Halloween

Son burn: “We Need to Talk About Kevin” review

Sue Vaughan
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Son burn: “We Need to Talk About Kevin” review

It’s inevitable — whenever a seemingly preventable tragedy occurs, there’s public outcry to the tune of “How could this happen?” (Exhibit A: recent events in Ohio.) But after the school shooting in We Need to Talk About Kevin, the more apt question is “How could this not happen?”

Lynne Ramsay (2002’s Morvern Callar) — directing from the script she co-adapted from Lionel Shriver’s novel — uses near-subliminal techniques to stir up atmospheric unease from the very start, with layered sound design and a significant, symbolic use of the color red. While other Columbine-inspired films, including Elephant and Zero Day (both 2003), have focused on their adolescent characters, Kevin revolves almost entirely around Eva Khatchadourian (a potent Tilda Swinton) — grief-stricken, guilt-riddled mother of a very bad seed (played as a teen by Ezra Miller, at age seven-ish by Jasper Newell, and as a baby by Rocky Duer).

The film slides back and forth in time, allowing the tension to build even though we know how the story will end, since it’s where the movie starts: with Eva, alone in a crappy little house, working a crappy little job, moving through life with the knowledge that just about everyone in the world hates her guts.

Motive was a hot topic post-Columbine. Both of the Colorado killers kept rage-filled diaries, but their home life has remained largely enigmatic. Dylan Klebold’s mother penned an essay for O magazine in 2009, titled “I Will Never Know Why.” It describes her shock upon realizing that her beloved son was involved in the massacre, and her enduring regret at not doing more to prevent it. She also touches on her experiences after the event: “I was widely viewed as a perpetrator or at least an accomplice since I was the person who had raised a ‘monster.'”

Eva shares these feelings of shock and guilt, and experiences, as Susan Klebold describes, constant public shame. She can’t leave her house without experiencing humiliation, thanks to the vandals who’ve splashed her porch and car with crimson paint. (The grim, practiced way she takes a sander to her sullied front door suggests it’s not an infrequent occurrence.) Forget about blending in when everybody knows your face — or your last name is as memorable as “Khatchadourian.”

But Eva’s guilt runs even deeper. Kevin‘s flashback scenes are stuffed with rock-solid evidence that her kid was born a complete psycho, and that Eva is fully aware of it.

What’s worse, she suspects it’s her own fault. She didn’t even want a baby in the first place, really; husband Franklin (played with gee-whiz oblivion by John C. Reilly) passive-aggresses her into domesticity. “Stop resisting,” the doctor urges as she’s giving birth, but it seems resisting would’ve saved her a lot of anguish. The baby screams all day (Eva’s only relief: parking the stroller at a construction site, where the sounds of a jackhammer drown out his cries); later, when the family moves to the ‘burbs, he grows into a scowling child who spends every waking minute terrorizing his mother. Even worse, he adopts a fake-sweet personality whenever Franklin is around.

Frustrated, Eva takes him to the doctor, who concludes, “There’s nothing wrong with him.” So, is Eva what’s wrong with him? Later, when she’s scouring high school-aged Kevin’s room, she finds no Columbine-style diaries, only a CD-ROM marked “I Love You.” It’s the only time love and Kevin are presented as part of the same thought — and, naturally, the “I Love You” disc actually contains a crippling computer virus.

Kevin is very nearly a full-blown horror movie, and the demon-seed stuff does get a bit excessive. But it’s hard to determine if those scenes are “real life” or simply the way Eva remembers them, since Kevin is so tightly aligned with Eva’s point of view. Though she’s miserable in the flashbacks, the post-tragedy scenes are even thicker with terror. The film’s most unsettling sequence unfolds on Halloween, horror’s favorite holiday; Eva drives past a mob of costumed trick-or-treaters as Buddy Holly’s “Everyday” (one of several inspired music choices) chimes on the soundtrack. Masked faces are turn to stare — accusingly? Coincidentally? Do they even know she’s Kevin’s mother? — with nightmarish intensity heightened by slow motion.

And indeed, “Everyday” Eva deals with accepting her fate; the film is sympathetic to her even while suggesting that she may actually be responsible. When a woman walks up to her on the street and punches her in the face, screaming “I hope you rot in hell!”, Eva brushes off help from a stunned bystander: “It’s OK. It was my fault.” Whether or not Eva will forgive her son is uncertain. Clearly she’ll never forgive herself.

We Need to Talk About Kevin opens Fri/2 in Bay Area theaters.

Nite Trax: DJ Pickpocket’s top 11 parties of 2011

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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Nite Trax: DJ Pickpocket’s top 11 parties of 2011

Wily DJ Pickpocket of the invaluable roving Donuts parties — which combine forward-thinking, often experimental live acts with crazy-fun dancing and DJs, plus donuts! — offers some of her best party experiences from a busy year spent on the local scene. She’s got a wild night planned for us tomorrow, Fri/30, at SF’s Public Works for the Donuts anniversary-birthday party with Gavin Russom, LA Vampires, and Magic Touch. Here are her Pickpocket ’11 party picks:

1) Icee Hot with Anthony Shakir at Public Works
“Detroit legend Anthony “Shake” Shakir has been making techno music for more than 20 years, and I think this was his first time in SF. He played an epic set and Brooklyn’s Creep opened up.”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6fxtNfszImI

2) Sunset Campout with Larry Heard, Steve Summers live,  Miracles Club live in Belden, CA
“Imagine an entire town on a river turned into a house music party zone for an entire weekend. Cabins, tents, a crazy soundsystem, floaties, live acts, and the legendary Larry Heard, a.k.a. Mr. Fingers. It was unreal!”

3) No Way Back & Honey Soundsystem with Virgo Four (live!) at Public Works
“Merwyn Sanders and Eric Lewis (a.k.a.Virgo Four) put out a seminal house album in 1989 straight out of Chicago. in 2011, they put out Resurrection, a massive batch of previously unheard and unreleased material from 1984 to 1990. This legendary duo played a memorable live set in the intimate Oddjob Loft at Public Works.”

4) Omar Souleyman at Mezzanine
“Coming all the way from Syria, Omar Souleyman played a sweaty party with his funky folk and boogie pop sounds of Syria. The whole crowd was bobbing up and down in a sweaty craze.”

5) Sweaterfunk with Dam Funk at Li Po Lounge
“Dam Funk got really intimate with old friends and fans to a free party in the basement of Lipo Lounge on a Sunday night. Playing obscure boogie tracks and MCing on the mic, he won everyone’s hearts and got the whole crowd dancing til they turned the lights on at 1:30am.”

6) Donuts and No Way Back with Optimo and Mi Ami at Public Works
“JD Twitch and Jonnie WIlkes of Glasgow are better known as Optimo, the duo not only are amazing DJs but are known for throwing their crazy Optimo Espacio parties in Glasgow with live acts. Mi Ami (who have actually been a guest at Optimo Espacio in Scotland) opened up for them, playing a dancey live set to a sweaty crowd in the Oddjob Loft at Public Works.”

7) As You Like It, Donuts, and No Way Back with Mike Huckaby, Steffi, and Beautiful Swimmers at Public Works
“All-star lineup, two floors, about 900 people dancing until almost 4am. Need I say more? Beautiful Swimmers killed it in the Oddjob Loft with their mix of everything from disco to italian house, Mike Huckaby opened up for Steffi in the main room–and the crowd wouldn’t stop dancing even when the lights came on.”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bNzzkL_0Psk

8) Sunset Boat Party with Magic Touch live at Sunset Boat Party
“Sunset has been throwing amazing parties in the woods, on boats and in underground spacessince the 90’s.  If you’ve never experienced one of the boat parties it’s something you have to experience at least once. Imagine dancing to live or DJed dance music on the upper deck while floating underneath a full moon or swaying on the main dancefloor with views of the city and the Golden Gate Bridge through the windows.”

9) Icee Hot with Omar S and Jackmaster at Public Works
“Detroit legend Omar S played an amazing set of classic house and Detroit techno in the sweaty upstairs Oddjob Loft Halloween weekend.”

10) Donuts with Legowelt, Miracles Club, Xosar, Tres Lingerie at Public Works
“Donuts presented a night with numerous live electronic acts. Tres Lingerie opened up with their boogie disco songs fronted with vocals by the charismatic James Anthony, Miracles Club delivered a 90’s era house performance complete with stage dancer Ryan Boyle, and to top it off the dark synth debut live set by Xosar, as Clone describes as “occult-tinged public access house music”. Dutch electronic genius Danny Wolfers, aka Legowelt joined her and ventured off into his solo live set which closed the night.”

11) L.A. Vampires at High Fantasy, Aunt Charlie’s Lounge
“High Fantasy is one of the most fun and unique weekly parties in San Francisco. Hosted by the infamous Alexis Blair Penney and Myles Cooper, this night brings together drag queens, gay boys, straight music lovers, and hot girls to the dance floor for some of the most underground dance music. LA Vampires is the solo venture of Amanda Brown. Amanda is also the founder of 2011′s most talked-about labels 100% Silk. The impact and influence of 100% Silk, was huge this year. 100% Silk harked back to a time in club music when energy and attitude were more important than polished production.”

***BONUS! The Beat Electric Dance Show 2 at Mezzanine
“What is actually 2011 footage of San Francisco’s club night “The Beat Electric Dance Show 2″ looks like found footage from golden disco’s past, not just thanks to the added VHS grain, but because of what appears to be totally unbridled nightlife bliss at Mezzanine. The Beat Electric dance show had live VHS video taping of dancers on the stage, on the dancefloor to Beat Electric DJs and an epic live set by Magic Touch with a crazy guitar solo by Josh Anzano. Tres Lingerie and Corinne also played, and HOTTUB and Jihaari T were MC’s for the night.”

Our Weekly Picks: December 25-31

Andrew Lam
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WEDNESDAY 28

Doe Eye

When Maryam Qudus — sole member of local indie-pop project, Doe Eye — sings “I Hate You,” it’s hard to believe her. It’s cute as hell. But the point of the song is indeed that. She doesn’t hate the faceless “you,” but is tortured by the affection. It’s that kind of thoughtfulness with an added ear for pop charm that makes Doe Eye a project you can espouse. Doe Eye released the EP, Run, Run, Run, in August, and sure, it’s about as radio-friendly as you can get. But the instrumentation, with its orchestral and wavy synth touches, is undoubtedly inspired by indie-rock acts around today, be it Beach House or St. Vincent. (James H. Miller)

With The Trims, Pounders, and Miles the DJ

9 p.m., $8

Bottom of the Hill

1233 17th St., SF

(415) 621-4455

www.bottomofthehill.com

 

Mara Hruby

Michael Jackson doing “Ain’t No Sunshine.” Al Green doing “Light My Fire.” Nina Simone doing “Rich Girl.” (Yeah, Hall and Oates, look it up.) While a cover rarely make the original irrelevant, a good one should make it the artist’s own. On From Her Eyes, a free EP she reportedly sang, arranged, recorded, and engineered, Oakland’s Mara Hruby lent her sweet, soulfully agile voice to tracks by Mos Def, Andre 3000, Bob Marley, Jamiroquai, and others, rendering each different and new. Since then Hruby has been at work on her debut album, teasing songs “Lucky (I Love You)” and “The Love Below” online, and will be including new material at this show. (Ryan Prendiville)

With Chris Turner

8 p.m., $15

Yoshi’s Oakland

510 Embarcadero West, Oakl.

(510) 238-9200

www.yoshis.com


THURSDAY 29

The Umbrellas of Cherbourg and A Woman is a Woman

A double bill of The Umbrellas of Cherbourg (1964) and A Woman is a Woman (1961) at the Castro is the stuff cinephilia is made of. Those sweet on The Artist should be sure to check in with these earlier Gallic interpretations of Hollywood razzle dazzle. The first, Jacques Demy’s Umbrellas is the purer confection in many ways, but the film’s tender sentimentalism and radiant color design flow towards a soulful poetry of the everyday. The second, by Jean-Luc Godard, is an early distillation of his complex movie love and a poignant offering to actress Anna Karina. Both films feature scores by Michel Legrand, so they carry their complex register of emotions with a lightness that escapes words. (Max Goldberg)

3:25 and 7 p.m., $10

Castro Theatre

429 Market, SF

(415) 621-6120

www.castrotheatre.com

 

Pictureplane

What do you get when you cross a gutter punk b-boy with a space goth? Sprinkle him with a little MDMA and you’ve got Travis Egedy, a.k.a. Pictureplane. Egedy works clubby ’90s vocal samples and celestial beats into infectious pop songs, which he sings over in a breathy, lusty moan. With effervescent dance anthems like “Black Nails” and “Trancegender,” Egedy gives goths something to freak to. And you’re just as likely to shake it as you are to wind up in the center of a mosh pit. We should all thank our lucky stars for the weird amalgam of personas that is Pictureplane. Speaking of stars, did I mention he’s really, really into space? (Frances Capell)

With Popscene DJs

10 p.m., $12

Rickshaw Stop

155 Fell, SF

(415) 861-2011

www.rickshawstop.com

 

Asher Roth

Let’s face it. A lot of us love rap, but many of us can’t relate to carrying guns or moving kilos of cocaine. Luckily there’s Asher Roth, a gifted 26-year-old MC who raps about things the everyman can identify with — like partying with friends and soaking up sunshine. Roth may be a college bro, but he’s legit enough to have earned props from the likes of Ludacris and Slick Rick. Roth prides himself on his live performances and makes them unforgettable by bringing along a full band. If that’s not incentive enough, Thursday is the release show for Roth’s fresh new Pabst & Jazz Sessions mixtape produced by Blended Babies. (Capell)

10 p.m., $25

330 Ritch, SF

(415) 542-9574

www.330ritch.com


FRIDAY 30

Wizard Of Oz

For more than 70 years and counting, The Wizard of Oz has entertained and fascinated viewers; at the time of its original release, the film’s breathtaking color sequences enthralled audiences still stuck on black and white, and the soundtrack’s beloved songs introduced the world to the talents of Judy Garland. For the majority of us who have grown up watching the movie on television, we are in for a special treat tonight when the grand old Paramount hosts a screening, a rare chance to see such a classic piece of cinema on the big screen, the way it was meant to be viewed. Just watch out for flying monkeys! (Sean McCourt)

8 p.m., $5

Paramount Theatre

2025 Broadway, Oakl.

(510) 465-6400

www.paramounttheatre.com

 

X

Taking the same searing energy that propelled its contemporary punk counterparts then add the rock solid drumming of DJ Bonebrake, the guitar virtuosity of Billy Zoom, and the poetic lyrics and intimate vocal interplay of John Doe and Exene Cervenka. Legendary Los Angeles punk rockers X have always distinguished themselves from the other bands of the genre. This holiday season finds the band celebrating with “The Xmas Traveling Rock & Roll Revival,” where fans are sure to hear all of their favorite iconic tunes, and probably a couple of revved-up holiday favorites as well. (McCourt)

With Sean Wheeler & Zander Schloss, and the Black Tibetans.

8 p.m. Fri.; 9 p.m. Sat/31, $33–$50

Slim’s, 333 11th St., SF

(415) 255-0333

www.slimspresents.com

 

Agent Orange

In the mid through late 1970s, Southern California was one of the hubs of hardcore punk, with bands like Black Flag, Circle Jerks, and Wasted Youth all forming in the region. It was also a center of skateboarding, thanks to — among other things — a newly developed polyurethane wheel and a drought that left scores of pools empty. The band Agent Orange was a by-product of both of these phenomenons. Formed in Orange County in 1979 by lead singer and guitar player Mike Palm, bassist James Levesque, and drummer Scott Miller, the band took a Dick Dale spin on hardcore and became synonymous with early incarnations of “skate punk.” Skateboarders needed an identity of their own, and Agent Orange helped with that task. Now, 30 years later, you don’t need to know how to do a kick flip to understand why they were so essential. (Miller)

With Inferno of Joy, Tokyo Raid, The Nerv, Suggies

8:30 p.m., $15

330 Ritch, SF

(925) 541-9574

www.330ritch.com

 

Gavin Russom

“I hear you’re buying a synthesizer and an arpeggiator.” James Murphy tipped his hand when he wrote that a decade ago, but while would-be musicians could have gone straight past the irony to eBay, one thing they wouldn’t have was Gavin Russom. The ace up the sleeve, Russom is the tech wizard, creating analog synths for LCD Soundsystem and others. But more guru than a Radio Shack hobbyist, Russon has performed, DJ’ed, and created music on his own and under the aliases of the Crystal Ark and Meteoric Black Star. His latest “Night Sky,” is an epic, speedily slow building, sexually suggestive track that proves, as usual, he knows what you really want. (Prendiville)

With LA Vampires, Bobby Browser, Magic Touch, and Pickpocket

9:30 p.m., $10

Public Works

161 Erie, SF

(415) 932-0955

www.publicsf.com


SATURDAY 31

Primus

Is one of your New Years’ resolutions to go Sailing The Seas Of Cheese? Do you plan on serving up some Frizzle Fry? Imbibing in some Pork Soda? Well, any way you look at it, the two club shows this week by musical boundary-busting Bay Area rock favorites Primus are a rare treat for local fans to see the band up close and personal. You can choose to ring in the New Year with Les Claypool and company on Saturday, or if you prefer, you can work off your holiday hangover on Sunday with the band, which will be performing two sets each night at its Hawaiian Hukilau-themed parties. (McCourt)

9 p.m.; 8 p.m. Sun/1, $50–$65

Great American Music Hall

859 O’Farrell St., SF

(415) 885-0750

www.slimspresents.com


Thee Oh Sees

There’s no shortage of New Year’s Eve events taking place in the city, but you’re hard-pressed to find a more definitively San Francisco way to spend the evening than with local psych-pop darlings Thee Oh Sees. Though many a band has hopped on the fuzzy garage train in recent years, these guys have been blazing the trail for well over a decade (under various monikers). Each new release, including the spanking new Carrion Crawler/The Dream (In The Red) finds Thee Oh Sees shredding harder and better, but its live shows will melt your face clean off. Enjoy some gnarly guitar riffage, kiss a stranger, and partake in the vices you’ve resolved to quit come sunrise. (Capell)

With The Fresh & Onlys and White Fence

9 p.m., $15–$20

Brick & Mortar Music Hall

1710 Mission, SF

(415) 371-1631

www.brickandmortarmusic.com

 

“Sea of Dreams NYE 2012”

Part carnivale, part circus, part burn, part Halloween, part massive: the annual Sea of Dreams event takes the promise of a wild New Year’s Eve and adds more. In part it has to do with the crowd, drawing some serious do-it-themself-ers with fantastically creative outfits. But whatever distractions are off stage, there will be hard competition from a triple bill of headliners including local favorites Beats Antique, infectious dance MC Santigold (who has new material to debut live), and the return of Amon Tobin’s deafening, eyeball melting ISAM set. (Prendiville)

With Claude VanStroke, MarchFourth Marching Band, An-ten-nae, Diego’s Umbrella, and more

8 p.m., $75–$145

SF Concourse Exhibition Center

635 8th St., SF

www.seaofdreamsnye.com


SUNDAY 1

Eliza Rickman

With her little toy piano Eliza Rickman makes bewitching alternative folk rock. Listening to her EP, Gild the Lily, is like walking through a life size dollhouse and feeling not sure whether to be frightened or enchanted. There’s something about the nature of the toy piano — its sparkling sound can be at once blood curdling and tender (like John Cages’ Suites for Toy Piano, which popularized the instrument). Similarly, Rickman’s voice has a plucked from the garden pleasantness, but her words tend toward the tragic. This balance between adorable and dreary can even be seen in the titles of her songs, like “Black Rose” and “Cinnamon Bone.” In any event, whether she’s cinnamon, bone, or both, the toy piano under her hands is more than a novelty. (Miller)

7 p.m., free

Amnesia

853 Valencia, SF

(415) 970-0012

www.amnesiathebar.com


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Hey girl

Andrew Lam
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Hey girl

arts@sfbg.com

YEAR IN FILM Picture this dreamy, steamy “Fuck Yeah! Ryan Gosling” Tumblr thought bubble: “Hey girl, sorry my shirt fell off, but at least I’m one of those new EGOTs (i.e., Emmy, Grammy, Oscar, Tony quadruple threats).” You know, the type that’s got actorly chops, talent, personality, and/or good works to boot — plus a chiseled chest that looks “totally Photoshopped.” Yes, we’re talking award-fielding hotties à la Michael Fassbender, Ryan Gosling, and Brad Pitt, the kinds of golden boys who can easily pass for Oscar, only with full heads of hair and more soulful glances.

This year’s awards-show heartthrob mob comes to you seemingly straight outta the heated imaginations of Sex and the City-fiending hetero ladies and gay connoisseurs of acute cinematic cutie-pie-ness (witness the many, many YouTube re-edits of X-Men: First Class that pump up the erotic undercurrent between Fassbender’s Magneto and James McAvoy’s Charles Xavier). The crowded field of studly talents is sure to be diverting during the inevitable lagging segments of Oscars, Golden Globes, and so forth. (“Reader, I drooled over reaction shots of Mr. Rochester during the technical awards.”)

But hasn’t Hollywood always served up heapin’ platters of hunky man meat? Sure, but you’ll probably have to go back as far as Paul Newman and Robert Redford’s ’70s heyday to find the current crop’s particular combo of art and pulchritude. Ushering in this dear ab-by generation was Brad Pitt, the pretty boy unafraid to spoof vain self-absorption, as a brainless gym-bunny in 2008’s Burn After Reading. Around the same time he bounced on a treadmill for the Coens, Pitt began to consistently hook his star to more ambitious projects than your average loutish, laddish Lautner-esque chisel-head, stretching the skill set while doing his part to further the art and working with Alejandro González Iñárritu, David Fincher, and Quentin Tarantino. None of their Pitt-centric projects were the directors’ best, and that goes double for Bennett Miller’s Moneyball and Terrence Malick’s The Tree of Life (Happy Feet Two, you’re two too much).

Nevertheless, Tree of Life, despite its lack of shirtlessness, proved the least commercial and most ambitious widely released feature film of 2011 (in part thanks to co-producer Pitt), and his punishing pater familias was one of the best things about it, grounding Malick’s inner-outer space opera, earth mama twirls, and dinosaur tricks down to earth with his against-type alpha-male hard glances — likely the most demanding performance Pitt has grappled with to date.

Shades darker, with a side of honest abs, Ryan Gosling added oft-wordless fashion-plate soul to ’11: take a page from his Notebook, up-and-coming chestys, because whether you’re crate-digging old footage of the young Mickey Mouse Club kid warbling in floppy PJs alongside Justin Timberlake on YouTube or marveling over his viral snippet of street-fighting men intervention, you know Gosling’s loved. It’s tough to choose between Gosling’s George Clooney impression and cheese-eating Dirty Dancing (1987) tribute in Crazy, Stupid, Love.; his vintage Steve McQueen-James Dean style in Drive (that scorpion jacket launched a jillion Halloween costumes); and his quickly-devolving presidential campaign manager in The Ides of March.

In Ides, Gosling’s silky, feline, almost femme-y smoothness hardens into a chilly “Blue Steel,” threatening to plunge into nuttiness, as the film progresses. As with these other award-snagging hunks, he’s an adult caught in the cogs of a terrible, soul-shattering machine, and as Drive‘s romantic wheelman, Gosling’s ready to run off the median into an off-roading wilderness of ultraviolence. Of course, the deadliest mechanism lies within, for the driver driven to kill, the ladykiller breaking down the angles, and the political player who grabs his revenge after having his ideals destroyed (and bromantic boss-crush on Clooney’s candidate quashed).

The abs — and twinkling, then blistering, peepers — that truly seemed to be everywhere this year belonged to Michael Fassbender, who soft-opened the year in an archetypal romantic part, Mr. Rochester, in Jane Eyre. Fassbender went on to add a dose of real class to X-Men: First Class with his vengeance-seeking metalhead Magneto — oh, Jane, his emotional investment in the comic-book creation was the best thing about the reboot.

The latter part of 2011 ended with a seismic splash of wish fulfillment for Fassbender fans as his Carl Jung deconstructed — and entangled himself in — sex and the psyche in A Dangerous Method, and as Shame‘s corporate hot-shot by day, sex addict by night. His character, Brandon, attempts to lose himself in naked abandon, unable to sustain intimacy with anyone, including his boundary-less sister (see recurring support gal/fan stand-in Carey Mulligan). Shame director Steve McQueen, not be confused with Drive‘s inspiration, wisely lets his camera rest, unsettled and ambivalent, on Fassbender’s face at the end of one night of hopeless coitus, after a close brush with a real relationship gets clipped short by flaccidity.

Caught in mid-rut, Brandon’s orgasm face is an anguished rictus of painful pleasure, half horrifying tragedy mask, half laughable comedy mask. It’s all there, the sexual fantasy-turned-nightmare, the tears behind the dazzling smiles, pecs, and full-frontal shots, conveying in one look the perils of manhood and the forces these foxes can — and can’t — control.

George Chen’s list of things that didn’t suck in 2011

Tony Robles
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For so many more year-end music lists, click here and pick up this week’s paper.

Musician and writer George Chen says, “2011: man, most of it was shitty, but here were the good things:”

1. Helm. Luke Younger from Birds of Delay, Halloween weekend in London. Best noise set I’ve seen in a while, it helped that there was a fan blowing his bangs out of his hoodie. He has an album called Cryptography out on Kye.

2. White Lung. Youngins from Vancouver B.C. playing sick, straight forward punk. Saw them in a bowling alley.

3. Village of Spaces’ Alchemy and Trust album. It took a village to put this out, or at least four labels working in conjunction. Dan Beckman’s (Uke of Spaces Corners) quiet folk masterpiece.

4. Divorce. A band from Glasgow that exists in kind of a cultural vacuum there, a bit like the early ’00s trapped in amber, but then cracked open and given adrenal supplements. They are coming to America in July 2012.

5. Trash Kit put out an album in 2010, but I only got to see them once in 2011. Sadly, they have broken up. Finger-picky jaunty punk with weird rhythms.

6. Andrew W.K. This was not particularly “good”, but distinct encapsulation of the zeitgeist. My band played a show with him at Dem Passwords. He didn’t actually watch us or anything, he showed up right before going on with an entourage. Fans started force-feeding him bananas, Redbull, and whiskey and it turned into a freakish spectacle. I took a nap during his set, came back in, and he was still going for like two and a half hours, driving his fans away. Respect, the modern Andy Kaufman.

7. This Invitation. Chen Santa Maria went on a California tour with Warren in April and it was sparsely attended, but perhaps we’re to blame for that. It’s nice to see one of your oldest friends get some recognition for their work, which Aquarius did by giving their stamp of approval to his three (!) double CDs.

8. Cacaw from Chicago, a few ex-Coughs peeps project. They are now broken up, but this summer they came through and it was a monstrous sludge engine. Dark and fierce.

9. Anika. Technically a 2010 release, but she played at the Independent in October. The lady herself has a passive stage presence, but the music of the whole group (members of Portishead and Beak>) is best described as “Nico fronting PiL” (someone at the LA Times can claim that one).

10. SF Comedy. I still feel like an outsider at all this, but holy shit, there’s good stuff going on right now. Perhaps it is a national, even international renaissance in comedy, but the energy and talent going on here feels as exciting to me as the music scene used to feel. I actually don’t want to name names although the free show at the Rite Spot is a good place to start. I also noticed that none of the music I put on this list has anything to do with the Bay Area. Sorry, music. I just listen to podcasts now.

Young Canadian punk band White Lung:

The tops of 2011

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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0

 

CHERYL EDDY, GUARDIAN

 

TOP 10 METAL SHOWS OF 2011 (CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER)

1. Feb. 2: Motörhead, Clutch, and Valient Thorr at Warfield

2. March 11: Weedeater, Zoroaster, Kvelertak, and Begotten at Thee Parkside

3. March 12: Slough Feg, Christian Mistress, and Witch Mountain at Hemlock

4. April 3: Saint Vitus, Red Fang, and Howl at Mezzanine

5. June 7: Orange Goblin and Gates of Slumber at Bottom of the Hill

6. Aug. 12: Eyehategod, Impaled, Laudanum, and Brainoil at Oakland Metro

7. Aug. 16: Pentagram at Mezzanine

8. Oct. 13: Enslaved at Slim’s

9. Nov. 3: Mastodon and Red Fang at Warfield

10. Nov. 19: Kyuss Lives! and Black Cobra at Regency Ballroom

 

JOSH CHEON, DARK ENTRIES RECORDS

 

TOP 10 NEW RELEASES OF 2011

1. Container, S/T LP (Spectrum Spools) 2. Staccato du Mal, Sin Destino (Weird Records) 3. Bronze, Copper (RVNG Intl.) 4. Grouper, Dream Loss/Alien Observer (Yellow Electric) 5. White Fence, Is Growing Faith (Woodist) 6. Belong, Common Era (Kranky) 7. Widowspeak, S/T LP (Captured Tracks) 8. Total Control, Henge Beat (Iron Lung) 9. Iceage, New Brigade (What’s Your Rupture?) 10. Brotman & Short, Heights (Cold Dick)

 

GEORGE CHEN, MUSICIAN AND WRITER

 

2011: MAN, MOST OF IT WAS SHITTY. BUT HERE WERE THE GOOD THINGS

1. Helm. Luke Younger from Birds of Delay, Halloween weekend in London. Best noise set I’ve seen in a while, it helped that there was a fan blowing his bangs out of his hoodie. He has an album called Cryptography out on Kye. 2. White Lung. Youngins from Vancouver B.C. playing sick, straight forward punk. Saw them in a bowling alley. 3. Village of Spaces’ Alchemy and Trust album. It took a village to put this out, or at least four labels working in conjunction. Dan Beckman’s (Uke of Spaces Corners) quiet folk masterpiece. 4. Divorce. A band from Glasgow that exists in kind of a cultural vacuum there, a bit like the early ’00s trapped in amber, but then cracked open and given adrenal supplements. They are coming to America in July 2012. 5. Trash Kit put out an album in 2010, but I only got to see them once in 2011. Sadly, they have broken up. Finger-picky jaunty punk with weird rhythms. 6. Andrew W.K. This was not particularly “good”, but distinct encapsulation of the zeitgeist. My band played a show with him at Dem Passwords. He didn’t actually watch us or anything, he showed up right before going on with an entourage. Fans started force-feeding him bananas, Redbull, and whiskey and it turned into a freakish spectacle. I took a nap during his set, came back in, and he was still going for like two and a half hours, driving his fans away. Respect, the modern Andy Kaufman. 7. This Invitation. Chen Santa Maria went on a California tour with Warren in April and it was sparsely attended, but perhaps we’re to blame for that. It’s nice to see one of your oldest friends get some recognition for their work, which Aquarius did by giving their stamp of approval to his three (!) double CDs. 8. Cacaw from Chicago, a few ex-Coughs peeps project. They are now broken up, but this summer they came through and it was a monstrous sludge engine. Dark and fierce. 9. Anika. Technically a 2010 release, but she played at the Independent in October. The lady herself has a passive stage presence, but the music of the whole group (members of Portishead and Beak>) is best described as “Nico fronting PiL” (someone at the LA Times can claim that one). 10. SF Comedy. I still feel like an outsider at all this, but holy shit, there’s good stuff going on right now. Perhaps it is a national, even international renaissance in comedy, but the energy and talent going on here feels as exciting to me as the music scene used to feel. I actually don’t want to name names although the free show at the Rite Spot is a good place to start. I also noticed that none of the music I put on this list has anything to do with the Bay Area. Sorry, music. I just listen to podcasts now.

 

 

JHAMEEL, MUSICIAN

 

TOP 10 SONGS FOR 2011

1. “Cruel” by St. Vincent 2. “Don’t Fuck with my Money” by Penguin Prison 3. “Holocene” by Bon Iver 4. “Bam Bam” by King Charles 5. “King of Diamonds” by Motopony 6. “Don’t Move” by Phantogram 7. “5 O’Clock” by T-Pain 8. “White Lie” by Jhameel 9. “Love U More” by Sunday Girl (RAC Mix) 10. “Imprint” by Amtrac

 

MARC RIBAK, TOTAL TRASH FEST

 

TOP 10 RECORDS I AM DIGGING DURING THANKSGIVING WEEK

1. The Fall, Wonderful and Frightening World of the Fall (particularly the tape that includes singles)

2. The Spits, Kill the Cool (demos and rarities, LP on In the Red)

3. Reigning Sound, Time Bomb High School and Too Much Guitar (LPs on In The Red)

4. The Ronettes, Presenting the Fabulous Ronettes featuring Veronica, and Phil Spector’s A Christmas Gift for You.

5. Devo, Workforce to the World (early live bootleg)

6. The Marvelettes, Greatest Hits (LP on TAMLA)

7. Coachwhips, Bangers Versus Fuckers (LP on Narnack)

8. South Bay Surfers, Battle of the Bands (LP on Norton)

9. Tav Falco and the Unaproachable Panther Burns, Panther Phobia (In the Red Records)

10. Jonathan Richman, Rockin’ and Romance (LP on Twin/Tone)

 

FRANCES CAPELL, GUARDIAN

 

TOP TEN SELF-RELEASED ALBUMS OF 2011

1. WU LYF, Go Tell Fire To The Mountain Recorded in an abandoned church, the full-length debut from British heavy pop quartet WU LYF was funded by membership fees for the band’s deviant fan club, the Lucifer Youth Foundation.

2. Death Grips, Ex Military The sinister debut mixtape from Sacramento’s Death Grips is an explosion of dark, twisted shout-rap and noisy, industrial beats.

3. Nick Diamonds, I Am An Attic Former Unicorn and current member of Islands and Mister Heavenly, Nick Diamonds (a.k.a. Nick Thorburn) released his understated, haunting solo album via Bandcamp.

4. Clams Casino, Instrumental Mixtape Clams Casino’s collection of swirling, synth-laden instrumentals crafted for the likes of Lil B and Soulja Boy reveals the genius of this visionary New Jersey producer.

5. Big K.R.I.T, Return of 4Eva Of all the exciting rap mixtapes released in 2011, Southern heavy-hitter Big K.R.I.T.’s Return of 4Eva is my favorite.

6. Frank Ocean, nostalgia, Ultra. This R&B pop gem presents Frank Ocean as, perhaps, the only member of the OFWGKTA family who proved worthy of the hype in 2011.

7. Fort Lean, Fort Lean (EP) Though it’s only 12 minutes long, Fort Lean’s infectious, summery debut EP is a promising glimpse of things to come for this indie five-piece from Brooklyn, NY.

8. Friendzone, Kuchibiru Network II I chose East Bay duo Friendzone’s Kuchibiru Network 2 over Main Attrakionz’s 808’s & Dark Grapes II, as it showcases Main Attrakionz at its best along with tasty selections from Oakland’s Shady Blaze and Finally Boys, Japanese producer Uyama Hiroto, and more.

9. Small Black, Moon Killer In addition to some of Small Black’s catchiest electronic pop songs to date (like the Nicki Minaj-sampling “Love’s Not Enough”), this mixtape features two appearances by Das Racist’s Himanshu Suri, and some inspired remixes from Star Slinger and Phone Tag.

10. The Weeknd, House of Balloons This is a no brainer. Canadian-Ethiopian R&B prodigy the Weeknd’s debut mixtape House of Balloons is the best album of the year, period. (Frances Capell)

 

LAURA GRAVANDER, DIRTY CUPCAKES

 

TOTALLY NEPOTISTIC LIST OF THE TOP TEN LIVE BANDS OF 2011

1. ELECTRO: This is the band of 8-year-old girls I mentored this summer as a volunteer at Bay Area Girls Rock Camp. After learning two chords from scratch, they wrote a droney, unintentionally avant-garde five-minute anti-bullying opus with a rap breakdown that blew my mind at their July showcase at the Oakland Metro. This is the future.

2. Uzi Rash: Swamp reptile Max Nordile and his band of trashy weirdos play music that is both grating and catchy, and deceptively complex. See them live and they will freak you out, and possibly hit you in the eye socket with an empty 40 oz. (it happened to me).

3. Shannon and the Clams: Seeing the Clams live feels like being magically reunited with your childhood dog — happy and nostalgic, a little bit sad. This metaphor is especially apt if you and your childhood dog loved to DANCE! 4. Younger Lovers: Killer guitar parts, dance-crazy beats, and singer-drummer-songwriter Brontez’s onstage bitching makes Younger Lovers’ shows unpredictable and exciting. Plus, their guitarist is super-cute!

5. King Lollipop: Elfin hillbilly plays bubblegum rockabilly (or something like that!) backed by six drummers who sound like a marching band meets drum circle, minus the lame.

6. Human Waste: Freaky spacesuited dystopian moog-punk from the Moon. Rumored to consist of members of Uzi Rash, Shannon and the Clams, and Dirty Cupcakes. More space waste to come in 2012.

7. Glitter Wizard: Intricate, impressive glam rock. And once, mid-song, I saw frontman Wendy Stonehenge light his hand on fire!

8. PIGS: This three-piece plays metal for people who love metal. Ripping it up soon in a scummy warehouse near you.

9. Knifey Spoony: Oakland punk rockers with impressive live show and unexpectedly melodic hooks. Singer-guitarist Steve Oriolo studied music in college but uses his powers for good (rock), not evil (anything that doesn’t rock).

10. Sweet Nothing: I’m a sucker for two-piece bands and girl drummers, and Ian and Melissa always rock my face off.

 

KUSH ARORA AND THE INGROOVES OFFICE STAFF

 

TOP 10 RELEASES OF 2011

1. Los Rakas, Chancletas Y Camisetas (Soy Raka Inc.) 2. Am and Shawn Lee, Celestial Electric (ESL Records) 3. People Under The Stairs, Highlighter (Piecelock 70 ) 4. Toddla T, Watch Me Dance (Ninja Tune) 5. Boris, New Album (Sargent House) 6. Kendrick Lamar, Section.80 (Top Dawg Entertainment/Section 80) 7. Youth Lagoon, The Year of Hibernation (Fat Possum) 8. Little Dragon, Ritual Union (Peacefrog Holdings Ltd) 9. Jay Rock, Follow Me Home (Strange Music) 10. Vybz Kartel, Colouring Book EP (Tad’s Records)

 

MARCO DE LA VEGA (@S4NTA_MU3RTE), 120 MINUTES

 

TOP 10 SUBSTANCES THAT HAVE INFLUENCED MUSIC IN 2011

1. Adderall: Not just because Bay-local comeup, Kreayshawn, spits bout slangin’ em (“gnarly, radical, on the block I’m magical… see me at your college campus baggie full of Adderalls”) or even because of Kendrick Lamar’s thoughtfully spaced out track “A.D.H.D.” but mostly because of its association with hyperactive, creative, and willfully scattered children. Odd Future blew up, Tyler the Creator dropped Goblin, A$AP Rocky put out one of the strongest releases of the year with LIVELOVEA$AP. All kinds of kids were spittin’ up mixtapes right outta high school and then signing multimillion dollar contracts.

2. DMT: Dimethyltryptamine is some fucked up shit, and I mean that in the most complementary way possible. A small glimpse behind the fabric of reality. There were a few releases this year that resemble and reflect this completely alien and confusing greater truth. Oneohtrix Point Never’s Replica, James Ferraro’s Far Side Virtual, and Laurel Halo’s flawless EP, Hour Logic (Hippos In Tanks).

3. Nitrous Oxide: whippets are back and that shit makes everything sound like you’re living in a vacuum cleaner. As much as I despise the hyperwobbly, fist pumpin’ sounds of brosteppers like Rusko, and (cringe) Skrillex, I can’t deny that that shit is selling cars; dubstep car commercials. Also, to be fair, real dubstep and what is often called post-dubstep is some amazing music and some of its less commercially viable/more critically acclaimed artists have put out some beautiful work. Zomby dropped Dedication this year on 4AD and that shit is sick. James Blake’s debut album is also impossibly good.

4. Pills: maybe it’s just the kids I roll with, but I assume that most sensitive, well thought, independent rock is made by people on pills (think old Brian Jonestown Massacre or Jesus and Mary Chain). The second I heard that track “Vomit” off of friends and local heroes Girls new album Father, Son, Holy Ghost, I had to raid my own medicine cabinet, take a couple Vicodin, and listen to a stack of records including that, Tamaryn, King Dude, Chelsea Wolfe, and Zola Jesus.’Bout as close to heaven as a guy like me can get.

5. Coke: coke always has and always will rule the dancefloor. It goes further than that though; coke rap is alive and well. Trap rap (rap about drug dealing) in general is continuing to run shit. And when you got Lex Luger droppin’ some of the illest beats around for songs that are 90 percent chorus, how can you go wrong? This is a very serious statement — the Ferrari Boyz (Gucci Mane and Waka Flocka Flame) mixtape that came out about a week before that overhyped, tired, abomination that is Watch the Throne, has some of the best tracks this year.

6. K: club drugs in general are back, and nothing says party like as strong debilitating dissociative. I mentioned this album earlier when I was talking about DMT, but it’s good and weird enough that it needs to be mentioned twice. James Ferraro’s Far Side Virtual.

7. Acid: my favorite substance. LSD is an extended barrage of overwhelming sensory input, particularly sight and sound, and should therefor be discussed in those terms. Sight: this year has been all about projections, lasers, and smoke — there are a lot of amazing producers playing live right now, and a dude with a laptop ain’t a show, so it’s important to add some flare. Sound: from mixtapes like White Ring’s tranced out Chaind and Nike7up’s crazy melted-pop gem 33:33 to Araabmuzik’s breathtakingly unfuckwithable album Electronic Dream, this has been the strongest showing dosed out music has had since the mid ’90s.

8. MDMA: like I was saying earlier, club drugs are huge right now. Best part about the ecstasy thing though is that we’re not talking pressies here, just pure crystalized love. You can hear it in the work of groups like Sleep 8 Over and (of course) Pure X. But I think it’s most evidenced by song’s like The Weeknd’s “High for This” and on Pictureplane’s brilliantly positive album Thee Physical (Lovepump United).

9. Weed: not that weed ever goes away, but it’s had a really strong year. Seems like everybody’s smoking blunts and flipping pounds these days. Wiz Khalifa, A$AP, Lil B, Lil Wayne, Miley fucking Cyrus. and of course Zip and a Double Cup himself, Juicy J., which brings us to our big winner…

10. Promethazine: Lean, purple drank, double cup, sizzurp — codeine cough syrup has a lot of names, and it’s been an important factor in rap, particularly Southern rap, for a very long time. But that influence is spreading. Bands like Salem have created whole new subgenres of music built off applying the late great DJ Screw’s production sensibilities as liberally as possible. New York Rappers like A$AP Rocky are singing the praises of Screw and Pimp C while repping Harlem and putting New York back on the map. I think 2012 is gonna be all about double cup dinner parties and art walks. Do yourself a favor, call your doctor and fake a cough, pop in Clams Casino’s Instrumental mixtape and/or LIVELOVEA$AP and chill for a bit.

Garage troubadour

Andrew Lam
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Garage troubadour

arts@sfbg.com

MUSIC “I did something really stupid,” was pretty much the first thing Ty Segall said to me as we walked to Philz Coffee in the Mission. Originally the plan was to sit at El Metate, but that got nixed as we agreed an afternoon jolt of caffeine was more important.

I asked what he had done that was so stupid, but it wasn’t specifically clear which act he was referring to. On the defensive, he went off on a tangent about how he perceives his guitars almost as talismans. “It’s like voodoo,” he said. That’s how he explains his behavior when he gives a guitar away to somebody. Other times he goes with the more cliched rock ritual of destroying one on stage. This also led to his purchase of a 1965 sea-foam green Mustang Fender. The excitement in his voice as he described his new toy was apparent. Music is what makes him tick.

I interviewed him in 2009 when Lemons (Goner Records) came out, but that was forever ago considering his well-documented abundance of releases. Now that Goner is putting out a double LP, Singles 2007-2010 (out this week), it seemed like an appropriate time to catch up and see how constant touring may be taking its toll on the 24-year-old garage rock answer to a troubadour.

We settled at a picnic table at a nearby soccer park where Segall, clad in Ray Bans and a brown cardigan, explained his fatigue from life on the road. He had just wrapped up a slew of local gigs, including a Halloween show where he and his band performed as the Spits. There, they struggled for the spotlight as an unruly woman from the audience — who was allegedly “humping everything” — stole a purse, and had to be bounced. Then it was off to Austin for a couple of dates where he performed alongside Thee Oh Sees, who he considers the best live band San Francisco has to offer, Black Lips and the Damned at the three-day Fun Fun Fun Fest.

“We never really stop touring. I wonder how we’re still here,” he said in bewilderment of both the physical and mental drain bands endure. “Everybody hits a wall.” He was referring to breaking points, but was also responding to my prodding about a previous interview he gave to Spinner.com where he commented on the fragility of one’s mind, and how you can “lose it at any moment”.

Just as he was admitting his own sensitivity, three pugs walked over to him, as if on cue. I watched him pet the triplets in a moment of adorably comforting symbiosis. It appears he’s learning his limits, coping with an over-analytical brain and growing a thicker skin.

But that’s not to say his creative well is running dry any time soon. While the singles compilation is a retrospective, along with some unreleased material, Segall said he’s still “psyched” to record something new. 2012 promises to be fruitful as his booking agent claimed the native So Cal. surfer has three records coming out next year.

While he doesn’t see himself as being in a “party band”, he’s been given the unique opportunity to partake in the second annual Bruise Cruise. It’s a three-day cruise to the Bahamas loaded with garage bands, their fans, and 75 percent regular ol’ tourists, according to Segall. The concept seems a bit ridiculous in the sense that trash rockers will converge with such decadence. This year he’s joining a super group of sorts called the Togas with Shannon Shaw of Shannon and the Clams, Phillip Sambol from Strange Boys, and Lance Willie (drummer from the Reigning Sound).

But for now Segall can hold off and breathe for a second before setting sail. He can enjoy what he considers the vacation of just being home, doing his laundry, and all the other domestic yearnings that come with wanting a house with a yard and a basement.

Live Shots: Anamanaguchi at Slim’s

Tony Robles
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The self-proclaimed “nerds” behind me in the will-call line at Slim’s Sunday night were lamenting the theft of their culture. “I hate it when hipsters try to act like us,” one said, with threatening hostility. “Because you’re not one of us, you don’t know what it’s like, and it’s not fucking cool.” Oh crap, I thought, looking straight ahead. Are they talking about me? Do they think I’m a poser, coming to this show because it’s hip? That I wear chunky orthopedics and thick rimmed glasses for the purpose of ironic style? I got my ticket and went inside as fast as I could, away from the geek toughs.

Luckily the show itself wasn’t as militantly nerdcore as the line. Anamanaguchi borrows the speed and intensity of punk rock, but also has other notable influences. The band that’s known for making songs inspired by 8bit video game soundtracks, started out with “Space Wax America,” a new song that not only nods to Weezer’s “Surf Wax America” but has a bouncy background beat that could fit in with happy Euro techno. (Or maybe that certain rave quality was just the armfuls of glowsticks the band threw out to the audience. Or the visuals: colorful anime references including dogs, cats, and a never quite resolving cthuhlu Pokemon.) It’s like Anamanaguchi takes all the fun parts from genres and ditches the rest. And the band looks to be having a blast, particularly guitarist/member-who-handles-most-mic-breaks, Peter Berkman, who performed in a clearly homemade and adorable Adventure Time costume.

The band created the soundtrack to the video game version of the Scott Pilgrim Versus The World graphic novels, so combined with Halloween eve, I wasn’t surprised to see some evil ex-boyfriends amongst the crowd. I was, however, caught off guard by what appeared to be a combination of Ramona Flowers and the The Dark Knight’s Joker, giant red lips and short green hair with long tufts hanging down in front of each ear. Afterward, I asked her if I was identifying it right and she said, “Well, Ramona Flowers is my everyday look, and I wanted to be the Joker, so I guess you could say yes.” I checked my wallet and looked around for the guys from the line. If they still had it in for me, I could always give the girl a twenty to tell them “He’s with me.”

Opener: During a song about Jesus and fucking asses up like a car crash, opener Knife City took a brief swig of his beer and proceeded to spit it over the crowd in the front. The reaction from the rest of the crowd, looks of disgust and puzzlement, quickly revealed who was punk or not.

The Performant: Hell of a ‘ween

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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Getting scared with The Residents — and other Hallowed traditions

Used to be that on Halloween you could be assured of catching either The Residents or The Cramps storming the stages of San Francisco; bands practically designed to blend in with the emissaries of the afterlife creeping through the thin membrane demarcating the spiritual plane. But with the sad passing of The Cramps iconic frontman Lux Interior in 2009, and the always-sporadic scheduling of The Residents, it seems like those days may be gone forever. But perhaps not coincidentally, in a unique twist on the Halloween season tradition, The Residents lead singer Randy Rose has been workshopping a disturbing cabaret all his own at the Marsh in Berkeley.

Entitled “Sam’s Enchanted Evening,” the production in its current permutation is a stripped-down acoustic medley of altered cover tunes and rambling monologues, blustery dispatches from the tortured depths of a character named Sam—an old high school chum, according to Randy. A broken-down shell of a former Casanova and Vietnam War veteran, a stooped and decrepit figure tottered onstage, walker and bourbon in tow, dragging the oddience down the claustrophobic rabbit hole of his pessimistic world view. Accompanied by occasional Resident’s collaborator and Marsh stalwart Joshua Raoul Brody on the keys, Sam warbled through an All-American pop-culture soundtrack from “Sixteen Tons,” to “Living the Vida Loca,” with desperate intensity. A haunting portrait of a twisted, tragic life, and possibly the scariest thing you could have seen during the long Halloween weekend.

As party-packed as the weekend was, for Halloween traditionalists, Monday night was still the real deal. And what better way to celebrate the scariest night of the year than at a bona-fide, old-fashioned, haunted house? For years, tiny corner grocery store Appel and Dietrich Market at 6001 California has been hosting haunted house mayhem in its basement, conceptualized and staffed by a stalwart crew of Richmond district denizens. An eye-catching guillotine and witch-burning stake out on the sidewalk entertained the passerby, while in the “dungeons” below the street, mouthy chopped off heads in baskets, strobe-lit tortures chambers, a mad scientist’s laboratory, and a sacrificial ritual lay in wait for the thrill-seeking horrorphiliacs who ventured down.

Later that evening, the third annual Halloween edition of FlashDance, one of the city’s most low-key yet exuberant howl-day traditions, occupied an anonymous pier on the Embarcadero, affording a great view of the Bay bridge, lit up in the background like a strand of party lights. While the mild evening pulsed with the soundtrack of the evening (heavy on the Michael Jackson, a favorite of FlashDance founder Amandeep Jawa), a costumed frenzy of flashdancers put their hands in the air like they just didn’t care. If there were any spirits walking that evening, they blended right in with the spunky aerobics instructors, zombies, and deep sea creatures otherwise disguised as party revelers, which is exactly the point of such revels, both for the living and the dead. It makes one suspect that whatever the afterlife has going for it, dance parties are not among them, so we’d best enjoy them now while we can.

Sam’s Enchanted Evening
Through November 26
The Marsh Berkeley
2120 Allston Way, Berkeley
$15-$50
(415) 826-5750
www.themarsh.org

Vote for three but not Ed Lee

Andrew Lam
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OPINION Halloween 2011. Next week San Francisco will choose a new mayor. Is this a masquerade? Who is behind Mayor Ed Lee’s mask?

I’ll call it exactly how I see it: I am disappointed in Ed Lee. I’ve known him since before I was first elected to the Board of Supervisors in 2000. I wanted to be hopeful, but I actually can’t say that I’m surprised. Ed Lee has always been a go-along-to-get-along bureaucrat who has moved up the feeding chain by doing the bidding of former Mayor Willie Brown and Willie’s loyal lieutenant Rose Pak. I had a fantasy that maybe Ed would rise to the occasion, become his own person, and emerge as an independent leader free of those that orchestrated his appointment to “interim” mayor.

But in the first year since appointment (in one of the most masterful political plays since Abe Ruef got Eugene Schmitz installed as mayor in 1902), Ed has consistently sided with the powers and their “City Family” that “made” him. Even I was astounded when Ed moved legislation to displace hundreds of hotel workers at San Francisco’s Fairmont Hotel. And I was actually shocked when he did the bidding of the right-wing Restaurant Association and vetoed common-sense legislation to stop the exploitation of local restaurant workers.

His list of disappointments grow. He orchestrated the demolition of more than 1,500 units of rent controlled housing at Park Merced. Then he had the audacity to laud Pacific Gas and Electric Co. as a “great local corporation” on the anniversary of the lethal San Bruno pipeline explosion.

Several pols have been credited with the statement that “money is the mother’s milk of politics.” Well, Willie and Rose and their friends at the Chamber of Commerce got milk! Willie Brown is fundraising for three different committees to get Lee elected, Rose Pak started two different fundraising committees of her own, and right-wing Republican billionaires like Ron Conway and right wing corporations like Pacific Gas and Electric are lining up to throw money into the coffers.

Why? Because Ed is their guy.

The proof is right in front of us. All of Willie’s trademark slights of hand are resurfacing in Ed Lee’s friends’ bag of tricks: money laundering, pay to play politics, allegations of voter fraud. These are all hallmarks of Brown and his cronies, all executed under the visage of the supposedly humble Ed Lee. And voters shouldn’t fall for it. Because if we do, we’ll go back to the days before Gavin Newsom when backroom deals, self-dealing, cronyism and out-and-out corruption were the rule of the day.

It is no coincidence that in a year gripped by the divide between the 99 and 1 percent, the latter is working feverishly to elect Lee. If you don’t believe me, look it up on the Ethics Commission website (sfgov.org/ethics). PG&E alone has contributed at least $50,000 to one such “independent” committee.

I know this is the first race for mayor with ranked choice voting—and it is confusing. That’s a concern. But frankly, at this point all I care about is that voters understand not to mark Ed Lee anywhere on their ballot.

The good news? The outcome of the Mayor’s race is far from a foregone conclusion. San Franciscans are seeing through the millions of corporate dollars being spent on behalf of Lee.

You have a choice—three, in fact. And you should use them strategically, because you can make a difference by voting not just with your heart, but also with your mind. That means making sure you do your research and vote for three candidates who represent your values—and have a chance to win.

The Guardian has endorsed three candidates—Avalos, Herrera, and Yee—who have demonstrated enough of a commitment to progressive values and an aversion to the powers of the once-dormant machine that, like a vampire, is attempting to rise from the crypt. These three candidates also happen to have the best shot to beat Lee. Your votes for all three—in any order—are your best guarantee not to elect Ed Lee.

Vote for three and don’t vote for Lee!

Aaron Peskin chairs the San Francisco Democratic County Central Committee.

 

The Hangover: Oct.23-28

Andrew Lam
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Fever dreams and wardrobe malfunctions: all about Halloween Weekend 2011 (and it’s still not over!)

**It’s a little nerve-wracking going out in costume for a show when it’s not  quite yet Halloween. What if no one else dresses up and it’s a scene out of  Legally Blonde? Luckily the bands at Brick and Mortar (Zulus, Uzi Rash, Apache, Nobunny, Ty Segall)  were slated to perform costumed covers, so I figured it would be safe. (Plus, I  spent enough money making the damn thing to ensure I’d be living with my dad for an additional month — so I was gonna milk it.) Still, when I got inside the venue, I scouted to find some other outfits among black  clothes and leather. A guy was wearing a 1994 USA Olympic Dream Team  windbreaker (“Carl Mullen” he told me, pointing to one of the figures  with a basketball) and a still priced-tagged Batman cap, so I assume that he was the first of many Tyler the Creators, despite his refusal. Another guy was dressed as Middle Aged Business Man Who Has Too Much To Drink, Tries To Mosh Too Early, And Is Never Seen Again, but this was easily topped by the best costume of the night: Totally Trashed Crazy Girl (Ryan Prendiville)

**If you were in the back of the Prospector in Long Beach, Calif. on Saturday night, you likely saw my glowing light saber sharking through moshing bodies up front for the Shitfits, a Misfits cover band (actually, the members of now-defunct math rock act the Valley Arena) that comes together just once a year at this special time. The musicians, who are now spread out across the U.S. in San Francisco, New York City, and Long Beach, have been dressing up as the Shitfits for the past six or so Halloweens, though they claimed this perhaps could be their last. My saber disappeared sooner than I’d hoped, when an angry, long-haired, ratfink tried to start some shit in the pit. This is Halloween, man, we’re here to celebrate ghoulish punk, not incite brocious pummeling. No matter, the sweaty set tore it up, kicking off with “Where Eagles Dare” and ending bittersweetly with “Last Caress. (Emily Savage) 

** South by Southwest favorites White Denim helped draw a sizable crowd in support of Manchester Orchestra to the Regency Ballroom on the Friday before Halloween. The Austin, Texas locals did not, however, save for a few ripping solos and a lap around the stage that coincided with some lyrics about running (I think), perform memorably for the sparsely costumed audience. White Denim played jammy, hip indie rock with, albeit, some interesting twists and breakdowns, and certainly with no lack of musicianship, but the set failed to deliver any standout moments. Instead, it seemed to fade into a background noise of other, similar bands with able musicians at the helm playing decent rock’n’roll to the Coachella generation. (Cooper Berkmoyer)

**There were art shags aplenty (and some lovely folks haven’t shown their faces on the nightlife scene in a while) at the tongue-through-cheek orgiastic spectacle that was Thursday’s “Ann Magnuson plays David Bowie and Jobriath, or, the Rock Star as Witch Doctor, Myth Maker, and Ritual Sacrifice” at the SF MoMA’s Halloween installment of its nighttime Now Playing series. While the live show featuring the beloved New York performance artist and Bongwater singer — backed by a fantastic four-piece live band — wasn’t quite as long as its title, it did covera whole lot of ground. Practically David Bowie’s entire career catalog got a glance, refracted through a bloody Mayan-type ritual enactment, with piñata even. But that was just the first bit. Jobriath, revered gay glam rock cult star who burnt out early and later died of AIDS, was resurrected and his tunes reverently trotted out by the always mesmerizing Ann. But in the end it was Beelzebub, the half-naked gogo “acolyte” dancing onstage throughout the entire show, who won. Imagine a wide-eyed Eyeore on ecstacy and you’re halfway there. (Marke B.)

**Santa Cruz did what it does best this weekend: dress up like crazies. Also: Peewee Herman! And motorcycle riders. And a Goldigger (why is that still a costume?). They had to, so that the surfers could be distracted from the fact that the Santa Cruz Coldwater Classic hit a weekend of sub-par waves in front of the town’s lighthouse. Not disappointing at all: the grin on eventual winner, Brazilian Miguel Pupo. Or the fish taco truck. No lines! (Caitlin Donohue)

**The season was in full effect Friday night at Kimo’s, with three costumed bands and quite a few creatively-attired audience members, including a dead-on Jack White. (It seemed all of Polk Street was in the Halloween spirit, for that matter, though the girls dressed as “slutty Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles” really should’ve known better.) Anyway, rockers Heavy Action — with ghostly back-up dancer — took the stage first with a raft of 70s covers (including “Boris the Spider,” complete with a prop spider), followed by punk-band-with-songs-about-Van-Damme-movies Dalton (all members were dressed as Wayne’s World characters). Headliners Street Justice moonlighted as “Sesame Street Justice” for the night. Turns out that in addition to teaching children about friendship, Bert and Ernie are also capable of throwing down big time. Who knew?(Cheryl Eddy)

**Trannyshack Halloween: A Party was OK on Saturday. Most of the drag numbers were recycled and a little tired, although a neatly choreographed dance number by several of our finest Asian zombie queens, the Rice Rockettes, to “Heads Will Roll” was cuuute. Hostesses Peaches Christ and Heklina seemed to be in a bad mood — and when secret guest costume contest judge Tommy Lee failed to show up, their wrath exploded. Playing his apology voicemail over the PA (he claimed he had “a show tomorrow so really need my rest … rock on, ladies!”) they could barely conceal their disappointment. And usually ace retro DJ Omar seemed a bit on autopilot — although Oingo Boingo’s “Dead Man’s Party” sounds great right now, and Mary J. Blige’s first album is really making a comeback through a wide variety of DJs. Some of the costumes were dope and we still danced to the wee hours. (Marke B.)

 

Live Shots: Soulwax at the Independent

Tony Robles
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0

Whether more or less true in other places, the crowds at shows in the Bay Area can be disappointingly savvy regarding encores. They know that if the band says goodnight and leaves the stage, the show is only possibly over. Or if recorded music comes over the speakers, the show is likely over. And (of course everyone knows) that when the house lights come on, the show is definitely over. It’s a convention that the bands and audience both understand, but robs everyone of some fun. Which was why it was wonderfully surprising that the majority of the people at the Independent Thursday night stuck around clapping, shouting, and making noise ’till it hurt in an attempt to get Soulwax to come back out on stage.

Didn’t happen. The staff of the club kept cranking the volume of the music louder, finally getting on the mic to announce that it was really over, everyone actually had to leave. Anyone that wants more will need to check out the Live 105 Subsonic Halloween Ball at the Regency Ballroom tonight, where the Dawaele brothers will be headlining as one of their many other aliases/projects, 2manydjs. Which may be confusing for anyone outside of Belgium, the UK, or Soulwax’s extremely dedicated fan base.

Essentially, what the folks at the show on Thursday (many of whom seemed to have traveled to be there and may have paid hefty sum to the scalpers outside) got was Soulwax, the four-part electronic rock band, which is a bit of an oddity in that its last conventional album was 2004’s Any Minute Now. Nonetheless it’s continued to tour and perform the earlier material, reworking and tightening it up. Which basically means that as a group, Soulwax has its act down: matching suits, tons of strobes to go with them, and the music, a no-nonsense succession of synthed out, percussive tracks that go from brooding to funky to electro without ever stopping. (Maybe part of the reason that people wanted an encore so bad – shortly after a screaming sing-along rendition of “NY Excuse” – was that without the breaks the ending just snuck up on them.) When I say they don’t stop, I mean it; for a band, Soulwax transitions seamlessly, with the skill of great DJs.

Which the Dawaele brothers are, primarily under that other name: 2manydjs. That’s been their focus the last couple of years, culminating in the creation of Radio Soulwax, an ongoing collection of 24-hour long theme mixes available online, accompanied by some pretty crafty visuals created from the sampled album covers. (I’ve found listening to it to be a great way to power through the work day, assuming 5 Hour Energy, coffee, or cocaine doesn’t work for you.) As Soulwax, the band put on a hell of a show–supported by Goose, a group that understands everyone can switch from keyboards to guitars as much as they want, provided that the drummer kicks hard and lays down some tommy gun fills–but 2manydjs may be able to top it. According to an avowed fan I talked to last night (the kind that has the white label vinyl and wears black glasses without lenses–hopefully as an early Halloween costume,) 2manydjs is the “real deal.” Somehow, as an encore, it might be the rare case where the DJ set is better than the band.

Live 105’s 3rd Annual Subsonic Halloween Ball
With 2manydjs, Fake Blood, Bag Raiders, Classixx, Tenderlions, Aaron Axelson, and more
Mon/31, 5:45 p.m., $25-$90
Regency Ballroom
1300 Van Ness, SF
(800) 745-3000
www.theregencyballroom.com

Manchester Orchestra delivers the Southern riffs at the Regency Ballroom

Tony Robles
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1

 

South by Southwest favorites White Denim helped draw a sizable crowd in support of Manchester Orchestra to the Regency Ballroom on the Friday before Halloween. The Austin, Texas locals did not, however, save for a few ripping solos and a lap around the stage that coincided with some lyrics about running (I think), perform memorably for the sparsely costumed audience.

White Denim played jammy, hip indie rock with, albeit, some interesting twists and breakdowns, and certainly with no lack of musicianship, but the set failed to deliver any standout moments. Instead, it seemed to fade into a background noise of other, similar bands with able musicians at the helm playing decent rock’n’roll to the Coachella generation.

Headliners Manchester Orchestra, on the other hand, delivered where White Denim almost, so close, really, but didn’t. Although named after a city half a world away, this quintet didn’t hide its Atlanta, roots, with booming Southern riffs made for long haired swaying.

Singer Andy Hull’s voice carried the night; his powerful and versatile vocal chords were the perfect accompaniment to songs that often hinged on a transition from Elliot Smith-like emotive indie rock to Weezer-esque arena worship. The crowd was rocking right along with the rest of the band, especially the keyboard player – what is it about keyboard players in rock bands that makes them feel like they have to overcompensate? There was plenty of singing along, dancing and no-joke raised lighters to top it all off.

These songs made up the bulk of the set and, while enjoyable, were relatively formulaic. The most interesting part of Manchester Orchestra’s set was not these anthems, but instead the several shorter songs interspersed throughout: a handful of minute or so long tunes reminiscent of Billy Bragg or early Against Me! that showcased Hull’s songwriting prowess. Sappy? Perhaps. Awesome? Indeed.

A very Nobunny Halloween turns crazy, quickly

Tony Robles
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0

It’s a little nerve-wracking going out in costume for a show when it’s not quite yet Halloween. What if no one else dresses up and it’s a scene out of Legally Blonde? Luckily the bands at Brick and Mortar (Zulus, Uzi Rash, Apache, Nobunny, Ty Segall) were slated to perform costumed covers, so I figured it would be safe. (Plus, I spent enough money making the damn thing to ensure I’d be living with my dad for an additional month–so I was gonna milk it.) Still, when I got inside the venue, I scouted to find some other outfits among black clothes and leather. A guy was wearing a 1994 USA Olympic Dream Team windbreaker (“Carl Mullen” he told me, pointing to one of the figures with a basketball). Another guy was dressed as Business Man Who Has Too Much To Drink, Tries To Mosh Too Early, And Is Never Seen Again, but this was easily topped by the best costume of the night: Totally Trashed Crazy Girl.

Totally Trashed Crazy Girl is an excellent example of how to pull off a costume. Because it’s not just about the outfit. Hers was simply a black dress, although she gained (some would say stole) some accessories throughout the night. By itself, not enough to make people understand the costume, but she also committed to the concept. (Because really, who wants to stand around all night explaining how you’re a Totally Trashed Crazy Girl when they ask “What are you supposed to be?”).

As soon as the Zulus came onstage performing as the Stooges, it was clear that TTCG would have to step up her game. Because let’s face it, it’s hard to show up Iggy Pop and Zulus’ Iggy was on it. Launching into “Search and Destroy,” he almost immediately flew into the crowd, where he would spend half his time, when not contorting his body into extreme poses onstage. Simply trying to wave the lead singer down mid-song would not prove to be a strong enough tactic for TTCG.

And step it up she did. While Uzi Rash covered the Undertones, TTCG took to pulling on the lead singer’s pant legs. Initially, slightly bothered, saying “Would you stop that?”, Uzi Rash’s version of Feargal Sharkey eventually just blew her off with bursts of microphone feedback before walking over her with his bare feet.

During its set, Apache’s singer asked if there were any drinks for his Dead Boys. Someone in the audience passed up a partially full flask of Jack Daniel’s Honey Whiskey, which was passed around by the band before being set down by the kit. This is where TTCG proceed to creep onstage and grab it for herself. “No!” the original owner of this questionable liquor said, “That’s not for you!” and took it away.

Now fully in the spirit of the role, TTCG was comfortable being on stage, seeking out any drinks or Reese’s Cups that happened to be evading her. Ty Segall as the Gories took it upon himself to eject her mid-song, screaming “Get this girl off the stage, motherfuckers!”

The bands had a lot to contend with that night in addition to TTCG, in particular stolen setlists taken by overzealous fans. Nobunny, doing his best David Johansen (all the New York Dolls were looking pretty good), had to request that they give it back, “or at least just shout out the next song.” Fittingly, it was “Bad Girl,” during which TTCG made her final appearance. (Clearly it had to be a costume – how else could she have survived the night? Five bands!) “You’re a bad girl,” admonished Nobunny. “Only because you keep punching me in my dick and I don’t like it.” Just to show that there were no hard feelings, he later awarded TTCG a red feather boa.

CHP menaces the Halloween Critical Mass ride

Sasha Cuttler
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14

The California Highway Patrol seems to be on high alert and itching to fight the people in the street, at least if a bizarre incident at last night’s Critical Mass is any indication. And that’s a scary prospect in the Bay Area, where the ongoing standoffs between police and the Occupy movements in San Francisco and Oakland are potential powder kegs that require cool heads on both sides.
Critical Mass was rolling through the warm streets of San Francisco, as it’s been doing on the last Friday of the month for 19 years, and it was a glorious night. The weather was nicer than it’s been in years for the Halloween ride and most of the large crowd wore costumes, many of them playing off Occupy Wall Street themes, from zombie bankers to the Glass Seagull (a reference to the gutted banking regulation Glass-Steagall Act).
Best of all, the San Francisco Police Department seemed to be standing down and allowing the ride to self-regulate, which it did with a minimum of conflicts with drivers. The mood was buoyant and many riders said it was the best Critical Mass they’d been on in a long time.
Then suddenly, as the ride headed up Market Street toward the Castro, crossing Octavia Boulevard, about a dozen CHP officers on motorcycle rapidly descended on the ride, aggressively cutting the dense ride in half to clear Octavia. Some used their motorcycles to push the cyclists back and tensions flared.
Angry words were exchanged back-and-forth between the cyclists and cops, some of whom seemed to be itching for a fight. One in particular pursued the cyclists up Market Street, playing the provocative tough guy or using his motorcycle to try to corral and menace the ride, long after the standoff had ended with enough green lights for the ride to get past Octavia and his fellow officers left.
This battle over public space and freedom of assembly isn’t going away anytime soon. There are resentments building and there will be bad apples on both sides of the barricades in the days and weeks to come. That’s one reason why Mayor Ed Lee is playing a dangerous game by threatening to raid OccupySF at any moment, and why the SFPD’s approach to this ride was far better than the CHP’s.
Just stand down and let the people police themselves.

Potrero Hill History Night: a special occasion for a special neighborhood

Gen Fujioka
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Potrero Hill History Night: a special occasion for a special neighborhood

Scroll down for Potrero Hill History Night photos

And so Country Joe McDonald ambled on to the stage Saturday night at the International Studies Academy on Potrero Hill and told an full auditorium full of history night groupies  that since he was playing in a school he would open with a spelling lesson.

“Give me an F,” he roared,  and the audience roared back with an F.

“Give me a U, give me a C, give me a K,” and the audience roared back again and again  with knowledge of the lyrics of the anti-war song “I Feel Like I’m Fixing To Die” that Country Joe made famous during the Vietnam war and has been singing as his trademark song ever since.

He would pause and the audience would continue on with the words. Country Joe was in top form, the audience loved him, and it was a stunning beginning to the 12th annual Potrero Hill History Night.  And the fact that Occupy SF and Occupy Oakland were fixing to explode sooner or later in nearby neighborhoods  only gave some timely poignancy to the occasion.

But Country Joe wasn’t at History NIght to perform as a singer or political activist. He explained that he was there as a turnaround artist to interview Joel Selvin, the veteran San Francisco Chronicle pop culture reviewer and author of “Smart Ass,” a collection of 40 years of Selvin’s music journalism. Significantly, Selvin also happens to be a longtime Potrero Hill resident. The latter phrase is the key, because the point of History Night is to focus on the rich history and colorful personalities of Potrero Hill and put them together into a lively program. In this segment, Joe the performer interviewed Joel the reviewer/reporter who had been writing about Joe for years.

The two made a splendid team and it turned out that Joel was as good onstage in this format as Country Joe. It was good fun, instructive at times, particularly with the stories about Bill Graham’s antics and angry outbursts and how each dealt with him. The audience had fun trying to figure out through questions just how rock n’ roll and Country Joe from Berkeley connected to the hill. Well, one answer was that Jann Wenner, the founder of Rolling Stone magazine, claimed three different addresses on Rhode Island Street.

The program this year was the best ever. A barbecue outside the building serviced by a platoon of History Night  groupies on a warm and wondrous Potrero Hill evening. And a program featuring a formal presentation of a chunk of goat hoofprints embedded in concrete, an interview with the woman who tended the goats decades ago, a surprise appearance by the lady who found and preserved the hoofprints for years, and a starring role by Phillip DeAndrade of Goat Hill Pizza who was given the goat hill hoofprints as a surprise gift because he once had goats in the back of his Goat Hill pizza parlor and because, well, he’s Phil DeAndrade.

DeAndrade is a Potrero Hill version of the Scarlett Pimpernel (he’s here, he’s there, he’s everywhere). For this evening, he was doing triple duty as the worthy receiver of goat hoofprints in concrete, as master of ceremonies, and as the Hot Interviewer of the Colorful Potrero Hill Veteran, the key finale of every history night event.

DeAndrade was specially eloquent in explaining the importance of history night. It is, he said, a special event (nobody else in town has one) that showcases Potrero Hill.as a special place and its people as special people who live in a special neighborhood with a special culture and a special history and such institutions as the Neighborhood House built in the 1920s  with Julia Morgan as the architect.

The goat hoofprints in cement  made his special point. The artifact dates from 1925 or so and was found and preserved by Rose Marie Ostler, a Potrero Hill native. She kept the hoofprints for years and then decided they should go to DeAndrade of Goat Hill for his historic connection with goats.  She presented them at the ceremony, with help from Dr. Frank Gilson, a local chiropractor wearing a Halloween type goat hill mask.

This year’s Potrero Hill veteran was Josephine Firpo Alioto, who was born on Potrero Hill 90 years ago, and now lives in San Jose.  She married Frank Alioto, son of Police Capt Calogero and Vincenza Alioto.  The Alioto family moved to 755 Carolina St. around 1930, just around the corner from Josephine’s house. There were no houses on the cornerin those days,  so they had a clear view of one another’s houses. Josephine and Frank were friends for 80 years and married for 65 and a half years.  They were married at nearby St. Theresa’s Church.  With expert coaching from DeAndrade, she was most articulate and provided the details of life and times of growing up on the hill in the 1920s and 1930s.

Perhaps the most “newsworthy” comment came when she took the audience by surprise when she mentioned that her cousin, Luis  Firpo, known as the Raging Bull of the Pampas in Argentina, knocked Jack Dempsey out of the ring in a  championship fight. (My google check showed she was right. Firpo did knock Dempsey out of the ring in the  famous 1923 heavyweight championship fight at the Polo Grounds in New York City and Dempsey’s head hit a reporter’s typewriter. But Dempsey got back in the ring on a contested long count and won the fight in the third round in what many think is the greatest fight of all time. It was Dempsey’s last successful defense of his title. The fight is on UTube and googleable under Firpo.)

As is the history night custom, there were lots of Firpos and Aliotos in the audience to help fill in Josephine Alioto’s story and answer questions from the audience and provide the evidence of a very special neighborhood.

All in all, it was a most memorable event and all to the credit of Peter Linenthal, the founder and impresario of Potrero Hill History Night. His event even got a nice writeup in Leah Garchik’s Chronicle column. UCSF at Mission Bay was the sponsor of the event and the Parkside, Chat’s Coffee, and Bottom of the Hill donated to the barbecue.  Linenthal  is also the curator of the Potrero Hill Archives project, assisted by Abigail Johnston. The two co-authored an excellent book on Potrero Hill.  For more on the archives project, go to potreroarchives.com.  You may find out more about Potrero Hill than you need to know.

I think Linenthal has done what every impresario dreams of doing:  making his event so special and so memorable that it will live on and on.  B3

history night 2

Rose Marie Ostler formally  presents the goat hoofprints in cement to Goat Hill Phi.

history night 4

The audience of History Night groupies.

history night 5

Selvin expands, Country Joe listen.

history night 6

Josephine and Phil,  a dynamic duo, 

history night 7

Josephine and Phil, getting ready for prime time.

history night 8

The Apollo  jazz group in concert at History Night.

history night 9

A student from the International Studies Academy selling tickets for the barbecue.  The money goes to the ISA student travel program.


 

 

Spellbound

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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Spellbound

Harry Houdini: the name conjures up a multitude of images and ideas about what a magician and escape artist should be. The Contemporary Jewish Museum in San Francisco is currently celebrating that rich and long-lasting legacy with Houdini: Art and Magic, a new exhibit featuring a collection of vintage photographs, event posters, archival film, original props, art installations, and more, focusing on the world’s most famous magician — who died in 1926, on Halloween.

“The genesis for the show was just really seeing how Houdini’s relevance still remains today in popular culture, and how despite being born in 1874, he still is so visible in the culture, visible in contemporary art. His celebrity has really transcended three centuries,” says CJM curator Dara Solomon.

The exhibition was originally put together by the Jewish Museum in New York, with the CJM also getting involved early on in the process, as local organizers felt that there would be a strong interest in Houdini from the Bay Area — after all, the legendary icon had performed in San Francisco several times; he appeared at the Orpheum Theater, broke out of locked box lowered into the bay at Aquatic Park, and hung off the side of the Hearst Building to perform his famous straitjacket escape stunt.

Tracing Houdini’s life from his birth as Erich Weiss in Budapest in 1874 and following his family’s immigration to the United States, his upbringing as the son of a rabbi, and the eventual evolution of his performing talents and ascension to the world stage, the exhibit tells Houdini’s story through displays of rarely-seen personal photographs, handwritten journals, and what may be the biggest draws for fans — a trunk, milk can, straitjacket, and handcuffs that actually belonged to the magician and were used in his shows.

What visitors to the exhibit won’t see are any explanations or descriptions revealing Houdini’s secrets — something that organizers wanted to avoid.

“It would be seen as the ultimate sort of betrayal if the exhibition set out to reveal Houdini’s tricks,” says Solomon. “He worked so hard at making his body this sort of instrument to do these performances, he was in such amazing physical shape — that was what really allowed him to do these amazing feats of strength.”

Another aspect to the exhibit is the exploration of the impact of Houdini and his mystique on contemporary artists — paintings and other installations from artists such as Deborah Oropallo and Raymond Pettibon add to the survey of his legacy.

“So many artists in the past 20 or 25 years have really been taken by Houdini as inspiration and as a model for how an artist works; they find this real connection with the art of the magician and the art that they make, that they are both illusionists,” says Solomon.

For 10 years after his death, Houdini’s widow Bess conducted séances on Halloween attempting to contact and communicate with him from beyond the grave — with his ever-growing popularity, and a new fan base with each new generation, somebody, somewhere in the world will undoubtedly be trying to do the same on Monday night.

“I think that there has been nobody else like him — he was such a master of communications and a marketing genius that he ensured that he left this incredible legacy,” says Solomon. “When people think of the world of magic, he is still the one and only.”

 

HOUDINI: ART AND MAGIC

Through Jan. 16, 2012

Thurs., 1-8 p.m.; Fri.-Tues., 11 a.m.-5 p.m.

$5–<\d>$12 (18 and under free)

Contemporary Jewish Museum

736 Mission, SF

(415) 655-7800

www.thecjm.org

“Total Decay” your Halloween holiday, the Soft Moon way

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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0

In anticipation of local haunted popsters The Soft Moon‘s Halloween concert at the Independent, here’s the static-drenched new video for track “Total Decay.” (And get into the band’s fresh and freaky mix for Fact Magazine here.)

Hot sexy events: October 27-November 1

Andrew Lam
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Friday evening of the Folsom Street Fair saw a throng gathered in a second-story SoMa apartment for an art opening. The space was owned by a one Mark I. Chester, a man who counts as one of the city’s many hubs of sex culture. Chester tends towards the art side of rough sex — regularily hosting drawing sessions where men pose in various states of disarray — a harness here, a dog mask there, and not much else. But tonight, the crowd was more diverse. It was there to witness the opening of “Fear No Art,” the sex and power exhibition that you watch close its doors on Sun/30 this week.

Black-and-white photographs hung densely on Chester’s walls, but the opening party was 3D. On”stage” (the front of the living room), a man in a gold lamé thong performed comedic showtunes describing his life as a D-List porn star. Soliciting audience interaction, he neatly displayed his aptitude for deep-throating. Lucky banana. 

Any lingering effects of his levity was appreciated for the next act (at least, your hemophobic reporter appreciated them). Next up was Leland of the San Francisco girls of Leather, who announced to the crowd that she’d be etching the exhibition’s name onto the back of the helper she’d brought to the front of the cramped room with her. 

“Don’t be afraid to move in closer, it’s actually really quite beautiful,” she counseled the audience. A handful of art lovers obliged, pushing in for a closer look at her razor-thin lines that blossomed into strips of blood before their eyes as the woman who the back belonged to squirmed in agony — particularly when Leland went back over the lines for a more pronounced look. 

“Fear No Art” advises you in a similar manner — not to be afraid to look at sex in all its forms, and to consider what every kind of eroticism says about us as humans. It closes Sun/30, an excellent chance to take in 2D representations of human beauty, lust, and love. 

 

Naked Girls Reading: Neil Gaiman edition

So lit-sexy it’s scary, this regular reading event — hosted by the area’s hottest female sex activists in their alltogether — welcomes to its featured artist slot Rain DeGrey, professional bondage rigger, Kink.com star, and sex educator. She and the regular crew of NGR will be reading from the works of Neil Gaiman, a novelist whose children’s book featured a young orphan being raised by a graveyard, if that gives you any idication of the creepiness of his canon of work. C. Theodore Walker will perform a “half play, half ritual” based on the works of Aleister Crowley.

Thu/27 8-10:30 p.m., $15

Center for Sex and Culture

1349 Mission, SF

www.sexandculture.org

 

Steam’s one-year anniversary party

Powerhouse kicks off Halloween weekend with the 12-monther of its bathhouse revival shindig, Steam. It’ll be garaunteeing that the ghouls drop their sheets with a wet towel contest (winner gets $100, which will buy a zombie Amy Winehouse-sized load of vodka-Red-Bulls. Go-gos, power showers, hot boys — oh, boo. 

Fri/28 10 p.m.- 2 a.m., $5

Powerhouse

1347 Folsom, SF

www.powerhouse-sf.com

 

XXX Haunted Fun House

Halloween at Mission Control is like Christmas Day in Santa’s Workshop — all the work from around the year pretty much leads up to this one big spectacular. Do these swingers have mad flair game? Obviously. Pack more than a sheet with holes in it when you go to this two-night extravaganza featuring performances to fuck to from DJs Jocelyn and Cyril Noir, seances, zombie strippers, and virgin sacrifices (yeah right). 

Fri/28 10 p.m.-late, $25-$35 free membership required

Mission Control

www.missioncontrolsf.org

 

“Building Our Own White Picket Fences”

In a sex events column gone by we talked about Femina Potens’ plans for an art exhibit that re-envisioned what family and home meant in the alt sex-LGBT community. It’s opening on Fri/28, a multi-media presentation featuring artists Midori, Monica Canilao, Harrison Bartlett, Mev Luna, Amelia Reiff Hill, and Madison Young. Go to reflect on your own notion of what the future holds, and be inspired by the imaginings of others. 

Fri/28 7:30 p.m., free

Michele O’Connor gallery

2111 Mission, SF

www.feminapotens.org


“Fear No Art” closing party

“Things I Have Fucked Someone With: An Incomplete Collection” is photographic round-up of just those things by Patti Beadles. It looks like one of those kitchen posters that show you all the different kinds of chili peppers, and at this sex art exhibition she also displays a similarly-configured of things she has not fucked anyone with (shape seems to be the defining factor between the two). Pair this with Jim Duvall’s BDSM romance novel cover of a woman being used as a harp by a lover, Shilo McCabe’s pussy-baring fetish art, and others and you have yourself a panoramic view of human sexuality at local sex luminary Mark I. Chester’s SoMa apartment. 

Sun/30 2-5 p.m., donations suggested

1229 Folsom, SF

www.markichester.com

Halloween style guide: A timely warning about hipster headdresses

Andrew Lam
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One of my favorite activities of late seems to be railing against the prevalence of “Native American”-themed swag that a certain demographic has recently been using to accessorize their MDMA and Chromeo sets (no thanks to you Urban Outfitters — but reluctant semantic kudos for de-naming the line in question “Navajo”). Just in time for Halloween, along comes a blog that can neatly sum up these feelings, and do it in a constructive way. Please forward to your girlfriend frantically readying her dreamcatcher earrings.

Cherokee (“really!” as she asserts on her site) blogger Adrienne K. has assembled an ace 101 on why you can’t dress up like another ethnic group on her blog Native Appropriations, which is pretty much devoted to the topic. Her rationale (which comes structured as a conversation with a feather-sporting individual): you’re promoting a wildly stereotypical image of actual Native Americans, for one. Your godawful headdress is mocking someone’s spiritual rites, for two. Additional reasons are unnecessary, but they include the fact that you’re basically walking around in blackface. 

On a local note: Asterisk Magazine, I loved your recent Style Issue. But this single paragraph was enough to halt me in my see-through clothing raptures:

Just when you thought we took everything from American Indians, these Navajo prints are popping up on handbags and jackets everywhere. What may be culturally insensitive is also pretty sharp when done right. This is nothing new, but the urban arena is really just getting on board, and huge turquoise jewelry is surely close behind.

Who let that one slip through? Ick.

While we’re at it, you might want to check out this post by queer Chicana blogger April’s Eye on (white-and-)blackfacing it on Dia de los Muertos.

Halloween 2011

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Halloween 2011

Ghost Hunt! On this week’s cover, the spirits of Johnny Venetti, Jasmine Donaldson, and Jackie Andrews haunt meddling kids Caitlin Donohue, Marcus Banshee, and Walter Gomez on the Kink.com Armory’s Upper Floor (NSFW). Photo by Matthew Reamer, concept by Mirissa Neff. 

This year we’re doin’ it up (f)right for halloween with an issue full of ectoplamic boo-ness. Fear our terrifyingly bad puns!

>>Our spooky, kooky, altogether ookie list of Halloween events to die for

>>A paranormal interview with local ghost detective Loyd Auerbach, with a chilling excerpt from The Ghost Detectives’ Guide to San Francisco 

>>A map of classic haunted San Francisco spots — oooOOooOo!

>>Tagging along on a ghost hunt through horrifyingly charming Pacific Heights

>>The great Houdini died tragically on Halloween — his legend lives on in a spellbinding exhibit at the Contemporary Jewish Museum

>>Forget “The Walking Dead”: Horror classic Zombie shambles through the Roxie

>>Get into the bewitching, haunted pop of local breakout act the Soft Moon

Boonus! Here’s your ghoulishly incredible retro Halloween video:

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