBC show The Trip of comedians Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon engaging in a rousing round of dueling Caine-jos. (Search “This is how Michael Caine speaks” on YouTube. You’re welcome.) Polish your early-period Caine impersonation by checking out a rare screening of 1965 secret-agent thriller The Ipcress File, which showcases the legendary actor in his first starring role. The film plays as part of four nights of highlights from the “Mostly British Film Festival,” with other entries hailing from New Zealand and Australia. (Cheryl Eddy)

7 p.m., $10.25

Christopher B. Smith Rafael Film Center

1118 Fourth St., San Rafael

(415) 454-1222

www.cafilm.org

 

The Guardian listings deadline is two weeks prior to our Wednesday publication date. To submit an item for consideration, please include the title of the event, a brief description of the event, date and time, venue name, street address (listing cross streets only isn’t sufficient), city, telephone number readers can call for more information, telephone number for media, and admission costs. Send information to Listings, the Guardian Building, 135 Mississippi St., SF, CA 94107; fax to (415) 487-2506; or e-mail (paste press release into e-mail body — no text attachments, please) to listings@sfbg.com. Digital photos may be submitted in jpeg format; the image must be at least 240 dpi and four inches by six inches in size. We regret we cannot accept listings over the phone.

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