› kimberly@sfbg.com
SONIC REDUCER Perhaps Fall Out Boy said it most succinctly: this ain’t a scene — it’s an arms race. Joe Boyd — Hannibal Records founder, producer, general 1960s-era scenemaker and welcome arm for many an intrepid musical tourist, and now author of White Bicycles: Making Music in the 1960s (Serpent’s Tail, $18) — has seen battle on the front lines of UK rock. He knows when to drop his fascinating bombs, when to jump into the fray — such as when he stage-managed Bob Dylan’s landmark electric Newport performance — and when to step back and let nature or L. Ron Hubbard take the course — like the time his discoveries the Incredible String Band glommed on to Scientology. Battle-scarred but unbroken, Boyd has soldiered on down the road with Muddy Waters and Coleman Hawkins, scored early production credits overseeing Eric Clapton and the Powerhouse’s “Crossroads” and Pink Floyd’s first single, discovered Nick Drake and Fairport Convention, and gone on to make records for songwriting enlistees ranging from Toots and the Maytals and REM to Billy Bragg and Vashti Bunyan, in addition to organizing inspired scores for films such as McCabe and Mrs. Miller. So trust that Boyd knows whereof he speaks when he says that when it came to writing his first book, it was best to take a long view.
“Of course, I have read a lot of music books in my time,” the 64-year-old says on the phone from London, “and there’s a lot of books that I’ve read that are full of interesting information, but they’re very stodgy, and they’re very crammed with information that only guys who live alone with 8,000 LPs really want to know about. So I was very conscious of wanting to write a book that, every once in a while, occasionally, a young person or a female might want to read.”
Is Boyd trying to say that most music books seem to cater to male collectors? “Yeah, I’ve done a lot of book signings, and I can tell you what the queue looks like. There’s a lot of beards. There’s a lot of bald pates. There’s a lot of gray hair, and every once in a while there’s a twentysomething woman in the queue, and then you kind of make sure your hair is combed straight,” Boyd says mirthfully. “Then she comes up to the head of the queue and says, ‘Will you please sign it “To Peter”? It’s for my father for his 60th birthday.’<\!q>”
Of course, in attempting to dodge the earnest fan, Boyd has taken fire from the obsessives who say he didn’t include enough about, for instance, John Martyn. And some women, as luck and long lines would have it, have griped that he didn’t include enough about his love life. Guess they didn’t get to the end of a chapter deep in where, almost as a punch line, he allows that his on-and-off girlfriend Linda Peters — who was with him when he was producing his sole number one hit, “Dueling Banjos,” for Deliverance — eventually married Fairport Convention guitarist Richard Thompson.
Telling his tales plainly as if, he confesses, he’s “sitting at a table with a bottle of wine, dominating the conversation,” Boyd throws out his take on the fetal ABBA; the quasi-resident combo at his UFO Club, Pink Floyd; artists less known stateside, such as the Watersons; and crazy diamonds in the elegant rough such as the painfully shy Drake. Boyd produced 1969’s Five Leaves Left and 1970’s Bryter Layter (both Hannibal) and witnessed some of Drake’s sad decline, going as far to write, “There is certainly a virginal quality about his music, and I never saw him behaving in a sexual way with anyone, male or female. Linda Thompson tried to seduce Nick once, but he just sat on the end of the bed, fully clothed, looking at his hands…. Yet Nick’s music is supremely sensual: the delicate whisper of his voice, the romantic melodies, the tenderly sad lyrics, the intricate dexterity of his fingers on the guitar.”
“I don’t really say anything that isn’t already out there,” Boyd says now. “In a way what I’m saying is his privacy remains inviolate.” Boyd’s ear has also remained inviolate, as seen with the ’90s attention to Drake, whose “Pink Moon” Boyd licensed to Volkswagen, although “by the time the commercial came out, the records had been selling more and more,” from the initial 3,000 to 100,000 a year. “My feelings are best described as ‘what took you so long?’<\!q>”
Regardless, he continues, “I never made the sort of records that you put into the normal process. You had to come up with original strategies and eccentric ways of presenting a group in order for the kind of records that I made to sell.”
These days Boyd prefers to battle the page (his next book is on world music) rather than run a label after all he has been through with Rykodisc, which bought Hannibal, and Palm Pictures, which in turn swallowed Rykodisc. Still, the feisty music lover isn’t above a parting volley. “I’m optimistic about the music industry,” he says, equal parts wag and curmudgeon. “I think the dinosaurs will go to the tar pits and that will be fine. And all their distant cousins will turn into birds.”<\!s>
JOE BOYD
Tues/20, 7:30 p.m., free
Black Oak Books
1491 Shattuck, Berk.
(510) 486-0698
Also March 21, 7 p.m., free
Booksmith
1644 Haight, SF
(415) 863-8688
LISTEN, DON’T BE DISSIN’
DR. DOG
We All Belong (Park the Van) finds the Philly psych-swamp canines breaking out some toothsome songcraft. Thurs/15, 9 p.m., $10–<\d>$12. Cafe du Nord, 2170 Market, SF. (415) 861-5016
PINK CLOUDS AND THE PSYCRONS
Gnarly SF psych rockers caterwaul alongside paisley-drenched Kyoto kids — all hail garage skronk, mademoiselle. Sun/18, 8 p.m., $10–<\d>$12. Bottom of the Hill, 1233 17th St., SF. (415) 621-4455
UNDER BYEN
Does this highly touted sprawling ensemble boil down to Denmark’s Bjorkestra — with kalimba, strings, and tuba? Mon/19, 8 p.m., $13. Great American Music Hall, 859 O’Farrell, SF. (415) 885-0750
SNAKE FLOWER II
Matthew M. Melton (Memphis Break-ups, the River City Tanlines) was stranded by his bandmates in San Francisco but has managed to peel out the muy groovy reptilian garage punk once more. March 26, 8 p.m., $5–<\d>$20 (Mission Creek fundraiser). 12 Galaxies, 2565 Mission, SF.
Kids
Big wheel
SUNDAY
March 18
FILM
Avenue Montaigne
The essayist Phillip Lopate once noted the “genius for formalizing the unformal” that is particular to the French. Danièle Thompson’s Avenue Montaigne – an airy comedy played in a round – offers one such example. English-language critics can be expected to run through their French dessert vocabulary describing its confection. It goes down easy enough, and its interlocking story scheme prefers the farce of La Ronde to the hardcore histrionics of another exercise in simultaneity (Babel). And with theaters filled with that kind of feel-bad windbag, one can be forgiven for seeking out the occasional bonbon. (Max Goldberg)
In San Francisco theaters
See Movie Clock at www.sfbg.com
MUSIC
Pink Clouds and Psycrons
Gnarly SF psych-rockers caterwaul alongside paisley-drenched Kyoto kids — all hail garage skronk,
mademoiselle. (Kimberly Chun)
With Vomica and Mothballs
8 p.m., $10-$12
Bottom of the Hill
1233 17th St., SF
(415) 621-4455.
On white planes
By Johnny Ray Huston
› johnny@sfbg.com
Life on tour isn’t just about partying. It’s partly about crafty use of time and space. In that sense, the German electronic duo Booka Shade are expert pragmatists. Walter Merziger and Arno Kammermeier don’t just attempt to write songs while they’re on planes or in hotel rooms they’ll record them as well. "In a traditional studio you always have the same atmosphere. Day and night changes, of course, yet it’s basically the same," Kammermeier explains over the phone from Berlin. "But if you travel and have a laptop with you, you can look out the window and see a new, completely different thing while recording."
Such flexibility is at the core of Booka Shade’s second album, on their self-run label, Get Physical. Its very title, Movements, reflects a recording process propelled by the touring connected with flagship club hits such as "Body Language" and the irresistible dance floor stormer "Mandarine Girl," which boasts a melody that sounds like it was made with a gargantuan electronic woodwind. "We had a good time meeting people internationally, and all that energy went into Movements," Kammermeier says, discussing the record, which like most of the group’s releases sports Hannah Hochlike cut-with-a-kitchen-knife body parts on its sleeve art. "That’s probably why it’s a lot less dark than Memento [the duo’s 2004 debut] and has more drive."
It would be hard for Movements to be darker than Memento, considering Booka Shade’s first album, complete with a name that might have been borrowed from Christopher Nolan, repeatedly digs into the realm of film ("16MM") and especially film noir ("Vertigo"). "It’s not like we have a library of 10,000 DVDs, but we like the combination of pictures and music," says Kammermeier, who also scores commercials with Merziger. "One thing we did for [Memento] was put a film on with the sound off and watch the pictures while we were working that atmosphere gave us a lot of inspiration."
GET A REP
Booka Shade’s inspiration and reputation stem from their label as much as their music. In recent years Get Physical has garnered a critical rep that calls to mind canonical imprints such as Warp and the still thriving house-inflected Kompakt. This praise is due to Booka Shade’s constant collaborations with mix-oriented labelmates such as DJ T and M.A.N.D.Y. and to their production work on tracks such as a pair of classic early singles by Chelonis R. Jones, "One and One" and "I Don’t Know?" Those tracks are peerless in both a pop and a club sense, with "I Don’t Know?" suggesting what would happen if a male diva from the heyday of Chicago house who possessed encyclopedic brilliance hooked up with "Blue Monday"era New Order. "The chorus of ‘One and One’ wasn’t originally a chorus as Chelonis had sung it," Kammermeier says while discussing the collaborations. "We placed it there, like part of a puzzle."
Working with a talent as singular as Jones is a far cry from the duo’s early days in the music business, when they created Europop for Spice Girlsesque major-label prefab acts such as No Angels, a girl group for whom they designed a cover of Alison Moyet’s "All Cried Out." The dead-end results of those efforts and of Merziger and Kammermeier’s first venture as a group, called Planet Claire, led them to start Get Physical. That, and a desire to broaden the formulaic boundaries of techno in particular and electronic music in general a desire further sparked on hearing well-arranged ’70s- and ’80s-tinged tracks by the likes of Metro Area.
"Walter and I were both kids of the ’80s," says Kammermeier, who grew up with a jazz musician father and guitar- and piano-playing siblings, while Merziger was raised by a Richard Wagnerloving father. "Anything that came out of England Soft Cell, the Smiths, Depeche Mode was very influential to us." Last year the duo’s ’80s influences came full circle when Booka Shade remixed and shared concert bills with the last group. And it turns out Kammermeier is listening to Soft Cell again, having recently downloaded both their underrated aggro 1984 finale, This Last Night in Sodom, which includes early studio work by the influential producer Flood, and their 1983 sophomore effort, The Art of Falling Apart. "I just listened to [Art] again," Kammermeier admits. "There’s so much frustration and darkness in those songs."
THE ART OF COMING TOGETHER
There’s so much frustration that it might seep into Booka Shade’s sound, if song titles are worthwhile clues. One single from The Art of Falling Apart was the club ho litany "Numbers," and it turns out the first single from Booka Shade’s next full-length recording will bear the same name. "We want to introduce a vocal side on the next album," Kammermeier says when describing "Numbers" and some of the group’s other songs, including a track created by Merziger in a Rio hotel room. "We’ll introduce it in a different way not verse-chorus vocal but little parts that we perform. We’re not great fans of these ‘featured artist’ albums, where people just get a handful of star vocalists to perform on different tracks. Also, we can’t bring a bunch of vocalists or a session vocalist on the road."
That said, Booka Shade do aim to put their show on the road in the old-school sense an ambitious plan at a time when many of the best electronic music makers are still better off DJing than pulling rock star poses on a stage. "People always ask what instrument I play, and I say, ‘I’m one of those guys who hangs out with musicians I’m a drummer,’ " Kammermeier jokes. He’ll have to put that joke into practice as he and Merziger embark on their second US tour and maybe he’ll write and record some songs while in flight as well. *
BOOKA SHADE
With Future Force and Hours of Worship
March 23, 9 p.m., $14 advance
Mezzanine
444 Jessie, SF
(415) 625-8880
www.getphysical.com
For a top 10 list from Booka Shade’s Get Physical labelmate Chelonis R. Jones, go to www.sfbg.com/blogs/music.
Purple reign
› a&eletters@sfbg.com
I first heard the Delinquents in 1999, when "That Man!" was in heavy rotation on KMEL. Its subject matter caring for the kids while the wifey’s out cheating was unique in gangsta rap. "We came from the left with that," G-Stack says, yet the freshness of the concept, combined with a funky Mike D beat and memorable Harm hook, made it an instant classic. By then their 1999 album, Bosses Will Be Bosses (Dank or Die) was six months old, and they already had a storied past.
Part of the Bay’s early ’90s independent scene, building a buzz from the ground up, G-Stack and V-White dropped their debut, the cassette-only Insane, circa 1993, on their label, Dank or Die. After a pair of 1995 EPs The Alleyway and Outta Control (both Dank or Die) the Delinquents signed to Priority at the same time the imprint inked its distribution deal with Master P’s then-Richmond-based No Limit Records. Yet during the promotional campaign for the 1997 full-length Big Moves, the duo learned the difference between being on Priority and being a priority.
"This was when ‘I’m ’bout It, ’bout It’ blew up for Master P," a relaxed Stack recalls at the East Oakland studio where he’s completing G-Stack Presents: Welcome 2 Purple City (4TheStreets), due March 27. "We promoting our album down south, West Coast, Midwest. Down south everything halted. We going into stores, they got huge Master P displays, and they didn’t even know we was coming out." The effect of this tepid label support, moreover, was compounded by backlash from their home audience, who equated independence with authenticity.
"At that time," Stack explains, "if you signed to a big label, people thought you weren’t real anymore. That affected our underground fan base. Then Priority didn’t support us. So we went back independent with Bosses, and our fans started messing with us again."
"Now we got a record buzzin’ on the streets. And radio wouldn’t support us, so a lot of local rappers started meeting, and everybody went up to KMEL. Nobody had a record at the time, and ours was doing good, so everybody pushed our record." He reviews the memory with satisfaction. "We kinda forced them to play it."
While the success of "That Man!" helped move 65,000 copies of Bosses, radio play was short-lived, because Clear Channelowned KMEL had stopped playing local music. Yet even during the Bay’s leanest hip-hop years from 2000 to ’03, the Delinquents maintained a loyal following, selling out shows, moving units, and putting new talent on, as well as throwing the free Lake Berryessa Bash think of a sideshow on Jet Skis for thousands of fans every couple years. "They were the crazy glue of the town," says Dotrix 4000, who, as half of Tha Mekanix, produced several hot tracks on Purple City. "They held the scene together when it could’ve fell apart."
While the Delinquents have never lost their iconic status in the Bay witness Stack’s representation of East Oakland on Mistah FAB’s geographical hit "N.E.W. Oakland" they have strikingly chosen to pursue solo careers right as the region’s commercial fortunes are on the rise. Both rappers insist the decision has nothing to do with aesthetics or personal differences, and this is apparent from the warm vibe when V-White arrives for the photo shoot. Promoting his just-released Perfect Timin’ (V-White Ent./SMC), V explains the move as a way to stay original in what they see as an increasingly contentless hyphy movement.
"Chuck E. Cheese music," V says. "When I came up, the Bay was about game-spitters, cats with swagger. Now it’s, like, make up a word do something stupid. That ain’t where I’m coming from. I’m with the reality rap, from them days when you rapped about what you was going through."
Stack is similarly defiant: "Our machine wasn’t built on what radio did for us. Now it’s hella different. If you independent, people think you’re weak. You need the radio to support you. I don’t like how it is now I don’t kiss ass."
"I don’t have to make music the radio gotta play," V concludes. "I’m making music from my heart." Judging from Timin’ a 27-track opus largely produced by protégé Big Zeke, spiked with hitworthy tracks by E-A-SKI and an intriguingly nonhyphy Traxamillion V has a big heart, punctuating his tales of street crime with more personal memories, such as his daughter catching her first fish.
Stack meanwhile is using Purple City to introduce his own young crew, the Heem Team, as well as his alter ego, Purple Mane, who’s something like a dope-slinging superhero. A warm-up for Purple Hood, Stack’s proper solo debut, slated for July, Purple City began as a mixtape but morphed into a formidable album, including all-original beats by the likes of Tone Capone, FAB associate Rob-E, and Stack’s in-house team Sir Rich and Q. (For the record, the Delinquents were on the purple aesthetic stemming from a variety of weed popular in Oakland by the time of their 2003 mixtape, The Purple Project, a year before Big Boi and Dipset adopted it.)
The solo careers of V and Stack raise the question of what will happen to the Delinquents as a group. Both confirm a new album is on the table most likely the final Delinquents project.
"We’ve been rapping since ’93," V says. "If I’m doing the same thing I was doing in ’93, that means I ain’t grew none. We’re just getting older."
"I feel very comfortable doing the last Delinquents album," Stack adds. "I can actually feel like I’ve completed it." *
Web trenz!
› annalee@techsploitation.com
TECHSPLOITATION It’s the time of year when we celebrate new ideas and fresh memes on the Interwebs. For some reason, March is the month for all the big Webbish conferences, such as South by Southwest Interactive and O’Reilly’s Emerging Technology shindig in San Diego. Strange new Web apps are announced; venture capital is hurled forcefully at people who wear hoodies over button-down shirts; everybody does freaky shit with their cell phones. In case you’re feeling left out, I’ll preview a few Web trenz (that’s how the kids spell it) for you.
Everybody is sick of the blogosphere because there’s only one. I mean, who wants to write things that appear in only one place? That’s why the Interwebbers are going crazy for the new blogomultisphere trend. Liberal bloggers need an antisphere where their parallel selves are writing about why Bush’s new plan to beef up troops in Iraq is a great idea. Or a bizarro sphere where their bizarro selves write about the expressionist era in cute art. One of the breakout content sites of the blogomultisphere is the sliderzone, where bloggers can jump from sphere to sphere, guest writing for parallel universe blogs and antimatter wikis. Questions raised by denizens of the sliderzone include whether copyright licenses in the sphere also hold for anticontent produced in the antisphere. Or are there antilicenses? What about bizarro licenses? You can see why this is an idea whose time has come.
MyMeganSpace is a social network like Facebook that sprang organically from California’s "Megan’s Law Database" of sex offenders. People with similar sex offenses wanted to figure out ways to connect and form special-interest groups, so they started tagging their profiles in the Megan’s Law database. They can add other members as "buddies" or "prison pals." Next MyMeganSpace added RSS feeds so that users could update their MeganBuddies on new events in their lives, like which street they slept on after getting kicked out of apartments by landlords who don’t like streakers. Another great feature of MyMeganSpace is that you can search on which year people got out of prison as well as things like hobbies and parole officers. People who are sick of having to use Kevin Poulsen’s software program to find convicted sex offenders on MySpace are totally psyched about MyMeganSpace!
Last year was all about podcasting, but this year it’s podthrusting. At last, Apple has figured out that its hardware-design sensibility is perfect for mobile sex toys with media capability. With podthrusting you don’t have to go to iTunes to suck down the latest episode of The Office. Instead The Office will thrust itself at you. Each time you get a data thrust, your iPod or other mobile device will play the ringtone of your choice. Then it will burrow into the orifice of your choice. What’s great about podthrusting, as you may have guessed, is that it’s all about choices. Plus, it’s perfect for selling every kind of content, from new ringtones and songs, to new vibration patterns and lube. After just one week of podthrusting, I really can’t believe that I ever thought of my dildo and my phone as separate entities.
One of the biggest problems with wikis is writing. People like the idea of wikis, and they like the word wiki but they just don’t like writing wikis. That’s where Annoturk comes in. Using micropayments, Annoturk helps you pay people in the developing world very tiny amounts of money to annotate all the information on all the wikis you’re supposed to be using. It’s like micro-outsourcing. You might pay 50 cents to a guy in Sri Lanka to add historical information about Lowell, Mass., to a wiki devoted to an upcoming Boston-area conference you’re planning. Or you could pay kids in China’s Shandong province to write small articles about every noun on your work-collaboration wiki. Annoturk is good for the developing world, and it’s good for writing. Plus, it’s just convenient when you’re trying to fill up space with information.
When I think about how crazy these trenz are getting, I really feel like the future is happening. We are so connected! *
Annalee Newitz is a surly media nerd who is currently being punished for being a pop-up ad in a previous life.
Ending the road-closure stalemate
EDITORIAL There’s really only one way to look at Mayor Gavin Newsom’s response to Saturday road closures in Golden Gate Park: the fix has been in from the start. The mayor is willing to discard his own evidence, break his word, ignore the obvious facts, and damage his environmental credentials but he won’t risk offending the rich society swells who run the de Young museum.
It’s been 40 years since the city began shutting down a stretch of JFK Drive to cars on Sundays, and by any account it’s one of the most popular regular programs in the city. On nice days the park is packed with bikers, joggers, skaters, walkers, families. There are free swing dance lessons. It’s one of the few opportunities for young kids to learn to ride bikes in a safe environment.
But the trustees of the museum, such as socialite Dede Wilsey, are adamantly opposed to expanding the road closures to Saturday. Their arguments make little sense: since there’s now an underground parking garage, there really isn’t any problem finding a place to park or getting access to the museum.
Yet under pressure from the de Young folks, the mayor vetoed legislation last year to expand the road-closure program to Saturdays, saying he didn’t have enough information on how the program would impact traffic and parking in surrounding neighborhoods. He asked for a study; the study was done. As Steven T. Jones reported ("Unhealthy Politics," 3/7/07), the evidence clearly shows that road closures have minimal negative impacts on anyone.
Newsom’s response: nothing has changed. He’s still opposed to Saturday closures.
So either he was lying last year when he said he wanted more data or he’s ducking today when he says the study hasn’t changed his mind or he’s just afraid that going against the will of the almighty de Young board will tarnish his political star with the movers and shakers in town. In the end, it doesn’t matter: the mayor apparently can’t be moved on this, and the only way Saturday road closures will happen is if eight supervisors enough to override a mayoral veto support Sup. Jake McGoldrick’s road-closure bill, which has been reintroduced and will be heard in committee soon.
The measure got seven votes last time, and since it’s highly unlikely Sups. Sean Elsbernd, Michela Alioto-Pier, or Ed Jew will defy the mayor, the swing vote is Sup. Bevan Dufty.
Last time around he voted to uphold Newsom’s veto, but now he says he’s keeping an open mind. Dufty has a strong tendency to support neighborhood programs and services, and it’s clear that most of the neighborhood people are behind road closures and now that the city’s own study shows there are no associated parking or traffic problems, this ought to be an obvious one for him. Dufty should announce that he’ll support McGoldrick’s bill and end this stalemate for good. *
Editor’s Notes
› tredmond@sfbg.com
I am not taking sides yet in the Carole MigdenMark Leno race; the election is still a blessed 14 months away. But I think that at this point I can stake out a clear position against calling one of the candidates a "kiddie porn king."
I wish this were a joke, but it’s not. A former aide to Migden, Michael Colbruno, who (like most of the rest of the known world) has a blog, posted an item earlier this month headlined "Kiddie Porn King in Senate Race."
Colbruno clearly supports his former boss, who is defending her State Senate seat against Assemblymember Leno. That’s fine. But attacking Leno as a kiddie porn king is the exact sort of nasty, sleazy, Karl Rovestyle stuff that ought to have no place in a San Francisco campaign.
Let me lay out the background here, since it’s a case study in how political smears are created.
About a year ago Republicans in the state legislature started work on a bill that was aimed at cracking down on child molesters. It wound up on the ballot as Proposition 83, a draconian law that, among other things, would have barred any registered sex offender from living within 2,000 feet of a school or park and required them to wear an electronic monitoring bracelet for life.
Leno and Migden both opposed it.
But in the meantime, while the bill was being debated, Leno, chair of the Public Safety Committee, tried to offer a less heinous alternative. His measure was called AB 50, and while it tightened laws on sex crimes, it didn’t include the bracelets or the 2,000-foot residency requirement (which many law-enforcement types said were ineffective and unworkable).
During discussions on the bill, Leno tells me, Assemblymember Todd Spitzer, an Orange County Republican, approached Leno with an offer. "He told me that if I would accept several amendments, he’d support my bill," Leno says.
One Spitzer amendment would have tightened the laws on child pornography. At the time, possession of kiddie porn was a misdemeanor on the first offense; Spitzer’s proposal would have made it a felony if the offender possessed more than 100 pieces.
Sure, said Leno. No problem. (Spitzer, by the way, confirmed this account to me.)
That, in retrospect, was a mistake; in fact, I could argue that Leno was set up by the GOP. Because shortly afterward, the right-wing media blew up. Leno was accused of supporting the child-porn lobby; according to the likes of Fox News’s Sean Hannity, Leno was arguing that 99 pieces of kiddie porn were just fine. (The federal felony standard, by the way, is 75. Leno’s bill was amended with his support to 25, then one.)
Let’s remember: Leno’s bill actually tightened the existing law. I have two kids, and I’m not about to defend the peddlers of underage smut, but I really don’t think AB 50 made Leno a kiddie porn king.
I shudder to think about this becoming a campaign issue; I can already see the hit pieces (or whisper campaigns) circuutf8g in Marin and Sonoma counties, the more conservative parts of the district. Mark Leno, kiddie porn. Hard to turn that around.
Paul Hefner, a spokesperson for Migden’s campaign, told me she doesn’t approve of the post and wants to see a positive race. Good for her. But I suspect that if she were as offended as I am, she would call Colbruno and tell him to take that shit down. Now.
UPDATE: After ppress time for the print edition, Migden’s office informed me that the senator had asked Colbruno to take the post down. Colbruno told me he would do so. That was the right outcome; now let’s hope we don’t ever have to go through all of this again*
SATURDAY
March 10
MUSIC
Chanticleer
If you’re not a fan of contemporary choral ensembles, then you’ve probably never heard of Chanticleer, but scrupulous classical music fans know that this San Francisco choir operate at the pinnacle of their trade. Next month they will premiere And on Earth, Peace: A Chanticleer Mass (Warner Classics) at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City. Here’s your chance to catch them on the home field. (Nathan Baker)
8 p.m., $25–$44
Also Sun/11, 7 p.m.
First Unitarian Church
1187 Franklin, SF
(415) 392-4400
www.cityboxoffice.com
MUSIC
Qui
Since the mighty Jesus Lizard had a brief flirtation with overproduced nu metal and broke up, live music has been missing a certain je ne sais quoi, to the tune of a whiskey-drunk Texan in shitkicker cowboy boots with his balls in his hand by the name of David Yow. While they might not be Jesus Lizard Mach 2, Yow’s new band, Qui, have that stripped-down, broken-glass noise rock edge that’s guaranteed to scare the kids. (Duncan Scott Davidson)
With Replicator
10 p.m., $7
Hemlock Tavern
1131 Polk, SF
(415) 923-0923
www.hemlocktavern.com
NOISE: Yum, indie branding means…
Guardian staffer Joe Pennant was out and about for Noise Pop and ran smack into some free mochi ice cream at Bottom of the Hill – courtesy of the Ice Cream Man.

Who are these kind, mysterious strangers giving away sweets at all manner of shows? Marketing, promotions, branding, and advertising, naturally! The site says: “Ice Cream Man is a grassroots organization that combines the minds, hearts, skills, and resources of a growing team of adventurous individuals who refuse to adhere to the old business paradigm. We were those crazy and confused kids raised in the ’80s and ’90s with conflicting messages (“Just Say No” vs. “Just Do It”). We believe that right now is the best time in history. With the Internet we are not bound by the constraints of the modern media machine. We can break through all of the hypocrisy and create REAL connections with like-minded people…. The more money we can bring in the more ice cream we’ll be able to give away. To date the Ice Cream Crew has given away over 35,000 treats.”
Folks last saw ’em at Arthurfest. I saw him at Great American Music Hall during the Sebadoh show – and got a lovely organic Creamsicle-like bar for my trouble. Apparently they’re looking for a few good Ice Cream Men and Women too. Just, y’know, an FYI, duders.
FRIDAY
March 2
film
Bugsy Malone
The year 1976 was special for Jodie Foster. When she wasn’t filming other movies, she and Chachi were making cinema history with Bugsy Malone, an all-kids gangster musical in which tommy guns fire custard bullets. Watching the film, directed by Alan Parker of Fame fame and with music by Paul Williams, should be nothing less than religious. The movie’s being shown as part of a “Midnites for Maniacs” underage Jodie Foster triple feature. Freaky Friday and Foxes precede it. (Jason Shamai)
11:59 p.m., $10
Castro Theatre
429 Castro, SF
(415) 621-6120
www.castrotheatre.com
event
WonderCon
Stressful work and family commitments have virtually killed our childlike sense of wonder. So as WonderCon, the Bay Area’s premiere comics convention, returns for the 21st year, feel free to be a kid again. Go on, spend your macchiato money on new comics, gush over your favorite artists, and catch new Frank Miller adaptation 300 and the related panel with director Zack Snyder. (Joshua Rotter)
Through Sun/4
Noon–7 p.m., $8–$15 (three-day pass, $20–$40)
Moscone Center South
747 Howard, SF
(415) 974-4000
www.comic-con.org
Sour milk
› andrea@altsexcolumn.com
Dear Andrea:
I’m still breast-feeding my third baby, and my libido is completely gone. I don’t even think about sex. My ob-gyn seemed to think it’s related to breast-feeding. That was months ago, and I still feel the same. I feel bad for my husband. I know he is starting to take it personally.
Love,
Shut-Down Mom
Dear Mom:
I have to admit I’ve been letting your question sit here in my "good question!" file for months. As a newish mother myself, I can’t easily write about this without taking it a bit personally too. I generally try to avoid getting all me-me-me unless it’s particularly amusing, but sometimes it can’t be helped.
Of course it seems related to breast-feeding. It is deeply and inextricably connected to breast-feeding, a process involving sex- and sexuality-related hormones, intimate touch, and boobs. So really, how could it not affect your sex life? Not to say that postpartum libido issues (I hesitate to call them problems since they are so natural, normal, and expected if generally unwelcome) are purely hormonal. You may be a big bag of hormones, but you’re a specific, unique sack of hormones living a unique and specific life. You have a husband, and you have rather a lot of children. There’s a lot more going on than the mere release or reception of this molecule or that.
I’ve read a ton on this subject, if not before I had these kids, then certainly since. And while most of what you see out there is common sense or nonsense, there are a few bits and bobs you may not have heard. Not everyone knows, for instance, that we all release the milk-making hormone prolactin after orgasm, producing a sensation of satiety. Even fewer people will have heard about the researchers who recently measured prolactin levels in laboratory subjects who masturbated to orgasm or had penis-vagina sex to the same end. The screwers released 400 percent more prolactin than the wankers did, possibly explaining why most people find partnered sex more satisfying than masturbation. Much work remains to be done (what about other kinds of sex with a partner? What about homo sex?), but if we in the Lactation Nation are already walking around with high levels of prolactin, which of course we are, we may already be feeling the sort of satiety that other, less milky people have to have partnered sex in order to achieve. We don’t want sex because we feel like we just had some, and the drive to go get some more is suppressed. That’s one theory, anyway.
Breast-feeding also releases oxytocin, that busy hormone with jobs ranging from stimuutf8g uterine contractions and causing your husband to start snoring so soon after sex to making prairie voles (and perhaps everyone else) bond to a partner and stick around to raise the children together. The oxytocin released at orgasm is responsible for the aaaaahhhh feeling you get as you nestle back into your beloved’s arms. It creates similar warm fuzzies at the mere touch of the right person (good hugs release oxytocin, while unwanted or merely social hugs do not). Oxytocin, of course, is released as your baby nurses, but also by just cuddling with her (or in some cases thinking about her). Again, the sensations of calm, happy, shmoopy-pie satiety, while delightful, are not exactly conducive to going out and gettin’ you some.
Add to all this the fact that your usual sex drivers, estrogen and testosterone, are at an all-time low, and the chemical basis of the "just don’t wanna" that can last as long as you keep up the nursing becomes obvious. Add to that the sleep deprivation, the ambivalent (to put it mildly, also inaccurately) feelings that many of us harbor about the changes our bodies have gone through, and the vaginal dryness, and there ya go. Death of sex. For a while. Do not despair.
Here’s my big secret program, which I hope to make some bucks selling to desperate couples: Do not feel guilty. Guilt kills sex. Do not hide or contrive to fall asleep before or after your husband, and do not lie or make excuses. All of these set up a familiar but deadly teenagerish dynamic where you own the sex but won’t be doling much, if any, out. Meanwhile, your husband is skulking around like a starving mongrel trying get whatever scraps you might drop in an unwary moment. Yuck and ew. You are grown-up partners, and you’re on the same side. Do not forget this.
Face your husband, clear-eyed. Remind him that it’s hormonal. Remind him that it will end. Encourage him to keep offering, since your proposition circuits are down at the moment. And really important if it doesn’t sound unappealing, take him up on it sometimes. Just because you didn’t crave it doesn’t mean you won’t enjoy it. Eventually, you’ll even want it, as long as you don’t have a bunch of stupid fights about it first.
Love,
Andrea
PS A blow job wouldn’t hurt.
Andrea Nemerson has spent the last 14 years as a sex educator and an instructor of sex educators. In her previous life she was a prop designer. And she just gave birth to twins, so she’s one bad mother of a sex adviser. Visit www.altsexcolumn.com to view her previous columns.
Feeling the spirit
› a&eletters@sfbg.com
Yeah, I was a club kid once. It’s a bit of a blur, but somehow somewhere in the ’90s I went from punk and indie to baggy pants and glow sticks in the flick of a switch. I put away my Fall records and picked up endless white-label 12-inches and compilation CDs with titles like Ultimate Techno Explosion. Or something to that effect. Like I said, it’s a blur. I remember the dancing, though suddenly my punk ass liked to shake! It’s a shame most of my indie friends chose to stay behind, but this was the ’90s. In those days, never the twain shall meet….
It’s now a full decade later, and finally! the indie kids are cutting loose without fear of bruising their street cred, thanks to artists such as the Rapture, !!!, and LCD Soundsystem. Turns out rock and dance music don’t have to be mutually exclusive terms. Need further proof? Take Austin’s finest ambassadors of electropunk mania, Ghostland Observatory. The duo composed of vocalist-guitarist Aaron Behrens and keyboardist-drummer Thomas Ross Turner whip up a mighty frenzy of swaggering rawk bravado and delirious vocal acrobatics delivered with a come-hither fluster over sweltering beds of booty-bouncing beats. Music for getting hot and bothered, certainly or maybe songs for unleashing demons. Take your pick.
"We’re two entirely different people," Turner says, chuckling, over the phone from the Texas capital, in explanation of how their quite dissimilar influences have coalesced into the flipped disco of 2005’s delete.delete.i.eat.meat and last year’s Paparazzi Lightning (both Trashy Moped Recordings). "Aaron’s more into the rock showman thing people like Prince and Freddie Mercury. For me, Daft Punk pretty much are my heroes they got me into electronic music and club culture. That’s where we’re each coming from."
They might be coming from different places, but their destination is clearly shared, as evidenced on Paparazzi Lightning. Picture an evening of unbridled debauchery one in which a club night teeters on the brink of collapse condensed into 35 frantic minutes, and you’re on your way to understanding the Ghostland Observatory vision. Behrens can clearly work a room into whatever mood he sees fit, whether through stomping and yowling with wanton glee on the thundering "All You Rock and Rollers" and "Ghetto Magnet," or the seething taunts of "Move with Your Lover." Meanwhile, Turner effortlessly guides us on the emotional travelogue of a never-ending night, flashing away with the urgency of red-carpet paparazzi as he peppers the album with synth shrieks, squelches, and Daft Punkworthy rhythms.
Asked about their live shows, Turner gives fair warning: "It’s really nonstop. We just give and give until everybody’s wiped out and goes home." All right, indie rockers and club kids you heard the man. Better start stocking up on energy drinks. *
GHOSTLAND OBSERVATORY
With Honeycut, the Gray Kid, and Landshark
March 3, 9 p.m., $15
Mezzanine
444 Jessie, SF
(415) 625-8880
>
Make your own toothpaste in Iowa, shave your armpits in San Francisco
Tonight’s episode of ABC’s Wife Swap pits Iowa farm family the Haigwoods (apocalypse-fixated and obsessed with raw food, they even eat raw meat; the kids are home-schooled and spend all day working on the farm; they don’t clean their home because they think germs are helpful — and that manure can cure cancer) and San Francisco sophisticates the Hess-Webbs (neat freaks who eat out several times a week and put great emphasis on their clothing and appearance).
Naturally, the sparks (essential in Wife Swap, which teeters on culture clash and conflict) fly like it’s the Fourth of July.
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Fox reports, Fox decides
by Amanda Witherell
Last week we ran a story about a comic book called Addicted to War that’s been donated to San Francisco high schools. The book was written by a Johns Hopkins professor named Joel Andreas, and illustrates some of the less understood international conflicts the US has perpetrated. It’s completely unlike anything I studied in high school. (I went to one of the best high schools in the state of New Hampshire, was an honors history student, had 14 Bosnians as my peers when our school district offered them refuge from their war-torn country, and our approved texts barely mentioned the Cold War.)
Since Fox News ran a story about the book, the publisher, Frank Dorrel, has been getting some great mail recently, which he shared with us. One of my personal favorites: “It would [sic] a wonderful thing to see all of you Left Wing San Francisco whackos go up in one big mushroom cloud delivered by one of your terrorist friends. Hell, I would hang a medal on the terrorist bastard who nuked your ass.”
Yes, maybe the kids need more vitriol in the classrooms.
Or maybe not. On Feb. 15, the Lowell High School chapter of Revolution Youth staged an anti-war rally during school hours. Fox News, which already ran a segment questioning the validity of Addicted to War as an educational tool, was there to film the rally and aired the footage while discussing the comic book, seeming to subtly suggest its content was having immediate effects even though students have yet to receive the book. Bryan Ritter, adviser to the school’s newspaper The Lowell, which was also covering the rally, said one student reporter polled 74 other kids at the event on whether they’d heard about the comic book. Two had, and one had found out about it that day from Fox.
Fox’s coverage of the rally is a little tamer and more balanced than the original clip they aired on Feb. 14, which suggested the comic book had “ignited a firestorm.” The only evidence provided of said “firestorm” was a diatribe from Leo Lacayo, vice chair of the local Republican Party. The news anchor made mention that representatives from San Francisco’s School District had declined to appear on the show, but wouldn’t say why. Gentle Blythe, spokesperson for SFUSD, told us it was because “we decided we didn’t want to debate in that forum.”
Dorrel said he’s received 20 PayPal orders for the book as well as some requests for the DVDs he also publishes.
Fox reports, Fox decides
by Amanda Witherell
Last week we ran a story about a comic book called Addicted to War that’s been donated to San Francisco high schools. The book was written by a Johns Hopkins professor named Joel Andreas, and illustrates some of the less understood international conflicts the US has perpetrated. It’s completely unlike anything I studied in high school. (I went to one of the best high schools in the state of New Hampshire, was an honors history student, had 14 Bosnians as my peers when our school district offered them refuge from their war-torn country, and our approved texts barely mentioned the Cold War.)
Since Fox News ran a story about the book, the publisher, Frank Dorrel, has been getting some great mail recently, which he shared with us. One of my personal favorites: “It would [sic] a wonderful thing to see all of you Left Wing San Francisco whackos go up in one big mushroom cloud delivered by one of your terrorist friends. Hell, I would hang a medal on the terrorist bastard who nuked your ass.”
Yes, maybe the kids need more vitriol in the classrooms.
Or maybe not. On Feb. 15, the Lowell High School chapter of Revolution Youth staged an anti-war rally during school hours. Fox News, which already ran a segment questioning the validity of Addicted to War as an educational tool, was there to film the rally and aired the footage while discussing the comic book, seeming to subtly suggest its content was having immediate effects even though students have yet to receive the book. Bryan Ritter, adviser to the school’s newspaper The Lowell, which was also covering the rally, said one student reporter polled 74 other kids at the event on whether they’d heard about the comic book. Two had, and one had found out about it that day from Fox.
Fox’s coverage of the rally is a little tamer and more balanced than the original clip they aired on Feb. 14, which suggested the comic book had “ignited a firestorm.” The only evidence provided of said “firestorm” was a diatribe from Leo Lacayo, vice chair of the local Republican Party. The news anchor made mention that representatives from San Francisco’s School District had declined to appear on the show, but wouldn’t say why. Gentle Blythe, spokesperson for SFUSD, told us it was because “we decided we didn’t want to debate in that forum.”
Dorrel said he’s received 20 PayPal orders for the book as well as some requests for the DVDs he also publishes.
NOISE: Keep it together, K.I.T., then break it down
Insane show alert – K.I.T. breaks out a new record on UK label Upset the Rhythm, Broken Voyage, alongside labelmates Death Sentence: Panda!, who are celebrating Festival of Ghosts. Be there or regret it bitterly, punker; the two bands perform tonight, Feb. 16, 8 p.m., with Holy Mountain free skronk combo Zdrastvootie and Kreamy ‘Lectricsaanta at Artists Television Access, 992 Valencia, SF. It’s all ages so whoop it up, kids.

Who are our pals K.I.T.? Guardian contribs Vice Cooler and George Chen get with Lil’ Pocketknife’s Kristy Geschwandtner and XBXRX’s Steve Touchton. Enjoy!
NOISE: Grammy rammies, mach II: larnin’ annex
More Grammy jottings from my laptop – and thoughts on how to come correct to the event:

What me, available? Courtesy of Fashion Wire Daily.
– Leave the bimbos and himbos at home, sort of. Pained-looking Best Pop Vocal Album winner John Mayer was Jessica Simpson-free. He stayed far, far away from the media suite. Practice your Japanese elsewhere, man. And Timberlake merely locked eyes with alleged squeeze Scarlet Johansson, on stage, doing her worst dumb blonde impersonation beside Don Henley who asked, “I heard you’re working on your first album.” “Do you have any advice?” she asked like a robotic starlet. “No,” he replied flatly in a kind of failed send-up of his reputation as a jerk.
Getting back to the himbos, etc.: who died and made Mayer and Timberlake America’s foxiest? Ick – what a selection. I want to fast-forward to the next generation, Hotties 2.0.

Smells great!
– Have your own “Grammy Moment.” Translation: the revelation that comes when the plastic pop crap falls from the eyes and you realize…[insert epiphany here]. Mine arrived when I found Red Hot Chili Peppers aren’t so awful after all – despite their dull, cheesy performance at the Oakland Arena last year. Next to all the predigested pop of the former Disney shills and American Idol contestants, the Chili Peppers came off as icons of authenticity, a real band that got together for reasons other than commerce or celebrity, who were willing to riff beyond the carefully controlled parameters of Grandpa Grammys.
Drummer Chad Smith’s response to their Best Rock Album win: “Get out there and start a rock bands, kids. We need more rock bands!”
Later backstage, the band offered scatter-shot explanations with a nattily suited John Frusciante opining that rock has grown stale next to electronic music’s experimentation. Of the Dixie Chicks, Anthony Kiedis deadpanned, “I’m shocked they didn’t get the Best Rap Record.”
So fresh, so clean
› a&eletters@sfbg.com
Some weeks ago I ran by Melrose Middle School in East Oakland to catch DJ Fresh in action. Voted third-best DJ in the United States at the International Turntablist Federation finals in 1999, the 26-year-old veteran is a nationwide presence in hip-hop and handled the 1s and 2s behind figures such as Nas and Common before going on to produce a series of album-length projects during the past two years with Bay Area luminaries such as Mistah FAB, J-Stalin, and Sac-Town kingpin Smigg Dirtee. But the gig at Melrose was a little different: an afternoon class in rap and production for a bunch of mildly rambunctious middle schoolers. (He teaches two groups there, in addition to an adult education course at Eastside Alliance in Oakland.)
"This is my good class," he said with a wry smile, and in a way his performance managing the kids is more impressive to me than his two national tours as Nas’s DJ for Stillmatic and God’s Son (Sony, 2001 and 2002 respectively). Laid-back, allowing the students to address him as DJ Fresh, he can still rock the don’t-mess-with-me teacher mode when necessary, commanding respect and obedience. It’s something you need a knack for.
Fresh was born in Baltimore and moved with his mother to San Jose at age nine. He spent his teens going back and forth between the coasts, developing his talents on piano as well as turntables. "I tell people I started DJing when I was nine," he said, "because I was on them things, fucking with it every day." Inspired by older brothers DJ LS1 and DJ Dummy, who remained back East, the teenage Fresh joined 12-Inch Assassins, a clique of battle DJs featuring his siblings and DJ Chaps.
LS1 went on to DJ for DMX and more recently G-Unit, while Dummy worked with Onyx and currently DJs for Common. Through Dummy, Fresh got to perform at his first major rap shows, spinning at a number of Common gigs. By 18, Fresh was back in the Bay Area, only to be recruited by Nas, whose tours really put him on the map.
"The nigga just called me up one morning," Fresh recalled. "I knew it was going to happen, but I’m the kind of person, I’ll believe it when I see it. He was, like, ‘Have you done any major shows?’ I kinda lied. My brother told me, ‘Before you tell him what you want, tell him to make you an offer.’ So he made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. His manager called me back the next day, and it’s been on since then."
"After my second tour with him, I went to school," Fresh continued. "I took that money and used it for my schooling over at Expression in Emeryville. The tour shit is cool, but I didn’t want my eggs in one basket. I went for sound engineering I learned a lot of shit there." Though many rap producers eschew such formal training for fear of losing their autodidactic uniqueness, Fresh is a prime example of someone whose education has only enhanced his natural talent. Check, for example, the mix on his 2006 collaboration with J-Stalin, The Real World: West Oakland (FreshInTheFlesh). The sound is spacious huge clean and clear as a bell, requiring technical virtuosity behind the boards. Combined with his knowledge of ’70s and ’80s R&B "What I See," for example, interpolates "Strawberry Letter 22" Fresh’s beats immediately stand out.
"When I make my beats, I still got the DJ mentality," Fresh said. "Right when you hear it, it’s catchy. When you doing a party, you trying to keep it cracking, keep it off the hook. I take a lot of old shit and re-create it and reflip it. Bring it back with 808s and claps and all that good stuff." While such music could hardly be described as hyphy, it was, in fact, Mistah FAB who first put Fresh on the map in the Bay, freestyling on a 2005 full-length in Fresh’s main series, The Tonite Show (FreshInTheFlesh).
"It was before FAB had blew up," Fresh pointed out. "We had a song called ‘We Go Stupid in the Bay.’ It had a buzz, so that was my first establishment. Then he needed his DVD made The Freestyle King. So we swapped. I edited the whole shit. That put me on blast more too."
Both the DVD and The Tonite Show helped fuel the increasing buzz around FAB’s main album, Son of a Pimp (Thizz, 2005), a process Fresh hopes to replicate for FAB’s upcoming Sony disc, The Yellow Bus Rider. A second FAB-hosted Tonite Show is projected for a March release.
This year promises to be a big one for Fresh: His gang of impending Tonite Show releases includes a compilation with his frequent collaborators due Feb. 23, as well as The Tonite Show with DJ Fresh, a mixtape-style installment of Fresh DJing his own music, slated for late February on Koch Records. He’s also shooting beats at his previous big-name associates soon to drop are Tonite Shows starring Beeda Weeda and J-Stalin, Nump of "I Got Grapes" fame, the Acorn neighborhood phenom Shady Nate, and even Nas himself and he intends to start a production team, the Whole Shebang, with Jamon Dru, 10AK, and Tower, an extraordinarily deep-voiced rapper who’s a cousin of Richie Rich. To top a furious schedule, Fresh has a radio show, running Mondays through Fridays on the first and third weeks of every month on Rapbay.com, called The World’s Freshest Hour.
"He’s just a hustlin’ dude," FAB remarked. "He’s always on his grind, and I respect that. He’s very humble, and that’s what makes working with him so easy." *
myspace.com/thewholeshebang2
Housing is now being stuffed into downtown blocks, more than 7,000 units in the stretch running from Market Street to the Bay Bridge. This means less driving, less subdivision sprawl and fewer car-dependent office parks in the outer ‘burbs, all worries that older high-rise foes had. "A Skyscraper Story," by Marshall Kilduff, San Francisco Chronicle, 1/29/07 EDITORIAL Actually, no. There are indeed a lot of new housing towers under way in San Francisco, some of them soaring to heights that will block the sun and sky and wall off parts of the city from its waterfront. But there’s not a lot of evidence that they’re doing much to cut down driving and office parks. In fact, when we went and visited a few of these spanking new buildings a year ago, we found that few of the residents actually worked in downtown San Francisco. They were mostly young Silicon Valley commuters who slept in their posh condos at night but got up in the morning and drove their cars (or in some cases, rode vanpools) to jobs at office parks or car-dependent corporate campuses 20 to 30 miles south. There were a few former suburbanites around but again, they weren’t San Francisco workers. They were retired people with plenty of cash who wanted to move back to town after the kids left home. As Sue Hestor reports in "San Francisco’s Erupting Skyline" on page 7, the Planning Department is quietly but aggressively moving to raise the height limits around the edges of downtown, particularly in the South of Market area. There’s been little protest, in part because so many of the new towers are largely for housing, not offices. Some of the giant new buildings are very much the same sort of projects we and much of progressive San Francisco have been fighting against for 30 years. The Transbay Terminal will be anchored by a 1,000-foot-high commercial building that will soar far above the Transamerica Pyramid. But somehow activists seem willing to accept high-rise housing in a way they would never tolerate offices if it’s presented as a cure to sprawl. But that requires a big leap of faith: you have to accept that San Franciscans who will walk or take transit to work are going to wind up living in those buildings. And since much of the housing is going to consist of very high-end condos in the million-dollar range that almost certainly won’t be true. The new wave of development has tremendous problems and needs far more careful scrutiny than it’s getting. The Planning Commission ought to demand a demographic study to determine whether this housing actually meets the city’s needs and put a halt to it if it doesn’t. *
Too many big buildings
Will 49er tailgating burn the Alice Griffith Housing Project?
By Sarah Phelan
Residents of the Alice Griffith Housing project were a tad upset when they learned that Mayor Gavin Newsom’s retooled effort to stop the 49ers from dumping San Francisco could involve their homes being demolished. A resolution that came before the Board the day before the Mayor’s Sex scandal hit, included the surprising news that over the past 18 months developer Lennar, working in cooperation with the 49ers and the City, had created a preliminary plan that would provide a world-class stadium 49ers stadium and related mixed-use development. This development would consist of about 6,500 housing units, including affordable units and the replacement of the Alice Griffith Public Housing Development.
According to a letter from Newsom that was included with the Feb. 6 Board of Supes package, “The city and the Bayview in particular will benefit from extensive jobs and economic development opportunities, over one thousand units of affordable housing–including replacing the Alice Griffith housing project for the benefit of Alice Griffith residents.”
The problem was that Newsom hadn’t share this vision with the Alice Griffith residents and the few that showed up to the Feb. 6 Board meeting, which took place during the workday, expressed outrage at being left out of the loop.
As one lady said, waving a copy of the resolution in one hand, as she pounded the public comment lectern with the other “It’s not OK to have this in here without my input.”
Another, a single mother with four kids, recalled having to fight for four years to get into the project, in the first place. “I don’t want you guys to knock it down,” she said.
As Lavelle Shaw of the Alice Griffith Tenants Association told the Guardian, ” a lot of things seem to be going in through the back door. We want to be at the table for the replacement housing. And it can’t just be affordable. We want it to be low-income.”
As a result of all this uproar, Sup. Sophie Maxwell demanded a hearing, during which the resolution was reworded, reports Shaw, to give AG residents greater input. That said, Shaw urges folks to show up at the Feb. 13 Board of Supervisors meeting, to express their feelings, fears and desires.
Don’t know about you, but i sure wouldn’t want to be roasting hot dogs when displaced folks descend
