Lit

Robert B. Parker: The king is dead

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By Tim Redmond

Damn, I haven’t been this bummed since the death of John D. MacDonald.. SFGate reports today that Robert B. Parker collapsed at his desk; the king of trash-lit detective novels is dead at 77.

The obits will talk about Parker in the same breath as Raymond Chandler and Dashiell Hammett, and that’s true, as far as it goes. But in terms of period writing and a continuing-series character who was attractive as much for his faults at for his good deeds, Parker and MacDonald had a lot more in common. Like Travis McGee, MacDonald’s knight in slightly tarnished armor, Parker’s Spenser was a tough guy with a sense of humor about himself, someone who cared (almost despite his best instincts) about humanity and wasn’t bitter, angry, lonely or needlessly violent.

McGee was a creature of Florida in the Sixties, a tanned and restless womanizer who lived on a houseboat and practically existed for casual sex. His attitude toward women was often described as patronizing, and in the early works, the girls are mostly there for McGee’s amusement, but that changes toward the end; McGee falls deeply in love in the Green Ripper, has a daughter who changes his life — and turns out to be not such a sexist pig after all. The McGee books are also packed with environmental wisdom and a sharp description of the ugly side of development-crazy Florida.

And it may not seem such a big deal now, but when MacDonald started writing in the 1950s, the idea the a main character in a tough-guy American novel would have a best friend who was Jewish was something unusual.

And then there’s Spenser. He came along in the 1980s, but from the start was a creature of the modern world, a Boston private detective who — as much as anyone in that genre could ever be — was a liberal. His best buddy was a black guy who drank fine champagne (and, of course, totally kicked ass). His life partner was a Harvard-trained psychologist, and he never fooled around on her; in fact, in many of the books, he rejects the advances of other women, noting that he is, and for all his life will be, “the main squeeze of Susan Silverman.” He has gay characters who are as tough as he is and get the same respect as anyone who can swing a mean fist and shoot a gun.

And nobody wrote like John D. MacDonald — except possibly Robert B. Parker.

So Spenser is gone. Boston, and American literature, will never be the same.

Shopping

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BEST INDEPENDENT BOOKSTORE; BEST USED BOOKSTORE

Green Apple

With thousands of dirt-cheap books, CDs, and DVDs, Green Apple is worth visiting for the witty staff picks alone.

506 Clement, SF. (415) 387-2272, www.greenapplebooks.com

Best Independent Bookstore runners up: Books, Inc., City Lights

Best Used Bookstore runners up: Dog-Eared Books, Aardvark

BEST COMIC BOOK STORE

Isotope

Mainstream comics are represented at Isotope, but its raison d’être is small-press, independent, and self-published varieties.

326 Fell, SF. (415) 621-6543, www.isotopecomics.com

Runners up: Whatever, Al’s Comics

BEST MAGAZINE SELECTION

Fog City News

Nibble designer chocolates while you sift through a staggering selection of magazines, including more than 700 foreign titles.

455 Market, SF. (415) 543-7400, www.fogcitynews.com

Runners up: Issues, Farley’s

BEST SPECIALTY BOOKSELLER

Borderlands

This Mission District shop, specializing in fantasy, horror, and science fiction, hosts an author nearly every week.

866 Valencia, SF. (415) 824-8203, www.borderlands-books.com

Runners up: Babylon Falling, Get Lost

BEST PLACE TO BUY VINYL; BEST PLACE TO BUY CDS

Amoeba Music

A Bay Area institution, Amoeba features a formidable vinyl collection and bargain bins overflowing with cheap used CDs.

1855 Haight, SF. (415) 831-1200; 2455 Telegraph, Berk. (510) 549-1125; www.amoeba.com

Best Place to Buy Vinyl runners up: Grooves, Open Mind

Best Place to Buy CDs runners up: Rasputin, Streetlight Records

BEST PLACE TO RENT MOVIES

Le Video

Conceived when the Parisian owner couldn’t find the cult and foreign films she craved, Le Video is known for its large, eclectic inventory.

1231 Ninth Ave., SF. (415) 566-3606, www.levideo.com

Runners up: Lost Weekend, Faye’s

BEST CLOTHING STORE (WOMEN)

Ambiance

Ambiance junkies love the store’s dedicated staff and massive selection, stretching across several budget octaves and featuring brands like Free People, BCBG, and Betsey Johnson.

1458 Haight, SF. (415) 552-5095; 3985 24th St., SF. (415) 647-7144; 1864 Union, SF. (415) 923-9797;

Runners up: Crossroads Trading Co., Brownies Vintage

www.ambiancesf.com

BEST CLOTHING STORE (MEN)

Indie Industries

The pared-down Berkeley storefront features prints, graphic tees, hoodies, and dresses by in-house artisans, plus anime-inspired kitsch.

2003 Milvia, Berk. (510) 549-3285, www.indieindustries.com

Runners up: Cable Car Clothiers, Five and Diamond

BEST CLOTHING STORE (KIDS)

Chloe’s Closet

Visit Chloe’s for the big selection, sweet Bernal Heights location, and homey atmosphere that’s earned it accolades four years running.

451 Cortland, SF. (415) 642-3300, www.chloescloset.com

Runners up: Little Fish, Pumpkin

BEST LOCAL DESIGNER


Nicacelly: Best Local Designer
GUARDIAN PHOTO BY MATTHEW REAMER

Nicacelly

Nicacelly’s designs are as colorful and eclectic as San Francisco itself — imagine a schizophrenic geisha sightseeing in Thailand while moonlighting as a hip-hop DJ. You can find her styles at True, Upper Playground, and Density, among other locations.

www.nicacelly.com

Runners up: Linda Pham, Sunhee Moon

BEST VINTAGE CLOTHING STORE

Brownies Vintage

Brownies has an unusual specialty: deadstock vintage that’s never been washed or worn. The unassuming shop also carries new styles by local and independent designers.

2001 Milvia, Berk. (510) 548-5955, www.brownies-vintage.com

Runners up: La Rosa, Painted Bird

BEST THRIFT STORE

Thrift Town

Thrift Town’s not your tame little vintage boutique — it’s a massive beast of a thrift store, with a huge selection and dizzyingly low prices.

2101 Mission, SF. (415) 861-1132, www.thrifttown.com

Runners up: Community Thrift, Out of the Closet

BEST SHOE STORE

Shoe Biz

If Kelly of YouTube fame were to shop at any of these footwear outlets, he/she could have only one response: these shoes rule.

1446 Haight, SF. (415) 864-0990; 877 Valencia, SF. (415) 550-8655; 3810 24th St., SF. (415) 821-2528,

www.shoebizsf.com

Runners up: Gimme Shoes, Rabat

BEST FURNITURE STORE

Propeller

Propeller mixes whimsy, beauty, and function in its showroom, featuring items like ceramic deer-head wall hangings, a chair made to look duct-taped, and dishes that look like they’re in motion.

555 Hayes, SF. (415) 701-7767, www.propellermodern.com

Runners up: Zonal, Monument

BEST VINTAGE FURNITURE STORE

Monument

Perfect for buying your home’s centerpiece item or simply getting inspiration, Monument has an impressive selection of modern and deco furniture.

572 Valencia, SF. (415) 861-9800, www.monument.1stdibs.com

Runners up: The Apartment, X-21

BEST FLEA MARKET

Alemany Flea Market

Smaller than Alameda’s but more charming, the Sunday Alemany market is a haven for hipsters seeking ironic art, vintage housewares, old tools, and antique art-projects-to-be.

100 Alemany, SF. (415) 647-2043

Runners up: Alameda, Ashby

BEST HARDWARE STORE

Cole Hardware

Friendly staff, an impressive selection, and convenient locations have made this independently owned shop a Bay Area favorite since 1920.

956 Cole, SF. (415) 753-2653; 3312 Mission, SF. (415) 647-8700; 70 Fourth St., SF. (415) 777-4400

2254 Polk, SF. (415) 674-8913; www.colehardware.com

Runners up: Brownie’s, Cliff’s

BEST INDEPENDENT TOY STORE

Ambassador Toys

A wonderland of toys, puzzles, coloring books, vintage race cars, collectible dolls, and other unique gifts for kids, Ambassador further charms shoppers with free gift wrapping.

186 West Portal, SF. (415) 759-8697; 2 Embarcadero Center, lobby level, SF.

(415) 345-8697, www.ambassadortoys.com

Runners up: The Ark, Mr. Mopps

BEST SHOP FOR PARENTS-TO-BE

Natural Resources

Encouraging mindfulness in pregnancy and child rearing, Natural Resources is an eco-boutique as well as an educational resource.

1367 Valencia, SF. (415) 550-2611, www.naturalresourcesonline.com

Runners up: Day One, Chloe’s Closet

BEST PET SHOP

Bernal Beast

Locals love Bernal Beast’s courteous staff, merchandise selection, unique treats (antlers as a chew toy!), and fantastic raw food section.

509 Cortland, SF. (415) 643-7800, www.bernalbeast.com

Runners up: Best in Show, Noe Valley Pet Co.

BEST QUIRKY SPECIALTY STORE

Paxton Gate

A more eclectic selection of bones, stones, taxidermy, rare plants, and oddball collectibles than Paxton’s could only exist in a gothic novel.

824 Valencia, SF. (415) 824-1872, www.paxtongate.com

Runners up: Heartfelt, Wishbone

BEST SPORTING GOODS STORE

Sports Basement

Whether it’s yoga mats, running shorts, tennis rackets, or basketballs you need, this is the place to get them — and often at warehouse prices.

1590 Bryant, SF. (415) 575-3000; 610 Mason, SF. (415) 437-0100; www.sportsbasement.com

Runners up: See Jane Run, Lombardi’s

BEST PLACE TO BUY CAMPING GEAR

REI

It’s difficult to find a retailer with a better selection of outdoor gear, from trek shoes to white-water rafting oars — and the return policy for members is unmatched.

840 Brannan, SF. (415) 934-1938, www.rei.com

Runners up: Sports Basement, Wilderness Exchange

BEST PLACE TO BUY BIKES AND GEAR

Mike’s Bikes

Mike’s does sell bikes and gear, but it’s best known and loved for its knowledgeable, reliable, and friendly service staff.

1233 Howard, SF. (415) 241-2453, www.mikesbikes.com Valencia Cyclery, American Cyclery

BEST ECO-FRIENDLY RETAILER

Rainbow Grocery

Featuring organic produce at good prices, natural bath and body products, and a selection of vegan, vegetarian, gluten-free, and other specialty items, Rainbow pleases a full spectrum of shoppers.

1745 Folsom, SF. (415) 863-0620, www.rainbowgrocery.org

Runners up: Elephant Pharmacy, Spring

Shopping — Editors Picks

BEST SUI, SHARP AND SWEET


Sui Generis: Best Sui, Sharp and Sweet
GUARDIAN PHOTO BY SAMANTHA BERG

Despite the vast numbers of stylish males who haunt our fair burg, shopping for menswear in San Francisco can be a real downer. You’re either pummeled with dopey high-end “designer” street labels à la G-Star or forced to piece together a credible look from scattershot resale sources — not a bad option in itself, except that every other subculturally fashion-conscious Y-chromosomer is usually elbowing you out of the way to get to the good stuff. Enter Sui Generis, a boutique of impeccably vetted men’s vintage wear on Church Street (another location, featuring dressier consignment duds, recently opened on Market Street). The Generis gentlemen hand-select a dossier of ultrasharp hand-me-down duds that poke the up-on-it eye with longing — rare and perfect tees, plaids of fondest dreams, jeans that scream “do me,” fedoras, scarves, footwear, more — and force us to re-evaluate our look every time we glance up at its display windows. A good thing, then, that Sui’s also manageably affordable. And one-of-a-kind cache is part of the value: no chance of running into your twin from Rolo or Nomads, here.

218 Church, SF. (415) 436-9661; 2265 Market, SF. (415) 437-2265, www.myspace.com/suigeneris_sfo

BEST PLACE TO FIND RARE NUTS

Sure, Valencia Cyclery has a whole store full of bikes, locks, tools, lubricants, and clothes at their 1077 Valencia showroom, but what makes them so magical is the 1065 Valencia repair shop. They opened in 1985, which means if you need a roller cam on an early Suntour mountain bike brake, a rebuild kit for a Sturmey Archer 3 speed hub, or just a hard-to-find nut with an odd thread pitch, you’re stoked. The back rooms have shelves and drawers full of every imaginable wingding and doohickey for your two-wheeled best friend — and if what you need isn’t there, the manager will order it. The mechanics are actually people you’d trust to work on your bike, not ham-handed hacks with their thumbs on backwards. And best of all, they explain things in plain English, not cooler-than-thou biker-ese.

1065 and 1077 Valencia, SF. (415) 550-6600, www.valenciacyclery.com


Sara Brownell and Nici Williams of
Brew Holster Cult: Best Beer Helmet
GUARDIAN PHOTO BY SAMANTHA BERG

BEST BEER HELMET UPGRADE

You’d think hipsters would’ve come up with an answer to beer helmets ages ago. But it wasn’t until saucy AC/DShe rock ‘n’ roll vixens Nici and Sarah began to face technical tippling difficulties at their shows — including drenched T-shirts and wet amps — that the Brew Holster was born. The studded leather gun sling, created by the girls in their backyard chop shop, kept the rockers’ drinks close and off their clothes while still looking badass. So how to join the Brew Holster Cult? Simply buy one off the Web site and wear it to backyard BBQs, outdoor concerts, all-night barhops, or wherever you need to rock out with your cock out or jam out with your clam out — without losing your booze. Brew it to it!

www.brewholstercult.com

BEST FARM-FRESH FASHION

Quaint, antique- and decor-store-lined Jackson Square got a little chicer — and a little more fashionista-friendly — when Carrots moved into the gracious hood. Sisters Melissa and Catie Grimm named their sublime boutique, tongue firmly placed in cheek, after the petite veggies that built their family’s business, Grimmway. Yet we couldn’t be further from the farm amid Carrots’ lofty yet elegant, European-inspired mix of antiques and industrial decor touches. Visitors are welcome to sip an espresso beneath the zinc 19th-century chandelier while browsing the wares of such covetable young designers as Thakoon, Stella McCartney, Narcisco Rodriguez, Vanessa Bruno, and Peter Som. Men can also find fashion respite courtesy of such desirables as Band of Outsiders, Obedient Sons, and Rag & Bone. The free mini carrot-cake cupcake isn’t your only reward for stopping by and discovering the ideal piece.

843 Montgomery, SF. (415) 834-9040, www.sfcarrots.com

BEST ONE-STOP MAELSTROM OF METAL

Chances are, if you’re at all familiar with the Bay Area metal scene, you’ve crossed paths with Shaxul, proprietor of Shaxul Records. In addition to distributing and releasing local and rare metal albums, Shaxul hosts a monthly radio show on KUSF (all-metal, natch) and runs a snug storefront on Haight Street, boldly perched opposite the megasize Amoeba Records. The walls are black and decorated with all manner of posters and T-shirts (including a particularly rad High on Fire tee that is sold out on every Internet vendor you might think of). The shelves are packed with vinyl (them things you put on a record player, kids!), CDs, DVDs, and more. And you ain’t gonna find no wimpy selections here: Shaxul almost exclusively stocks bands with names that’d scare your grandma, with brutal sounds to match. Both current (Saros, Hammers of Misfortune, Asunder) and classic (Death, Exodus, Testament) acts are well represented. Emo kids stay home! Everyone else, horns up.

1816 Haight, SF. (415) 831-5334, www.shaxulrecords.com

BEST VOODOO NOSE CANDY

Helen Keller once said, “Smell is a potent wizard that transports you across thousands of miles and all the years you have lived.” Which may be true, but she forgot to add that it can also be used to accumulate money, secure a long life, and get back at your ex for blowing your housemate. The aromatic candles, incense, and powders at Yoruba Botanica, a Santeria store in the Mission District, have been imbued with a potent form of South American sorcery, so choose your scents wisely. You don’t want to mistakenly buy a death candle for your arthritic grandmother, or some romance dust for your creepy bi-curious roommate. A consultation with one of the women who run Yoruba Botanica will ensure you get the correct smell for your purposes. And for a small fee, they’ll take you in back, read your fortune, and maybe even tell you how to score more ass.

998 Valencia, SF. (415) 826-4967

BEST NOMADIC HIPSTER BOUTIQUE

The Mission Indie Mart, a roaming thrift store, local design showcase, and barbecue that takes place monthly in backyards and at dive bars throughout the Mission District was dreamt up by Kelly Malone, a tattooed hipster chick with three lifelong obsessions: DIY fashion, hard drinking, and good times. Sadly, while her hobbies did wonders for her social life, they caused quite a stir at the Gap, where Malone had been working for more than 10 years. So she set up her own business. Her brainchild has become a staple of Mission dwelling: a monthly opportunity to mingle with artists, musicians, fashion designers, misfits, and fall-down drunks like the founder herself, whose hourly announcements at MIM evolve throughout the day from straightforward information to inebriated performance art. Her best line to date: “The bathrooms are in the back, the T-shirts are in the corner, and the vodka is in my belly. Now come on stage and let’s get naked, bitches. Wooo!”

www.indie-mart.com

BEST BONBON BAR

Charlie’s chocolate factory may be pure fiction, but Miette Confisserie is pure magic. This Hayes Valley confectioner, sister to the Ferry Building’s Miette Patisserie, brings European decadence and childlike devotion to the candy-shop concept. Walls are lined floor-to-ceiling with apothecary jars filled with imported boiled sweets, Dutch licorice, saltwater taffy, fine chocolates, and buttery caramels — all of which can be packaged in custom boxes tied with satin ribbons. But you don’t have to take your treats home. Miette hosts children’s birthday parties, complete with ballerinas, storytelling, and pony rides. Not a breeder? Adults can play too, with private evening fetes featuring champagne and cotton candy. Either option is ideal, considering Miette’s decor is as winsome as its sweets: if the perfectly salted walnut shortbread doesn’t charm you, the black-and-white checkerboard floor surely will.

449 Octavia, SF. (415) 626-6221

BEST WAY TO LEAVE A PARTY WITHOUT YOUR CLOTHES

Alternative economies sound nice in political lectures at the University of California, Santa Cruz, but they rarely thrive in real life. Sure, there are little free markets that crop up in cities across the world, but they’re usually full of questionable scavengers, dirty hippies, and slumming rich kids temporarily rebelling against “the Man.” And then there’s the stuff they trade — the idea that one man’s trash is another man’s treasure just doesn’t hold water when you see the usual pile of broken plates, outdated VCRs, and defunct Web site promo T-shirts. But thanks to the hipsters behind SwapSF, one experimental trade economy seems to be working. Their secret? Alcohol and music, of course. SwapSF is a seasonal warehouse party that charges $5 and a bag of clothes for entry. It’s a small price to pay for access to dope beats, an open bar, and all the cool togs your friends bought and never wore.

www.swapsf.com.

BEST FRENCH WINE WAREHOUSE

Many people are frightened of French wine, particularly the indecipherable and austere-looking labels — but not you. When your friend goes to a Halloween costume party as an uncorked bottle of Château d’Yqem, you are savvy enough to be amused. You are also savvy enough to know where to find deals on French (and other European) wines — which can still be found despite the dollar’s collapse against the euro: The Wine House. The warehousey setting on the northern foot of Potrero Hill assures you that it’s not ambience or fancy shelving you’re paying for. The staff is knowledgeable, helpful, and friendly. And there are plenty of offerings from Burgundy, Bordeaux, and lesser-known winegrowing regions, especially those in the south of France. Many wines are priced near $5 a bottle, making them competitive with Trader Joe’s plonk. Best of all are regular case discounts, from 10 percent on up, along with occasional case specials (often on fine Côtes du Rhône) even more drastically discounted.

129 Carolina, SF. (415) 355-9463, www.winesf.com

BEST ECO-SPOT FOR NOE TOTS

Ensure the longevity of both your children and the world they’ll grow up in at Mabuhay Kids, an eco-friendly baby boutique in Noe Valley named for the Filipino phrase for “long life.” Sporting eco-friendly, safe, and stylish attire from global and local designers, Mabuhay (pronounced “ma-boo-hi”) is a must for JAKC’s organic baby blankets, Stubby Pencil Studio’s soy crayons, and much more. Why trick out your toddlers with gun-toting G.I. Joes or sweatshop OshKosh B’Gosh overalls when you can provide them with sustainably harvested rubber tree tricycles or duds from Ses Petites Mains, who make organic French fashions for little ladies? In light of massive baby product recalls, this is a shop whose wares you can trust — whether your moppet’s got ’em on her bod or in his mouth. Plus, for Noe dwellers, it’s just one biodiesel stroller ride away.

195 Church, SF. (415) 970-0369, www.mabuhaykids.com

BEST MASTERS OF MYSTERY

A bookstore that sells mysteries shouldn’t be clean and well-lighted. It should look and smell and feel like it came out of the dark streets of Victorian London. And although the San Francisco Mystery Bookstore isn’t by any means dingy or dank, it’s got that wonderful cluttered feel of a place owned by someone who loves books and tolerates a bit of chaos. There are paperback mysteries everywhere — in the shelves, on the windowsill, stacked up by the cash register, tucked away in the back. They’re brand-new, used, or very old and valuable. There are selections by famous authors and some by writers you’ve never heard of. And best of all, the people who work there are as obsessed with whodunits as we are — they seem to have read everything by everybody and are happy to talk, recommend, critique, or chat. Or are they?

4175 24th St., SF. (415) 282-7444, www.sfmysterybooks.com

BEST BARGAIN BEATER MOTORCYCLES


Bike Yard: Best Bargain Beater Motorcycles
GUARDIAN PHOTO BY SAMANTHA BERG

The Bike Yard is every would-be sick boy’s dream come true: a used bike dealership, run by Francisca Feribert, a petite German mechanic who repairs totaled motorcycles and sells ’em cheap. Surrounded by ivy-covered brick warehouses and highway overpasses, the Yard feels like a piece of the country plopped down on the east side of Potrero Hill. Motorcycles and scooters in various states of repair look like they’ve been poured into the cyclone-fenced lot, where they’ve washed up against the sides of a gypsy caravan-style wagon, a small, corrugated metal workshop, racks of tires, and a tattered, sun-bleached Winnebago — all protected by Feribert’s guard goose, Helga. This licensed dealership even handles registration and sells helmets, so you can get riding as soon as you’ve got the scrill. Plus, beaters are especially good for first-timers, who need not wreck a $1,000 ride the first time they drop it.

851 Tennessee, SF. (415) 821-3941, www.bikeyardsf.com

BEST BANANA REPUBLIC REPLACEMENT

If you like Banana Republic’s simple, well-fitting, flattering clothes but not its reputation for using child labor and cutting down old-growth forests, you’ll love Sunhee Moon. This independent local designer with a “less is more” attitude uses such high quality fabrics and tailored, classic designs that you’ll hardly bat an eyelash at the price tags (tops run between $48 and $118). Women of all body types can find basics in simple, solid colors that somehow manage to maintain a hip, San Francisco-style sensibility. These are cute, modern clothes for home-based creative types who want to feel a bit dressed up, or for professionals working in the Financial District — who are probably the people who can afford to shop here regularly. But if you’re sick of ill-fitting T-shirts and corporate-shopping guilt, an occasional splurge at Moon is well worth the sacrifice.

2059 Union; 3167 16th St.; 1833 Fillmore, SF. (415) 922-1800, www.sunheemoon.com

BEST ORGANIC GUYLINER

Whether you’re headed to Club Meat at DNA Lounge, a Fall Out Boy concert, or simply a party full of squares where you’ll be the token “edgy” guy, there’s nothing to make a man feel sexy like a smudge of black kohl around the eyes. But who wants to defile his delicate emo lids with chemical-laden mainstream makeup? Not you. That’s where Pharmaca Integrative Pharmacy comes in. This Cole Valley cosmetic emporium features shelf after shelf and wall after wall of beauty products that won’t take a toll on either the planet or your face. There’s even a male makeup artist to give you tips, as well as a dizzying array of browsing-friendly herbal remedies, magazines, and health-related tchotchkes to occupy your friends who refuse to wear guyliner. Oh, and ladies can shop here too.

925 Cole, SF. (415) 661-1216, www.pharmaca.com

BEST MID-SHOPPING RESPITE

Any savvy shopper knows you have to refuel midday if you want to hit all the sales before closing. But there’s no need to resort to food courts and burger stands. Tucked away down Claude Lane, just blocks from Union Square, is Café Claude. Dining at the clandestine café is like spending an afternoon in Paris — arguably the best shopping city in the world — and has similarly replenishing effects (without the price or carbon footprint of a flight to France). Sit inside to enjoy a daily special amid the zinc bar, period travel posters, and vintage tables all rescued from an actual Parisian café. Or refuel with soupe l’oignon, salade Niçoise, and charcuterie et fromage on the petite heated patio. Weary shoppers can also enjoy a full bar and daily happy hours from 4 to 6 p.m. After all, you might need a glass of Sancerre — or a shot of St. Germain — before you take a second glance at your receipt from Neiman Marcus.

7 Claude Lane, SF. (415) 392-3505

BEST BAGPIPE EMPORIUM

It’s likely you’ve never stepped inside Lark in the Morning, unless you’re a musician with highly specialized needs. (Bagpipe reeds? Musical saws? Chinese opera gongs? It’s got ’em.) Time to change that! Though it does most of its business via mail order and its Web site, Lark recently moved from tourist-choked Fisherman’s Wharf to cozier digs in the Mission District, where the diverse inventory of ethnic instruments covers the walls, fills floor space, and hangs from every available ceiling hook. Adventurous beginners (including kids) and pros alike can find what they need here. And unlike certain big-chain instrument stores, Lark is staffed by musicians who are excited to share their knowledge with fellow artists, budding and otherwise. Just don’t test-drive anything by playing “Smoke on the Water” or “Dueling Banjos” — the staff might have to pull a Wayne’s World on you and request a song they aren’t subjected to on a daily basis.

1453 Valencia, SF. (415) 922-4277, www.larkinthemorning.com

BEST HOUSEWARMERS FOR POETS

Like Coleridge’s “Kubla Khan” vision of a sunny pleasure dome filled with caves of ice, Rare Device, that bright little Hayes Valley shop on Market Street, exhibits gorgeous and amazing things. Things, (as the poem says, of course), of rare device. This San Francisco find is actually the sister of a Brooklyn establishment running under the same moniker, and both focus on designer objets d’art from around the world. Stop by once and your list of must-gets could go something like this: Japanese tea cups carved from single blocks of wood, a mouth-blown wine glass with an inverted stem, and a linen silk-screened pillow for your dreamy head. Things you must give as gifts range from the perplexing knitted bowl with a porcelain center to the mind-blowingly obvious bottle opener that says “open.” Well, how else are you going to pop the lid of that milk of paradise at the next housewarming party?

1845 Market, SF. (415) 863-3969, www.raredevice.net

BEST “SECRET” GARDEN

In Frances Hodgson Burnett’s The Secret Garden, it is the magic of nature, experienced privately, that transforms Mary and Colin into blossoming children. Though Vines Café is not officially a secret, the quaint coffee house and gallery’s proximity to the typically quiet Thomson’s Nursery next door seems to have a similar effect on patrons. Sitting on the patio of the converted Victorian, one might find time standing still: hummingbirds hover midair to drink nectar from red-flowered pineapple sage while bees and butterflies flit from the lavender to the lemon geraniums to the foxglove plants below. ‘Tis a place that seems built for writing in a diary, reading a fanciful novel, or sketching a whimsical landscape. And if contemplation isn’t your thing, you can occupy yourself by browsing Vine’s antique jewelry gallery upstairs or choosing which petunias you’ll take home with you. Just don’t tell Mr. Craven where you got ’em.

1113 Lincoln, Alameda. (510) 522-8489

BEST BOOKSTORE FOR ASPIRING ACTIVISTS


Babylon Falling: Best Bookstore for Aspiring Activists
GUARDIAN PHOTO BY SAMANTHA BERG

Mark Twain said, “The man who does not read good books has no advantage over the man who cannot read,” which means that if you ever want to actually learn anything from books, you’re gonna have to get some decent lit. But you don’t need to waste your time surfing on Amazon or searching through library stacks (gasp!) — the rebel academics at Babylon Falling have already done all the work for you. If you really want to learn how to be as subversive as Che Guevara or Chuck D, pop into Babylon and check out its selection of revolutionary literature, graphic novels, art, and music. Babylon also carries a huge assortment of toys, artwork, clothing, and DVDs to complement its collection of more than 3,000 book titles. Plus, it hosts readings, art shows, and signings by literate revolutionaries from the Bay Area and beyond. Babylon will never fall if its citizens learn to read good. You can quote us on that.

1017 Bush, SF. (415) 345-1017, www.babylonfalling.com

BEST DIRT CHEAP DESIGNER DUDS

Jeremy’s is what all fashion discounters should aspire to be — fluorescent lights, foul dressing rooms, and lack of mirrors be damned. Brick-lined, filled with well-weathered wood and retro fixtures, built like an aging beauty of a department store, and chock-full of full-tilt high fashion and fun bargains, Jeremy’s is catnip to the clothes fiend who has all the desires of an haute couture client but few of the funds. It’s all here, kids: Prada, Dolce & Gabbana, Missoni, McQueen, Chanel, Marc Jacobs, Marc Jacobs, Marc Jacobs — all well-edited and last season or older. You wouldn’t guess it, of course. The men’s collections are similarly high style, though often much more pecked over. Pity the poor manly fashionisto in search of a deal elsewhere — you’ll find them here. Also worth perusing are the always delightful collections of unique shoes and boots, junior lines (often culled from Anthropologie and its ultracute, vintage-inspired brand), and accessories, jewelry, bags, and housewares. Items come and go, but, man, do they speed out of the store when Jeremy’s all-store sales are in full effect.

2 South Park, SF. (415) 882-4929; 2967 College, Berk. (510) 849-0701, ww.jeremys.com

BEST DANDY NANCIES

Toss the tacky Axe body spray, lose that horrid Aveda sheen, forget dropping oodles of dough on some designer-brand swill that looks better in its fancy bottle then on your handsome man-skin — Nancy Boy products are the real deal when it comes to male image enhancement. Manufactured locally and distributed from a lovely shop in Hayes Valley that also functions as a gallery of rare and covetable glassware, the all-natural line for men features several enormously popular products for local luxury lovers, including an inimitable signature replenishing shave cream infused with natural steam-distilled extract of fresh cucumbers (“not some ‘idea of cucumber’ concocted in some chemistry lab,” the makers assure us), a wildly fab lavender laundry detergent, and myriad other beauty products — not just for metrosexuals and A-gays! They work on scruffy hipsters and women too! — that we never thought we’d come to depend on so much. An extra treat: co-founder Eric Roos’ occasional hilarious, politically satirical newsletter that keeps us in stitches. Who knew beauty could be so spot-on?

347 Hayes, SF. (415) 552-3802, www.nancyboy.com

BEST BOUTIQUE FOR HEP CATS (AND DOGS)

Jeannine Giordan believes that pet stores are places humans should want to shop in, and that pet food should be made of ingredients animals actually want to eat. So radical! So revolutionary! And, in the case of Giordan’s brand new pet boutique Hazel and Gertie’s, so cute! Housed on the bottom floor of a Victorian on 22nd Street, the shop is clean, airy, and punctuated by tastefully, carefully collected displays of products for four-legged friends, from beds for your beagle to collars for your chartreux. Most impressive, though, is the selection of pet foods, including healthy, organic items by California Natural, Innova, Newman’s Own, and Wysong and raw food by San Francisco–based smallbatch. But Hazel and Gertie’s — named for Giordan’s dogs — is more than just a store. It’s also the outpost for Giordan’s dog-walking business, Gooddog, as well as a self-serve washing station (tub, water, towel, apron, and all-natural soap provided for $15). Giordan even gives referrals for other pet-related services.

3385 22nd St., SF. (415) 401-9663, www.hazelandgerties.com

BEST CUSTOM BOOKBINDERY

You refuse to get your wedding dress off the rack, so why buy your guestbook at Target? Especially when Kozo Arts can make you a custom book as special as your ceremony? This small bindery in Cow Hollow specializes in Japanese-style journals, invitations, scrapbooks, photo albums, and guest books, all handmade by one of Kozo’s five artisans. You choose from a wall of gorgeous screen-printed Chiyogami papers, pick a matching imported silk binding fabric, and order the size and page count you want — and you soon have a one-of-a-kind volume for documenting your once-in-a-lifetime event. The small, charming shop on Union Street also has a selection of premade books in its most popular styles, including journals decorated with pink and white flowers and bunnies, a basic red cherry blossom print, and various colored backgrounds embossed with Japanese parasols that are great as gifts. And don’t miss the scrap bin, full of beautiful leftover papers and fabrics perfect for DIY projects.

1969A Union, SF. (415) 351-2114, www.kozoarts.com

BEST GARDEN OF FASHION


Porto: Best Garden of Fashion
GUARDIAN PHOTO BY SAMANTHA BERG

We can’t decide which we like better: the imported Italian fashions Porto sells or the building it houses them in. It’s undeniable that the clothes for women are chic, distinctive, and well made. We love the asymmetrical details on Sathia tees and dresses, the fun and flirty sportswear by Deha, the innovative skirts and tops from MC Planet, and the unique detailing on everything by Vasalli. But we especially love how the shop is tucked away from the bustle of Union Street down a long corridor, and how natural light floods the airy, two-story building. Add the adjacent rooftop garden, where Porto’s friendly, helpful owner might let you sip bubbly between purchases, and you might forget about the clothes altogether. That is, until you check out the fabulous sale racks. One visit here and you’ll never need Urban Outfitters again.

1770 Union, SF. (415) 440-5040, www.portoboutique.com

BEST MODERN MOROCCAN STYLE

If you like the bold colors, interesting shapes, and exotic romance of Moroccan design, but don’t want your home to look like a college dorm or a swingers’ lounge, you’ll love Tazi. This Hayes Valley showroom is stocked full of Moroccan furniture, textiles, clothing, and accessories — all with a sleek, modern edge. Think mosaic patio tables, bright sofas, metalsmithed lanterns, leather poufs (ottomans), and antiqued doors — most handmade, and all of unmatched quality. Though the Linden Street studio specializes in working with retailers, bars, and restaurants, the staff will also happily help individuals supplement their wardrobe with a gorgeous leather purse, or solve complicated spatial issues with mix-and-match furniture pieces. Plus, Blue Bottle’s just down the street. You can’t get that in Morocco.

333 Linden, SF. (415) 503-0013, www.tazidesigns.com

BEST BIKE CLOTHES FOR BABES

When Sheila Moon started racing bicycles in 1993, very few companies made cycling clothes designed to fit women. “I started asking friends in bike shops if women’s clothing would be a good idea, and they all looked at me like I was crazy,” she said. Moon went for it anyway. Now, after six years in business, she’s distributed in 32 states, plus Canada, and her extensive line includes caps, jerseys, shorts, and knickers for women and men, with separate styles for professional cyclists and regular ol’ riders. She’s moved her SoMa design studio to a live/work loft in Oakland, but everything is still stitched and shipped from San Francisco. Locals can find styles like her women’s riding britches on her Web site and at shops like Sports Basement, City Cycle, and Mojo Bike Café. And daily commuters should keep an eye out: Moon’s got even more bike-to-boardroom threads in her fall line. (Hint: skirts!)

www.sheilamoon.com

Nightlife and Entertainment

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BEST REP FILM HOUSE

Red Vic

From rock docs to cult classics, this Upper Haight co-op’s schedule has kept its cozy couches filled with popcorn-munching film buffs since 1980.

1727 Haight, SF. (415) 668-3994, www.redvicmoviehouse.com

Runners up: Castro, Roxie

BEST MOVIE THEATER

Balboa Theater

Packing the house with film festivals, second-run faves, indie darlings, and carefully chosen new releases, this Richmond gem offers old-school charm with a cozy neighborhood vibe.

3630 Balboa, SF. (415) 221-8184, www.balboamovies.com

Runners up: Castro, Kabuki Sundance

BEST THEATER COMPANY

Un-Scripted Theater Company

The Un-Scripted improv troupe elevates comedy from one-liners and shtick to full-fledged theatrical productions with a talented cast and eccentric sensibilities.

533 Sutter, SF. (415) 869-5384, www.un-scripted.com

Runners up: ACT, Shotgun Players

BEST DANCE COMPANY

Hot Pink Feathers

Blurring the line between cabaret and Carnaval, this burlesque troupe drips with samba flavor (and feathers, of course).

www.hotpinkfeathers.com

Runners up: DholRhythms, Fou Fou Ha!

BEST ART GALLERY

Creativity Explored

The cherished nonprofit provides a safe haven for artists of all ages, abilities, and skill levels while making sure that great works remain accessible to art lovers without trust funds.

3245 16th St., SF. (415) 863-2108, www.creativityexplored.org

Runners up: 111 Minna, Hang

BEST MUSEUM

De Young

Golden Gate Park’s copper jewel boasts stunning architecture, one hell of a permanent collection, and an impressive schedule of rotating exhibitions.

50 Hagiwara Tea Garden Drive, SF. (415) 750-3600, www.famsf.org/deyoung

Runners up: Asian Art Museum, SF MOMA

BEST MIXED-USE ARTS SPACE

CellSPACE

From aerial circus arts to metalsmithing, fire dancing to roller-skating parties, CellSPACE has had its fingers all over San Francisco’s alternative art scene.

2050 Bryant, SF. (415) 648-7562, www.cellspace.org

Runners up: SomArts, 111 Minna

BEST DANCE CLUB

DNA Lounge

DNA scratches just about every strange dance floor itch imaginable — from ’80s new wave and glam-goth to transvestite mashups and humongous lesbian dance parties.

375 11th St., SF. (415) 626-1409, www.dnalounge.com

Runners up: Temple, 1015 Folsom

BEST ROCK CLUB

Bottom of the Hill

San Francisco’s quintessential “I saw ’em here first” dive, Bottom of the Hill consistently delivers stellar booking, cheap drinks, and great sound.

1233 17th St., SF. (415) 621-4455, www.bottomofthehill.com

Runners up: Slim’s, The Independent

BEST HIP-HOP CLUB

Club Six

Six blurs the line between high and low, offering an upstairs lounge in which to see and be seen and a basement dance floor for those who want to show off their b-boy prowess.

60 Sixth St., SF. (415) 531-6593, www.clubsix1.com

Runners up: Poleng, Milk

BEST JAZZ CLUB

Yoshi’s

Nothing says “Bay Area” quite like Yoshi’s masterful combo of classic cocktails, inventive maki rolls, and world-class jazz acts.

510 Embarcadero West, Jack London Square, Oakl. (510) 238-9200; 1330 Fillmore, SF. (415) 655-5600; www.yoshis.com

Runners up: Jazz at Pearl’s, Biscuits and Blues

BEST SALSA CLUB

Cafe Cocomo

Smartly dressed regulars, smoking-hot entertainment, and plenty of classes keep the Cocomo’s floor packed with sweaty salsa enthusiasts year-round.

650 Indiana, SF. (415) 824-6910, www.cafecocomo.com

Runners up: El Rio, Roccapulco

BEST PUNK CLUB

Annie’s Social Club

The club maintains its cred by presciently booking on-the-rise punk and hardcore bands and adding a sprinkle of punk rock karaoke, photo-booth antics, and ’80s dance parties.

917 Folsom, SF. (415) 974-1585, www.anniessocialclub.com

Runners up: Thee Parkside, 924 Gilman

BEST AFTER-HOURS CLUB

Endup

Where the drunken masses head after last call, the aptly named Endup is probably the only club left where you can rub up against a fishnetted transvestite until the sun comes up. And after.

401 Sixth St., SF. (415) 646-0999, www.theendup.com

Runners up: Mighty, DNA Lounge

BEST HAPPY HOUR

El Rio

“Cash is queen” at this Mission haunt, but you won’t need much of it. El Rio’s infamous happy hour — which lasts five hours and begins at 4 p.m. — consists of dirt cheap drinks and yummy freebies.

3158 Mission, SF. (415) 282-3325, www.elriosf.com

Runners up: Midnight Sun, Olive

BEST DIVE BAR

500 Club

A mean manhattan might not be the hallmark of a typical dive, but just add in ridiculously low prices, well-worn booths, and legions of scruffy hipsters.

500 Guerrero, SF. (415) 861-2500

Runners up: Broken Record, Phone Booth

BEST SWANKY BAR

Bourbon and Branch

Mirrored tables, exclusive entry, fancy specialty cocktails, and a well-appointed library root this speakeasy firmly in “upscale” territory.

501 Jones, SF. (415) 346-1735, www.bourbonandbranch.com

Runners up: Red Room, Bubble Lounge

BEST TRIVIA NIGHT

Brain Farts at the Lookout

“Are you smarter than a drag queen?” Brain Fart hostesses BeBe Sweetbriar and Pollo del Mar ask every Wednesday at 7:30 p.m. at this gay hot spot. Maybe.

3600 16th St., SF. (415) 431-0306

Runners up: Castle Quiz (Edinburgh Castle), Trivia Night (Board Room)

BEST JUKEBOX

Lucky 13

Bargain drinks, a popcorn machine, and Thin Lizzy, Hank 3, Motörhead, and Iggy on heavy rotation: Lucky 13 never disappoints.

2140 Market, SF. (415) 487-1313

Runners up: Phone Booth, Lexington Club

BEST KARAOKE BAR

The Mint

It may be nigh impossible to get mic time at this mid-Market mainstay, but once you do, there are hordes of adoring (read: delightfully catty) patrons to applaud you.

942 Market, SF. (415) 626-4726, www.themint.net

Runners up: Encore, Annie’s Social Club

BEST CLUB FOR QUEER MEN

Bearracuda at Deco

Bears at the free buffet, bears on the massage table — bears, bears everywhere, but mostly on the dance floor at this big gay biweekly hair affair in the Tenderloin.

510 Larkin, SF. (415) 346-2025, www.bearracuda.com

Runners up: The Cinch, The Stud

BEST CLUB FOR QUEER WOMEN

Lexington Club

With a pool table, a rotating gallery of kick-ass art, and regular rock DJ nights, this beer-and-shot Mission dive has been proving that dykes drink harder for more than a decade.

3464 19th St., SF. (415) 863-2052, www.lexingtonclub.com

Runners up: Cockblock, Wild Side West

BEST CLUB FOR TRANNIES

Trannyshack

Say hello, wave good-bye: Heklina’s legendary trash drag mecca hangs up its bloody boa in August, but it’s still the best bang for your tranny buck right now.

Stud, 399 Ninth St., SF. (415) 252-7883, www.trannyshack.com

Runners up: AsiaSF, Diva’s

BEST SINGER-SONGWRITER

Curt Yagi

Multi-instrumentalist Curt Yagi has been making the rounds at local venues, strumming with the swagger of Lenny Kravitz and the lyrical prowess of Jack Johnson.

www.curtyagi.com

Runners up: Jill Tracy, Kitten on the Keys

BEST METAL BAND

A Band Called Pain

If you didn’t get the hint from their name, the Oakland-based A Band Called Pain bring it hard and heavy and have lent their distinct brooding metal sound to the Saw II soundtrack and Austin’s SXSW.

www.abandcalledpain.com

Runners up: Thumper, Death Angel

BEST ELECTRONIC MUSIC ACT

Lazer Sword

Rooted in hip-hop but pulling influences from every genre under the sun, the laptop composers seamlessly meld grime and glitch sensibilities with ever-pervasive bass.

www.myspace.com/lazersword

Runners up: Kush Arora, Gooferman

BEST HIP-HOP ACT

Beeda Weeda

Murder Dubs producer and rapper Beeda Weeda may make stuntin’ look easy, but he makes it sound even better: case in point, his upcoming album Da Thizzness.

www.myspace.com/beedaweeda

Runners up: Deep Dickollective, Zion I

BEST INDIE BAND

Ex-Boyfriends

San Francisco outfit and Absolutely Kosher artists the Ex-Boyfriends dole out catchy power pop with a shiny Brit veneer and a dab of emo for good measure.

www.myspace.com/exboyfriends

Runners up: Gooferman, Making Dinner

BEST COVER BAND

ZooStation

A mainstay at festivals, parties, and Slim’s cover-band nights, ZooStation storm through the U2 catalog (they take on more than 140 of the band’s tunes).

www.zoostation-online.com

Runners up: AC/DShe, Interchords

BEST BAND NAME

The Fucking Ocean

Fuck Buttons, Holy Fuck, Fucked Up, Fuck, indeed: the time is ripe for band names that can’t be uttered on the airwaves, and the Fucking Ocean leads the pack. George Carlin would be so proud.

www.myspace.com/thefuckingocean

Runners up: Stung, Gooferman

BEST DJ

Smoove

Ian Chang, aka DJ Smoove, keeps late hours at the Endup, DNA Lounge, 111 Minna, Mighty, and underground parties all over, pumping out power-funk breaks.

www.myspace.com/smoovethedirtypunk

Runners up: Jimmy Love, Maneesh the Twister

BEST PARTY PRODUCERS

Adrian and the Mysterious D, Bootie

Five years in, the Bay’s groundbreaking original mashup party, Bootie, has expanded coast-to-coast and to three continents. This duo displays the power of tight promotion and superb party skills.

DNA Lounge, 375 11th St., SF. (415) 626-1409, www.bootiesf.com

Runners up: NonStop Bhangra crew, Mike Gaines (Bohemian Carnival)

BEST BURLESQUE ACT

Twilight Vixen Revue

Finally, someone thinks to combine pirates, wenches, classic burlesque, and foxy lesbians. This all-queer burlesque troupe has been waving its fans (and fannies) since 2003.

www.twilightvixen.com

Runners up: Sparkly Devil, Hot Pink Feathers

BEST DRAG ACT

Katya Ludmilla Smirnoff-Skyy

Gorgeous costumes, a glamorous backstory, and a jam-packed social calendar are reasons enough to catch this opera diva, but it’s her flawless mezzo that keeps fans hurling roses.

www.russianoperadiva.com

Runners up: Charlie Horse, Cookie Dough

BEST COMEDIAN

Marga Gomez

One of America’s first openly gay comics, San Francisco’s Marga Gomez is a Latina firebrand who’s equally at home performing at Yankee Stadium or Theatre Rhinoceros.

www.margagomez.com

Runners up: Robert Strong, Paco Romane

BEST CIRCUS TROUPE

Vau de Vire Society

Offering a full-on circus assault, the wildly talented and freakishly flexible troupe’s live show delivers plenty of fire performances, aerial stunts, and contortionism.

www.vaudeviresociety.com

Runners up: Teatro Zinzani, Pickle Family Circus

BEST OPEN MIC NIGHT

Hotel Utah

One of the city’s strongest breeding grounds for new musical talent, Hotel Utah’s open mic series opens the floor for all genres (and abilities).

500 Fourth St., SF. (415) 546-6300, www.hotelutah.com

Runners up: Queer Open Mic (3 Dollar Bill), Brain Wash

BEST CABARET/VARIETY SHOW


Hubba Hubba Review: Best Cabaret/Variety Show
PHOTO BY PATRICK MCCARTHY

Hubba Hubba Revue

Vaudeville comedy, tassled titties, and over-the-top burlesque teasing make the Hubba Hubba Revue the scene’s bawdiest purveyor of impropriety.

www.hubbahubbarevue.com

Runners up: Bohemian Carnival, Bijou (Martuni’s)

BEST LITERARY NIGHT

Writers with Drinks

This roving monthly literary night takes it on faith that writers like to drink. Sex workers, children’s book authors, and bar-stool prophets all mingle seamlessly, with social lubrication.

www.writerswithdrinks.com

Runners up: Porchlight Reading Series, Litquake

BEST CRUSHWORTHY BARTENDER

Laura at Hotel Utah

Whether you just bombed onstage at open mic night or are bellied up to the Hotel Utah bar to drink your sorrows away, the ever-so-crushworthy Laura is there with a heavy-handed pour and a smile. She’s even nice to tourists — imagine!

500 Fourth St., SF. (415) 546-6300, www.hotelutah.com

Runners up: Chupa at DNA Lounge, Vegas at Cha Cha Cha

Nightlife and Entertainment — Editors Picks

BEST CREEP-SHOW CHANTEUSE

There’s just something about the inimitable Jill Tracy that makes us swoon like a passel of naive gothic horror heroines in too-tight corsets. Is it her husky midnight lover’s croon, her deceptively delicate visage, her vintage sensibilities? Who else could have written the definitive elegy on the “fine art of poisoning,” composed a hauntingly lush live score for F.W. Murnau’s classic silent film Nosferatu, joined forces with that merry band of bloodthirsty malcontents, Thrillpeddlers, and still somehow remain a shining beacon of almost beatific grace? Part tough-as-nails film fatale, part funeral parlor pianist, Tracy manages to adopt many facades yet remain ever and only herself — a precarious and delicious balancing act. Her newest CD, The Bittersweet Constrain, glides the gamut from gloom to glamour, encapsulating her haunted highness at her beguiling best.

www.jilltracy.com

BEST CINEMATIC REFUGE FOR GERMANIACS

Can’t wait for the annual Berlin and Beyond film fest to get your Teuton on? The San Francisco Goethe-Institut screens a select handful of German-language films throughout the year at its Bush Street language-school location. For a $5 suggested donation, you can treat yourself to a klassische F.W. Murnau movie or something slightly more contemporary from Margarethe von Trotta. Flicks are subtitled, so there’s no need to brush up on verb conjugations ahead of time. And the Bush Street location is within respectable stumbling distance of many Tendernob bars, not to mention the Euro-chic Café de la Presse, should your cinematic adventure turn into an unexpected Liebesabenteuer. Unlike SF filmic events offering free popcorn, free-for-all heckling, or staged reenactments of the action, Goethe-Institut screenings need no gimmickry to attract their audiences — a respectable singularity perhaps alone worth the price of admission.

530 Bush, SF. (415) 263-8760, www.goethe.de

BEST UNFORCED BAY AREA BALKANIZATION

Despite all the countless reasons to give in to despair — the weight of the world, the headline news, those endless measured teaspoons — sometimes you just have to say fuck it and get your freak on. No party in town exemplifies this reckless surrender to the muse of moving on better than the frenetic, freewheeling proslava that is Kafana Balkan. No hideaway this for the too-cool-for-school, hands-slung-deep-in-pockets, head-bobber crowd. The brass-and-beer-fueled mayhem that generally ensues at Kafana Balkan, often held at 12 Galaxies, is a much more primitive and fundamental form of bacchanal. Clowns! Accordions! Brass bands! Romany rarities! Unfurled hankies! The unlikely combination of high-stepping grannies and high-spirited hipsters is joined together by the thread that truly binds: a raucous good time. Plus, all proceeds support the Bread and Cheese Circus’s attempts to bring succor and good cheer to orphans in Kosovo. Your attendance will help alleviate angst in more ways than one.

www.myspace.com/kafanabalkan

BEST GOREY BALL

There’s no doubt about it — we San Franciscans love to play dress-up. From the towering Beach Blanket Babylon–esque bonnets at the annual Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence Easter Sunday to the costumed free-for-all of All Hallows Eve, the more elaborate the excuse to throw on some gay apparel, the more elaborate the apparel. This makes the annual Edwardian Ball tailor-made for San Francisco’s tailored maids and madcap chaps. An eager homage to the off-kilter imaginings of Edward Gorey, whose oft-pseudonymous picture books delved into the exotic, the erotic, and the diabolic within prim and proper, vaguely British settings, the Edwardian Ball is a midwinter ode to woe. From the haunting disharmonies of Rosin Coven to the voluptuous vigor of the Vau de Vire Society’s reenactment of Gorey tales, the ball — which now encompasses an entire three-day weekend — is a veritable bastion of dark-hued revelry and unfettered fetish.

www.myspace.com/edwardianball

BEST PROGRESSIVE LOUD ‘N’ PROUD

We love Stephen Elliott. The fearless writer, merciless poker opponent, and unrepentant romantic’s well-documented fall from political innocence — recounted in Looking Forward to It (Picador, 2004) and Politically Inspired (MacAdam/Cage, 2003) — has kept him plunged into the fray ever since. Like most other ongoing literary salons, Elliott’s monthly Progressive Reading Series offers a thrilling showcase of local and luminary talent, highlighting up-and-comers along with seasoned pros — shaken, stirred, and poured over ice by the unflappable bar staff at host venue the Make-Out Room. All of the proceeds from the door benefit selected progressive causes — such as, most recently, fighting the good fight against California state proposition 98. Books, booze, and ballot boxing — a good deed never went down more smoothly or with such earnest verbiage and charm.

www.progressivereadingseries.org

BEST UNDERAGE SANDWICH

When it comes to opportunities to see live independent music, most Bay Area venues hang kids under 21 out to dry. Outside of 924 Gilman in Berkeley and the occasional all-ages show at Bottom of the Hill, the opportunities are painfully sparse. But thanks to members of Bay Area show promotion collective Club Sandwich, the underground music scene is becoming more accessible. Committed to hosting exclusively all-ages shows featuring under-the-radar local and national touring bands, Club Sandwich has booked more than a hundred of them since 2006, ranging from better-known groups like No Age, Marnie Stern, and Lightning Bolt to more obscure acts like South Seas Queen and Sexy Prison. Club Sandwich shows tend to cross traditional genre boundary lines (noise, punk, folk, etc.), bringing together different subcultures within the Bay Area’s underground music scene that don’t usually overlap. And the collective organizes shows at wildly diverse venues: from legitimate art spaces like ATA in San Francisco and Lobot in Oakland to warehouse spaces and swimming pools.

www.clubsandwichbayarea.com

BEST BEER PONG PALACE

Pabst Blue Ribbon, American Spirits, track bikes, tattoos, stretchy jeans, slip-ons, facial hair, Wayfarers. Blah, blah, blah. If you live in the Mission — and happen to be between 22 and 33 years old — you see it all, every night, at every bar in the hood. Boooring. If you’re sick of all the hipster shit, but not quite ready to abandon the scene entirely, take a baby step over to the Broken Record, a roomy dive bar in the Excelsior that serves gourmet game sausage, gives away free beer every Friday(!), rents out Scrabble boards, and isn’t afraid to drop the attitude and get down with a goofy night of beer pong or a bar-wide foosball match. The cheap swill, loud music, and street art will make you feel right at home, but the Broken Record’s decidedly Outer Mission vibe will give you a much-needed respite from the glam rockers, bike messengers, “artists,” and cokeheads you have to hang out with back in cool country.

1166 Geneva, SF. (415) 255-3100

BEST VOLUPTUOUS VISIBILITY

Every June, the Brava Theater quietly morphs into the center of the known universe for queer women of color. And what a delectable center it is. Over the course of three days, the Queer Women of Color Film Festival, produced by the Queer Women of Color Media Arts Project, screens more than 30 works by emerging filmmakers for a raucously supportive audience — an audience that happens to be cute as all hell. In fact, some would call the festival the cruising event of the year for queer women of color. Of course, the films are worth scoping too. Students of QWOCMAP’s no-cost Filmmaker Training Program create most of the festival’s incredible array of humorous and sensitive films, which explore topics such as romance and family ties. For festivalgoers, this heady mixture of authentic representation, massive visibility, and community pride (all screenings are copresented with social justice groups) is breathtakingly potent. It’s no wonder a few love connections are made each fest. Want just a little more icing on that cake? All screenings are free.

(415) 752-0868, www.qwocmap.org

BEST DANCE-FLOOR FLICKS FIX

The San Francisco Film Society is best known for putting on America’s oldest film fest, the San Francisco Film Festival. But the organization also hosts a TV show, publishes an amazingly vibrant online magazine, and throws a slew of events throughout the year under its SF360 umbrella, a collection of organizations dedicated to covering film in San Francisco from all angles. There’s SF360 movie nights held in homes across the city, Live at the Apple Store film discussions, and special screenings of hard-to-see films held at theaters throughout the Bay Area. But our favorite SF360 shindig is its monthly SF360 Film+Club Night at Mezzanine, which screens underground films to a room of intoxicated cinephiles who are encouraged to hoot, holler, and at times — like during the annual R. Kelly Trapped in tha Closet Singalong — flex their vocal cords. Past Film+Club screenings have included a B-movie skate-film retrospective, prescreenings of Dave Eggers’s Wholphin compilations, and an Icelandic music documentary night, at which, we’ll admit, we dressed up like Björk.

www.sf360.org

BEST HORIZONTAL MAMBO ON HIGH


Project Bandaloop: Best Horizontal Mambo on High
PHOTO BY TODD LABY

Normally when one mentions doing the horizontal mambo, nudges and winks ensue. But when Project Bandaloop gets together to actually do it, the group isn’t getting freaky, it’s getting wildly artistic — hundreds of feet up in the air. The aerial dance company creates an exhilarating blend of kinetics, sport, and environmental awareness, hanging from bungee cords perpendicular to tall building walls. The troupe is composed of climbers and dancers, who rappel, jump, pas de deux, and generally do incredibly graceful things while hoisted hundreds of feet up in the air. Founded in 1991 and currently under the artistic direction of Amelia Rudolph, Project Bandaloop’s company of dancer-athletes explores the cultural possibilities of simulated weightlessness, drawing on a complete circumferential vocabulary of movement to craft site-specific dances, including pieces for Seattle’s Space Needle and Yosemite’s El Capitan. (Once it even performed for the sheikh of Oman.) Now, if there were only a way to watch the rapturous results without getting a stiff neck.

(415) 421-5667, www.projectbandaloop.org

BEST YODELALCOHOL

From the sidewalk, Bacchus Kirk looks like so many other dimly lit San Francisco bars. Yet to walk inside is to step into a little bit of Lake Tahoe or the Haute-Savoie on the unlikely slopes of lower Nob Hill. With its raftered A-frame ceiling, warm wood-paneled walls, and inviting fireplace, the alpine Bacchus Kirk only needs a pack of bellowing snowboarders to pass as a ski lodge — albeit one that provides chocolate martinis, raspberry drops, and mellow mango cocktails rather than hot cocoa, vertiginous funicular rides, and views of alpenhorn-wielding shepherds. This San Francisco simulation of the après-ski scene is populated by a friendly, low-key crowd of art students, Euro hostelers, and diverse locals — no frosty snow bunnies here — drawn by the congenial atmosphere, the pool table, and that current nightlife rarity, a smoking room. Tasty drinks and lofty conversation flow freely: if you leave feeling light-headed, you won’t be able to blame it on the altitude.

925 Bush, SF. (415) 474-4056, www.bacchuskirk.org

BEST COCKTAILS WITH CANINES

Plenty of bars around town call themselves pooch-friendly — as if a pampered shih tzu housed in a Paris Hilton wannabe’s purse, its exquisitely painted paw-nails barely deigning to rest atop the bar, represents the be-all and end-all of canine cocktail companionship. The Homestead, however, goes the extra mile to make four-legged patrons of all shapes and sizes at home with its “open dog” policy. Permanently stationed below the piano is a water dish, and the bar is stocked with an ample supply of doggie treats. At slack times, the bartenders will even come out from behind the bar to dispense said treats directly to their panting customers. Talk about service! As for the bipeds, they will undoubtedly appreciate the Homestead’s well-worn 19th-century working-class-bar decor (complete with a potbellied stove!) and relaxed modern-day atmosphere. It’s the perfect spot to catch up with old friends — either furry or slightly slurry — and make a few new ones.

2301 Folsom, SF. (415) 282-4663

BEST VISA TO MARTINI VICTORY


Bartender Visa Victor: Best Visa to Martini Victory
PHOTO BY NEIL MOTTERAM

When überfancy personalized cocktails started popping up all over town, it was only a matter of time before we of the plebeian class started demanding our fair share. Looking to be poured something special, but can’t afford a drink at Absinthe? Want to sample a few stupendously constructed tipples in the Bourbon and Branch vein with limited ducats? Score: Visa Victor the bartender has what you want. Once a journeyman slinger, Visa has started filling regular shifts — typically Wednesdays and Sundays — at Argus Lounge on Mission Street. What he offers: his own DJ, a well-populated e-mail list of fans, and an array of unique ingredients including rare berries, savory herbs, and meat. Yes, meat — his recent bacon martini turned out to be not just an attempt to tap into the city’s growing “meat consciousness” but damn good to boot. And hey, we didn’t have to take out a phony second mortgage to down it.

BEST JAZZ JUKE

Pesky Internet jukeboxes are everywhere: any decent night out can be ruined by some freshly 21-year-old princess bumping her “birthday jam” incessantly. The old-school jukebox, on the other hand, has the oft-undervalued ability to maintain a mood, or at least ensure that you won’t be “bringing sexy back” 27 times in one evening. Aub Zam Zam in the Upper Haight maintains an exceptional jukebox chock-full of timeless blues, jazz, and R&B slices. Selections include Robert Johnson, Miles Davis, Louis Armstrong, Bessie Smith, Taj Mahal … the list of smooth crooners and delicate instrumentalists goes on and on. This is in perfect keeping with Aub Zam Zam’s rep as a mighty fine cocktail lounge, established in the 1940s. New owner Bob Clarke has made the place a lot more welcoming than it was in the days of notoriously tyrannical founder Bruno, who proudly boasted of 86ing 80 percent of the Zam Zam’s would-be customers. But Clarke’s kept at least one thing from Bruno’s days besides mouthwatering drinks: his favorite juke jams.

1633 Haight, SF. (415) 861-2545

BEST FUNNY UH-OH

It’s hard to tell if the entity known as Something with Genitals is a comedy act or a cultural experiment designed to monitor human behavior under unusual circumstances. Take, for example, the night one member of this duo, sometimes trio, of dudes made his way through the crowded Hemlock Tavern on cross-country skis. When he finally maneuvered himself onto the stage, the lights went out and the show was over. Sometimes no one gets onstage at all. Instead the audience gets treated to one of the group’s ingeniously simple short films, which are way better at summing up every one-night stand you’ve had than a regular joke with a punch line. Check out their video on MySpace of a guy who strikes up a conversation with a shrub on some Mission District street, invites it to a party, offers it a beer, asks it to dance, shares some personal secrets and heartfelt dreams, then proceeds to drunkenly fuck it, and you’ll wonder if they’ve been reading your diary. Funny uh-oh, not funny ha-ha.

www.myspace.com/somethingwithgenitals

BEST WEIRD EYE FOR WEIRD TIMES

Even if you’re not in the market for stock footage — the chief focus of Oddball Film + Video, which maintains an archive crammed with everything from World War II clips to glamour shots of TV dinners circa 1960 to images of vintage San Francisco street scenes — you can still take advantage of this incredible resource. Director and founder Stephen Parr loves film, and he loves the unusual; lucky for us, he also loves sharing his collection with the public. RSVPs are essential to attend screenings at the small space, which in recent months has hosted such programs as “Shock! Cinema,” a collection of hygiene and safety films (Narcotics: Pit of Despair) from bygone but no less hysterical eras, and “Strange Sinema,” featuring yet-to-be-cataloged finds from Oddball’s ever-growing library (a 1950s dude ranch promo, an extended trailer for 1972 porn classic Behind the Green Door). Other past highlights have included programs on sex, monkeys, India, and avant-gardists and nights with guest curators like Los Angeles “media ecologist” Gerry Fialka.

275 Capp, SF. (415) 558-8117, www.oddballfilm.com

BEST SWEET ISLE OF ROCK

It doesn’t get much sweeter, in terms of massive multistage music gatherings soaked with mucho cerveza and plenty of sunshine: looking out over the bay at our sparkling city from the top of a Ferris wheel as Spoon gets out the jittery indie rock on the main stage below. That was the scene at last year’s inaugural two-day Treasure Island Music Festival, a smooth-sailing dream of a musical event presented by the Noise Pop crew and Another Planet Entertainment. The locale was special — how often do music fans who don’t live or work on the isle ever get out to that human-made spot, a relic from the utopian era of “We can do it!” engineering and World’s Fairs. The shuttles were plentiful and zero emission. The food was reasonably priced, varied, and at times vegetarian. About 72 percent of the waste generated by the fest was diverted to recycling and composting. Most important, the music was stellar: primo critical picks all the way. This year’s gathering, featuring Justice, Hot Chip, and the Raconteurs, looks to do even better.

www.treasureislandfestival.com

BEST WHITE-HOT WALLS

Pristine walls couldn’t get much more white-hot than at Ratio 3 gallery. Chris Perez has a nose for talent — and an eye for cool — when it comes to programming the new space on Stevenson near SoMa. The curator has been on a particular roll of late with exhibitions by such varied artists as psychedelia-drenched video installationist Takeshi Murata, resurgent abstractionist Ruth Laskey, and utopian beautiful-people photog Ryan McGinley, while drawing attendees such as Mayor Gavin Newsom and sundry celebs to openings. Perez also has a worthy stable of gallery artists on hand, including local legend Barry McGee (whose works slip surprisingly well among recent abstract shows at the space), rough-and-ready sculptor Mitzi Pederson, op-art woodworker Ara Peterson, and hallucinatory dreamscape creator Jose Alvarez. Catch ’em while the ratio is in your favor.

1447 Stevenson, SF. (415) 821-3371, www.ratio3.org

BEST ON-SCREEN MIND WARP

When edgy director of programming Bruce Fletcher left the San Francisco Independent Film Festival (IndieFest), fans who’d relied on his horror and sci-fi picks were understandably a little worried. Fortunately, Fletcher’s Dead Channels: The San Francisco Festival of Fantastic Film proved there’s room enough in this town for multiple fests with an eye for sleazy, gory, gruesome, unsettling, and offbeat films, indie and otherwise. There’s more: this summer Dead Channels teamed up with Thrillpeddlers to host weekly screenings at the Grand Guignol theater company’s space, the Hypnodrome. “White Hot ‘N’ Warped Wednesdays” are exactly that — showcasing all manner of psychotronica, from Pakistani gore flick Hell’s Ground to culty grind house classics like She-Freak (1967). Come this October, will the Dead Channels fest be able to top its utterly warped Hump Day series? Fear not for the programming, dark-dwelling weirdos — fear only what’s on the screen.

www.deadchannels.com

BEST BACKROOM SHENANIGANS

Everyone knows when Adobe Books’ backroom art openings are in full swing: the bookstore is brightly lit and buzzing at an hour when most other literature peddlers are safely tucked in bed, the crowd is spilling onto the 16th Street sidewalk, and music might be wafting into the night. Deep within, in the microscopic backroom gallery, you might discover future art stars like Colter Jacobsen, Barbra Garber, and Matt Furie, as well as their works. Call the space and its soirees the last living relic of Mission District bohemia or dub it a San Francisco institution — just don’t try to clean it up or bring order to its stacks. Wanderers, seekers, artists, and musicians have found a home of sorts here, checking out art, bickering over the accuracy and comprehensiveness of the time line of Mission hipster connections that runs along the upper walls, sinking into the old chairs to hang, and maybe even picking up a book and paging through.

3166 16th St., SF. (415) 864-3936, adobebooksbackroomgallery.blogspot.com

BEST HELLO MUMBAI


DJ Cheb i Sabbah at Bollyhood Café: Best Hello Mumbai
PHOTO BY NEIL MOTTERAM

India produces more movies than any other place on the planet, although you’d scarcely know it from the few that make it stateside. But the American Bollywood cult is growing, and Indian pop culture is dancing its eye-popping way into San Francisco’s heart with invigorating bhangra club nights and piquant variations on traditional cuisine. Bollywood-themed Bollyhood Café, a colorful dance lounge, restaurant, and bar on 19th Street, serves beloved Indian street food–style favorites, with tweaked names like Something to Chaat About, Bhel “Hood” Puri, and Daal-Icious. The joint also delights fans of the subcontinent with nonstop Bollywood screenings and parties featuring DJs Cheb i Sabbah and Jimmy Love of NonStop Bhangra. The crowd’s cute, too: knock back a few mango changos or a lychee martini and prepare to kick up your heels with some of the warmest daals and smoothest lassis (har, har) this side of Mumbai.

3372 19th St., SF. (415) 970-0362, www.bollyhoodcafe.com

BEST POP ‘N’ CHILL


Sheila Marie Ang at Bubble Lounge: Best Pop ‘N’ Chill
PHOTO BY NEIL MOTTERAM

When people get older and perhaps wiser, they begin to feel out of place in hipstery dive bars and tend to lose the desire to rage all night in sweaty dance clubs. But that doesn’t mean they don’t want to party; it just means they’d rather do it in a more sophisticated setting. Thank goddess, then, for Bubble Lounge, the Financial District’s premier purveyor of sparkling social lubricant. For a decade, this superswanky champagne parlor has dazzled with its 10 candlelit salons, each decked out with satin couches, overstuffed chairs, and mahogany tables. BL specializes in tasters, flights, and full-size flutes of light and full-bodied sparkling wines and champagnes. But if poppin’ bub ain’t your style, you can always go the martini route and order a specialty cocktail like the Rasmatini or the French tickler — whatever it takes to make you forget about the office and just chill.

714 Montgomery, SF. (415) 434-4204, www.bubblelounge.com

BEST REGGAE ON BOTH SIDES

Reggae may not be the hippest or newest music in town, but there are few other genres that can inspire revolutionary political thought, erase color lines, and make you shake your ass all at the same time. Grind away your daily worries and appreciate the unity of humanity all night long on both sides of the bay — second Saturdays of the month at the Endup and fourth Saturdays at Oakland’s Karibbean City — at Reggae Gold, the Bay Area’s smoothest-packed party for irie folk and dance machines. Resident DJs Polo Moquuz, Daddy Rolo, and Mendoja spin riddim, dancehall, soca, and hip-hop mashup faves as a unified nation of dub heads rocks steady on the dance floor. Special dress-up nights include Flag Party, Army Fatigue Night, and the Black Ball, but otherwise Reggae Gold keeps things on the classy side with a strict dress policy: no sneakers, no baseball caps, no sports attire, and for Jah’s sake, no white T-shirts. This isn’t the Dirty South, you know.

www.reggaegoldsf.com

BEST MEGACLUB REINCARNATION

Its a wonder no one thought of it before. Why not combine green business practices with a keen sense of after-hours dance floor mayhem, inject the whole enchilada with shots of mystical spirituality (giant antique Buddha statues, a holistic healing center) and social justice activism (political speaker engagements, issue awareness campaigns), attach a yummy Thai restaurant, serve some fancy drinks, and call it a groundbreaking megaclub? That’s a serviceably bare-bones description of Temple in SoMa, but this multilevel, generously laid out mecca for dance music lovers is so much more. Cynical clubgoers like ourselves, burnt out on the steroidal ultralounge excesses of the Internet boom, cast a wary eye when it was announced that Temple would set up shop in defunct-but-still-beloved club DV8’s old space, and feared a mainstream supastar DJ onslaught to cover the costs. Temple brings in the big names, all right, but it also shows much love for the local scene, giving faves like DJ David Harness and the Compression crew room to do their thing. The sound is impeccable, the staff exceedingly friendly, and even if we have to wade politely but firmly through some bridge and tunnel crowd to get to the dance floor, we can use the extra karma points.

540 Howard, SF. www.templesf.com

BEST BANGERS AND FLASH


Blow Up: Best Bangers and Flash
PHOTO BY MELEKSAH DAVID

Disco, house, techno, rave, hip-hop, electroclash … all well and good for us old-timers who like to stash our pimped-out aluminum walkers in the coat check and “get wild” on the dance floor. But what about the youth? With what new genre are they to leave their neon mark upon nightlife? Which party style will mark their generation for endless send-ups and retro nights 30 years hence? The banger scene, of course, fronting a hardcore electro sound tinged with sweet silvery linings and stuttery vocals that’s captured the earbuds and bass bins of a new crop of clubbers. Nowhere are the bangers hotter (or younger) than at the sort-of weekly 18-and-over party Blow Up at the Rickshaw Stop, now entering its third year of booming rapaciousness. Blow Up, with resident DJs Jeffrey Paradise and Richie Panic and a mindblowing slew of globe-trotting guests, doesn’t just stop with killer tunes — almost all of its fabulously sweat-drenched, half-dressed attendees seem to come equipped with a digital camera and a camera-ready look, as befits the ever-online youth of today. Yet Blow Up somehow leaves hipper-than-thou attitude behind. Hangovers, however, often lie ahead.

www.myspace.com/blow_up_415

BEST SCRIBBLER SMACKDOWN

It may not be the Saudi tradition of dueling poets, in which two men swap lines until one can’t think of any more couplets (and is severely punished), but the Literary Death Match series, put on by Opium magazine, is San Francisco’s excellent equivalent, though perhaps less civilized. Try to remember the last poetry reading you attended. Tweedy professors and be-sweatered Mary Oliver acolytes, right? Literary Death Match is not this mind-numbing affair. It’s competitive. It’s freaking edge-of-your-seat. And everyone’s drunk. Readers from four featured publications, either online or in print, do their thing for less than 10 minutes, and guest “celebrity” judges rip participants apart based on three categories: literary merit, performance, and “intangibles” (everything in between). Two finalists duke it out to the literary death until one hero is left standing, unless she or he’s been hitting up the bar between sets. Who needs reality television when we’ve got San Francisco’s version — one in which literary aspirations breed public humiliation, with the possibility of geeky bragging rights afterward?

Various locations. www.literarydeathmatch.com

BEST MISTRESS OF MOTOWN

Drag queens — is there nothing they can’t make a little brighter with their glittering presence? Squeeze a piece of coal hard enough between a perma-smiley tranny’s clenched cheeks and out pops cubic zirconium, dripping with sparkling bon mots. Yet not all gender illusionists go straight for ditzy comic gold or its silver-tongued twin, cattiness. Some “perform.” Others perform. And here we must pause to tip our feathery fedora to she who reps the platinum standard of awe-inspiring cross-dressing performance: Miss Juanita More. No mere Streisand-syncher, class-act Juanita dusts off overlooked musical nuggets of the past and gives them their shiny due. Despite punk-rock tribute trends and goth night explosions, Juanita’s focus stays primarily, perfectly, on that sublime subcultural slice of sonic history known formerly as “race music” and currently as R&B. Her dazzling production numbers utilize large casts of extras, several acts, and impeccable costumery that pays tribute to everything from Scott Joplin’s ragtime to Motown’s spangled sizzle, dirty underground ’70s funk to Patti LaBelle’s roof-raising histrionics. When she’s on spliff-passing point, as she so often is, her numbers open up a pulse-pounding window into other, more bootyful, worlds.

www.juanitamore.com

BEST AMBASSADORS OF DREAD BASS

That cracked and funky dubstep sound surged through Clubland’s speakers last year, an irresistible combination of breakbeats energy, dub wooziness, sly grime, intel glitch, and ragga relaxation. Many parties took the sound into uncharted waters, infusing it with hip-hop hooks, Bollywood extravaganza, roots rock swing, or “world music” folksiness. But only one included all those variations simultaneously, while pumping local and international live acts, fierce visuals, multimedia blowouts, and an ever-smiling crowd of rainbow-flavored fans: Surya Dub, a monthly lowdown hoedown at Club Six. The Surya crew, including perennial Bay favorites DJ Maneesh the Twister and Jimmy Love, and wondrous up-and-comers like Kush Arora, Kid Kameleon, DJ Amar, Ripley, and MC Daddy Frank on the mic, describes its ass-thumping sound as “dread bass,” which moves beyond wordy genre description into a cosmic territory the rumble in your eardrums can surely attest to. Surya Dub keeps it in the community, too, helping to promote a growing network of citywide dubstep events and spreading their dread bass gospel with parties in India.

www.suryadub.com

BEST HELLA GAY BEST OF THE BAY

Very few things in this world are gay enough to warrant the Nor Cal Barney modifier “hella,” but for tattooed karaoke-master Porkchop’s sort-of-monthly series at Thee Parkside, Porkchop Presents, the term seems an understatement. At least three times a season, the mysterious Porkchop gathers her posse of scruffy boozehounds and butt-rockin’ hipsters to the best little dive bar in Potrero for a daylong celebration of the gayest shit on earth. Past events have included Hella Gay Karaoke, Hella Gay Jell-O Wrestling, a Hella Gay Beer Bust, and the all-encompassing nod to gaydom, Something Hella Gay, an ongoing event during which gay folks go drink-for-drink to see who’s the gayest of them all. Join Porkchop and her crew of lowbrow beer snobs at Thee Parkside for arm wrestling competitions, tattoo-offs, and hella gay sing-along battles. You probably won’t win anything because the competition is so stiff and the rules are so lax, but you can rest assured that the smell of stale cigarettes, cheap beer, and sweaty ass will stay in your clothes for at least a week after the show. And that’s all that really matters, isn’t it?

Las Trampas

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Rating: C

Want to go walking around nude at night outside without being hauled off to jail?  Imagine hiking naked guided only by your flashlight in the East Bay Hills, with the trail silhouetted by a full moon and small herds of horses coming up to greet you.

“It’s absolutely surreal,” says Jurek Zarzycki.  “The horses come within inches of you, so close you can feel their breath.  It’s like being on a moonscape with aliens.  You may be a little afraid at first, but the horses are very friendly.”

America’s only nude “Full Moon Hikes” have been taking place on summer full moon nights in Castro Valley for more than seven years.  The next ones will be held July 29, August 31 (arrive by 6 p.m.), and September 28 (starting at 5:15 p.m.) 

“We start early so that we have the full moon already risen by the time the sun sets,” says San Leandro’s Dave Smith, who leads most of the hikes.  “Then we hike up the trail around sunset.”

Coordinated by a partnership between The Sequoians Naturist Club and the Bay Area Naturists, based in San Jose, walkers leave the property of The Sequoians fully clothed at dusk and walk through meadows and up hills until the moon rises, before heading back down the slopes completely nude, with their clothes folded neatly into their backpacks.

Some people walk partially nude, especially near the top of the main ridge used by the hikers, where, says Zarzycki, “there can be very cold winds.”  Adds Smith: “We make about a 1,200 foot ascent up ridges and trails to the Las Trampas Ridge. “We usually pause long enough to drink some water and take in the views of the sun settling over the bay and even Mount Tamalpais, on the coast, plus the moon rising south of Mount Diablo.  Then we keep walking.  Soon, the coastal air just starts pouring over the hilltop.  And the wind begins howling.”  Once on the peak, almost everyone dons a windbreaker. 

“Whether you are clothed or not, participating in the Full Moon Hike is a big treat,” adds Zarzycki, who suggests hikers bring good hiking shoes, a flashlight (“Most of the time you won’t need it, because of the moonlight”), and bug spray.  “And don’t forget to have some baby carrots with you to give to the horses.”

“It’s truly wonderful,” says Smith. “We’re usually the only ones on the path.” 

Agrees Zarzycki: “It’s one of the best experiences I’ve ever had. The fields look absolutely shimmering on the way up.  And then when you’re coming back down, the path is lit only by the moon, so you’re walking in this silvery light.  You’re in nature, the moonlight is flooding everything, and then suddenly there’s this big horse silhouette coming out of nowhere. You feel like you’re in the middle of a beautiful dream.”

As for the horses, they’re real enough — in fact, they usually beg for snacks. 

The hike isn’t easy.  Some parts of the walk are “mountain-goatish,” tells Smith.   One time, the path was so slippery that hikers crawled along it on all fours, while grasping for bushes hidden by the darkening sky.  Everyone in the group fell down on their butts at least once in the most slippery spots, but they helped each other and continued down the ridge.

The route downhill usually takes the nighttime naturists past a field of wild sage, which smell great after dark.

After the walk, most hikers shower at the Sequoians Naturist Club, and, for a fee of $5, take a dip in the 86-degree pool there and enjoy a plunge in the facility’s hot tub.  “It was fabulous,” says Zarzycki about an earlier trek.  “I pitched my tent right there at the Sequoians and then slept under the sky.”

Legal status:  

Las Trampas Regional Wilderness, where nudity is prohibited.

How to find it:

Contact the Sequoians Naturist Club at http://www.sequoians.com or BAN at http://www.bayareanaturists.org or Dave Smith at dsfingers@sbcglobal.net for details on how to join a walk. Participants usually meet at and return to the Sequoians, in Castro Valley. “We usually meet about two hours before sunset at the Sequoians Recretation Hall for a quick pot luck,” says Smith. To get there, take Highway 580 east to the Crow Canyon Road exit. Or follow 580 west to the first Castro Valley offramp. Take Crow Canyon Road toward San Ramon .75 mile to Cull Canyon Road. Then follow Cull Canyon Road around 6.5 miles to the end of the paved road. Take the dirt road, on the right, until the “Y” in the road and keep left. Shortly thereafter, you’ll see the Sequoians sign. Proceed ahead for about another .75 mile to the Sequoians front gate.

The crowd:

Expect five to 20 participants.

Problems:

Must go as part of a guided group; pay fee for pool/hot tub; visibility limited so bring a flashlight; use of bug repellent advised; some of the trail is steep and slippery; walk only held two to four times a year.

Flashing lights

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Guardian illustration of DJ AM, Daft Punk, and Steve Aoki by Matt Furie and Aiyana Udesen

DECADE IN MUSIC Good lord. Who can remember all the strobe-lit twists and turns that Bay Area nightlife slid down in the past decade? Even if I wasn’t utterly and gloriously hung over from 10 years of being 86ed, it would still be a sweat-drenched, dry-iced, hypnotic blear. That’s a lovely thing. The ABC crackdown on underground parties in the late 1990s still held strong — and lively licensed spaces like Café Du Nord, Slim’s, Buckshot, and DNA Lounge as well as many music-oriented street fairs are still feeling the pressure of the War on Fun. But you can’t stop the party. And, baby, we lived through it.

One point about nightlife in general this decade: no one could ignore it. From hip-pop’s odiously capitalist-utopian "da club" to the tourist-trap explosion of global dance music festivals, club culture was on everyone’s radar. Today’s pop stars blithely name-check underground nightlife legends like Leigh Bowery and Larry Levan, and middle-school kids fill their notebooks with fantasy club outfits. Oh yeah, edgy nightlife has been completely commodified — thank you, Steve Aoki and DJ AM — but it’s a testament to its amazing versatility that going out is still enormously subversive fun, and the onslaught of bottle service and stretch-limo-packed music vids have had little impact on a vibrant independent scene. (In fact, the independent scene has gotten a ton of mileage out of parodying and reinterpreting mainstream club dreams.)

The last 10 years of the local club scene certainly gave me a lot to write and think — and drink — about. That was probably nightlife’s most distinctive feature: it finally came into its own as an art form, one that welcomed multiple interpretations while devilishly playing with our heads. The best party promoters in the Bay worked hard not only to present immersive subcultural experiences but also to contextualize their parties in terms of global movements. You couldn’t just fly in a supastar DJ and set the light show on random anymore. Clubgoers rejected that kind of dollar-driven cynicism. They wanted to know how a party would plug them into something different, something relevant, something uniquely of the moment, something beyond.

In short, they wanted personality. At times, this meant that concept trumped music — how many times did you find yourself spazzing on the dance floor to someone’s hodgepodge iPod playlist in 2005, just because that someone was ironically amazing? But it sure was fun for a while, giving dance culture a kick in the fancy-pants and throwing open the door to a glittering array of musical styles. And everybody looked fantastic. Irony freed us from previous expectations like beat-matching, genre hegemony, fashion anxiety, and bland slickness. (It also introduced a flood of unicorns and neon accessories.) Deconstruction at last! For good or ill, but mostly for good, anyone could be a DJ, throw a party, design a flyer, work a look. All you needed was a little space, a big idea, and a sense of adventure. A crowd helped, too, but only if you worried about something as mundane as paying the bills. Reality? Oh, really.

That mid-period chemical peel of irony neatly divided the decade. We cruised and shmoozed into the new millennium on the Boom-bubble back of a lazy lounge wave — the sunny house-lite sighs of Naked Music and Miguel Migs, the mushroom jazz of Mark Farina, OM’s smooth-beats Kaskade, and the friendly turntablism of Triple Threat popping the pink Champagne. That wave soon crested, churning up a foam of pink-slip parties, when discount daytime raves and increasingly baby-powdered coke binges took over. Luckily, happy hour took credit cards. Clubland reverted to a pre-Internet sensibility, with small spaces ruling and breakbeats all the rage again.

Alongside the breaks (a sound the Bay actually had a big hand in developing) the club music menu was still hogged by chunky techno, diva house, Burner trance, retro overload, and sing-along hip-hop. Post-punk, electro-funk, radical eclecticism, and global-eared sounds popped their heads up at times: Joy at Liquid, Milkshake at Sno-Drift, Club KY at Amnesia, Knees Up at Hush Hush, Popscene at 330 Ritch, Step at An Sibin, Fake at Cat Club, roving Bardot-a-Go-Go, and one-offs at 26Mix, Blind Tiger, Jezebel’s Joint, Pow!, Annie’s, Tongue and Groove, Storyville, and Justice League. Electroclash had its brief moment, too — anyone remember Electro Rodeo at Galaxy? — and reggaeton made a thrilling brief appearance. But in general the Bay was a little late in breaking free from the ’90s.

That sounds absolutely pukey, but it wasn’t. Some beautiful nights came out of this period — I’m half-remembering Said’s Afro-house Atmosfere, David Harness’s deep-souled Taboo, and anything at the Top, EndUp, or the Cellar. And living in the ’90s wasn’t so bad considering primo parties like Qoöl, Wicked, Stompy, Thump, Death Guild, and New Wave City maintained a presence. Also, if you were looking for "exotic" sounds, you could easily find them at some of the best ethno-audio spaces, like Bissap Baobab and Café Cocomo. But yes, those four-four beats got tiresome.

Then, around late-2004, came a return of the repressed, an explosion of Day-Glo styles that had been incubating in a clutch of neon-oriented, omnivorous-eared parties like Le Freak Plastique at Hush Hush and DJ Jefrodesiac’s Sex With Machines (later Frisco Disco) at Arrow. Soon San Francisco was in the midst of a small-venue, independent promoter golden age — and a rosy flush of youth. Finally, more than the same four people were throwing parties! And you were never sure of what you’d hear.

After a few debauched months of those rag-tag iPod-oriented shindigs, things sorted out into a handful of heady genres. Technology spookily inserted itself — almost every dance floor was bathed in the light of a little half-eaten apple. Serrato and Ableton software made live edits and mind-boggling mashups, like those heard at Bootie, possible, and timelines fell away to reveal gleaming ahistorical sonic landscapes. Beat-matching gradually came back into vogue, but wittily revealing the seams between tracks became the ne plus ultra of DJ craftsmanship.

The French invaded in the form of Daft Punk- and Justice-inspired electro bangers, spraying young clubbers with American Apparel and shutter shades. To my ears, Richie Panic and Vin Sol were our best balls-out interpreters of this fuck-all party sound and spirit, and Blow Up at Rickshaw Stop its finest venue. Minimal techno made sure hot nerds with little glasses were still in control — Kontrol at EndUp, in fact, was the club that did the most to nurture the Berlin-based sound here, with venue Anu and now the near-perfect 222 Hyde offering various party backup. Genius local minimal players like Nikola Baytala and Alland Byallo worked hard to stretch the boundaries, while Claude Von Stroke and the Dirty Bird Records crew added some much-needed humor.

There was a backlash to all the technology, which revolutionized gay clubs. DJ Bus Station John’s all-vinyl, unmixed bathhouse disco sets goosed the moribund queer scene into exploring its AIDS-shrouded past, and threw open the back door to the far-reaching sets of freestyle and rare ’80s fetishist Stanley Frank and the kiki-technotics of Honey Soundsystem.

London’s dubstep sound morphed into glitch-tipsy future bass — another genre the Bay can claim as its own — before it got a firm party foothold here. Which is more than all right, considering that mutation spawned beloved duo Lazer Sword and led Burner techno giant Bassnectar to change his sonic stripes. Most inspiring to me was the outpouring of global sounds in the Bay, from NonStop Bhangra’s whirling saris to Surya Dub’s growling dubstep-bhangra hybrid, from Tormenta Tropical’s bass-bomping nueva cumbia to Kafana Balkan’s breathless, Romani-delirious funk.

So where are we now? If any moment could be called "post-whatever," this is it. Anything goes, excellently, but it’s accompanied by a feeling that we’ve informed ourselves fully of the past, that we’ve mastered the technology of the present, and that, no matter how intelligent the music, we can still have a damn good time. My only gripe about the past decade in nightlife — other than I wished we’d had a more conscious reaction to war — is, alas, the same one as last decade. Where are all the women? Big ups to Ana Sia, Sarah Delush, Forest Green, J. Phlip, Felina, Dulcinea, Miz Margo, Nuxx, Black, and the Stay Gold, Redline, and B.A.S.S. sisterhoods. But seriously, I hope the teens see less testosterone-driven talent behind the decks. We’ve got the style down — now let’s change the look. OK?

Our weekly picks

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WEDNESDAY 16th

FILM

Free Form Film Series: "Awesome and Painful"


The folks from Lost Media Archive and the FFFF (Free Form Film Festival) have a Christmas treat for y’all: a screening of the "universally loathed" Star Wars Holiday Special. Before that, six dudes from various parts of the U.S. will treat viewers to experimental videos. With titles like Hulk Smash, Cakestain! and Polygon Sun, it’s likely — well, very likely (I did some interweb research) — that these videos are of the laffy taffy, low-tech, seizure-inducing variety. While this might suggest everything jejune and sarcastic, I would also qualify that suggest with smartly so. (Spencer Young)

8 p.m., $6

Artists’ Television Access

992 Valencia, SF

(415) 824-3890

www.atasite.org

THURSDAY 17th

FILM

Kenneth Anger: Restored Prints


Not one to dabble so much as drench himself in the occult, Kenneth Anger has been dubbed a weirdo. Committed to the underground, his short films are weird, too, but in an interesting and entertaining kind of way as opposed to creepy and cloying. Two of the Anger movies showing tonight — Scorpio Rising (1960) and Kustom Kar Kommandos (1964) — worship handsome James Dean-type men and their equally handsome machines through serene, phantasmagoric pans across shiny engines, belt buckles, and bulging biceps, all queerly contrasted with 1960s pop. The other two films on the program, Fireworks (1947) and Rabbit’s Moon (1950/1971) are equally hunky-dory. Also, the 82-year-old weirdo might be in attendance. (Young)

7 p.m., $7–$10

Phyllis Wattis Theater

San Francisco Museum of Modern Art

151 Third St., SF

(415) 357-4000

www.sfmoma.org

MUSIC

Popscene Holiday Gala with Mike Relm


‘Tis the season for video mashups. The holidays always make me want to break out the TV Carnage DVDs — nothing says gift quite like John Ritter making horrified faces to Rosie O’Donnell’s performance in Riding the Bus With My Sister (2005). Mike Relm is one of SF’s chief video turntablists, with a resume that includes Mike Patton’s Peeping Tom project. He won my heart by naming his debut DVD Clown Alley, after the defunct semi-North Beach burger dive known to inspire the Guardian’s own Marke B. to break into song. He makes the scene at Popscene’s festive gala. (Johnny Ray Huston)

With DJ Sharp

10 p.m.–2 a.m., $5–$10

330 Ritch

330 Ritch, SF

(415) 541-9574

www.popscene-sf.com

FRIDAY 18th

PERFORMANCE

Hubba Hubba Revue’s Chrismanukkah


Hubba Hubba Revue is big in England. Word of the SF burlesque troupe’s shenanigans had reached my burlesexual friend Lou Lou, who knows about tassel-twirling because, back in Blighty, she’s a "maid" who flounces about the stage between acts cleaning up the dancers’ tossed underthings. Lou Lou was convinced "the maid" was a universal feature of burlesque shows, and was surprised to learn that in the Hubba Hubba Revue, her role is played by a man-monkey named Zip the What-Is-It, bald but for a tuft of hair on his crown. Things are different here. But they do have lovely ladies stripping all retro-like and enough shiny bells and whistles to keep even the burlesque-shy (does such a person exist?) jaw-dropped and fancy free. The troupe’s holiday celebration promises peace and goodwill to (wo)man, and performances by Bunny Pistol, Professor Shimmy, and Meshugga Beach Party, a Jewish folk surf jam experience. (Caitlin Donohue)

9 p.m., $12–$15

DNA Lounge

375 11th St., SF

(415) 626-1409

www.dnalounge.com

www.hubbahubbarevue.com

LIT

Glam Gender Release Party


You can never have too much drag for the holidays. Or can you? No, no you can’t — especially if your stocking is not only filled with enough bird seed to size you up to a triple-D cup, but also with the ravishing new book Glam Gender, a glossy to-die-for tome self-published by photographer Marianne Larochelle and art director-stylist-drag legend Jose Guzman Colon, a.k.a. Putanesca. Contained within is an encyclopedia of the most well-known local drag queens of the past decade, including many no longer with us. The project, with punchy bios written by paparazzi punk Bill Picture, was "such a beautiful thing to work on," Putanesca told me. "It’s a real community celebration, and also a bit insane." Freshly released, the book will be available — along with glorious prints and most of the queens themselves — at zany Victorian wonderland Finn’s Funhouse. Watch your dress. (Marke B.)

6–10 p.m., free

Finn’s Funhouse

814 Grove, SF

www.glamgender.com

MUSIC

Super Adventure Club


Up-sides to cold weather: the dependable absence of mosquitoes, eggnog, layers of $4 Goodwill sweaters that nicely camouflage Christmas cookie bulge, and socially acceptable hibernation. Wait, scratch that last one — you’re going out. You’ll wanna brave those arctic winds for multitasking duo Jake Woods and Michael Winger, who combine their strange genius to form Super Adventure Club, a band you could like for the name alone, but don’t have to because their punchy riffs on everything from German "üntz" music to French love songs deliver a restorative kick to the circulation system. I straight up challenge you to get through their set — or that of headliners Diego’s Umbrella — without jumping about like a crazy person. You’ve got a tough first step past the front welcome mat, but know — just know — that your winter woes are about to melt like a square snowflake in funky town. (Donohue)

With Diego’s Umbrella and How To Win at Life

9 p.m., $8

Elbo Room

(415) 552-7788

647 Valencia, SF

www.elbo.com

SATURDAY 19th

EVENT

Renegade Craft Fair


December mall jaunts tend to induce claustrophobia, Santa terrors, and unpredictable, Manchurian Candidate-style reactions to all those cheery Christmas carols. Avoid the commercial hustle at the Renegade Craft Fair, founded in 2003 in Chicago — where a Renegade Handmade store remains open year-round — and now a multicity phenomenon. SF’s version opens shop just in time for the last-minute gift scramble, with more than 150 local DIY denizens (who had to apply to participate, so you won’t have to sift though sub-par crap) offering up all manner of bow-worthy ideas: fabric goods, silkscreened art, jewelry, accoutrements for babies, housewares, toys, stationary, and more. (Cheryl Eddy)

Through Sun/20

11 a.m.–7 p.m., free

Herbst Pavilion, Fort Mason Center

Marina at Laguna, SF

www.renegadecraft.com/holiday-sf

PERFORMANCE

Trannyshack Star Search


The queen, apparently, is not dead. Beloved and be-loathed trash-drag emporium Trannyshack glitter-axed its weekly operations at the Stud last year. But like the chunky-jewelried zombie ass-slave Mrs. Roper hostess that she is, Heklina rises from the ash heap of Manhunt addiction to bring back the Trannyshack Star Search competition, thirsty for new blood to fill her ghoulish needs. She’ll be joined onstage by the wonderfully horrific Peaches Christ to oversee performances by "special" guest judges Sherry Vine and Kembra Pfahler of the Voluptuous Horror of Karen Black. Hoku Mama, Putanesca, Princess Kennedy, and Anjie Myma also judge the 10 hopefuls, and DJ Omar glam-sluts up the crowd, if that’s even more possible. (Marke B.)

10 p.m.–3 a.m., $15–$20

DNA Lounge

(415) 626-1409

375 11th St., SF

www.dnalounge.com

EVENT/PERFORMANCE

Circus Ignite!


Does it seem like circus is everywhere? It’s true. And that’s not just in local venues, mainstream media, and fashion. Circus groups are taking their clowning, juggling, stilting, and acrobatics out of American cities and into under-served communities across the world. They’re entertaining, educating, inspiring self-esteem, and fostering cross-cultural communication in communities affected by natural disaster, dislocations, and military conflicts. One such group is Dreamtime Circus, a fantastic organization that launched with a trip to India last year and plans to spend next spring in Peru. Help support the cause by attending this weekend’s fundraiser, featuring DJs, a silent auction, and performances. (Molly Freedenberg)

9 p.m.–4 a.m., $12–$20

Siberia

314 11th St, SF

(415) 552-2100

www.dreamtimecircus.org

EVENT/MUSIC

Carols in the Caves


Candlelight. Cave acoustics. Ancient instruments playing age-old carols. And you as part of the angel choir. Could there be anything more classically festive than Carols in the Caves? The brainchild of percussionist/musician the Improvisator (a.k.a. David Auerbach), this tradition has been delighting audiences for 24 years in a variety of caves and wine cellars around the Bay Area. This time Auerbach brings his dulcimers, flutists, drums, and bells to Hans Fahden Vineyards, a gorgeous property on a ridge above Calistoga that features panoramic views of Mount Saint Helena. Buy your tickets, save some extra cash to purchase wine, and get ready to settle in to a sound spa for the mind. (Freedenberg)

2 p.m. (also Sun/20), $45

Hans Fahden Vineyards

4855 Petrified Forest, Calistoga

(707) 224-4222

www.cavemusic.com

FILM

The Birds


So … 500,000 European starlings did an air show in Bodega Bay, I mean Sacramento, this past week. Video evidence is flying across the Internet. It’s official, a real-life version of The Birds (1963) can’t be far off. Of all of Hitchcock’s classics, this is the one best served by the big screen. If you’ve only seen it on TV, you don’t know it. Out of your gilded cages, Melanie Daniels fans, and into the Castro to fend off angry beaks with your impeccably manicured hands. (Huston)

2:30 and 7 p.m. (double feature with Notorious), $7.50–$10

Castro Theatre

429 Castro, SF

(415) 621-6120

www.castrotheatre.com

SUNDAY 20th

MUSIC

Brian Setzer Orchestra


Brian Setzer has made a long-lasting career of resurrecting musical styles from the past with his formidable talents. He first came to fame as leader of the Stray Cats, energizing traditional rockabilly with his scorching guitar skills. He then went on to revamp swing and the classic big band sound of the 1930s and ’40s with the Brian Setzer Orchestra, whose hits included a cover of Louis Prima’s "Jump Jive An’ Wail." Tonight’s stop here in SF is part of Setzer’s seventh annual "Christmas Rocks!" tour, featuring revved-up versions of timeless holiday songs like "Jingle Bells" and "White Christmas," as well as selections from his own hit discography.(Sean McCourt)

8 p.m., $55–$69.50

The Warfield

982 Market, SF

(415) 775-7722

www.thewarfieldtheatre.com

TUESDAY 22nd

VISUAL ART

Taravat Talepasand: "Situation Critical"


Bay Area artist Taravat Talepasand’s explorations of cultural mores in Iran and America manifest as everything from motorcycles to graphite drawings. Her second show at Marx and Zavaterro casts a sharp eye at xenophobia and assorted manias circa-1979, among other things. "Situation Critical" should be worth a visit simply to see the nightmarish Disney-esque painting Ayatollah Land. (Huston)

10:30 a.m.–5 p.m., free

Marx and Zavattero

77 Geary, second floor, SF

(415) 627-9111
www.marxzav.com

Nice apse

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superego@sfbg.com

SUPER EGO Ever since Jack handed down the Key to the Wiggly Worm in 1987, dance music has flaunted its spiritual side. Sure, disco was about transcending the physical bonds of quotidian slavery, Parliamentary funk probed the cosmogenic recesses of inner space, and early electro froze out any organic interference with its ethereal pings and pongs. But house was “a feeling,” a “spiritual thing,” a “soul thing.” And techno explicitly mobilized the restless ghosts in Detroit’s rapidly antiquating machines. Merely read the titles of techno originator Derrick May’s late 1980s output — “Beyond the Dance,” “The Beginning,” “Strings of Life” — for the gist of that genre’s ectochromosomal blueprint.

Upping the metaphysical has led to some notable clubby excesses — think sage-smoked rave prayer circles, jungle and tribal house’s witch doctor shenanigans, the gamma states of trance, or whatever the hell Burning Man thinks it’s doing. For the better part of this decade, “ultra lounges” had to feature a giant golden Buddha somewhere on the property or risk excommunication from the Eternal Congregation of Bachelorettes. And how many times did some of us (me) find ourselves, after a crazed and filthy weekend, on the EndUp dance floor on a Sunday afternoon in the 1990s, twitching to a gospel house choir shrieking about the power of salvation through The Lord. (Answer: 42.)

Still, everyone calls their favorite club “church” because that’s where they go on the regular to feel a part of something bigger than themselves. So you’d think a club night in an actual church — let alone one in Grace Cathedral called EpiscoDisco — would be the ultimate theological expression of this nightlife strain. Not so, says Bertie Pearson, the young Episcopal priest, longtime club fixture, and on-point DJ who launched the electro-centric monthly last February. “We’re not out to convert anyone, or try to ‘bring youth into the fold,’ or anything like that,” he tells me. “The Episcopal church isn’t really about proselytizing, anyway — all paths to God are equally effective, and we’re more concerned with keeping our community fed and sheltered. We just wanted to open up this amazing space on a night when there wasn’t much happening here and have a great party.”

EpiscoDisco, with its heady mix of spiffed-up nightlife glitterati, up-to-the minute live acts and DJs, and edgy art installations curated by Paradise Now, offers a perfectly relevant and reverent early evening club experience — even without the cavernous gothic grandeur of Grace echoing every furtive stiletto-clack of the otherwise irreligious. (Pearson says he always wanted to be an Episcopal priest because the faith “appealed to all sides of me: social, spiritual, philosophical, artistic, intellectual … and now the nightlife side, apparently.”) Yet you are, indeed, in a spectacular candle-lit cathedral, navigating the vaulted apse with your plastic-cupped Chablis, gazing at luminous gold-flecked icons of MLK Jr. and John Donne, tracing the gorgeous meditative labyrinth etched in the nave’s marble flooring.

And despite the party-priest’s protestations about keeping his intentions earthbound, you can’t help but get lifted in a club-spiritual way. Upon entering Grace’s AIDS Interfaith Chapel, EpiscoDiscopalians are greeted by ultimate club kid Keith Haring’s wondrous “Life of Christ” triptych altarpiece. A panel of the AIDS Quilt memorializes Grace preachers who passed away from the disease and the “Book of Names” lists Bay Area victims. Given that some of the most exciting recent nightlife trends have been about exhuming the music and fashion buried by AIDS, the chapel offers a celebratory connection to the other side.

But there’s a connection to the living at EpiscoDisco, too. “San Francisco nightlife can be a bit clique-y,” says Pearson, a master of tart understatement. “Sometimes if you walk up to a group of people and just start talking to them, they look at you like you’re insane. That doesn’t happen here. Isn’t that great?”

EPISCODISCO with DJ John Friend and Pale Hoarse live. Saturday, Dec. 19 and every third Saturday of the month, 7 p.m.-10 p.m., free. Grace Cathedral, 1100 California, SF. www.episcodisco.com

DERRICK MAY Yes, the Godfather is coming, throwing down one of his gleaming Hi-Tek-Soul soul sets to call the spirits down. Thu/10, 10 p.m., $10 advance. Vessel, 84 Campton Place, SF. www.vesselsf.com

AC SLATER Electro — saved by the bell? The latest banger boy wonder takes to the tables at Reverend Pearson’s other club playground, Blow Up. Fri/11, 10 p.m., $10/$15, 18+. Rickshaw Stop, 155 Fell, SF. www.blowupsf.com

LE PERLE DEGLI SQUALLOR DJ Bus Station John’s latest bathhouse disco and vinyl rarities monthly breaks cruise-y new queer ground at the Hotspot. Sat/12, 10 p.m., $5. Hotspot, 1414 Market, SF.

Our Weekly Picks

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WEDNESDAY 2

MUSIC
Baroness
Baroness became one of the most promising bands in heavy music with the release of 2007’s The Red Album (Relapse), generating high expectations for its new monochromatic opus, The Blue Album (Relapse), released this fall. Driven by the squalling vocals and versatile technique of guitarist John Baizley (who also has made a name for himself as a visual artist) the band has exceeded the high hopes of their fans with an offering that combines muscular riffing, allusive Southern flair, and affecting dynamics. Those gathered at Bottom of the Hill will rock out to standouts like “Ogeechee Hymnal” and “The Sweetest Curse.” (Ben Richardson)
With Earthless, Iron Age
9 p.m., $14
Bottom of the Hill
1233 17th, SF
(415) 626-4455
www.bottomofthehill.com

THURSDAY 3

EVENT
Handmade Ho-Down
Over 55 crafty bitches will participate in the Handmade Ho-Down, SoMa’s first craftstravaganza urban street fair. This means you will have 55 very good reasons to blow some cash. From pillows to wall prints, there will be something precious for everyone. Forget the stench of mothballs, this ain’t your grandmother’s fluorescent-lit craft show. And what’s a street fair in San Francisco without booze and music? There will be a full holiday bar along with a DJ so you can drink, dance, and shop to your heart’s content. Bring unused art supplies to benefit Drawbridge, a nonprofit art program for homeless and at-risk youth, and get there early for a free SWAG bag. (Lorian Long)
6 p.m., free
1015 Folsom
1015 Folsom, SF
www.handmadehodown.com

FILM
Black Christmas
Some call 1974’s Black Christmas the first-ever slasher film — it predates Halloween by four years, and its sorority-sister victims are picked off one by one as the movie progresses. (It also beat 1979’s When a Stranger Calls to the creepy prank-caller punch.) With an incredible cast (Olivia Hussey! Margot Kidder! John Saxon! Keir Dullea!) and atmospheric direction by the late, great Bob Clark (who also helmed that other holiday classic, 1983’s A Christmas Story), Black Christmas remains legitimately spooky, as well as one of the greatest holiday-horror flicks ever made. Traveling moviemeister Will the Thrill presents the film tonight with live music by Project Pimento; check the Thrillville Web site for deets on the Dec. 10 show in San Jose. (Cheryl Eddy)
8 p.m., $10
Four Star
2200 Clement, SF
(415) 666-3488
www.thrillville.net

FILM/MUSIC
Joshua Churchill and Paul Clipson
In conjunction with NOMA Gallery’s current “Until the Bright Logic is Won/Unwishpering as a Mirror is Believed” exhibit by artists Peggy Cyphers and Joshua Churchill, Churchill and Paul Clipson are presenting a this one-off sound and film performance. I’m imagining two hours filled with Brian Eno-y abstractions and spiritual glosses of nature’s lovely things. If that isn’t unclear enough, maybe the curious misspelling in the show’s title, lifted from Hart Crane’s poem “Legend,” might help. I’m referring to switcheroo of the h in “Unwishpering” (the original being “Unwhispering”). Assuming it was intentional, we now have a new word that undoes the whispering of a wish. Come witness this etymological birthing as Churchill and Clipson unwishper in your eyes and ears. (Spencer Young)
7-9 p.m., free
NOMA Gallery
80 Maiden Lane, 3rd floor, SF
(415) 391 0200
www.nomagallerysf.com

THEATER
Golden Girls: The Christmas Episodes
Dreading December’s inevitable mall trip? Consider Golden Girls’ Dorothy your inspiration: “You know Robbie wants a Batman hat. I went to six different stores, they were all sold out … Ugh, I cannot believe a person would push a perfect stranger out of the way, step on her hand, and give her an elbow to the forehead just for a Batman hat. But I did it anyway.” Ah Bea Arthur, what ever will we do without you? But although our favorite sassy grandmas may no longer be churning out the pithy one-liners they once were, their torch has happily been plucked and held aloft by San Francisco drag queens. The ladies will be performing two of the original series’ very special Christmas episodes line-for-line — rumor has it the fearsome foursome takes on a soup kitchen in one. Get some silver-haired sass for your holiday soul. (Caitlin Donohue)
7 and 9 p.m. (also Fri.-Sat., through Dec. 26), $20–$25
Mama Calizo’s Voice Factory
1519 Mission, SF
www.trannyshack.com
www.cookievision.com
www.ticketweb.com

FRIDAY 4
EVENT/VISUAL ART
The 13th Small Format Art Sale
My grandma did beautiful paintings of Texas hill country, but nowadays I’ve only got one ’cause the durn things are too large to qualify as carry-on luggage. Would that Grandma had lived in the age of the The Lab’s small-work-and-postcard art show. The space’s 13th annual celebration of all things tiny and beautiful is perfect for that nomadic creative type on your shopping list. And as a nomadic creative, I’m fully ready to celebrate some innovative, postal service-friendly designs, accumulated during an egalitarian open submissions call. If while there you are shoulder-tapped by a man or woman who wants to show you what’s in their pocket, be not alarmed. They’re a representative of the Museum of Pocket Art, a group that piggybacks larger gallery events to show wallet-sized works. Or they’re a total perv. Only one way to find out … (Caitlin Donohue)
6–-9 p.m. reception (continues through Sun/6), free
The Lab
2948 16th St., SF
(415) 864-8855
www.thelab.org
www.mopaonline.com

MUSIC
The Dead Hensons Finale Extravaganza
While cuddly Muppets and innovative creature designs are probably the first things that pop into most people’s minds when they hear the name Jim Henson, the late creative genius also incorporated wildly catchy music into his productions, using songs that still have the power to transport listeners back to their youth when hearing just a few bars of tunes such as “Pinball Number Count.” Capturing that unbridled sense of joy and innocence, The Dead Hensons perform selections from the early days of The Muppet Show and Sesame Street, and are known to cause spontaneous bouts of dancing and sing-alongs with their rockin’ interpretations. Tonight the eight-piece band will joined by several special guests, including members of Rogue Wave, No Doubt, and more. (Sean McCourt)
9:30 p.m., $12
Bottom of the Hill
1233 17th St., SF.
(415) 621-4455
www.bottomofthehill.com

EVENT/VISUAL ART
Lower Haight Art Walk
Whether you like it or not, the holidays are here. Avoid the bloated shopping malls and the schizophrenia of Union Square, and hit up the Lower Haight for its “Holiday Edition” Art Walk instead. The event takes place between the 400 and 700 blocks, and nearly 30 merchants will participate with live music, art shows, live painting, and waistband-threatening holiday munchies. There will be window and tree display contests, which means you might see Baby Jesus robotripping with a pacifier in his mouth, or Santa and Rudolph getting bestial under the mistletoe. This is the Lower Haight, after all, and one should expect something subversive and oddly charming from such a crazy yet cozy spot in the city. Fuck Macy’s and fuck carolers, the Xmas spirit thrives with the freaks and geeks of Haight Street. (Long)
7–10 p.m., free
Haight (between Pierce and Webster), SF
www.lowerhaight.org/events

SATURDAY 5

MUSIC
The Cranberries
Before emo came along and turned 13-year-olds into crybabies, there was the Cranberries. Dolores O’Riordan was the mouthpiece for many angst-ridden adolescent girls in the mid-1990s. Say what you will about the band, there’s no denying the sense of dreamy giddiness one feels whenever “Linger” or “Dreams” plays on the radio. Memories of flannel dresses, cassette tapes in your backpack, and the anticipation of another glorious episode of My So-Called Life can overwhelm you with sugary-sweet nostalgia. Following in the footsteps of such holy-shit! reunions like Pavement, Jesus Lizard, and Sunny Day Real Estate, the Cranberries — performing with the original lineup — could name their tour “Everyone Else Is Reuniting, So Why Can’t We?” It’s been seven years since the band last toured, so let’s hope “Zombie” still has sharp teeth. (Long)
8 p.m., $36
Regency Ballroom
1290 Sutter, SF
(415) 673-5716
www.theregencyballroom.com

EVENT/LIT/VISUAL ART
“Exercises in Seeing”
Wish you could give up the heavy-lidded responsibility of having eyeballs day in day out? Hate having to constantly gaze, blink, scan, squint, divert, and cry? And tired of going to art shows where all you do is look at things? Or maybe you just hate art altogether? Well, tonight’s your lucky night. You can wear two eye-patches if you want, because those pesky wet balls will be useless at this exhibit. For one night only, poet David Buuck will audibly walk you through artwork in the dark by 30 local and international artists — artwork even he hasn’t seen! All you have to do is listen or sleep or walk around and relive your first sexual experiences by “accidentally” groping people. (Young)
9 p.m.–6 a.m.
Queen’s Nails Projects
3191 Mission, SF
(415) 314-6785
www.queensnailsprojects.com

SUNDAY 6

FILM
Om Shanti Om
Om my gawd, y’all — Om Shanti Om is playing the Yerba Buena Center for the Arts! Set within the world of Bollywood, this 2007 monster hit from director-choreographer Farah Khan (she choreographed 2001’s Monsoon Wedding) works cameos galore into the tale of good-hearted, 1970s-era bit player Om (Shah Rukh Khan), who falls for movie star Shanti (Deepika Padukone), not realizing she’s already entangled with sinister producer Mukesh (Arjun Rampal). Stuff — betrayals, tragedy, reincarnation, revenge plots, haunting — happens, but you know you wanna see Om Shanti Om primarily for the glorious musical numbers, and for the mighty SRK, gloriously corny here (as always). (Eddy)
2 p.m., $6–$8
Yerba Buena Center for the Arts
701 Mission, SF
(415) 978-2787
www.ybca.org

MUSIC
Marduk
Formed in Sweden in 1990, legendary black metal group Marduk was designed, in the words of founding member Morgan Hakansson, to be “the most blasphemous metal act ever.” Although it draws from similar lyrical themes as other groups in its genre, such as the requisite references to Satanism and gore, Marduk adds several other diabolical layers, notably imagery and historical content from World War II. Marduk had to cancel its opening slot appearance for Mayhem earlier this year due to visa issues — this is the first chance in years for Bay Area metal fans to see one of the most brutal acts in our neck of the woods. (McCourt)
With Nachtmystium, Mantic Ritual, Black Anvil, Merrimack and DJ Rob Metal
8 p.m., $20
DNA Lounge
375 11th St., SF
(415) 626-1409
www.dnalounge.com

MONDAY 7
MUSIC
A Multimedia Event with Califone
The lonesome crowded West has an apt soundtrack in the music of Califone, whose very name evokes rustic Americana. Some groups never let a good song get in the way of atmosphere, while others are guilty of just the opposite. In contrast, Califone frequently manages to combine strong songcraft with an attention to scene-setting detail. And that it should — its new album All My Friends are Funeral Singers (Dead Oceans) shares the same title as the feature film directorial debut of the group’s Tim Rutili. In fact, tonight the band supplies a live score to Rutili’s movie, which stars Angela Bettis, the petite-but-tough-as-nails presence at the core of low-budget horrors such as May (2002) and Tobe Hopper’s not-bad 2003 remake of Toolbox Murders. A throwback to a time when actual actresses rather than Hollywood fembots had lead roles in U.S. movies, Bettis plays a fortune-teller who lives in an old house at the edge of the woods. Califone plays the music. (Johnny Ray Huston)
8 p.m., $16
Great American Music Hall
859 O’Farrell, SF
(415) 885-0750
www.gamh.com
The Guardian listings deadline is two weeks prior to our Wednesday publication date. To submit an item for consideration, please include the title of the event, a brief description of the event, date and time, venue name, street address (listing cross streets only isn’t sufficient), city, telephone number readers can call for more information, telephone number for media, and admission costs. Send information to Listings, the Guardian Building, 135 Mississippi St., SF, CA 94107; fax to (415) 487-2506; or e-mail (paste press release into e-mail body — no text attachments, please) to listings@sfbg.com. We cannot guarantee the return of photos, but enclosing an SASE helps. Digital photos may be submitted in jpeg format; the image must be at least 240 dpi and four inches by six inches in size. We regret we cannot accept listings over the phone.

Our weekly picks

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WEDNESDAY 25th

MUSIC

Sex Worker


In the current folds of neo-psychedelia, kids don’t require drugs to lose their shit. They need only close their eyes and wait for the neon to swirl, the monologues to multiply. Sex Worker, the solo effort of Daniel Martin-McCormick of Mi Ami, is one such manifestation of this hide-and-seek schizo entanglement, where fits of stretched, ethereal sound get densely layered with Martin-McCormick’s fractured vocal tantrums. Actually, I have no idea what I’m talking about. I’m basing this on two MySpace songs. The truth is, you’re still in town. And you didn’t go home to Utah (or some other whoopee cushion state) because you thought staying in SF during the holiday would be more entertaining than having that same conversation with that same uncle over the same plate of Jell-O and mashed potatoes. And you’re right. This is guaranteed to be more exciting. (Spencer Young)

With Psychic Reality, Jealousy

9:30 p.m., $6

Hemlock Tavern

1131 Polk, SF

www.hemlocktavern.com

VISUAL ART

Ara Peterson: "Turn Into Stone"


Not every artist who has representation has it from a gallery that’s a near-ideal showcase for her or his work. But such is the case for Ara Peterson, whose large-scale experiments with form and color are given the right amount of white space by Ratio 3. "Turn Into Stone" is composed of two bodies of work. The first is a series of backgammon tables designed and created by Peterson and his father, Jack. In terms of influence, these pieces extend patrilineal influence yet further, drawing from the youngest Peterson’s memories of his great-grandfather’s ceramic paintings. The 21-century Albers extended lines of color — or, to use the artist’s phrase "long impervious vibes" — in the other body of work make for a good wood-and-acrylic-paint contrast with Marcus Linnebrink’s current epoxy resin and pigment pieces at Patricia Sweetow Gallery. And that’s not even getting into the show’s giant intestinal orange tubes. (Johnny Ray Huston)

11 a.m.-6 p.m. (continues through Dec. 19), free

Ratio 3

1447 Stevenson, SF

(415) 821-3371

www.ratio3.org

EVENT

San Francisco Gourmet Chocolate Tour


If you’re in the mood for a culinary adventure, you’ll likely love-love-lovey Gourmet Walks’ three-hour tour devoted to treats by local artisan chocolatiers. You might be looking for petit fours of bitter chocolate rust. Or perhaps you’re the type to appreciate crepe de chine encrusted with whole goji berries from your local farmers market, or you’re one of the growing number of dog owners looking for some white chocolate-covered canine biscuits. Maybe you just like chocolate. If any of the above apply, you’ll a chance to encounter a newsstand with 200-plus candy bars and a Swiss place beloved by the mighty Oprah on this jaunt. Oh, and you’ll definitely get a free cup of piping hot cocoa. (Jana Hsu)

10:30 a.m. (also Fri., 10:30 a.m.; Sat., 2 p.m.), $49

Union Square to waterfront, SF

(800) 838-3006

www.brownpapertickets.com

www.gourmetwalks.com

MUSIC

Del Tha Funkee Homosapien


Who is the cousin of Cube, the secret Native Tongue, the psychedelic seer, the time-traveler who had been to 3030 and back before he even met Gorillaz? Dude, it’s Del tha Funkee Homosapien. In addition to a footwear project with Osiris Shoes, Del’s been putting out recordings at a furious pace of late: the latest — after this year’s self-released Funkman and Automatic Statik — might be Parallel Uni-verses (Gold Dust) a collabo with Tame One of Artifacts. The man who prices his music in response to the economy brings his stimulus package to the stage tonight. (Huston)

With Bukue One, Serendipity Project, Hopie Spitshard

9 p.m., $19–$22

Great American Music Hall

859 O’Farrell, SF

(888) 233-0449

www.gamh.com

FRIDAY 27th

DANCE

The Velveteen Rabbit


In a time when babies are practically born with electronic hamsters to pet and Transformers to hug, one wonders whether there still is place in a child’s life for a velveteen rabbit that loses its whiskers and a practically tail-less toy horse. The success of ODC/Dance’s now 23-year-old The Velveteen Rabbit proves that there are plenty of kids, parents, and grandparents who see the fun and heartache in this lovely story about love, loss, and growing up. Of course, it helps that ODC went for quality when they first scratched the money together for a production of this evergreen: KT Nelson for choreography, Benjamin Britten for music, Brian Wildsmith for costumes and sets, and our own Geoff Hoyle for narration. Margery Williams’ story may be a classic, but so is ODC’s translation to the stage. (Rita Felciano)

2 p.m.(through Dec. 13), $10–$45

Novellus Theater

Yerba Buena Center for the Arts

701 Mission, SF

(415) 978-2787

www.ybca.org

MUSIC

Peaches


The first time I saw Peaches was by accident. She somehow snuck herself onto a tour with …And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead, a solid yet serious emo rock band. Peaches, too, was solid — or ripe, rather — but only semiserious, and she was neither emo nor rock (despite the suggestion of her most successful song to date, "Fuck the Pain Away"). She was more electroshock than electroclash, dancing provocatively to simple but catchy prerecorded tracks and flaunting giant rubber dildos while Germanic pubic hair spilled out her kid-sized leotard. Since then I’ve learned that it’s imperative to abandon your dull, serious self at a Peaches show. Otherwise she’ll find you in the crowd and call you out by slapping your face with God knows what. (Young)

With Amanda Blank, Wallpaper

9 p.m., $25

Regency Ballroom

1290 Sutter, SF

www.theregencyballroom.com

EVENT

The Great Dickens Christmas Fair


The Great Dickens Christmas Fair aims to take attendees back to the era of the author’s novels, not to mention the holiday season of one of his more popular tales. But it also is a Bay Area tradition that carries its own history, dating back to 1970. The fair has more than its fair share of devoted attendees — among them Father Christmas, Ebeneezer Scrooge, the Cratchit Family (including Tiny Tim), Oliver Twist, Mr. Pickwick, and perhaps even Charles Dickens. They know the truth: nothing’s better for the body than a hot toddy. (Hsu)

11 a.m.–7 p.m. (through Dec. 20)

$10–$22 ($25–$55 for season passes)

Cow Palace Exhibition Halls

2600 Geneva, SF

(800) 510-1558

www.dickensfair.com

FILM

"Otto Preminger: Anatomy of a Movie"


He came from Vienna, and he conquered Hollywood. Well, it took a hot minute — occasional thespian Otto Preminger was also cast as a Nazi in multiple films. But directing was his true talent, and he proved a master in multiple genres: 1944 noir Laura; 1947 Joan Crawford melodrama Daisy Kenyon; 1959 courtroom drama Anatomy of a Murder; 1962 political thriller Advise and Consent; 1957 historical biopic Saint Joan, starring a then-unknown Jean Seberg (who later played the enfant terrible in 1958’s Bonjour Tristesse); 1955 Frank Sinatra junkie drama The Man with the Golden Arm; and 1955’s Carmen Jones, with Dorothy Dandridge leading an all-African American cast. This Pacific Film Archive series, loaded with restored and rare prints of all of the above and more, also tosses in a couple of unclassifiable gems: 1965’s Bunny Lake is Missing (whodunnit?) and 1968’s Skidoo (LSD dunnit!) (Cheryl Eddy)

7 p.m. (Laura) and 8:50 p.m. (Fallen Angel), continues through Dec. 20; $5.50–$9.50

Pacific Film Archive

2575 Bancroft, Berk.

(510) 642-5249

www.bampfa.berkeley.edu

SATURDAY 28th
FILM

Secrets of the Shadow World


Season’s greetings from George Kuchar! San Francisco’s busy underground laureate is featured in a recent documentary portrait, an upcoming SF Cinematheque program of vintage 8mm restorations, and Yerba Buena’s "Tropical Vultures" exhibit. Visit Yerba Buena this Saturday and your gallery admission is good for a special screening of Secrets of the Shadow World (1989-1999). A prime slab of the Kucharesque, this Rockefeller Foundation-funded (!) paranormal video dive incorporates reconnaissance with John Keel, the recently deceased author of 1975’s Mothman Prophecies, along with essayistic inquiries into the ontology of digital imagery and Sasquatch droppings. (Max Goldberg)

2 p.m., Free with Gallery Admission

Yerba Buena Center for the Arts

701 Mission, SF

415-978-2787

www.ybca.org

LIT/MUSIC/VISUAL ART

"You Are Her: Riot Grrrl and Underground Female Zines of the 1990s"


Matt Wobensmith’s zine shop Goteblüd was the toast of the town at this October’s New York Art Book Fair, with Holland Cotter of The New York Times singling it out in a report on the event. Wobensmith has already shared a lion’s-size library of queer zines with curious local paper tigers via Goteblüd’s first local show — now, it’s the paper tigresses’ turn for a treat, thanks to "You Are Her," a pretty much astonishingly expansive — though not if you know Wobensmith’s dedication to the cause — collection of riot grrrl and other female-centric 1990s zines available for viewing and reading. Behold copies of Bikini Kill, Double Bill, Girl Germs, Hey Soundguy (by Corin Tucker), I Heart Amy Carter and Jigsaw (by Donna Dresch), my first love Teenage Gang Debs, and Way Down Low. Behold Sassy in its glossy glory. Be glad you live in SF, where you can see this stuff for real — for realz. (Huston)

Noon–5 p.m. (show continues through Jan. 2010), free

Goteblüd

766 Valencia, SF

www.goteblud.livejournal.com

MONDAY 30th

VISUAL ART


"What About Me?!: New Faces in Contemporary Self Portraiture"


First off, kudos to the Peanut Gallery for its name. Second, the young space’s latest show has a strong sense of variety. At a glance, what I really like are the vast differences between Dean Dempsey’s colorful backlit image of himself times five post-racketball in a locker room; Richard Bluecloud Cataneda’s black-and-white vision of himself times nine in street, ceremonial, and clown guises; and Susan Wu’s 10 card-size drawings that render her face, disembodied, as masks of a sort. These contrasts demonstrate the breadth and potential of contemporary self-portraiture rather than its narcissistic pitfalls. (Huston)

Noon–6 p.m., free

The Peanut Gallery

855 Folsom, #108, SF

(415) 341-0074

www.thepeanutgallerysf.blogspot.com

TUESDAY 1st

MUSIC

Conspiracy of Beards


Few beards exist in the 30-man a capella choir Conspiracy of Beards. This is not surprising, considering they sing the songs of Leonard Cohen, who seems to prefer the scrape of a razor to any soft cushion. If you were rich (or desperate) enough to pay the $90 ticket fee to see Mr. Cohen back in April at the Paramount in Oakland, then you know it was for the words. A poet dressed in a musician’s clothing, Cohen is most potent when his lyrics do all the songs’ work, which they usually do. The a capella setup of Conspiracy of Beards proves to be genius when you hear 30 men singing "Giving me head on the unmade bed." Cohen’s signature synthpop sound is delivered courtesy of the bass vocals on songs like "First We Take Manhattan" and "Tower of Song." And "Famous Blue Raincoat" is more ominous than sad. Don’t be surprised if the Cafe Du Nord suddenly becomes a cathedral. (Lorian Long)

With StitchCraft, King City

8:30 p.m., $10

Cafe Du Nord

2170 Market, SF

(415) 861-5016

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

Once every two weeks

0

johnny@sfbg.com

LIT I have a stack of Try magazines on my lap as I write this. The pages are white, marked by the black of letters and photocopied pen marks and the gray shades of color photos or aged pages filtered through Xerox. Some of the pieces in issues are printouts of e-mails, or maps of sites in Oakland going into foreclosure. Others are copied from typewritten pages — or bank receipts. There are numbered lists, unnumbered lists, exquisite corpses, poetic critiques of programs, hidden sonnets for the public, and mash notes from poet to poet. There are images of Peter Lorre, and images by Dean Smith. One of my favorite poems in Try is "Flipper Turns 25," by Alli Warren. Another, by Stan Apps, is partly about Big Star. One of my favorite issues has writing about Contempt (1963) and Overboard (1987). Cover stars include one of Jeff Koons’ Michael Jackson and Bubbles sculptures, at least one member of Ralph Eugene Meatyeard’s Crater family, and an erect David Wojnarowicz wearing an Arthur Rimbaud mask. It was in Try that I learned that no book by Jack Spicer is under copyright. The names of the contributors to an issue of Try are usually found on or near the back cover.

SFBG Why Try?

Sara Larsen Working with what you have at hand. Just because we don’t have much money, that doesn’t mean we can’t put out a magazine every two weeks or so. Also, we looked around us one day and realized we are surrounded by brilliant writers and artists. And that all of them really should know what the others are currently working on, that this knowing is generative and produces more work.

David Brazil We’ve seen so many people assume that it’s impossible to get anything done in the arts without institutional support, grants, or other kinds of fundraising. We intentionally designed our project to be as inexpensive as possible to produce and also to be free. We’re trying to give the lie to a whole set of assumptions — both about how something is made, and what it could be for.

SFBG How do you manage to print biweekly/bimonthly? How have Try‘s content and the submissions changed over time (if they have changed)?

DB We usually manage to print by the seat of our pants. There’s invariably some logistical or financial obstacle. We’ve tried to learn the lesson of incorporating setbacks as constraints governing the production of the product — a sort of chance operation. And as it’s turned out, issues we’ve produced in this way have often been far better than what we imagined in the first place.

SFBG The particulars: when did you begin publishing Try, what are your frameworks or structures for it, and how many issues have you done to date? What do you like about the folded 8 1/2 by 14-inch (or 2 by 7-inch) format?

DB We began publishing Try in the spring of 2008 and developed our framework as we went along. We’re in the habit of breaking rules as soon as it becomes apparent that they are rules, but we’ve done every issue staplebound on legal size paper, so that’s become habitual. I’d guess we’ve done 28, but we date them rather than number them, so sometimes even we lose track.

SL The 8 1/2 x 14 paper we fold over to make Try gives a spacious page and it’s easy — every copy store has it.

SFBG Do themes or similarities ever emerge within an issue due to happenstance?

DB As time has gone by and our slush pile has expanded, we’ve gotten into the habit of curating our issues around not themes exactly, but motifs, which can show up in subtle ways. The issues we’re the most proud of end up harmonizing the work of the individual contributors and themselves forming an aesthetic whole.

SL Sometimes we’ll know someone is coming to town to read and we’ll solicit work from them and a number of poets who we think resonate with their work. And we’ll throw in some surprises too — someone unexpected, or someone whose work is totally different from everything else in the issue.

SFBG Have you found out about any writers through their sending work unsolicited?

DB We’ve found many writers this way — and we encourage such submissions!

SFBG Who would you love to receive an unsolicited submission from?

DB and SL Lessee … Bernadette Mayer, Susan Howe, Raymond Pettibon, Dennis Cooper, Bhanu Kapil, Will Alexander, Rob Fitterman, Samuel Delany, whoever’s reading this …

SFBG What motivates you to write?

DB Ineluctability.

SFBG Do you like photocopiers? What tips do you have for people who want to use them?

DB and SL Man, we fucking love photocopiers. And materiality. What is done by hand. We are not about the Internet. We are about a physical object that contains many people’s work passing hand to hand.

DB My only real advice is, make sure to print a sample set before you run off 100 copies.

SL We are also not opposed at all to people borrowing their friends’ copies of Try, bringing it to the copyshop themselves and making more. Not many people have thought to do this, surprisingly, but we’d love it if they did.

SFBG What are you obsessed with at the moment?

DB Obsolete technologies. Prophecy and the logos. Beethoven’s Piano Sonatas. The contents of our next issue.

SL Quiet reading and writing time. Cooking greens. Study groups.


SFBG Has the experience of putting together and distributing Try changed your view of writing in the Bay Area, and if so, how?

DB We’ve always thought of Try as an attempt to provide a mirror within which a very dynamic writing community may see itself — and, hopefully, be seen by future readers. If anything, we’ve become convinced in the past year that the local scene is even more vibrant and populous than we’d previously imagined, which is very hard to believe.

SFBG What are some of the more enigmatic or strange contributions you’ve received?

DB We’ve received bar reviews, anonymous cartoons, scribbles on napkins, ATM receipts, rejection letters from MFA writing programs, texts in braille, faxes from different time zones … and lots and lots of amazing poetry.

SL We’ve also found on the ground or stuffed in library books drawings or pictures that have become our covers or part of an issue.

SFBG What would you like to see more of in Try?

DB We initially imagined Try as a testing ground for work still underway, or else brand new, provisional, still-to-be-revised — and we’d still love to see more of that kind of writing.

Try magazine is on hiatus until January, 2010. Write to Try at 3107 Ellis, Berkeley, CA 94703 or at trymagazine@gmail.com.

Pray tell

0

arts@sfbg.com

FILM Oh My God? took the words right outta my mouth about 10 minutes in. It was then clear this "multicultural spiritual quest" about religion worldwide illustrated the three worst trends in contemporary nonfiction filmmaking: the gratuitously first person vanity project; the Koyaanisqatsi (1982) school of globetrotting coffee-table pictorialism; and the "These are important questions. Let’s ask a celebrity for answers!" tactic.

Shot in 23 countries, God?‘s luxury do-gooderism might not compensate for its carbon imprint in any judgmental afterlife. The opening montage of Stuff ‘Round the World is meant to dazzle with the breadth of human experience. Instead, such expensive flash raises a red flag: who funded this? De Beers? Exxon Mobil?

Perhaps writer-producer-director Peter Rodger did himself, being maestro of "numerous car, clothing, and cosmetics companies’ print and commercial campaigns in over 40 countries." That explains a lot. The world is so cluttered with striking images — MTV, advertising, and computer graphics have rendered mere visual brilliance trivial. What’s rare now is the providing of context that makes a picture meaningful.

"Truth is being diluted by too many voices all keen to reference the name of God. But what exactly is God? I decided to go around the world and ask people what they think," Rodger says at the start. Albeit not before Hugh Jackman has brushed his chestnut mane back to announce "God is unexplainable!" Whoa. Why is he here? Rodger presumably lives in that fabulous A-list bubble where success is understood to impart wisdom. Because what can’t money buy?

Oh My God? also includes philosophic two cents from Baz Luhrmann, Seal, Ringo Starr, HRH Princess Michael of Kent, and Sir Bob Geldof. (What, no Bono?) These celebs have zero special to say, but are top-billed — unlike the spiritual leaders, leading academics, and mere proles whose profoundities were likely left on the cutting-room floor.

The movie does have plenty of time for Peter Rodger, our intrepid host for no obvious reason. Surely it doesn’t require his onscreen presence to ask questions like "If God really does exist, why does he permit so much suffering in the world?" We certainly don’t need him to call lingering Katrina devastation "pretty sad," a sentiment as trite as the quick cutaway from some New Orleans kids’ very moving statements is offensive.

Shooting with a real eye for travelogue imagery (sometimes at actual tourist events), Rodgers reduces animal-sacrificing African Maasai tribalists ("very colorful people"), Arizona Native Americans (tribe unidentified), Balinese Hindu priests, and more to exotic dress extras in a 93-minute music video scored by Alexander van Bubenheim as one long world beat mixtape. Tonal slants are predictable: born-again Texans = funny/bad; Tibetan monks = serene/good. OMG indeed.

As in so much human history, the use and abuse of religious ideas now urgently affects us all. Rabbi Yitzchok Adlerstein notes (in a rare moment of permitted garrulousness), "The problem with religion today is that there’s just enough of it for people to learn to hate each other, but not enough to learn to love each other."

Yet Oh My God?‘s Babel of glancingly sampled opinions is just more contradictory noise — a pu pu platter of empty-calorie pictorialism and half-formed big questions at no risk of meaningful exploration. Like that modern lit classic Eat Pray Love, it wrassles eternal issues of being and meaning into the feel-good hollow address of rich people’s problems.

OH MY GOD? opens Fri/27 in Bay Area theaters.

Our Weekly Picks

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WEDNESDAY 18

THEATER

The Walworth Farce


Ever since his 1996 teen psychopath romance, Disco Pigs, Edna Walsh has been delivering unnerving plays of unusual verve, full of whimsy and deep dysfunction, crazy Gaelic cadences, the wit and high lyricism of the low of brow. We don’t see enough of it over here, which is all the more reason to catch Druid Ireland theater company’s production of Walsh’s The Walworth Farce, courtesy of Cal Performances. Not since Joe Orton have the traditional outlines of this classic comedic form been so over-amped and even over the line, downright weird and sort of dangerous. You are correct: this is in-your-farce theater. (Robert Avila)

8 p.m. (continues through Sun/22), $72

Zellerbach Hall

Bancroft at Telegraph, UC Berkeley campus, Berk.

(510) 642-9988

www.calperfs.berkeley.edu

THURSDAY 19

EVENT

Second Annual Erotic Art Exhibition Tour


Featuring 120 international artists, body painting, live music, and a fashion show with more nip than slip, the Erotic Art Exhibition Tour promises to be much sexier than shopping for tofurkey and stuffing that doesn’t taste like puke. This year’s ARTundressed theme is "Illumination," and it presents the winning artists from the Erotic Showcase 2009 competition. Indulge your voyeuristic tendencies and benefit the American Foundation for AIDS Research by attending Saturday night’s Silent Art Auction. Then grab something white, red, or leathery, and head to the thematic "The Good, the Bad, and the Kinky" after party. (Lorian Long)

6 p.m. (through Sat/21), $45

California Modern Art Gallery

1035 Market, SF

(415) 716-8661

www.calmodern.com

VISUAL ART

Justin Quinn: "Keep Out This Frost"


In an obsessive, Oulipian gesture, artist Justin Quinn constrains himself to the oft-used and abused letter E in his second solo show at Cain Schulte Gallery. Rather than playing off the letter’s relation to the party drug, top of the optometrist’s eye chart, or various corporate logos, Quinn delegates his E‘s to transutf8g the chapters of Melville’s Moby Dick. In substituting the particular for the ubiquitous, Quinn makes up for lost meaning through charged typographical flair that takes on a narrative all its own. If this isn’t enough Moby Dick for you, you can also check out a group show of visual responses to the classic at the CCA Wattis Institute for Contemporary Arts. (Spencer Young)

Continuous through Dec. 23

6 p.m., artist talk at 7 p.m.

Cain Schulte Gallery

714 Guerrero, SF

(415) 543 1550

www.cainschulte.com

MUSIC

Ensiferum

The Finns are curators of the strange, adapting the metal conventions of their Scandinavian neighbors and adding a good deal of idiosyncrasy. Helsinki’s Ensiferum embodies this trend, churning out martial, aggressive death metal augmented by keyboard flourishes, Ennio Morricone worship, harmonized vocals, and an army of folky, epic melodies. Their new album From Afar (Spinefarm) features the band at its grandiose best, and the war-kilted warriors prove themselves equally adept at atmospheric arrangement and straightforward, razor-wire riffing. Billed as the "Tour From Afar," this is their first headlining run stateside — prepare for battle. (Ben Richardson)

With Hypocrisy, Blackguard, Lazarus A.D.

8pm, $22

DNA Lounge

375 11th St., SF

415-626-1409

www.dnalounge.com

EVENT

Adam Savage: "My Dodo — History and Personal Reflections"
Magical werewolves, flightless fairies, and the raphus cucullatus (dodo bird)? Once thought to be a farcical myth, the extinct dodo is now fondly recalled — not just by Lewis Carroll fanatics, but by Mythbusters maven Adam Savage, an official model-maker of dodo bird skeletons. At this lecture by Savage, audience members are free to filch tidbits of information about this once illustrious and very real avian phenom. (Jana Hsu)

7–9 p.m., free

The Bone Room

1573 Solano, Berk.

(510) 526-5252

www.boneroompresents.com

FRIDAY 20

DANCE

Down and Dirty Dance Series


The name of Dance Mission Theater’s latest dance series is somewhat hyperbolic, because the 11 scheduled companies aren’t known for being particularly subversive. But the series itself is more than welcome. A showcase primarily for local artists that doesn’t force them to go through an onerous vetting process is a fabulous idea. Dance Mission’s request was as simple as can be: explain in 500 words or less why you should be in the series. Three companies fill the first of five weekends. Christy Funsch is a tough thinker and independent dancer whose White Girls for Black Power is draws from Malcolm X and grrrl rock. The French-born, New York City resident and butoh artist Vangeline also brings feminist principles to her visually seductive dances. Dance Elixir will show rep and new work, informed by choreographer Leyya Tawil’s recent sojourn in the Middle East. (Rita Felciano)

8 p.m. (Funsch and Vangeline); Sat/21, 8 p.m. (Funsch and Vangeline); Sun, 6 p.m. (Vangeline and Elixer); $15–$18

Dance Mission Theater

3316 24th St., SF

(415) 273-4633

www.dancemission.com

LIT/EVENT

Naked Lunch 50th Anniversary Weekend


Sadly, my only Naked Lunch experience thus far has been an encounter with David Cronenberg’s 1991 film adaptation, at age 13. Sadder still, I only saw the scrambled version, because Showtime didn’t come with basic cable. I did, however, watch it in its distorted, striated entirety because — beyond its suggestive, sexy title — it offered to threaten my worldview. And threaten it did: bugs and vacuum cleaners and typewriters have never quite looked the same. The 20 participants, including DJ Spooky and Stephen Elliott, within this commemorative weekend of critical analysis and readings likely have more sophisticated accounts of William S. Burroughs and his seminal work. Still, I anticipate loads of raunchy debauchery. (Young)

7 p.m. (continues Sat/21–Sun/22 at other venues), free

San Francisco Art Institute Lecture Hall

800 Chestnut, SF

(415) 362-8193

www.citylights.com

www.sfai.edu

www.amnesiathebar.com

DANCE

San Francisco Hip-Hop DanceFest


You’d think that after a decade, the San Francisco Hip-Hop DanceFest would have settled into a comfortable, complacent groove. Not so — this amazing event stretches ever wider to pull in new companies, adding personal and national perspectives. For the first time, a mixed-ability company, Ill-Abilities, is representing. New acts are traveling from South Korea, Ireland, the United Kingdom, and Norway. The crews’ names include Last For One, Deep Down Dopeizm, Plague, Bad Taste Cru, Smash Bro’z Hip Hop, and B-Boy Spaghetti. Nothing wrong with their verbal imagination, now let’s see how it translates to kinetic energy. More than welcome back, of course, are "old timers" Mop Top, DS Players, Soul Force Dance Company, and Funkanometry. (Rita Felciano)

8 p.m.; also Sat/21, 8 p.m.;

Sun/22., 2 and 7 p.m.; $35

Palace of Fine Arts

3301 Lyon, SF

415.392.4400

www.sfhiphopdancefest.com

EVENT

San Francisco Bicycle Ballet


What exactly is a bicycle ballet? Find out tonight by witnessing the San Francisco Bicycle Ballet, a team of synchronized bike riders best viewed from above. Founded in 1996, SFBB has kept its pedals to the metal, or at least some forms of rock music, thanks to its own band, the Spoke Tones. Tonight’s performance also includes the bands Molten Grog, Charbo, and Chump. (Hsu)

8 p.m., $8 (free vegan spread)

Dogpatch Saloon

2496 3rd Street, SF

www.sanfranciscobicycleballet.org

PERFORMANCE

Tim Miller: Lay of the Land


You wouldn’t call it straight talk exactly, but queer performance artist Tim Miller has a talent and penchant for speaking his mind. Internationally known for his vigorously, hilariously, even enchantingly outspoken solo performance pieces, his concerns remain socially activist and largely American (he’s even one of the "NEA Four," artists targeted for funding assassination by D.C. wing nuts, surely worth a patriot merit badge if not a rent check). His latest, Lay of the Land, is a "state of the queer union," a clarion call to arms and legs and other appendages, and — presently on tour across said land — it touches down at Yerba Buena Center for the Arts this weekend. (Avila)

8 p.m. (also Sat/21, 8 p.m.), $25

Yerba Buena Center for the Arts Forum

701 Mission, SF

(415) 978-2787

www.ybca.org

SATURDAY 21

MUSIC/VISUAL ART

Episco Disco: Bronze and Kamau Amu Patton


Apparently Bronze isn’t being ironic by labeling itself "religious" on its MySpace page. Bands usually sidestep genre affiliation on MySpace by claiming no style or, through the safe security of self-effacement, a ragtag of disparate and insincere stripes like "melodramatic/tropical/metal." But given that this show is at a cathedral — a legitimate designator of religion — I’m guessing Bronze’s devotion is for real. Sure, it could all be part of its shtick, or a joke gone too far, but anyone who’s seen them play knows they command reverence. With slippery psychedelic grooves that faithfully and graciously point to Silver Apples and visuals by Goldie winner Kamau Amu Patton, there’s potential here for raised arms and hallelujahs, granted those pews get filled. (Young)

7–10 p.m., free

Grace Cathedral

1100 California, SF

(415) 749 6300

www.gracecathedral.org

www.episcodisco.com

MUSIC

Thao with The Get Down Stay Down


On the title track of Know Better Learn Faster (Kill Rock Stars), Thao Nguyen lustfully (and more than a little desperately) sings, "I need you to be /better than me /you need me to do /better than you." Nguyen’s romantic tendencies involve a kind of self-loathing that only she can make precious with lyrics like daggers thrown at a shiny backdrop of plucky guitars, blaring horns, and achy vocals. "What am I /just a body in your bed?" she asks with a punk’s sneer on "Body," before admitting "Won’t you reach for the body in your bed?" This is music to listen to when you’re sleeping with someone you shouldn’t be sleeping with. But disastrous love tastes a lot sweeter when you have a soundtrack like Thao with the Get Down Stay Down to listen to as you drive over train tracks in the middle of the night, telling yourself you’re not going back, and then turning around at the next stoplight. (Long)

With the Portland Cello Project, David Schultz

9 p.m., $17

The Independent

628 Divisadero, SF

415-771-1421

www.independentsf.com

SUNDAY 22

Alestorm


Pirates are honorary heathens, and none are more worthy of honor than Scottish pirate-metal sensations Alestorm. The pick of the Heathenfest litter, the Perth-based band has terrorized landlubbers the world over with their freebooting chops and foc’sle-ready melodies, the latter courtesy of singer/keyboardist Christopher Bowes, who wields a mighty keytar to get the peg-legs tapping. 2009’s Black Sails at Midnight (Napalm) made good on the promise shown by debut offering Captain Morgan’s Revenge (Napalm), and there is surely more plunder in store for the quartet as they ply the high seas and highways of the land. (Richardson)

With Eluveitie, Belphegor, Vreid, Kivimetsan Druidi

$22, 7:30

DNA Lounge

375 11th, SF

415-626-1409

www.dnalounge.com

TUESDAY 24

EVENT

Bo Dixon in the Flesh


Hair has gotten a bad rap during certain eras of gay porn, but it’s been back with a vengeance in recent years, as baby-oil-slick twinks began sharing shelf and site spaces with men with an "edge." While Bo Dixon was a skinny toothsome kid at his college graduation, more recently he’s proven that hairiness is sexy. This former COLT Studio model is a serious bodybuilder, and he’ll be showing off his bronzed, fleshy, hairy strength at a calendar-signing for the brand-new Bo Dixon: Reinvented calendar. (Hsu)

7:30 p.m., free

A Different Light

489 Castro, SF

(415) 431-0891

www.adlbooks.com

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Media res

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arts@sfbg.com

VISUAL ART/LIT Teresa Hak Kyung Cha isn’t the most famous female representative of conceptual art and the marriage between text and film. But this visual artist and prose lyricist — born in 1951, killed in 1982 — found new zones between film language and the written word. Her body of work, now a hallmark for lesser-known Asian and feminist artists, roughly spans from 1972 to 1981. Cha consciously employs the fragmentation and displacement of text on a page, the flap of an envelope, or carefully selected superimposed images in film, as in the unfinished circa-1980 White Dust From Mongolia.

In White Dust, a young Korean woman experiences physical, cultural, and psychological alienation in China when she is forced to leave Korea during the Japanese occupation. Cha’s purposeful isolation of language and deployment of linguistic breakdowns is instrumental in showing the cultural and geographical dislocation experienced by the film’s main character. In a project proposal, Cha writes that this harrowing experience causes the film’s young woman to "lose all memory and her capacity for speech." The question of whether White Dust‘s female subject can be likened to the artist herself has generated speculation by art historians and museum curators alike.

White Dust superimposes images of Korean women milling through a market and the face of a girl trying to remember. Was Cha creating a story about herself within American society? In 1980’s "Surplus Novel," one of Cha’s lyric poems within Exilee/Temps Morts: Selected Works (University of California Press, 288 pages, $24.95), the author recounts the personal experience of being called a "Yoko Ono," a fraction of one moment within a lifetime of painful cultural estrangement.

On the page, in medias res, are Cha’s deliberately fragmented words evocative of mistaken identity and the splintering of self? In her journals, she notes that she is primarily interested in "how words and meanings are constructed in the language system itself, by function or usage and how transformation is brought about through manipulation, processes such as changing syntax, isolation, removing from context, repetition, and reduction to minimal units."

Cha the conceptual literary artist was interested in showing and interpreting cultural detachment through her art, fueled by examples from the breathing wound of daily life. Even with a grant, Cha never completed White Dust. She was forced off Seoul’s streets due to political unrest in Korea following the October 1979 assassination of President Park Chung Hee. Three years later, she was murdered in New York City by a serial rapist working as a security guard.

The meanings and appearances of words are to the fore as one walks the rounds of "Theresa Hak Kyung Cha: Earth," a Berkeley Art Museum exhibition curated by Constance M. Lewallen, who also edited Exilee/Temps Morts: Selected Works. Words in French, Korean, and English are interspersed with the white space of blank pages that yield no answers. The French word feuilee — which can translate to leaves of a page or literally to "leaf"— is typed in different positions on several sheets of white paper. This gesture may embody the physical movement of falling leaves in autumn, or the structure of Cha’s writing.

Viewers must forge their own interpretations of Cha’s elliptical and occasionally whimsical texts, which sometimes read like song lyrics or chants. Cha’s words lean one toward a growing belief that it is our literary license to break her words down into our own meanings — to shift our attention from the storyteller to the story told. Perhaps then the reality of her murder in the SoHo district’s Puck Building might not be such a slap in the face.

Tethered by her untimely death, the caliber of Cha’s contribution to the art world remains a puzzle. Yet the aesthetic pulse of the day orders one to ignore the conceptual fray. Cha is a thoroughly detail-oriented literary and visual artist. Her methodical work doesn’t entertain or dazzle. It is open-ended in a way that requires its audience to supply part of the vision.

THERESA HAK KYUNG CHA: EARTH

Through Dec. 20, $5–$8 (free for UC students and children)

Berkeley Art Museum

2626 Bancroft, Berk.

(510) 642-0808

www.bampfa.org

Dark mirrors

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arts@sfbg.com

LIT Recently I was at a meeting with an unnamed arts organization, planning for an AfroSurreal art exhibit. As we were hashing out the details of display, the concept of the black dandy become a bone of contention among my learned colleagues. What was, and is, a black dandy? How does the black dandy differ from the white dandy? What’s the difference between a dandy and fop? Aren’t those terms interchangeable? Why bother looking at or for a black dandy at all? I’m seldom at a loss for words — it just takes me a minute to arrange them properly sometimes. (Ask my editor.) But this time, I had nothing to say. I just directed all queries to Slaves To Fashion: Black Dandyism and the Styling of Black Diasporic Identity (Duke University Press, 408 pages, $24.95).

Monica L. Miller’s book is the first of its kind: a lengthy written study of the history of black dandyism and the role that style has played in the politics and aesthetics of African and African American identity. She draws from literature, film, photography, print ads, and music to reveal the black dandy’s underground cultural history and generate possibilities for the future.

Slaves to Fashion looks at black dandies of the past, beginning with Mungo Macaroni, a freed slave and well-known force within the London social scene in the 18th century. Miller also studies contemporary manifestations, in the vestments of Andre 3000 and Puff Daddy, showing how black dandies have historically used the signature tools of clothing, gesture, and wit to break down limiting definitions and introduce new, fluid concepts of social and political possibility. Though Slaves to Fashion is über-academic and at times weighed down by post-structrualist jargon, Miller more than makes up for it with uncanny feats of scholarship that illustrate ways in which the figure of the black dandy has been an elephant-in-the-room — albeit a particualrly well-dressed one.

A great example is Miller’s citing of the character of Adolph in Harriet Beecher Stowe’s 1852 Uncle Tom’s Cabin. Almost immediately after the publication of this "great abolitionist work," its characters became some of the first American archetypes: Simon Legree and Uncle Tom are two notable examples. In comparison, Adolph — a black dandy pivotal to the story — was excised from the public imagination. Miller sees this as a reaction to what she calls "crimes of fashion," which take place when Africans and African Americans don the clothing of the oppressed to both emulate and satirize the oppressor. Adolph served as a "dark mirror" to both American materialism and the deep fear of the impending gender and race-mixing that would take place after abolition.

This fear, according to Miller, is the difference between the black dandy and the white dandy or the fop. Unlike a Caucasian counterpart, exemplified by the likes of Oscar Wilde, the black dandy comes from a position of underprivilege and uses flair and style as a way to redefine masculinity to include him. In other words, as opposed to a feminine front, it is the black dandy’s fluid masculinity — his "queering" of the term — that threatens to undermine the social order. Adolph is the exact opposite of the static, predictable docility and animalism of "the Big Black Buck" Uncle Tom. When he’s in town, you have to lock up your sons, daughters, wives, mother, father, and yourself because his power of seduction is so great. Think Prince during his Dirty Mind (Warner Bros., 1980) phase and you get the general idea.

Fear, according to Miller, continues to generate a serious backlash in reaction to the idea — let alone reality — of true equality for black people in the west. Images of black cork minstelry that lampoon the black dandy’s aspirations have been around as long as the black dandy. From Zip Coon and Jim Dandy in the early 19th century to present-day manifestations in popular culture, ambivalence — a tool of the black dandy — has served as a double-edged sword. Exactly when and where does "stylin’ out" become "coonin’"? If W.E.B. Du Bois, the quintessential black dandy, couldn’t figure it out, I’m not sure that I can find a definitive answer.

Slaves to Fashion rediscovers its footing in exploring the nature of "otherness." Returning from investigations of the black dandy’s lineage to note his role in contemporary art and culture, Miller shines a light on filmmaker Isaac Julien, editor and photographer Iké Udé, visual artist Yinka Shonibare, and beyond. In the process, she answers a variety of questions regarding what a black dandy is and does. Ultimately, the black dandy’s problem is an AfroSurreal one: by perpetrating these "crimes of fashion," by avoiding and exploding pat definitions of blackness, masculinity, and sexuality, he occupies a realm outside convention, and all too often, recognition. It is from these murky waters of post-postmodernity, I believe, that the black dandy brings a message for us all.

Trash Lit: ‘Nine Dragons’ is trustworthy

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Editors note: Bay Guardian Executive Editor Tim Redmond has a bad 30-year addiction to mystery/crime/thriller books. He’s decided that he might as well put this terrible habit to productive use by writing about these sometimes awful, sometimes entertaining and — on rare occasion — significant works of mass-market literature. Read his last installment here.

nindragons.jpg

Nine Dragons
Michael Connelly
Little, Brow;, 374 pages, $27.99)

By Tim Redmond

Harry Bosch, Michael Connelly‘s fictional detective, is the best continuing-series character in the genre (well, there’s Spenser, but he’s a special case). Bosch lives in L.A., where he’s a cop. He’s a little bit tortured — what can you say about a guy named Bosch whose dad thought it would be funny to name him Hieronymous? — but not so bent that it takes over the storyline.

And there’s always a good storyline. Connelly, a former newspaper reporter, knows how to work the real world into top-fight fiction, and his books give you a great feel both for the seedy side of Los Angeles and the world of a police detective. He doesn’t glorify cops — they come with plenty of warts, and some of them are sleazebags and some are thugs and some are crooks. And he doesn’t make violence seem anything but ugly, pathetic and painful.

Nine Dragons takes on a scene that Connelly doesn’t know that well — Chinese gangs and the Hong Kong underworld — but instead of pretending to be an expert, he works his learning curve into his hero’s head. Bosch, after all these years, has never quite recovered from his time as a tunnel rat in Vietnam, and is painfully nervous that his attitude toward Asians remains colored by that experience. From the first chapter, he’s having trouble with his partner, Detective Chu, someone he desperately needs but can’t entirely trust.

Trash Lit: Wild times in ‘Rough Country’

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Editors note: Guardian Executive Editor Tim Redmond has a bad 30-year addiction to mystery/crime/thriller books. He’s decided that he might as well put this terrible habit to productive use by writing about these sometimes awful, sometimes entertaining and — on rare occasion — significant works of mass-market literature. Read his last installment here.

roughcountry.jpg

Rough Country
John Sandford
(Putnam, 388 pages $26.95)

By Tim Redmond

Let us stipulate: It’s difficult for a male writer who specializes in straight male lead characters (and in this case, in a straight male lead character who spends a significant portion of his waking hours trying to get women into bed) to write a credible novel that centers around a lesbian resort. James Patterson, a white guy, has a wonderful black lead character named Alex Cross who works, perfectly, but that’s the exception; most people screw up when they try to reach like that.

And at the beginning of Rough Country, I had to wonder. I love John Sandford, but after the first chapter…well, you’ve got a straight girl getting hot watching lesbian lip-lock, you’ve got sordid lesbian drama that turns into a lesbian bar fight, you’ve got a weird business going on with really young men working at the women-only resort who may be on-the-side fuck-candy for bisexual girls (or may be underage hotties fucking older women for money)…and a little too much talk about “rug munchers.”

But by the middle of the book, it’s pretty clear that this is not just a great Sandford novel, but a wonderful portrayal of a fictional Northern Minnesota town where nobody gives a shit who fucks who. The owner of the resort is a respected local businessperson. The old straight guys who run bars and work as fishing guides treat the women just like any other (money-carrying) tourists. An old lady who’s part of a horticultural preservation group wonders aloud why anyone would care about another person’s sexuality, save for “a bunch of stuffy old men.”

You and yers

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le.chicken.farmer@gmail.com

CHEAP EATS Dear Earl Butter,

North Carolina was different. Since we would be there only one day, and that day was a Sunday, and all the barbecue places near my sister’s house are closed on Sunday, she had the presence of mind on Saturday to pick us up a pile of barbecue.

Mind you, she’s a vegetarian now, like the rest of my sisters and most of my brothers. But the more vegetarian the rest of my family becomes, the more meat I feel I have to eat. It’s complicated math, or maybe simple math and complicated metaphysics, but I know that you, of all people, will understand. My sister does.

My brother-in-law picked us up at 4 a.m. at the train station in Greensboro, where they live now in a rented single-wide, out between the last street light and the dump. Their couch folded into a bed, and the bed was very comfortable, but I was too hungry to sleep, so I visited the fridge. And there it was, lit from within, two quarts of pulled pork and a pint of barbecue slaw. There would be donuts and bagels and coffee when we woke up, but another way of looking at it is that I had barbecue for breakfast, lunch, and dinner that day.

And Earl, what I’m driving at, or meandering toward, is that none of this so-called authentic North Carolina barbecue was even half as good as what you brought over to Deevee’s house last time. Which is remarkable, considering that whoever made this must have lived here a lot longer than you did, I guess. And for sure more recently.

You lived here, what? A year? Twenty years ago? I guess you’ve just got a natural touch for North Carolina barbecue. Or another possibility is that sometimes you just flat-out outgrow a thing. Maybe I don’t like North Carolina barbecue as much as I thought I did. It happens. Example: I used to think my own hometown in Ohio had the best barbecue ever, but the last time I ate some I burped plastic the whole next day.

And I should mention that I did eventually get me some Georgia barbecue last week too, in Marietta, and it was way better than what we had here, although Romea might disagree, which goes to show you. When I come back, let’s go to Dibb’s Barbecue on Fillmore Street. I missed it last time I was on that street, remember?

But first we’ve got one more week of planes, trains, and automobiles, only not in that order. Like, right now we are on a train. Romea’s sleeping next to me, on my pillow, in my poncho. She’s probably dreaming my dream, too — which is (right now) of bacon fries. Did I tell you about bacon fries? Don’t wait for me to come back for that one. If you’ve got $5, go get you some, and if not borrow $5 off my brother.

I heard he stole my car from you. Don’t let him do that.

Yours,

me

P.S. I love her.

L.E.,

That is great. I went to the Lawrence Bakery Café, and got what I have gotten there for the last four, five, or six years. Which is a cheeseburger and french fries. I would like to say that in all that time, their prices have never changed. But that is not true. At some point, a cheeseburger and fries went up from $3.75 to $4. Is that an outrage? No, it is not an outrage, it is perfectly fine. I love the Lawrence Bakery Café and several places around the Mission for the very same reason: they serve very good food at very good prices, giving a guy like me, well, a chance.

I can cook food. Most everybody knows it. But it was out of necessity that I learned to cook. Believe me, if I had the dough, I would be eating out every night, maybe at fancy-pants places, but also at great regular places, too.

My kitchen has been very good to me over the years. But I would leave it in a second and never speak to it again if I could. Please do not let my kitchen know that I wrote this.

Yers,

Earl

LAWRENCE BAKERY CAFE

2290 Mission, SF

(415) 864-3119

No alcohol

Cash only

L.E. Leone’s new book is Big Bend (Sparkle Street Books), a collection of short fiction.

Trash Lit: A delusional ‘Pursuit of Honor’

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Editors note: Bay Guardian Executive Editor and acrostic master Tim Redmond has a bad 30-year addiction to mystery/crime/thriller books. He’s decided that he might as well put this terrible habit to productive use by giving these sometimes awful, sometimes entertaining and — on rare occasion — significant works of mass-market literature the Joe Bob Briggs treatment.

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Pursuit of Honor
Vince Flynn
(Simon and Schuster, 431 pages, $27.99)

By Tim Redmond

This deeply delusional author seems to think he’s the next Tom Clancy, with a counterterrorism-operative hero named Mitch Rapp, a love for all that is military and secretive, and a political agenda that leans toward Attila the Hun. He once devoted an entire book to the premise that the president of the United States should be murdered because he refused to de-fund the Rural Electrification Administration. In case you need any perspective, Glen Beck calls Pursuit of Honor “fantastic.”

Rapp starts out this episode by beating up a stereotypical liberal would-be CIA reformer who — guess what — turns out to have a “personality disorder.” In fact, Rapp discovers, “It’s not uncommon for people with this disorder to hire lawyers.” Then he beats up his best buddy who is too much of a wimp to kill the CIA inspector general, who isn’t with the program.

It gets better. You’ve got bad Arabs right from Central Casting, paranoid terrorists who kill innocent federal (CIA) employees, female senators who love abortions and hate the CIA, and a nifty reference to ol’ Joe McCarthy, who “may have been a drunk and an ass, but that didn’t make him wrong.”

Two broken Russian knees. One broken Russian nose. Glass-tube-up-the-dick-and-break-it torture. Nutty Al-Qaeda guys shooting Midwesterners from an RV. But not enough plot to even make this feel like waste-of-time fun.

Clancy’s a right-wing loon, too, but at least he has a phenomenal talent for constructing a story. Poor Mr. Flynn isn’t in that league.

Anti-doofus agenda

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arts@sfbg.com

LIT/MUSIC With influences ranging from the Cuban Revolution and Malcolm X to musical orishas such as Ornette Coleman, John Coltrane, Thelonius Monk, and Sun Ra, Amiri Baraka is renowned as the founder of the Black Arts Movement in Harlem in the 1960s that became, though short-lived, the virtual blueprint for a new American theater aesthetic. The movement and his published work — such as 1963’s signature study on African American music Blues People and the same year’s play Dutchman — practically seeded "the cultural corollary to black nationalism" of that revolutionary American milieu.

Baraka lives in Newark, N.J., with his wife and author Amina Baraka; they have five children and head the word-music ensemble Blue Ark: The Word Ship and co-direct Kimako’s Blues People, an art space housed in their theater basement for some 15 years. I spoke with him on the eve of an upcoming visit.

SFBG What brings you to the Bay Area this time around?

AMIRI BARAKA We’re doing two sets at Yoshi’s with Howard Wiley. Those are the kinds of musical things we have a nice time doing. I hope to bring the poetry and music to Oakland, San Francisco, and Los Angeles. And I’m giving a talk at the library.

SFBG What will you be discussing?

AB Obama and his first 10 months, based on an essay I wrote a few months ago called "We’re Already in the Future." I support Obama and I think that the people who supported him initially should keep supporting him because they are forgetting the huge difficulty he faces. This society, they don’t want any kind of change. They do not want him, first of all. Only 43 percent of the white people even voted for him, and a lot those people resent the fact that white America is now mulatto. That election proved that it’s not white America, it’s multinational America, so they’ve set up this roadblock to almost anything he does.

Anytime you can, you see how doofus Americans are, to oppose their own quality of life improvement, their own health care. They’d rather mope along with little health care or none simply because the corporations have convinced them it’s bad for them — it shows you that we have a real education gap in America. Not to mention the racism, which is behind a lot of it, big time.

The people who support Obama need to stand together to fight the right wing. It’s the right wing that is the enemy. Those huge corporations including those mouthpieces they have. The media is just absurd, with [Sean] Hannity, [Bill] O’Reilly, [Glenn] Beck, Rush Limbaugh. These guys are just too much. If they’re not racist, there is no such thing as racism.

SFBG I know that you spent some time in SF. What are your impressions of our city?

AB I was a visiting professor at San Francisco State for about three or four months, that was the extent of my residency. I like San Francisco. I’m drawn to the vibe there. The last time I was in San Francisco, I was reading at Ferlinghetti’s bookstore [City Lights]. Most of my stuff is in Oakland, but whenever I’m in Oakland, I stop by San Francisco.

Seems to me that San Francisco is very expensive, like New York. I live in Newark, N.J., which is 12 miles outside of New York City — it’s got that Oakland-San Francisco relationship. When you’re dealing with New York, you have that high-rent district all the way around. San Francisco is a beautiful city, but going there and being there are two different things.

SFBG Happy birthday. I know you just turned 75. Any wisdom to impart from three-quarters of a century?

AB I’ve been 75 for about five days. I can say that you really need to take care of yourself. That’s the cliché: "If I knew I was going be this old, I would have taken better care of myself," but it’s some better wisdom than what you hear generally.

SFBG You coined the term "Afrosurreal Expressionism." Can you share your definition?

AB If you know the African tales or even African writers and African cultures, then you know they understand the concept of having relationships reversed, which exposes new concepts and dimensions. They understood the power of the conscious and unconscious mind to change the dimensions of the world. The various forces of nature that people developed, that people saw as gods, these elemental forces: the wind, the water, the sun, the moon. They understood how human beings interrelate to those forces. Henry Dumas’ work dealt with these changing dimensions, and people who do strange things in realistic situations. It was Surrealism that changed the relationship to things. Dumas influenced Toni Morrison, who was his editor at Random House. He was a strong writer and he went out of here in a tragic way, being murdered by the police. His stories and poems are Afrosurreal, with African psychology imposing these dimensions on reality.

SFBG What is the role of the artist in the current climate, and what are the tools we can use to bring about social change?

AB The way things work: cause and effect, action and reaction. The ’60s and the ’70s were a period of intense struggle. The Black Arts Movement and the antiimperialist movement laid the foundation to get Obama elected. But then you get a reaction, and it has been quite evident. Imperialist commerce has taken over the arts. Once we were struggling to get black movies made — now we see what kinds of movies are being made by black people, and they are very backward. Act, react. We have to struggle anew to do something about these backwards elements.

Black people have 27 cities: we need 27 theaters, 27 galleries, 27 periodicals. We need to have poets, rappers, painters, actors struggling to raise the consciousness of the people. That is the role of the artist. Black people still live in these ghettos and these ‘hoods. There may be more of a black middle-class, but they often are the ones helping to keep us duped and bamboozled. This is a struggle that has to be. This is reality — like they say, "Keep it real." This is a struggle that has to be.

AMIRI BARAKA WITH THE HOWARD WILEY TRIO

Nov. 9, 8 p.m., $16–$20

Yoshi’s San Francisco

1330 Fillmore, SF

www.yoshis.com

Lovecraft, baby!

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More on SFBG

>>New doc explores H.P. Lovecraft’s lasting influence — and Cthulhu slippers!

>Neo-goth and retro and contempo horror music pulse forth

arts@sfbg.com

Lovecraft is a resonating wave. He’s rock and roll.

— Neil Gaiman, "Concerning Dreams and Nightmares," The Dream Cycle of H.P. Lovecraft: Dreams of Terror and Death

LIT/MUSIC Howard Phillips Lovecraft (1890-1937) attributes most of his fiction’s cosmology to the apocryphal Necronomicon, an ageless sort of anti-Bible that describes a universe of unfathomable strangeness superimposed over our own. Not content with obscurity, this alternate reality tends to extend its clammy tendrils into our collective line of vision, yielding all sorts of therapy-necessitating results. Of course, the Necronomicon‘s legend overshadows its reality. Yet in the kind of self-reflexive twist the famously anti-modern writer would have probably hated, the tome’s enduring mystique acts as a summation of his own work’s post-pulp shelf life.

Lovecraft never got a chance to see it happen, but the spawn of his fevered imagination has been consistently reproduced in all sorts of geek media, from role-playing games to plush dolls. Some of the most interesting representations of the reclusive author’s output, however, come from the realm of loud-ass rock music, another modern contrivance Lovecraft would have almost certainly despised.

The first instance of Lovecraft’s legacy infiltrating rock music seems to be with the late-1960s psychedelic folk outfit known as, appropriately enough, H.P. Lovecraft. This group took after the sense of fantastic spaciousness conveyed in its namesake’s oeuvre, meandering in dreamy walls of sound that circumvent any buried unease without actually going anywhere. "At the Mountains of Madness" from 1968’s H.P. Lovecraft II (Phillips) spends five or so minutes layering organ arpeggios, vocal harmonies, and a collage of period echo effects into one of the better musical approximations of a lava lamp — a languid sonic pattern that’s fun to lose yourself in for a while, before you realize the shifting plasma is never going to do anything crazier than its mannered glass walls will allow. It was a promising start, but the essential menace of these unexplored worlds seemed to intimidate the band, like the intrusive pang of fear that could send even the most cosmic of folk-rock trips spiraling into twisted Syd Barrett territory. It would take a group with a special predilection to the macabre to help steer Lovecraft-rock towards reaching its full potential.

By the early ’70s, H.P. Lovecraft and its like were devoured by the cyclopean (to borrow H.P.’s favorite adjective) Black Sabbath, whose Black Sabbath (Warner Brothers, 1970) pays homage to the neurotic master with the typically sinister power-groove of "Beyond the Wall of Sleep." In what should come as no surprise to anybody familiar with the Birmingham, England four-piece’s career arc, the doom gods immediately honed in on the potential psychedelic allegory of Lovecraft’s work. While the "deadly petals with strange powers" are the focal point of Ozzy’s lyrics, Geezer Butler’s snakelike bass line adds a decidedly mysterious undercurrent to the track, like some implicit ghoulishness is being mercifully withheld from the listener. (Sabbath acolyte Sleep would pick up where its primary influence left off. "From Beyond," from 1992’s Sleep’s Holy Mountain [Earache] eschews Butler’s measured playing, allowing Al Cisneros’s bass tone to swell to neutron star proportions. Likewise, lyrical allusions to "planetoids soaked in rays of electric light" and the approaching "stoner caravan from deep space" have an affinity with the author’s sprawling, pulp-lyricism rather than his feel for claustrophobic menace, the norm for most other Lovecraft-inspired songs.)

Metallica puts this strategic withholding to use in Ride the Lightning‘s (Megaforce, 1984) "The Call of Ktulu," a sprawling, misspelled instrumental tribute to Lovecraft’s beloved cephalopod-head. With its hypnotically creeping guitar theme, the album’s epic closer mirrors the arch of the typical Lovecraft narrator’s psyche — a curious unease that gradually swells to a crescendo of madness — while doing justice to the cadence of Lovecraft’s baroque language. The absence of vocals is part of why the track is so effective. By stripping away the inevitably sub-Lovecraft lyrics, Metallica allows the listener to be absorbed by the brooding tone rather than any deficient attempts at reproducing content.

Like Black Sabbath and Metallica before them, countless heavy metal acts past and present have been fascinated by the worlds and creatures described in H.P. Lovecraft’s labyrinth of fiction — Morbid Angel’s prized shredder Trey Azagthoth even modifies one of the more formidable creature’s monikers for his stage name (and in another parallel, gives death metal some of its most batshit-dissonant solos.) But one notable band of Lovecraft acolytes comes from the seemingly incongruous world of British punk.

The iconoclastic (read: fucking weird) Rudimentary Peni and their 1988 LP Cacophony (Himalayan) eschew the subtlety of some of their peers in the Lovecraftian rock canon and go straight for the brainstem. While others withhold (to varying degrees of effectiveness), Rudimentary Peni overload. As a concept album, Cacophony is as much about Lovecraft’s psyche as it is his literary creations. Nick Blinko uses the senseless feedback of his guitar amp, coupled with schizophrenic, mumbled vocals, to create a supremely ugly conflation of fiction, biography, and amateur psychopathological diagnosis.

A far cry from the static kaleidoscope of sound employed by canon forefathers H.P. Lovecraft, Rudimentary Peni’s use of layered tones and effects spirals inward with single-minded intensity. Standout songs like "The Horror in the Museum" and "Zenophobia" tenuously adhere to the sing-along, pogo-conducive structure traditionally associated with British punk. Yet closer listening reveals these barely stable hooks to be composed of a vast latticework — not unlike the album’s disturbingly detailed, fractal-like cover art — of dissonant string-bends, amplifier squeaks, disjointed basslines, and a persistent, barely intelligible whisper that seems to work itself into the fiber of the guitar tone.

The result is a funhouse doppelganger of the multilayered production of the group’s unlikely 1960s ancestor. Cacophony appears to be about crafting some kind of stable impression of the man, but the Peni make a point of never letting the components fully fit together. Instead, we are left with a virtual echo chamber of Lovecraft’s imagination, wherein the scraps and fragments of his writings and real-life neuroses intermingle and inform each other without ever coalescing. In spite of the band’s unmerciful approach, there’s a feeling of being denied the full effect of some unspeakable horror. But this horror is strictly cerebral, a glimpse at the madness that looms over Lovecraft’s work like one of his own reasonless "Other Gods." Happy Halloween, big guy! Eeyagh!

Secret history

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superego@sfbg.com

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

— "Robot Children" by Catholic

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

MEGATRON MAN

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

Exhibit through Nov. 18), free

Mama Calizo’s Voice Factory

1519 Mission, SF.

www.voicefactorysf.org

Teens take over library, olds gasp

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By Cailtin Donohue

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Just when you thought you were safe… teens take over the library

Friday night at the library! Sure, when I was 17 you couldn’t have gotten me there with a sharp stick and an unmarked van, but back then I was doing more meaningful things like chugging Mike’s Hard Lemonade and straightening my hair.

Not so with the attendees of TeenQuake. This sucka-free event of which I speak is part of LitQuake’s mega lineup of all that is arty and eloquent. The west coast’s largest literary festival has somehow managed to convince the San Francisco Main Library to be peacefully taken over by the under-20 set, and dulcet tones of teen lit authors will be echoing off the walls all night. Look forward to readings by Frank PortmanFrank Portman, author of King Dork, whose title character wryly dismantles life as a baby boomer’s progeny:

“He must have read the notebook. Otherwise, how would he have reached the conclusion that my ‘relationship’ with ‘my girlfriend’ was undermining his generation’s sacred achievement of the institution of easygoing touchy-feely ouchless deodorant optional crunchy-granola Hair-soundtrack butterflies-and-unicorns sexuality?”

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TeenQuake featured artist Tom Franco’s story illustration from his collaboration with Mom

Also featured are teen lit writers Ying Chang Compestine, Tom Dolby and mother-son team Betsy and Tom Franco who recently collaborated on Metamorphosis, a young adult novel whose narrator recasts his high school social milieu in the form of ancient Roman mythology. In addition to all the booky folk there will be an emcee battle, a scavenger hunt whose victor wins a Wii, a live art wall and performances by teen spoken word artists, dancers and musicians.

So find the coolest, most verbose teenager you know and give them a ride. And how about just drop them off there because (a) they want to do their own thing and (b) Teenquake’s for 13-19 year olds. Don’t be that guy.

TEENQUAKE
Fri/16, 6:30-9 p.m., free
San Francisco Main Library
100 Larkin, SF
(415) 750-1497 www.litquake.org