Radio

Getting to know T.I.

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One thing to like about Clifford "T.I." Harris Jr.’s truthful intelligence is the fact that the straight-outta–West Atlanta MC chose XXL, not Entertainment Weekly, as the place to compare himself (in an interview) to Jennifer Lopez and Barbra Streisand. Anyone who’s heard T.I.’s music or seen his videos may wonder where the hell that comparison comes from. This weekend will provide the answer — by the end of it, he hopes to have the number one movie (with the Chris Robinson–directed drama ATL) and album (with King) in the country.

Ensconced in a Palace Hotel boardroom, the man whose first, prefame album was titled I’m Serious is just that, whether discussing the ways self-made Southern trailblazers such as the Geto Boys set a business example for him; exactly how UGK, NWA, and Luther Campbell made it easier to speak freely in his radio hits; or describing his and David Banner’s Katrina-relief drives. "Everyone was talking about whether the Red Cross and FEMA were doing what they were supposed to do," he says, regarding Heal the Hood and his radio telethon efforts. "We filled up 18-wheelers and dropped off clothes, nonperishable food, diapers, and water."

Juggling cell phones — "I’m actually talking about developing a script this second," he says — T.I. does crack a smile when I tell him Hollywood has been slow to recognize his star charisma. Until recently, his biggest hit, "U Don’t Know Me" (from 2004’s Urban Legend), might as well have been directed at the studios. But the breakthrough success of Hustle and Flow has changed that quickly. T.I.’s label, Grand Hustle, released the soundtrack featuring Three 6 Mafia’s Oscar-winning song, so it’s far from a stretch to imagine T.I. and Terrence Howard exchanging music and acting tips.

Now both ATL and King’s swaggering leadoff single, "What You Know," are primed to increase T.I.’s fan base. "Those are huge shoes to fill, definitely, but I ain’t scared," he admits — with apologies to Bonecrusher? — when asked what he thinks about a Pharrell quote essentially labeling him the Jay-Z of the South. "I appreciate the compliment. I think people should be more concerned about how he [Jay-Z] feels about it. If he don’t have a problem with it, I definitely don’t." That said, the serious man with the number one plan allows himself a rare laugh. (Johnny Ray Huston)

ATL

Opens Fri/31 in Bay Area theaters.

For showtimes go to www.sfbg.com.

www2.warnerbros.com/atl

Hater raid

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On their hysterical Web site, We Are Scientists send out a warning to would-be critics.

“Journalists beware!” the New York trio declares. “An example has been made of a reporter who dared to impugn WAS!” It turns out that a certain writer, who had gone out of his way to trash the band, was recently busted for fabricating part of a story in the Village Voice. The lesson to be learned, according to WAS, is that criticizing them results in some serious karmic retribution. “If [writers] must vent negative feelings,” the band helpfully advises, “they should cloak them in a thick blanket of bone-dry sarcasm so that most readers think the article is actually positive.”

WAS may have their tongues planted firmly in their cheeks, but they have reason to feel a bit defensive. After all, singer-guitarist-heartthrob Keith Murray, bassist Chris Cain, and drummer Michael Tapper are often snubbed by indier-than-thou listeners, particularly in the blogosphere, who begrudge the band for its radio-friendly sound and burgeoning success, which, since last summer, has included a heavily hyped UK tour opening for the Arctic Monkeys and a major-label record deal. What’s more, despite forming in 2000, they’ve been largely dismissed by critics as latecomers to today’s trendy post-punk party.

On its recent debut, With Love and Squalor (Virgin), however, the band distinguishes itself from ’80s-influenced peers such as Hot Hot Heat and Franz Ferdinand by elevating relationship anxiety to an art form. In songs like “The Great Escape” and “Inaction,” propulsive, herky-jerky rhythms underscore Murray’s dread about car-wreck romances that he can’t quite peel himself away from, singing, “Everybody knows how it’s gonna end / Why doesn’t someone stop me?!” The entire album, in fact, is permeated with a nervous, deeply compelling tension due to Murray’s panicked yelp and lyrics that, in his words, attempt to express “a core of existential despair.”

If that sounds pretentious, at least it’s more refreshingly earnest than, say, the arch observations that Franz Ferdinand pass off as profundity in last fall’s lame hit “Do You Want To.” It’s also catchier than anything the ’80s revivalists have released since the Killers’ “Somebody Told Me”

NOISE: Well, we’re here and the SXSW action is just starting…

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If it’s Wednesday, this must be SXSW… sorta. IMHO, the affair is off to a slow start though peeps at the last party I sloshed through were bemoaning missing the interactive part of the conference from March 10-14. Another theory floated around out there: The humongoid, pricey official SXSW dinner that all the industry titans attend is tonight and nothing must detract from the rubber chicken. Ahem.

But that’s OK — we’ll start slow, too. All the better to catch the 1,300 or so artists and bands that are performing at this year’s event. Efficiency geeks out there will be pleased to know that the speed of registration has greatly improved — gone are the long langorous lines that snaked through the second floor of the Austin Convention Center in years past. You got to know your neighbors, but the joint feels a lot more together, organizationally, in 2006, and the mood is catching. Last heard in the press room from a local radio reporter: “Do you want to interact with me or just talk?” Glad there’s a clear option.

At 1 pm, I was still bleary-eyed from the three-hour layover in Phoenix. It always seems like the SXSW air ferries will turn into party jets/soul planes any sec — what with the many musicians, writers, industry-types aboard — but the layover bit didn’t improve anyone’s mood. Nonetheless I dropped into the Riverboat Gamblers/Thrasher/Volcom Party but nada was going on — just the faraway music of a distant jukebox. So I moved on down the street to IUMA’s bash at Emo’s Annex (it’s like restaurant-going in SF; if everything’s quiet or too crowded on one front, just stroll to the next joint). Tim Mitchell of the Decoration (and IUMA, where he works with Noise Pop founder Kevin Arnold) knows how to throw a party! Empenadas, drink ticks, and music by the Herms (singing brainy songs and rocking a noisome organ; they’re ready for the release of their upcoming debut LP) and Phosphorescent (who were doing the zany, mile-long horn section thang as the singer sported strings of holiday lights). All lit up and it’s not even 2 pm.

Note to self: Folks seem psyched about the Beastie Boys’ press conference for their upcoming concert doc, Awesome: I Fuckin’ Shot That! And yo yo yo, the Beasties are giving a press conference shortly. An antidote to the doodness might be Pick Up the Mix, the doc on gay, lesbian, and transgendered hip-hop featuring the Deep Dickollective.

Otherwise, tonight, my untrained eye is roving over and considering Houston hip-hop showcases including sole Oaklandish type Balance; the Birdman Records showcase; Kris Kristofferson and Jessi Colter at the Austin Music Awards; Lesbians on Ecstasy with the Metrosexuals; the Castenets with Wooden Wand; Octopus Project; Field Music with Serena Maneesh and Of Montreal; Jose Gonzalez with Annie, the Presets, and Wolfmother (the hype was turned on full blast for them, with lonnnng-ass infomercials on cable last night); Absolutely Kosher showcase; Cut Chemist with Jean Grae; Austin’s Weird Weeds; Matador Showcase; Immortal Technique; King of France; the excellent Envelopes with the Ponys, the Grates, and standout non-“s” band Art Brut.

What does it all mean to you? I have no idea. But it sure sounds like I’ll be busy.

102_0294 deerhead smaller.JPG
Here, my deer: This comes with your chicken-fried steak
at the Broken Spoke honky-tonk in Austin.

Class act

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With a new full-length on storied UK label Beggars Banquet in their present and a European tour with the National in their recent past, Bay Area band Film School might be assumed to have the world on a guitar string. But think again.

When I last spoke to them two years ago, founder-vocalist-guitarist Krayg Burton was bemoaning his broke state to guitarist-vocalist Nyles Lannon, beneath the posters of Malcolm "By Any Means Necessary" X and the other righteous underdogs at Café Macondo. Film School’s last recording, the EP Alwaysnever (Amazing Grease) had just come out, the tech bubble had burst, and the world was wide open, leaving Burton and Lannon to hawk their Web-related skills on their own.

Now here we are, in early January, tucked into the lamp-lit control room of drummer Donny Newenhouse’s Middle of the Mile basement studio in San Francisco’s Mission District, where Film School recorded about half of the new self-titled second album. The band has been awarded the gift-of-gab buzz at recent SXSWs, praised by NME, and described by BBC 6 host Steve Lemaq as his favorite new band. Next-level stuff. Now if only they can decide how best to approach a set list.

"We fight about the set list every night, every show," the laid-back Newenhouse says from behind the mixing board. He’s the A/V guy of Film School, according to his bandmates. "It’s like the A team – we’re pretty cool, unified, but …"

"We write the set list five minutes before we go on," interjects keyboardist Jason Ruck, Film School’s class clown. So there’s no room for dissention? "But then there is dissention, and we’re discussing it onstage when we’re supposed to be playing. That actually happened once in front of our label head." He looks pleased.

"It kind of ties into going to the next level," bassist Justin LaBo says, curled catlike in an easy chair in the corner. He’s the guy most likely to be expelled from Film School. "Not being, like, I don’t want to say, amateurs or rookies, but having your shit together, being confident and walking onstage knowing what you’re going to play, and not arguing onstage."

You’d be more pro and more polished, but perhaps less … interesting, I offer from the center of the Middle of the Mile booth. "That’s been the argument the whole time," Newenhouse exclaims, miming an irate bandmate. "<\!q>’I don’t want to be one of those fucking bands that has the same set every night and knows what they’re doing when they get onstage!'<\!q>"

"I kind of like winging it a bit," Burton mutters, the "tenured teacher with the vodka in the coffee cup" at this Film School.

"I want to have a rotating set list, written in stone," Newenhouse continues, half-self-mockingly pretending to carry stone tablets engraved with songs to a stage. "<\!q>’Here’s the 10 commandments’ – straight down from the dressing room every night. It’ll be like Spinal Tap’s Stonehenge – we can have midgets dance around them."

Spitballs aside, it’s comforting to know that some things never quite change – be it Film School’s collective, self-deprecating sense of humor or their honest, exploratory doubts – even as one chapter ends and the band appears to be on the brink of graduating into some sort of big time.
GENUINELY GORGEOUS

At first listen, the new Film School is almost off-puttingly polished: It’s one of the best-sounding self-produced, headphones-only albums by a local band I’ve heard of late, blending the poppier hook-and-groove singles-craft of "On and On" and the elastic, massive, 4AD-ish groove of "Pitfalls" with gorgeous wall-of-psych longer pieces such as the airy, multitextured, Floyd-drenched "He’s a Deep Deep Lake," and "11:11," which moves from an almost early U2-like twitch into glitched-up drone before finally ascending into a dervish of guitar noise.

The mixture of tones was deliberate. "We actually value a record that comes from different directions and has a different sound here and there, as long as it’s cohesive, and we spent a lot of time trying to make it cohesive," wise man on campus Lannon says, sprawled in a lounger. "The record actually has, I think, a unique flow to it. It kind of takes you on this ride."

Just don’t call them "shoegazer." "We just like [My Bloody Valentine’s Loveless] because it’s really textured and spacey, not because it’s guys in bowl cuts staring at their shoes," LaBo gripes.
LONG TIME COMING

Much like their six-minute singles, it took a while to get to Film School. The band that began in 2001 as a live ensemble charged with playing ex-Pinq member Burton’s first Film School self-released album, Brilliant Career, has since become a full-fledged collaborative entity, with plenty of production experience courtesy of Lannon, LaBo, and longtime Bottom of the Hill soundperson Newenhouse (who replaced Ben Montesano in Film School when the latter got married about a year ago). Lannon has worked as Azusa Plane and N.Lannon, LaBo has recorded as Technicolor, and Newenhouse has drummed with Holly Golightly and Hammerdown Turpentine.

They started working on Film School in 2004, turning to three different producers before finally deciding to do it themselves in Newenhouse’s studio, where they cut five newer songs and mixed in older dreamier material recorded in Lannon’s bedroom.

"We actually wasted six month’s worth of time on one song," Newenhouse says. "That was a real drag. Technically, it was difficult. I think [the producer’s] idea of what he wanted it to sound like didn’t really mesh with ours. That’s when we realized we should just do this ourselves."

"I haven’t been back here since we recorded," Burton marvels from the corner, a stocking cap pulled over his ears. "I’m starting to remember those eight-hour days, looking round here – it’s like, oh god."

Since the album spans such a long period, one wouldn’t expect the songs to have much in common with each other, though Burton swears they do: "Maybe there’s a little bit of a theme about trying to move forward and feeling a little stuck." And perhaps that has something to do with the long, drawn-out making of Film School? "Maybe!" he says. "I think it might be just getting older and trying to make those next steps in life."

Beggars Banquet first made contact with Film School’s manager two years ago when the band played with TV on the Radio in the UK. It took about a year of e-mails and talk before a deal was struck, around the time when the album was completed. "It took basically all of last year until the dust settled," Lannon says. "Is it even settled yet? I don’t even know. On this last tour we were like OK, it’s official, right? We’re spending money, this advance. I think once the money is in your account, the thing is really happening."

"It’s weird to be working with a label that isn’t worried about going out of business. Not having this dark cloud over you the whole time," Lannon continues, mimicking an imaginary imprint. "<\!q>’Urrrrr, rock music. Records just don’t sell like they used to.’ That’s every other label we talked to. It’s just a recurring theme that you hear as a person in the indie rock world. Every label you talk to has that, starts with that ‘Feel sorry for me, I’m a label’ sob story. But Beggars has figured it out; they’ve been around for a while – it’s a nice situation."

"We can exhale a little," Burton adds gently.

"Now we just have to play well every night!" Ruck cracks.

FILM SCHOOL  Jan. 26, 6 p.m.  Amoeba Music  1855 Haight, SF  Free  (415) 831-1200  With Sound Team and Citizens Here and Abroad  Jan. 26, 9 p.m.  Bottom of the Hill  1233 17th St., SF  $10  (415) 474-0365

It may not be sexy, but it’s important

Staff
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The problem with reading comprehensive analyses of the state of anything — the union, the art or the economy — is that you often have to wade through a whole lot of facts and figures before you get to the good stuff. Most of us zone out when we see too many numbers in front of our eyes. No matter how interesting or important we find the topic, if a report contains more than one statistic per paragraph, we never make it to the end.

For The Bay Guardian, that has always been a dilemma. Unlike a lot of news outlets, we don’t ask you to believe our stories on faith alone; we give you the facts to back them up. Sometimes, with complicated stories, we give you so many that you can’t be bothered reading them all.

Bruce Brugmann, the editor and publisher, is fond of telling us that the headline on every story has to summarize everything important in the story. Most people, he says, won’t read anything else. If we want to make sure they get the point, we have to put it in 96-point Tempo Bold.

Which makes sense. But when the story is about the state of San Francisco’s economy and how the next mayor should guide it, the point doesn’t lend itself to a few short, bold words on the top of a page. It’s too complicated for headlines.

It’s also too complicated for short campaign slogans, or for 30-second radio and TV ads. That may be one reason why the mayoral candidates have, by and large, ignored the issue. It just isn’t sexy. It takes too long to explain. Too many numbers. The voters will go to sleep.

Unfortunately, the issue is also crucial. The economic policies of the next mayor will affect the lives of everybody living or working in San Francisco. It’s something the candidates should be talking about.

We aren’t running for public office, so we don’t need to hustle for votes. But we are concerned about the future of the city — and no matter how much work we put into a story, it does no good if people don’t read it. This week’s main news story, by reporter Tim Redmond, is full of numbers and statistics, and I’ll be the first to admit it’s

the kind of story that would normally scare me away. But the story is important, and the proposals that form the final section should be required reading for anyone interested in a serious debate over the city’s future. Give it a shot — then call your favorite candidate and ask him or her what they think of our ideas and why they aren’t discussing these issues as part of the campaign.

Seven months late, mainstream media discovers school asbestos problem

Staff
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A little known group of teachers, union representatives and parents of school children called the Asbestos Council, has met twice a month since its inception in March to monitor the district’s asbestos program with no attention from the press. But when the Council and staff members met July 23rd with Tom Sammon, executive assistant to the superintendent of schools, and Eduardo Escobedo, head of general services, the superintendent’s stuffy little conference room was packed with television cameras and reporters from just about every major news outlet in town.

Suddenly, asbestos in the schools is big news. The Chronicle and Examiner have run several front-page stories on the problem, and all three TV news shows in the city have given it extensive coverage. KRON’s NewsCenter 4 alone has aired six segments on the problem in the past week.

KRON Reporter Emil Guillermo presented detailed, hard-hitting stories outlining the extent of the potential hazards the substance poses to district students and staff, and forced top district officials to acknowledge that they had misjudged the situation in the past and allowed it to continue unabated.

Overall, however, the rash of news stories have provided very little information that wasn’t published in the Bay Guardian seven months ago. Back in January and February, the rest of the local media, with the exception of KKCY radio and the San Francisco Progress, seemed remarkably uninterested in asbestos in the schools. (Only KKCY even mentioned during the recent rush of reports that the Bay Guardian had broken the story in January).

And even today, with the exception of KRON, none of the newspapers or broadcast outlets with a newfound interest in the crisis have sought to explain why the school district allowed the asbestos problem to go unacknowledged and unabated for so many years — and who is to blame.

The rash of mainstream news reports, however, does raise an interesting question. For months, top school officials, including Superintendent Ramon Cortines and Escobedo, who directly oversees the school district’s facilities, have sought to downplay the extent of the problem. Although district consultants and some staff have recommended that several schools be shut down and fully cleaned up before students are allowed back, only in July did Cortines decide to close McAteer High School. In recent interviews, the superintendent has still dismissed the staff, students and media concerns as “asbestosphobia.”When the Bay Guardian first warned of the serious and pressing asbestos danger, school administrators and some Board members accused the paper of “scare tactics” and “journalistic misrepresentation.” Now that just about every news outlet in town has confirmed our reports, will the district begin to change its tune?*

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