SXSW

Localized Appreesh: The Soft White Sixties

Tony Robles
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Localized Appreesh: The Soft White Sixties

Localized Appreesh is our weekly thank-you column to the musicians that make the Bay. Each week a band/music-maker with a show, album release, or general good news is highlighted and spotlit. To be considered, contact emilysavage@sfbg.com.

You know that feeling when you’re aware you’re hearing a song for the first time, yet it feels as though it’s always been there? It’s new-to-you but there’s something familiar, reassuring – it just works right, pinging back and forth through your ear drums and pulsating brain muscle. That’s how I felt when I first listened to the cool swagger of San Francisco’s the Soft White Sixties. The hard rocking quintet, formed by Mexican-American singer-songwriter Octavio Genera, has a real tight grip (full disclosure, “real tight  grip” is a lyric from SWS’s song “Too Late”) on classic Seventies rock’n’roll – with all the shoulder-shaking percussion, the bluesy rock riffs, and Genera’s soul-tinged Southern rock bravado.

The band had a pretty memorable year, performing with pals the Stone Foxes at Great American Music Hall during Noise Pop, hitting SXSW, touring the States, and at the start of summer, appearing at the Harmony Festival in Sonoma and the High Sierra Music Festival. Now summer is officially over, and the boys are back in town. Next up, a show at Bottom of the Hill tomorrow night.

Year and location of origin: 2008, the Haight.
Band name origin: Somebody had a bright idea
Band motto: “Wear it a lot, wash it a little”
Description of sound in 10 words or less: Rock ‘n’ roll, heavy on the roll, dipped in soul
Instrumentation: Guitar, keys, bass, drums, and vocals – and a runaway tambourine
Most recent release: self-titled EP (April 2011) – get it here.
Best part about life as a Bay Area band: The coastal fog and burritos
Worst part about life as a Bay Area band: Bridge tolls and parking tickets
First record/cassette tape/or CD ever purchased:
Octavio: Sound Effects Vol.1 (Track 25, “Car Starting” was a favorite).
Joey: Jodeci.
Ryan: Skid Row s/t (cassette), Wreckx N Effect Hard or Smooth (CD).
Aaron: Probably something like Enema of the State or Punk in Drublic.
Josh: The Simpsons Sing the Blues.
Most recent record/cassette tape/CD/or Mp3 purchased/borrowed from the Web:
Octavio: Black Girl (iTunes single Lenny Kravitz).
Joey: 100 classic French songs for $9.99.
Ryan: Wilco The Whole Love, Belle & Sebastian “The Blues Are Still Blue” iTunes single.
Aaron: Portugal. The Man – In the Mountain In the Cloud.
Josh: Blakroc
Favorite local eatery and dish: La Santeneca(3781 Mission St), best pupusas in the city.

The Soft White Sixties
With Mona and Funeral Party
Weds/5, 9 p.m., $12
Bottom of the Hill
1233 17th St., SF
www.bottomofthehill.com

The Performant: Cello rock!

Andrew Lam
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The Performant: Cello rock!

Rasputina at the Great American Music Hall

Somewhere at the intersection of the society for creative anachronism and the Wave Gotik Treffen resides the cello-driven, chamber-rock trio Rasputina. Founded by multi-instrumentalist Melora Creager in 1992, the band has long straddled the line between whimsy and steel, with songs that range in topic from giants to vampires, orphans to infidels, E equals MC squared to 1816, “the year without a summer.” 

Decked out in corsets, ruffles, and turn-of-the-last-century fantasywear, fronted by a woman who often speaks with a faux European-High Elvish accent, Rasputina is positioned as far as possible from the center of the pop music arcana without falling completely out of the deck. Eschewing categorization, the band floats effortlessly above petty pigeon-holing, embraced by steampunk creativists, glamour Goths, strings buffs, and plain old folk alike.

Playing for an attentive crowd at the Great American Music Hall on Sunday, show openers UK folk duo Smoke Fairies, was a sweet surprise to jaded ears. Two honey-tongued English roses, each bearing a guitar that they played gently but not tentatively, their finger-picking sure, their voices perfectly complementary. 

Each song contained a shimmering undercurrent of regional inflection. The delicately balanced “Storm Song” lilted like an Irish ballad sung by Moya Brennan or Mairéad Ní Mhaonaigh, whereas the down-home slide guitar and husky vocals of “Living with Ghosts” evoked a haunting Appalachian melody with a hint of the Indigo Girls circa 1989 in the harmonies. Touring to support their first full-length album, Through Low Light and Trees (V2/Cooperative Music, 2010), Katherine Blamire and Jessica Davies have captured the attentions of Jack White and SXSW among others, securing some welcome street cred before their album even hit the shops this side of the pond.

Rasputina too has a newish album out, Sister Kinderhook (Filthy Bonnet, 2010), and mixed several of those songs into their concert set including “Sweet Sister Temperance” (an ode to one Emily Dickinson), “A Holocaust of Giants” (an ode to, well, giants), and one of my personal favorites, “Snow-Hen of Austerlitz,” a melancholy mountain ballad picked out on a half-sized banjo about a feral girl locked in a chicken coop. Older rockers, “Rats,” “Momma Was an Opium Smoker,” and “Saline, the Salt Lake Queen,” also found their way onto the setlist, as well as “Transylvanian Concubine,” (“the oldest song of the Rasputina canon,” Melora Creager pointed out). 

In addition to Melora, the lead cellist and songstress of the band, the group’s current lineup includes longtime Creager collaborator, classically-trained cellist Daniel DeJesus, and Jill-of-all-trades Dawn Micheli who plays the drums in a  more stately fashion than predecessors such as Cabin Fever’s Philosophy Major, or Jonathon TeBeest, which sucked some of the chaotic neutral vibe out of the harder numbers. 

In truth, it was the slower, more thoughtful tunes that rendered the evening triumphal, including a forlorn cover of “Bad Moon Rising,” and the equally mournful “Watch TV”. Creager’s distinctive vocals bent and snapped like the flexible boughs of spring saplings, her breathy vibrato a perfect foil for the mellow rumble of her cello. And though it seems unlikely that the cello will ever replace the electric guitar as the favored instrument of pouting rockers, with Rasputina to blaze the path, it will at least remain a fanciful option for the musical intelligentsia. 

 

Our Weekly Picks: July 20-26

Andrew Lam
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FRIDAY 22

FILM/MUSIC

Casablanca with the San Francisco Symphony

When you think about the music from the classic 1942 film Casablanca, the first thing that likely comes to mind is “As Time Goes By,” the Herman Hupfeld song that Sam is asked to play (again) by both Ingrid Bergman and Humphrey Bogart. As iconic as the piano tune is, one shouldn’t overlook the outstanding score by Max Steiner, who incorporated themes from the French and German national anthems to act as motifs and punctuate the onscreen drama. At tonight’s special concert, the San Francisco Symphony performs the score live as an accompaniment to a screening of the movie, and concertgoers are encouraged to show up early for cocktails and a piano sing-along, a party truly befitting Rick’s Café Américain. (Sean McCourt)

8 p.m., $30–$70

Davies Symphony Hall

201 Van Ness, SF

(415) 864-6000

www.sfsymphony.org

 

MUSIC

Doc Martin

The exact date is unclear, but noted electronic musicologist and rave historian David Sevene of Chicago University believes it took place between 1990-91. The location was a Where the Wild Things Are-theme party, an all-night Wild Rumpus in L.A. Doc Martin, already at the forefront of the West Coast scene, entered the DJ booth to find Charlie Sheen, Flavor Flav, and Nicolas Cage exchanging drugs. The three were making a pact: to “go all out,” “party the night away,” and “cut loose.” It was the beginning, many believe, of a path that would lead to collective insanity, assault convictions, self-destruction, and 1992’s Honeymoon in Vegas. For Doc Martin, who remains an unparalleled deep house DJ, it was just another night. (Ryan Prendiville)

With Garth, Nikola Baytala, Galen, Bo, and Rouzbeh

10 p.m., $15–$18

Public Works

161 Erie, SF

(415) 932-0955

www.publicsf.com

 

THEATER

Bay Area Playwrights Festival

Be the first to see a local hit or even a work by a future Tony winner at the 34th Bay Area Playwrights Festival, a two-week showcase of fresh works by seven emerging playwrights, performed script-in-hand at Potrero Hill’s Thick House. The fest includes full-length works like Lauren Gunderson’s Rock Creek: Southern Gothic and Dan Dietz’s Home Before Zero, as well as a program of short plays (Bay Area Shorts, or BASH!). A highlight will surely be Oakland-born writer-on-the-rise Chinaka Hodge’s new short play about a friendship between two track stars, the East Bay-set 700th & Int’l. (Cheryl Eddy)

July 22–31, $20

Thick House

1695 18th St., SF

www.playwrightsfoundation.org

 

MUSIC

1-2-3-4 Go! 10th Anniversary

Since its inception in 2001, 1-2-3-4 Go! has proven itself not only as the proprietor of the best record store in the East Bay, but as a quality label in its own right, boasting an impressive (and ever expanding) roster of punk and garage bands from our own backyard and beyond. In honor of these achievements, 1-2-3-4 Go! is hosting a three day festival packed full to bursting with every act your punk-hungry ears could dream of. It would be impossible to list every noteworthy band on the bill without simply reproducing it in its entirety, but to name a few: the Bananas, the world’s greatest/drunkest pop-punk band, will be joined by a reunited Zero Boys and local garage-champion Nobunny, as well as King Khan and many more, plus record swaps and DJs … and now I’m out of breath. (Cooper Berkmoyer)

Through Sun/24

8:30 p.m., $14–$15

Oakland Metro Operahouse

630 Third St., Oakl.

(510) 763-1146

www.oaklandmetro.org

 

FILM

Harold and Maude

This is it, folks: the last film to ever play the Red Vic as we know it. The Haight Street theater shuts its doors after more than three decades following a run of one of its perennial favorites, Hal Ashby’s 1971 black comedy, Harold and Maude — an appropriate choice not just for its Bay Area setting, but also because of its bittersweet themes (helped along by Cat Stevens’ soundtrack songs). The Red Vic’s final day coincides with its 31st birthday. Expect a profusion of daisy petals and not many dry eyes. Head out, pull up a bench, dig into some yeasty popcorn, and celebrate the collectively-run theater — and thank its staff for their long run of matching quirky programming with a one-of-a-kind film going experience. Red Vic, you’ll be missed. (Eddy)

Fri/22–Mon/24, 7:15, 9:15

Also Sat/23–Sun/24, 2, 4), $6–$9

Red Vic Movie House

1727 Haight, SF

(415) 668-3994

www.brownpapertickets.com

 

MUSIC

Earth

Mixing stately, meditative guitar hums with a new-found twang, influential Seattle outfit Earth is poised to thrill San Francisco concertgoers — at least those with long attention spans. Since its founding in 1989 the band has perfected “drone doom,” a repetitive, tectonically shifting subgenre of extreme music. Though some elements have stayed constant — slow tempos; warm, somnolent guitar tones — Earth has gradually transformed its sound, incorporating keyboards, cellos, and aforementioned twangy leads, redolent of country music. The result is ominous, evocative music that often sounds like the score from some depressing, not-yet-filmed psychedelic western. (Ben Richardson)

With Angelo Spencer and Les Hauts Sommets, Whirr

9 p.m., $15

Slim’s

333 11th St., SF

(415)-255-0333

www.slims-sf.com


SATURDAY 23

MUSIC

Uncle Rebel

Definitive Uncle Rebel song “Take Your Rest” has no percussion. Instead, the backbeat is held down by a bizarre, eerie sound effect that sounds like someone plucking a tightly coiled spring. Over top appears the haunting acoustic guitar and pained, bluesy singing of Matt Welde, who eventually launches into a shuddering solo on electric. Welde’s band and its somber, Americana-inflected tunes will be joined at Slim’s by the Soft White Sixties, a five-piece that, as its name implies, seasons exuberant, danceable rock with hefty does of 1960s R&B. Fans of homegrown rock ‘n’ roll with vintage sensibilities are sure to enjoy what they hear. (Richardson)

With the Hypnotist Collectors

8:30 p.m., $14

Slim’s

333 11th St., SF

(415)-255-0333

www.slims-sf.com

 

PERFORMANCE

“Brave New Voices Grand Slam Finals”

I just watched Russell Simmons’ HBO-ification of the international youth spoken word competition Brave New Voices, and even through the reality show treatment, the kids’ performances were making my fists ball and throat hurt — such was the emotional power hemorrhaging out of their poet bodies as they spat the biggest issues in their world. Their ultimate showdown comes to the Bay Area for the first time this year. Tonight’s finals are the culmination of writing workshops and multiple rounds of competition featuring pieces the teams busted so hard that the stages were left covered with un-ignorable piles of real, young-person emotion. Damn, there’s that lump in my throat again. Go see it. (Caitlin Donohue)

7–10 p.m., $18–$100

War Memorial Opera House

301 Van Ness, SF

www.bravenewvoices.org


SUNDAY 24

FILM/EVENT

“2011 SFJFF Freedom of Expression Award: Kirk Douglas”

Actor, producer, and author Kirk Douglas is a true Hollywood legend and icon. For nearly 70 years, he has not only entertained and enlightened audiences, he has stoically fought for what he believes in. Perhaps the most famous example is when he broke the Hollywood blacklist by insisting that Dalton Trumbo be given screenwriting credit for his work on the 1960 epic Spartacus — an action for which, along with his incredible career, he is being honored today by the San Francisco Jewish Film Festival. Douglas, who was born Issur Danielovich, will appear live on stage to receive the 2011 Freedom of Expression Award, and to be on hand for a special 50th anniversary screening of Spartacus. (McCourt)

1 p.m., $16–$18

Castro Theatre

429 Castro, SF

www.sfjff.org

 

TUESDAY 26

MUSIC

Symbolick Jews

Making good on the promise of lo-fi, bombarding an audience with equal parts noise and rock ‘n’ roll, and releasing more albums in a year than most bands eek out in a lifetime, the Symbolick Jews embody much of what is great about independent music. Loud, raucous, fun and always on the verge of collapsing, a Symbolick Jews song is like a dog pile with your wasted friends on the Fourth of July. Fireworks explode somewhere deep inside the pile of beer-soaked flesh and denim and all you can do is laugh-scream as chaos erupts and bodies slump to the side. It isn’t incoherent: part shitgaze, part Pixies-era indie rock, Symbolick Jews captures something like the avant-garde songcraft of Pere Ubu, but at its most rocking heights rather than its weirder experimental adventures. (Berkmoyer)

With Baby Talk and the Gems

7 p.m., $5

El Rio

3158 Mission, SF

(415) 282-3325

www.elriosf.com

 

MUSIC

Yuck

While it might be impossible to ignore the blatancy with which Yuck wears its late-1980s and early-1990s indie rock influences on its sleeves, the band pulls it off so flawlessly that it ultimately winds up little more than an afterthought. Obvious touchstones include Dinosaur Jr.’s fuzzy guitar assault and the loose charm of early Pavement albums, all coupled with a melodic sweetness that stops just short of turning overly saccharine. The London-born songwriting pair of Daniel Blumberg and Max Bloom lies at the core of Yuck, and thanks to a firestorm of hype after the release of the band’s debut LP early this year, the two have found themselves touring nonstop and headlining SXSW showcases before they’d even hit their 20s. (Landon Moblad)

With Unknown Mortal Orchestra

July 26–27, 8 p.m., $13–$15

Independent

628 Divisadero, SF

(415) 771-1421

www.theindependentsf.com


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Quickies: Short Frameline reviews

Andrew Lam
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Quickies: Short Frameline reviews

Below are some reviews of films that intrigued us from the upcoming Frameline Film Festival. Check out more of our coverage here.

Codependent Lesbian Space Alien Seeks Same (Madeleine Olnek, U.S., 2011) Who can’t identify with that title? Metaphorically speaking, that is. Although Madeleine Olnek’s B&W feature insists on etaking it quite literally, to pretty hilarious results. Lonely stationery-store clerk Jane (Lisa Haas) tells her shrink she dreamed a close encounter in which a space ship dropped a note her way that read “What are you doing later?” Shortly thereafter, she finds herself the object of amorous pursuit by Zoinx (Susan Ziegler), one of several bald-pated, high Peter Pan-collared exiles from planet Zotz who’ve been dumped in Manhattan to seek “hot Earthling action” and get their hearts broken — because it is believed back home that “big feelings” of love are destroying the ozone. Ergo, guilty citizens must be rendered “numb and apathetic” by off-shore interspecies romance before safely returning. Meanwhile two badly mismatched government operatives (Dennis Davis, Alex Karpovsky) are spying upon the intergalactic love intrigue. Go Fish (1994) meets Plan 9 From Outer Space (1959), at last! June 25, 3:30 p.m., Castro. (Dennis Harvey)

The Evening Dress (Myriam Aziza, France, 2009) Everybody’s crushed on a teacher at some point, and indeed everybody in Helene Solenska’s (Lio) sixth grade French grammar class seems to have a crush on her. Why not: she’s attractive, wears sexy clothing (by classroom standards at least), and addresses the occasional sass with challenging provocation rather than simple discipline. But shy, studious Juliette (Alba Gaia Bellugi) has a crush bordering on obsession, particularly once she misinterprets teach’s attentions toward outgoing male student Antoine (Léo Legrand). You’re never too young to have a nervous breakdown, and our heroine’s increasingly reckless actions threaten to make her a pariah. Myriam Aziza’s feature is in that My Life as a Dog (1985) realm of movies about unpleasant childhoods that aren’t exploitative but at times grow truly discomfiting — it’s a worst case-scenario of pubescent imagination run amuck amid the usual teasing and bullying of peers. It’s a very good film if not an especially pleasant one. June 22, 4 p.m., Castro. (Harvey)

A Few Days of Respite (Amor Hakkar, Algeria and France, 2010) Quiet, bespectacled Moshen and his younger lover Hassan have fled Iran in the hopes of starting a new life together in Paris. They have only each other, and yet, because they lack visas, they must keep their distance while traveling to avoid arousing suspicion. While on a train in southern France, Moshen befriends Yolande, an older widow hungry for companionship who offers him a quick job painting her flat in a nearby small town. He agrees, forcing Hassan to continue hiding out, first in plain sight, and later, unknown to Yolande, in her attic, until tragedy drags everything out into the open. Algerian writer-director Amor Hakkar, who also plays Moshen, has crafted a sparse, intimate drama — emotionally enriched by its muted performances and minimal dialogue — about the lengths we are willing to go for love and the price we must pay in the process. Mon/20, 9:30 p.m., Elmwood; June 22, 9:30 p.m., Castro. (Matt Sussman)

How Are You? (Jannik Splidboel, Denmark, 2011) In the past few years Michael Elmgreen and Ingar Dragset, a Berlin-based artistic duo and romantic couple, have become international art world darlings known for their ambitious, playful, and critical large-scale installations, such as turning an exhibition space into a life-size replica of a New York City subway station or building a Prada pop-up shop in the Southwestern art mecca Marfa, Texas. At only 70 minutes, How Are You? can’t help but be a whirlwind tour, air kissing the bigger issues (commodity fetishism, identity politics, commercialism, and the vexed relationship the art world has to all three) Elmgreen and Dragset’s projects touch on while tracing the duo’s career trajectory all the way to their victory lap at the 2009 Venice Biennale. Brief but solid. Sun/19, 6:30 p.m., Roxie. (Sussman)

L.A. Zombie (Bruce LaBruce, Germany/U.S./France, 2010) If you’re going to see one Bruce LaBruce gay zombie erotic film, don’t make it L.A. Zombie. Alas, the latest from the queer Canadian auteur doesn’t hold up alongside its thematic predecessor, 2008’s Otto; or Up With Dead People. Lacking any of Otto‘s subtlety, L.A. Zombie is all sex, no substance. Sometimes that works: LaBruce’s The Raspberry Reich (2004) doesn’t go light on the porn, and that’s surely one of his best. But L.A. Zombie is lacking on all fronts. It stars noted gay porn actor Francois Sagat as a possible zombie (as in Otto, this is never made clear) who makes it his mission to fuck dead men back to life. Insert endless scenes of the zombie sticking his weird alien cock into gaping wounds and ejaculating blood onto corpses. If you can stomach that sentence, you can handle the film, but what’s the point? LaBruce’s past efforts have all the full-frontal male nudity without sacrificing the humor or cultural commentary. June 23, 9:30 p.m., Victoria. (Louis Peitzman)

Miwa: A Japanese Icon (Pascal-Alex Vincent, France, 2011) Chanteuse, star of stage and screen, outspoken champion of gay rights, drag queen: Akihiro Miwa has worn these many titles on her taxi-yellow, hair-like tiaras since she first rose to prominence as an androgynous torch singer at Tokyo jazz clubs in the 1950s. But it wasn’t until her dazzling star turn as the titular jewel thief in the camp classic Black Lizard (1968) that Miwa became a household name throughout Japan. Despite its clear admiration of its subject, Pascal Alex-Vincent’s documentary gives Miwa the Wikipedia treatment, resulting in a film that shares the unfortunate distinction of being both heartfelt and dull. Even his interviews with the lady herself come off as lusterless. Do yourself a favor, and track down a copy of Black Lizard instead. Mon/20, 1:30 p.m., Castro. (Sussman)

The Mouth of the Wolf (Pietro Marcello, Italy, 2009) This experimental narrative is a mix of archival footage and dramatic vignettes depicting the great love between two unlikely entwined souls who met in prison: ex-hood/longtime jailbird Enzo, a.k.a. Vincenzo Motta), and sometimes drug-addicted transsexual Mary Monaco (who died last year after filming). It’s also a lyrical appreciation of Genoa, the fabled northern Italian seaport that’s experienced tumultuous changes for over two millennia. Pietro Marcello’s unpinnable “docu-fiction” — Motta and Monaco apparently play themselves, a highlight being a 12-minute, nearly unbroken-shot dual interview — is frequently gorgeous cinematic poetry. If you seek the more conventional rewards of prose, you’ll probably be bored. However: anybody looking for Daddy should be informed that Enzo is pretty much the last word in unreconstructed macho-manliness. June 22, 9:30 p.m., Elmwood; June 24, 11 a.m., Castro. (Harvey)

Smut Capital of America (Michael Stabile, U.S., 2010) San Francisco. It’s smutty! You already know that, but do you know how deep-down and dirty it really is, in a historical sense? Basically we invented hardcore pornography in the 1960s (OMG, pubic hair!) and this lively local short, soon to expand to full-length, tells that story through fascinating archival footage, no-punch-pulled interviews with folks like John Waters and pornologist John Karr, and titillating naughty bits. Throughout there’s a feeling that a vital part of the story of sexual liberation, gay and straight, is being unearthed. And the raunchy tales of Polk Street hustlers, sticky-floored cinemas, and buck-wild hippie girls throwing open their golden gates will flood you with San Francisco pride. The short plays as part of the “Only in San Francisco” program with Running in Heels: The Glendon ‘Anna Conda’ Hyde Story and Making Christmas: The View From the Tom and Jerry Christmas Tree. Sun/19, 11 a.m., Victoria. (Marke B.)

Weekend (Andrew Haigh, U.K., 2011) The mumblecore-y movie many of us who lived through the 1990s wish was made back then: all that’s missing is the purposefully retro Cure soundtrack. Two scruffy, hipsterish, actually attractive Brit boys enjoy an ideal weekend fling. There is a fixie involved. Commitment-phobes each — one because he isn’t quite into the gay scene, one because he’s too full-on liberated for relationship gibberish — they gradually and adorably deal with their emotional attraction. By no means is this My Beautiful Launderette, and the melancholy self-regard might come a bit thick (Weekend was a big hit at the SXSW film fest, so … ), but it’s a well-acted, lovely film that examines the state of cute white skinny young bearded gay blokes today. Fri/17, 4:15, Castro. (Marke B.)

Without (Mark Jackson, U.S., 2011) This first feature by Seattle’s Mark Jackson (not to be confused with the Bay Area theater talent) is a stark reading of the psyche of 19-year-old Joslyn (Joslyn Jensen), newly arrived as temporarily caretaker to nearly-vegetative, wheelchair-bound Frank (Ron Carrier) while his kids and grandkids are on vacation. Left with this almost completely helpless charge — requiring butt-wiping, wheelchair-to-bed lifting, and regular transfusions of the Fishing Channel as stimulant — Joslyn seems to wallow in rather than escape her problems. Which appear to consist largely of a lesbian relationship whose gasping breaths we witness in occasional flashback. Isolated by no Internet or cellphone reception, not to mention her own powers of repression, Joslyn gradually looses grip as Jackson’s narrative grows more disturbing and ambiguous. Sat/18, 6:30 p.m., Victoria. (Harvey)

Frameline 35: San Francisco International LGBT Film Festival

June 16–26, most films $9–$15

Castro Theatre, 429 Castro, SF

Rialto Cinemas Elmwood, 2966 College, Berk.

Roxie Theater, 3117 16th St., SF

Victoria Theatre, 2961 16th St., SF

www.frameline.org

 

SXSW Music Diary wrapup

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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SXSW Music Diary wrapup

MUSIC South by Southwest was completely overwhelming, and my feet are killing me. It’s hard to avoid the constant feeling of missing out on something, because you always are. But once you get over that fact, it’s possible to have a really good time. Here’s a highlight reel from my first time at the Austin festival.

Wed/16 Made it to Dallas on the early-early flight from SFO and found the gate for Austin, a hipster ghetto in DFW’s sea of middle Americans. The first musician sighting was Toro y Moi, then it was off to the live music capital of the world. Post-credentialing, we attempted to catch Raphael Saadiq at the much-hyped Fader Fort party … but the line stretched for hours. The first of many scrapped plans. We then stumbled across the Palm Door, where Anamanguchi was playing irresistible Nintendo-core power pop. Later that eve I saw the sweet Icelandic troubadour stylings of Olof Arnalds and caught an amazing version of “Benny and the Jets” by piano gods Marco Benevento.

Thurs/17 Biked straight to a loft party featuring Brasileira MC Zuzuka Poderosa, who was spitting out Funk Carioca lyrics on top of beats by DJ Disco Tits. Tried to go to the NPR showcase, which was done, then tried to see Big Freedia, the “Queen Diva” of Bounce … all I got was a taste from the sidelines. Ran into SF local Meklit Hadero as she and her band tried to find the venue where they were showcasing. Saw Boston’s David Wax Museum at the Paste party and crossed paths with J Mascis on my way out. Caught the tail end of Meklit’s show at Marco Werman’s “All Music Is World Music” showcase, then Abigail Washburn’s stellar bluegrass set. Rode clear across town in the hopes of catching Devotchka at Lustre Pearl, but the line nixed that plan. Came back for the Atlantic Records showcase hoping to check out Lupe Fiasco, but B.O.B was playing in his place. Decided to forgo Janelle Monáe’s show (she’d been subbed in for Cee-Lo) so I could get off my feet.

Fri/18 Ran into Red and Green of Peelander-Z, the outrageously festooned Japanese punk band, who sweetly obliged a snapshot (they’ll be playing DNA Lounge on April 7th with Anamanaguchi). Got dished up a tasty burger at the Alternative Apparel Lounge as my cohort Matt Reamer was summoned to take pics of Linda Perry. We shared our table with Shane Lawlor of Electric Touch, who chatted about his band’s road from getting signed to playing the big festival circuit this year. Checked out James Blake at the Other Music/Dig For Fire lawn party. It was kind of like listening to all the sexy backing elements of a Sade song, without Sade. I loved Tune-Yards’ pygmy-esque vocal layering and percussive fervor. Her last song got everyone to their feet with a Fela Kuti vibe. And !!! brought the crazy dance party. I finally felt like I’d arrived at SXSW.

Later that eve, the Shabazz Palaces set was weighed down by sound issues. Ran into the ladies of HOTTUB as I went to see Toronto’s Keys N Krates, who killed it: two DJs and a drummer juxtaposing amazing sampling and turntablism with live percussion. Cubic Zirconia’s electro funk set at the Fool’s Gold showcase was also great. Singer Tiombe Lockhart held court. The closer was seeing Chief Boima during the Dutty Arts Collective showcase.

Sat/19 Last day in Austin. The hot daytime ticket was the MOG.com party at Mohawk. That meant getting there early and committing the entire afternoon … but the payoff was catching headliners TV on the Radio and Big Boi with just a few hundred other folks. Austin’s Okkervil River was playing the outdoor stage when I got there, and then Brooklyn’s Twin Shadow was playing inside. Even though they’re on the ’80s synth-pop bandwagon, they managed to keep things fresh. TV on the Radio’s SXSW shows officially put an end to their two-year hiatus and previewed their highly anticipated upcoming album Nine Types of Light. Next up on the outdoor stage was Big Boi. Songs from his recent release had some traction, but whenever an OutKast jam dropped, the crowd lost their shit. A funny moment: when he invited a sea of hipster girls to the stage to shake it with his ATL crew.

That eve, the rumor mill about surprise shows was alive and well. Kanye, Jay-Z, and Justin Timberlake were breathlessly being mentioned around town. The conundrum became one of whether to chase those dragons or stick with a confirmed showcase.

After briefly checking out the Red Bull Freestyle DJ contest, I decided on the confirmed showcase approach. The globetrotting Nat Geo showcase at Habana Bar was stellar. I walked in as Khaira Arby, the legendary queen of Malian desert rock, was rocking the house. Up next was Brooklyn’s Sway Machinery, then Aussie roots-reggae group Blue King Brown. Things really got packed for the closing act of Austin’s own Grupo Fantasma. The recent Grammy-winning group marched the crowd through the paces of their super tight cumbia, salsa, and funk grooves while experimenting with heavier psych rock influences. I enthusiastically made it through about half their set until my feet cried uncle. I made my way through the sloppy Sixth Street madness, dodging teenage lotharios and puddles of sick on the way to my bike, and then home.

A PHOTOGRAPHER’S ADVICE FOR SXSW FIRST-TIMERS

• You have to let go. You will not see half the acts you want to, but there is always a good band within a few hundred yards — so be where you are and enjoy it. Discover some new music.

• Live music photography is best when there’s a mosh pit. It’s much easier to move through a swirl than a dense crowd. I’m not the type to post up 30 minutes before the band starts — but I am the type to push up once they’re on. Sorry, short people.

• Wear comfortable shoes.

• There is a lot of free booze — but not as much as I thought. (Matt Reamer)

Read all of Mirissa and Matt’s coverage of the fest here

SxSW Music Diary: Day 4

Charles Russo
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SxSW Music Diary: Day 4

Last day in Austin. The hot daytime ticket was the MOG.com party at Mohawk. That meant getting there early and committing the entire afternoon… but the payoff was catching headliners TV on the Radio and Big Boi with just a few hundred other folks.

Austin’s Okkervil River was playing the outdoor stage when I got there and then Brooklyn’s Twin Shadow was playing inside. Even though they’re on the 80s synth-pop bandwagon they manage to keep things fresh. TV on the Radio’s SxSW shows officially put an end to their two year hiatus and previewed their highly anticipated upcoming album “Nine Types of Light.”

Next up on the outdoor stage was Big Boi. Songs from his recent release had some traction, but whenever an OutKast song dropped the crowd became instantly lost their shit. He seemed unfazed by the shift in response and was just having a good time. A funny moment was when he invited a sea of hipster girls to the stage to shake it with his ATL crew.

That eve the rumor mill about surprise shows was alive and well. Kayne, Jay Z, and Justin Timberlake were breathily being mentioned around town. The conundrum became one of whether to chase those dragons or stick with what was confirmed. After briefly checking out the Red Bull Freestyle DJ contest I decided on the latter approach.

The globetrotting Nat Geo showcase at Habana Bar was stellar. I walked in as the legendary queen of Malian desert rock Khaira Arby was rocking the house. A protege of Ali Farka Toure, her voice remains a powerful beacon of Mali’s enchanting soundscape even after decades on the scene.

Up next was Brooklyn’s Sway Machinery and then Aussie roots-reggae group Blue King Brown. The space started to get really packed for the closing act of Austin’s own Grupo Fantasma. The recent Grammy winning group marched the crowd through the paces of super tight cumbia, salsa, and funk grooves while experimenting with heavier psych rock influences. I enthusiastically made it through about half their set until my feet cried uncle. Call it SxSW Syndrome… the feet are the first to go.

I made my way through the sloppy 6th Street madness, dodging puddles of sick and teenage lotharios on the way to my bike and then home.

SxSW Music Diary: Day 3

Charles Russo
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As we walked through downtown Austin we ran into Red and Green of Peelander-Z, the outrageously festooned Japanese punk band. They sweetly obliged a snapshot and then continued on their way. Just found out that they’ll be touring with Anamanaguchi, the frenzied “Nintendo-core” band I saw on day 1. Make sure to check them out at DNA Lounge on April 7th.

Was dished up a tasty burger at the Alternative Apparel lounge as Matt got summoned to take pics of Linda Perry. We shared our table with Shane Lawlor of Electric Touch (an adorable brit rocker who looked to be straight out of central casting) and chatted about his band’s road from getting signed to playing the big festival circuit this year.

After that it was a walk in the sun to the Other Music and Dig For Fire lawn party. We made it in time to check out James Blake. It was way too packed to even catch a glimpse of him but it felt great listening from a shady spot on the grass. I agreed with Dan that the sound was like listening to all the sexy backing elements of a Sade song, without Sade.

Tune-Yards was incredible. I loved Merrill Garbus’s pygmy-esque vocal layering and percussive fervor. Her last song brought everyone to their feet with a Fela Kuti vibe. And !!! brought the crazy dance party. The party was on a gently sloped hilltop, the crowd was manageable, and there was free ice cream courtesy of the Ice Cream Man. It finally felt like I’d arrived at the festival.

Later that eve I caught a bit of the Shabazz Palaces set which was weighed down by sound issues. Ran into the ladies of HOTTUB as I went to see Toronto’s Keys N Krates who killed it. Two djs and a drummer juxtaposing amazing sampling and turntablism with live percussion. Unreal.

Cubic Zirconia‘s electro funk set at the Fool’s Gold showcase was also great. Singer Tiombe Lockhart held court. One girl in the audience made the mistake of jumping up on stage to show her enthusiasm… but Lockhart wasn’t having it. She quickly initimidated the girl into backing down and gave a speech about respecting her stage. The girl was mortified but Lockhart was right, it wasn’t cool.

The closer was seeing Chief Boima during the Dutty Arts Collective showcase. Oakland’s Los Rakas stopped by for a shout out and Chief Boima played their new single.

Be sure to check SFBG Contributing Photog Matt Reamer‘s slideshow from his Day 3 adventures.

 

SxSW Music Diary: Day 2

Charles Russo
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0

 

Got a late start and biked downtown in the Texas heat, straight to a loft party featuring Brasileira MC Zuzuka Poderosa. She was spitting out her Funk Carioca lyrics on top of beats being mastered by DJ Disco Tits while the small crowd danced up a storm.

After that it was time to jump into the fray of Austin’s Sixth Street, chock full of St. Paddy’s Day revelers. Tried to go to the NPR showcase but it had just finished, then tried to go see Big Freedia, the “Queen Diva” of Bounce. All we got was a taste from the fringes as the line wrapped around the venue. That’s the thing about SxSW, there so many hassles and best laid plans usually go to waste, but there are always transcendental moments to make up for the frustration.

Ran into SF local Meklit Hadero as she and her band were trying to find the venue where they were showcasing that eve. Then it was on to the Paste party to see Boston’s David Wax Museum at the Stage on 6th. Crossed paths with J Mascis on my way out. 

Caught the tail end of Meklit’s show at Marco Werman’s “All Music is World Music” showcase. Then Abigail Washburn’s stellar bluegrass set. 

Rode clear across town in the hopes of catching Devotchka at Lustre Pearl, but the line for headliner Cold War Kids nixed that plan. Came back to the warehouse district for the Atlantic Records showcase planning to check out Lupe Fiasco but B.O.B was playing in his place. Decided to forgo Janelle Monae’s show (she’d been subbed in for Cee-Lo) so I could get off my feet. 

Check out the slideshow to see a glimpse of SFBG Contributing Photog Matt Reamer‘s adventures.

 

SxSW Music Diary: Day 1

Charles Russo
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0

After making it to Dallas on the early flight from SFO we found gate A36 (connecting to Austin), a hipster ghetto in DFW’s sea of middle Americans. A friend spotted Toro y Moi in the crowd… and off we were to the live music capital of the world.

We got credentialed and then attempted to go to Fader Fort to check out Raphael Saadiq who was going on soon. But the line to get wristbands stretched literally as far as the eye could see, wrapping around a huge field. The best estimate I got for the wait was over 2 hours. Nevermind.

Back under the I35 to the Palm Door showcase on their deck over a creek… Anamanaguchi came on frenetically. According to their blog they make “hyper-active, hyper-positive, 8-bit jams” that center around a hacked Nintendo from 1985. It was pretty irresistible power pop.

Later that eve is was off to the Brooklyn Vegan showcase at Swan Dive. Olof Arnalds sweet Icelandic troubadour style won over the earnest crowd. And after filing into the hotel shuttle I heard an amazing version of “Benny and the Jets” filtering down the street. It was Brooklyn-based Marco Benevento showing the crowd (and those gathered on the street around the huge simulcast) his incredible piano chops.

SFBG Contributing Photographer Matt Reamer went off on his own adventure of a slightly heavier variety, check the slideshow for more on that.

It’s hard to avoid the constant feeling of missing out on something here… something that’s inherent to the SxSW experience. More to come…

Our Weekly Picks: July 7-13, 2010

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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0

WEDNESDAY 7

EVENT

The Butterfly Mosque reading

Journalist and author G. Willow Wilson is familiar to comics fans for her Vertigo-published modern fantasy series Air and graphic novel Cairo, both with artist M.K. Perker, as well as her work on various superhero properties. A woman in mainstream comics is unusual enough, but Wilson is also a Muslim. Her new prose memoir, The Butterfly Mosque: A Young American Woman’s Journey to Love and Islam, treats the experiences that led her from her home in Denver through Boston University to time spent teaching in Cairo. Much of her comics work deals with the collision of the West with the Middle East, often in fictionalized political contexts, and this reading and Q & A should include plenty of her uniquely positioned insights on this cultural dynamic. (Sam Stander)

7:30 p.m., free

Booksmith

1644 Haight, SF

(415) 863-8688

www.booksmith.com

 

DANCE

The Foundry

When words fail, a turn of a cheek or small shift in stance can signify a world of meaning. Choreographer, dancer, and director of the Foundry Alex Ketley is hyperconscious of the subtle secrets our bodies both hide and reveal. This consciousness allows him to deconstruct and reconstruct movement in such a way as to capture the emotional unknown that lies beyond words. Enlisting a cast of captivating dancers and former Ballet Frankfurt media artist Les Stuck, Ketley’s newest project, Please Love Me, explores how we relate to others and investigates the contradictory nature of love and relationships. (Katie Gaydos)

8 p.m., $20

Z Space at Theater Artaud

450 Florida, SF

www.conservatoryofdance.org

 

THURSDAY 8

FILM

Mulholland Dr.

Lucid dreams, fever dreams, wet dreams — what’s the difference in Mulholland Dr., David Lynch’s 2001 apocalyptic vision of Hollywood? Above all else, the film is a love story doomed from the very start as Rita (Laura Herring) stumbles out of a car wreck and into the arms of Betty (Naomi Watts, in a performance somewhere between Pollyanna and Patty Hearst). What follows is a Pandora’s box — and Rita’s got the key to a blue one of those you definitely shouldn’t open — of Bergmanesque female trouble, and some surrealist hell to boot: the jitterbug, Roy Orbison, and bite-size geriatrics, to name a few. In every dread-drenched scene, Lynch has our undivided attention even when we have no idea what the hell is going on. (Ryan Lattanzio)

2 and 7 p.m., $7.50–$10

Castro Theatre

429 Castro, SF

(415) 621-6120

www.castrotheatre.com

 

COMEDY

David Alan Grier

Although he got his start in acting by tackling serious roles and earning a master’s at the Yale School of Drama, David Alan Grier got his first taste of mainstream exposure and success as a cast member on the classic 1990s TV show In Living Color, where he brought to life hilarious characters such as Antoine from “Men on Film” and the crazy blues singer Calhoun Tubbs. In the years since, Grier has lent his considerable talents to several other projects, more recently Comedy Central’s show Chocolate News and his 2009 book Barack Like Me: The Chocolate Covered Truth. Here’s your chance to check out Grier live, uncensored, raw, and on stage. (Sean McCourt)

Through Sun/11

8 p.m. (also Fri/9-Sat/10, 10:15 p.m.)

$22.50–$23.50

Cobb’s Comedy Club

915 Columbus, SF

(415) 928-4320

www.cobbscomedyclub.com

 

EVENT

Cybernet Expo

It would seem like a no-brainer, filling a webmaster job at an adult Internet company. Geeks love porn, right? True as that may be, they still need a conference to link them up to the pervy, techie job of their dreams. Never fear, Cybernet Expo is here! The trade show has been linking sticky palms since 1997, and offers seminars, panel discussions, networking opportunities — and a convention-closing get down among the chains and whips of the SF Armory. “Oh yeah, it’s gonna be a fun party,” says Terry Mundell, business development manager of Kink.com, who will be organizing Saturday night’s after hours good times. Even better than a night on his website? (Caitlin Donohue)

Through Sat/10, $199

Golden Gateway Hotel (most events)

1500 Van Ness, SF

www.cybernetexpo.com

 

FRIDAY 9

DANCE

“Symbiosis: A Celebration of Dance and Music”

Kara Davis seems to be able to do it all. A trained ballet dancer, she has danced for the last 14 years with who’s who of modern dance in San Francisco. No matter the style and the challenge, she eats it up. Now she is also developing a strong, independent voice as a choreographer for her project agora company. This program, presented as part of Dance Mission Theater’s “Down and Dirty Series,” is half dance and half music. It reprises Davis’ two substantial ensemble pieces, A Softened Law and one Tuesday afternoon, first seen at ODC in December, and the gorgeous 2006 duet, Exit Wound, choreographed for herself and Nol Simonse. Exit‘s music was written by Sarah Jo Zaharako, whose Gojogo quartet, in the evening’s second half, will play more of Zaharako’s compositions. The lineup culminates in a premiere, Symbiosis, which features — no surprise here — Davis as a solo dancer. (Rita Felciano)

Through Sun/11

8 p.m., $20

Dance Mission Theater

3316 24th St., SF

www.dancemission.com

 

EVENT

Pantheon

The Temple is Burning Man’s sacred space. And this year, the Temple of Flux is really something special, among other reasons for its massive collaboration of various Bay Area tribes to build the biggest and most unusual and ambitious temple in the event’s long history (something I know from embedding myself with the project for an upcoming Guardian cover story). But to pull this off, the Temple crew has embarked on an equally aggressive and unprecedented fundraising campaign, the centerpiece of which is Pantheon, featuring Elite Force, Soul of Man, 21 of SF’s best DJs, transformative décor, and a slew of sexy gods and goddesses roaming the temple grounds. So don a toga or other Greek or Roman attire and join this bacchanalian celebration. (Steven T. Jones)

9 p.m.–5 a.m., $20–$25

103 Harriett, SF

www.pantheonsf.eventbrite.com

www.temple2010.org

 

SATURDAY 10

VISUAL ART

“Alien/ation”

A showcase of illustrators whose work has appeared in Hyphen magazine, “Alien/ation: An Illustration Show” will open at SPACE Gallery in SF with DJ sets by B-Haul and Gordon Gartrell and live painting from participating artists, in what is billed as “an art riot extravaganza.” Currently on its 20th issue, Hyphen is a San Francisco-based publication focusing on Asian American culture, and the crossover of its featured art into a gallery setting is a welcome development. Magazine illustration is generally frequented by talented cartoonists and fine artists, and the artists featured here are excellent and stylistically diverse enough to keep things interesting. Particularly exciting is the inclusion of oddball cartoonist Rob Sato, lush illustrator Kim Herbst, and distinctive portraitist Jon Stich. (Stander)

7 p.m. (artists’ reception, 5:30 p.m.), $5

SPACE Gallery

1141 Polk, SF

(415) 377-3325

www.spacegallerysf.com

 

SUNDAY 11

MUSIC

“Simcha! The Jewish Music Festival’s 25th Anniversary Party”

Rabbi Nachman, a 14th century Chassidic scholar, counted in his teachings the importance of displaying simcha (Hebrew for joy), like, all day every day so that you could effectively carry out God’s commandments. The translation for all you pagan sinners remains salient: you gotta be loose to enjoy the flow. Take simcha as your mantra when you head to the Jewish Music Festival’s 25th anniversary party, where tunes from Glenn Hartman and the Klezmer Playboys, the Red Hot Chacklas, Eprhyme, and oh so much more will trip happily through the Yerba Buena Gardens. Duck next door to the Yerba Buena Center for the Arts Sculpture Court (Third Street at Mission) to check out Jewlia Eisenberg and Charming Hostess’ “The Bowls Project: Secrets of the Apocalyptic Intimate,” an odd blending of sustainable architecture, the domestic sacred, and haunting evocations of secrets held and shared. (Donohue)

Noon–5 p.m., free

Yerba Buena Gardens

Mission at Fourth St., SF

(510) 848-0237, ext. 119

www.jewishmusicfestival.org

 

MUSIC

Gipsy Kings

It might seem ridiculous to argue that the Gipsy Kings are underrated, but bear with me. Sure, they’ve sold millions and millions of albums worldwide, and sure, they contributed a key cut to the iconic Big Lebowski (1998) soundtrack (their music is also featured in Toy Story 3). Despite this, or perhaps because of it, they still don’t seem to get much respect. The Gipsy Kings aren’t anyone’s favorite band. People rarely argue about the extent of their cultural influence or whether they’re “important.” This is a shame, really, because their covers reveal an unexpectedly sly, parodic impulse, while their standard flamenco tracks are actually relatively innovative in their merging of traditional Spanish dance with more modern pop influences. (Zach Ritter)

8 p.m., $85

Fillmore

1805 Geary, SF

(415) 346-3000

www.thefillmore.com

 

MUSIC

Weed Diamond

Though Weed Diamond hails from Denver, its conspicuous name alone suggests a sentiment we San Franciscans can relate to. Despite an insistently lo-fi, reverb-soaked gamut — like putting a beautiful indie rock seashell to the ears — these guys aren’t afraid of an infectious chorus. They also aren’t afraid of paying due respect to their influences, especially in the trippy shoegaze and heavy-on-the-feedback noise pop elements. Now on tour with Dash Jacket and Tan Dollar, Weed Diamond evolved from the solo project of Tim Perry to a full five-piece band and has since played SXSW and up and down the West. It’s like a psychoactive bonbon: delicious yet intoxicating. (Lattanzio)

With Tan Dollar and Dash Jacket

4 p.m., free

Milk Bar

1840 Haight, SF

www.milksf.com

 

MONDAY 12

 

PERFORMANCE

“What’s Cookin’ With Josh Kornbluth”

Monday special at the Contemporary Jewish Museum café: Josh Kornbluth on wry. Popular monologist Kornbluth, fresh from his latest solo flight, Andy Warhol: Good For the Jews?, is once again hanging out on the border of fine art and cultural critique, only this time there’s matzo ball soup and a Cobb salad option. It’s also more interactive. From noon to 2 p.m. (each Monday over the next five weeks) Kornbluth will be offering conversation to museum patrons bold or clueless enough to enter his well-appointed lair. It’s as simple as that. But then, if you know Kornbluth, nothing is ever that simple. (Robert Avila)

Through Aug. 9

Mondays, noon-2 p.m., free (museum admission not included)

Contemporary Jewish Museum

736 Mission, SF

(415) 655-7800

www.thecjm.org 

The Guardian listings deadline is two weeks prior to our Wednesday publication date. To submit an item for consideration, please include the title of the event, a brief description of the event, date and time, venue name, street address (listing cross streets only isn’t sufficient), city, telephone number readers can call for more information, telephone number for media, and admission costs. Send information to Listings, the Guardian Building, 135 Mississippi St., SF, CA 94107; fax to (415) 487-2506; or e-mail (paste press release into e-mail body — no text attachments, please) to listings@sfbg.com. 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.

San Francisco gaze

David Talbot
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San Francisco gaze

arts@sfbg.com

MUSIC On certain mornings in San Francisco, I step outside and feel as if I’m enveloped by clouds. Dew drops slide off of wiry branches, sparkling as they hit the cement sidewalk. Is it pretty or is it dark? It’s pretty and dark. Before I lived here, it wasn’t clear to me that this was even possible. As the day unravels, it reveals both sunny and stormy moments.

Much like a San Francisco day, the no-fi psych-rock of Young Prisms casts sunbeams and rain showers. Sitting with the group on the rooftop of Ruminator Audio, a studio space in the Mission, I ask about the moods it aims to create and receive. I hear the words "dream-state," "California," "tripped-out," "engaging," "engrossing," and, finally, guitarist-vocalist Matthew Allen’s breakdown: "It’s made so you can hear it two different ways. So each time you listen to it, whether at a show or on your headphones, you’ll discover totally different things."

Four-fifths of the group spent their childhoods in all-boy or all-girl schools on the Peninsula, where a strange amalgam of suburbia and house parties drove them to wage war against ennui by making music. Randomly — once — they performed as individual musicians at an improv show at Mills College before they found each other as a band. Bassist-vocalist Giovanni Betteo played a miked typewriter; Allen and guitarist-vocalist Jason Hendardy played guitar.

Eventually, in a desperate attempt to escape the suburban boredom that bubbled outward as they got older, the barely 20-year-olds moved into a house in San Francisco. Here they met Jordan Silbert, a Detroit native, who completed the prism as drummer. As Silbert jokes, "It’s been the worst two years of my life."

In the YP’s Mission house, the friends became a band. The energy of "a crammed, shitty apartment," as Betteo deems it, led to productivity and tomfoolery. "But at least we were able to practice there," Betteo notes. To which vocalist Stefanie Hodapp adds, "And play music how we wanted to."

"We had just started writing songs again for the first time in years, and also had just met Jordan. So things were really weird," Betteo elaborates. "We were trying to understand each other’s personal styles for a while and what we’re into. We would try different techniques, like jamming together or individually bringing in parts of songs."

"One day it all freely came out," he says. And the band’s self-titled EP for Mexican Summer was born. Its combination of shredded chords, dreary drumbeats, and nostalgic crooning is luminous and murky.

SXSW and an accompanying tour forced YP to abandon their San Francisco rental, and on returning, they’ve found themselves scattered across the city — in the closet spaces of their friends in the group Weekend and on borrowed couches. "We are certain there will be a new YP home," the band declares. "Sometime soon, we hope." The house had negative and positive aspects, they explain. Someone on their block was shot in the dick. There was blood on their porch for weeks.

Young Prisms’ upcoming show with Weekend celebrates a new split-single on Transparent. It is the first in a succession of releases from the prolific band: a split 7-inch with Mathemagic on Atelier Ciseaux, a live 12-inch on Under Water Peoples, and a full-length that might be released at the end of the summer.

According to Batteo, the track on the Weekend split, titled "I Don’t Get Much," is a precursor to the sound of the upcoming full-length. The album is being mixed by Monte Vallier beneath the roof where we sit. "It’s the last song we wrote in the apartment," Betteo says. "From there, the songs have become more cohesive. There is more focus and more of a mission."

"I Don’t Get Much" slowly flows in with shoegaze reverb, rises up, and then drags the listener down. The water levels eventually re-rise and plateau. There are echoes, heartbeats, and an apocalyptic romance, as male and female vocals repetitively discuss the end.

When I ask the band to explain the existentialist undercurrent that ripples throughout the song, Allen rhetorically asks: "If you don’t do anything, what does it really matter?" And vocalist-partner Hodapp notes, "It’s about how dying does not matter once you get in the ground."

Can a dark day be textured with the pretty? Or is the sunny sky filled with clouds? Young Prisms have the answers. *

YOUNG PRISMS

With Weekend, Grave Babies, and Swanifant

Sun/30, 9:30 p.m., 8 p.m., $8

Hemlock Tavern

1131 Polk St., S.F.

(415) 923-0923

www.youngprisms.com

Japanese avant-garde, Tropicalismo, and North Korean ideology — onscreen at SxSW

John Elberling
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0

Just as Downtown 81 is worth watching for its live DNA footage, the Japanese avant-garde music documentary We don’t care about music anyway… is worth a look for the five minutes of two-piece noise rock band Umi No Yeah!. The boy/girl duo jams on a trash-filled beach in Tokyo- — he bent over an old Casio and drum machine and her flailing in a silver body suit while thrashing on a blown-out guitar. The song begins in a swell of noise and ends with an intoxicating dance groove and the girl shed to a polka-dot bikini bottom. The rest of Cédric Dupire’s and Gaspard Kuentz’s documentary intersperses the John Cage-like practice of various male musicians with Koyaanisqatsi-like clips of Tokyo’s industrialized megapolis. Interesting reinterpretations of instruments are revealed — a human heart gets used as a signal and the cello is reclaimed from the bourgeois — but it’s the bikini that distorts the dryness usually associated with avant-garde music.

Beyond Impanema will be fun for anyone who’s still naive to Tropicalia music. Guto Barra’s film has a rich blend of live footage and interviews with the originators from the late-1960’s movement, but for those already convinced and obsessed, it provides little more than a Wikipedia-type history gloss with cool YouTube-like clips. Your enjoyment depends on how difficult it is to find those clips — the ones of Carmen Miranda and Os Mutantes being some of the best — and how much you’re interested in hearing about the import of Tropicalia to America via David Byrne and Arto Lindsay. I could have done with a little more rigor and a little less CSS, Bonde Do Role, and MIA, but because of the great Tom Zé interview three-quarters through, I can’t complain.

North Korea is disturbing. Everyone from CNN to Vice Magazine has revealed this fact with video coverage from inside the Hermit Kingdom. In Red Chapel, Danish journalist and film director Mads Brüger takes this realization a step further by exposing the ideological insides through comedy. Accompanied by two Danish-Koreans — one disabled, the other sumo-wrestler fat — Brüger convinces the DPRK to not only let them into their country but also welcome and embrace them with an open, breast-filled hug that only a desperate, lonely mother could provide. The result is both terrifying and beautiful: blinding naïveté and endearing sincerity get exposed via irony and socio-political concern. Red Chapel goes beyond the pointed-finger approach of “OMG, look at those N. Korean crazies and their anti-US terrorist campaign” and into a genuine, individualized concern that offers a priveleged glimpse into the contradictions of both Cold War-retained communism and post-modern democratic capitalism.

Oh Baby, Neon Indian was made in the ’80s

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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0
Oh Baby, Neon Indian was made in the ’80s

Miniature scrunchies, neon-colored jumpers and babysitters who insisted the tube stay tuned to MTV— awwwww, weren’t ‘80s babies the coolest? I may be partial, due to the fact that I was born in said decade, but so was Alan Palomo, a.k.a. the synth-wizard behind Neon Indian— playing Fri/26 at Mezzanine— and he’s an ’88 boy whose cheeks and beats I always wanna squeeze. 

Fuzzy, freaky and so videogame-esque, Neon Indian is Palomo’s solo project, following the rapid success of his other electro gig, VEGA. The debut album, Psychic Chasms [Lefse 2009], is a charming mix of steady beats with whirling lasers and wired hiccups. “Should Have Taken Acid With You” is genius— Palomo’s baby-smooth vocals romping around the electronic rattles and laser toys. 

 

I called up Palomo on a Sunday afternoon while he was in Austin, laying low before the SXSW storm that would take over the following day. Even through his use of big, fancy words, I thoroughly enjoyed being distracted with the thought of his full head of baby curls blowing in the Texas breeze (slightly creepy, yes).

 

 

SFBG- How would you describe Neon Indian’s sound using verbs?

Palomo– Reactive. Warped. Like solving a sudoku. And this is going to sound like a L’Oreal commercial, but translucent and shimmering. Klodisesphocick?

 

SFBG- Ok, now you’re just making up cool words…

Palomo–  How about pastel-nauseating?

 

SFBG- Tell me about another art form that has influenced your music?

Palomo– I’ve been renting a lot of movies and they seem to be following a pattern: meandering characters, though well intentioned. Like Vagabond (1985)– a French film about a female hobo traveling through various towns.  

 

(Palomo stops to admire an old couple cruising around him on a tandem bike).

 

SFBG- Sometimes your lyrics seem pretty obscure, or maybe I just get distracted by the lasers— what do you like to write songs about?

Palomo– Nothing makes for better art than relationships. Yikes. They’re fascinating. My music comes off as effervescent, people describe it as happy, but I have to have a little ambivalence in there, too. 

 

SFBG- So when you make music, it’s in your bedroom and it’s just you. How does this transfer to a live show?

Palomo- We’ve done a lot of recontextualizing. I’ve had to sacrifice a little bit here and there so people have something to look at. It’s alienating if not— go to a live show, get a drink and look at your watch. So we’ve really worked on making it palpable. 

 

(The tandem goes by again—followed by an obnoxiously loud motorcycle). 

 

Palomo- Wow that guy’s motorcycle is ridiculous. Really? Those machines don’t bring pleasure to anyone but yourself, sir. 

 

SFBG- Have people been dancing at your shows?

Palomo– At first they have quixotic looks on their faces, but then three or four songs in they realize this requires some physical movement, like ok, I’m not on the couch, wearing headphones and my Snuggie. And then yes. They dance— in a Peyote-dazed way.

 

SFBG- So ‘80s baby, what are some ‘80s elements have weaseled their way into your music? Favorite culture-tid bits from that era?

Palomo- Definitely Sega Genesis, Sonic (The Hedgehog) 3. All that rushing music in the underwater level. Brings about such a primitive mechanism in my brain. I really liked the Sega soundcard. It’s like a crappy sampler, condensed, crunchy, weird— a great, low quality sampler. 

 

SFBG- What are you going to do the rest of afternoon?

Palomo– Some some weed and watch Kids in the Hall. 

 

SFBG- Ah, I hate that show. 

Palomo– What? (He says with complete shock). I used to take sick days in middle school so I could stay home and watch it. 

 

 

Neon Indian

Fri/26, 9pm, $15

444 Jessie, SF

www.mezzaninesf.com

 

SXSW: See me! Hear me!

John Elberling
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The days tend to blur here at SXSW. The festival’s sponsors and participants are pouring information and alcohol in you everywhere you go. You forget that you are an autonomous being, not just a receptacle for emails and fliers and Sobe in small plastic cups and little goo bars that taste like chocolate stuck in carpet that are thrown — literally thrown — at you on every street corner.

Yesterday (Wed/17), however, was met with a distinct shift: awkward blue jeans and collared short sleeves were exchanged for tight black jeans and tattoo sleeves. Yes, music has come to town, which sends home the silicon boys (and a few girls), and officially ends the “interactive” portion of the festival. Austin’s Convention Center is no longer busy with necks stretched over tech, but with eyes scanning fashion and badges in order to discern the music artists from the look-a-likes. No longer am I getting stares for having an outdated laptop; rather, quick judgement looks assessing my dress and doppelgänger effect.

But this all comes with the territory of a major tech/film/music festival; everyone is trying to be seen and heard. Some more than others.

 

Music for all those left behind by SXSW

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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Music for all those left behind by SXSW

The rapture that is South By Southwest has taken all that’s good and pure to Texas for Austin’s week of non-stop music, showcasing bands that have descended from the heavens themselves. Reading this post means you too have been left behind, your friends, family, music store clerks and critics disappeared over the weekend and didn’t even bother to leave you a mix-tape. Thou shall not fear, my friends. Austin may be wining and dining some of your favorite bands this week, or maybe each and every goddamned one, but thank the Lord San Francisco has your best interests at heart with plentiful options for entertainment.


Cheer up, my child and in the name of SXSW, expand your horizons and enjoy a new genre each night of this week. Amen.

MON/15
Get Hustle
Passionately chaotic, Portland’s Get Hustle lets their guitars run wild, tearing up the neighborhood with sharp, scissor-like vocals, psychedelic keys and erratic percussion. They are slightly scary, possibly foaming from the mouth, and definitely ready to bite. 9pm, $10, Elbo Room

TUES/16
Shotgun Wedding Quintet
This week’s Jazz Mafia night at Coda features The Shotgun Wedding Quintet, a 5-piece blend of jazz and rap that pays homage to the art of improvisation and the days when San Francisco was Mob-run and wild. 9pm, $7, Coda

WED/ 17
Madam and the Ants
The night is intended to be a salute to Irish Bands of the ‘80s and this San Francisco Adam and the Ants tribute band will bring you right back to the new-wave, post-punk era with a sassy front woman and band of fury. 7:30, $5, Make-Out Room

THUR/18
My Barbarian
Somehow this L.A.-based band promises a rock opera of choreographed dances and finely tuned numbers about cross-dressing sailors, mermen, pagan rites in the desert, and all kinds of politics with flamboyant flair. 9pm, free with museum admission, SFMOMA

FRI/19
Groove Armada
An electronic music duo that isn’t afraid to mix in a little funk. It’s been over a decade for the UK DJs and they’re still hard set on making you dance in slow-motion form. 9pm, $30, Fillmore

SAT/20
Rosin Coven
Rosin Coven are the ‘World’s Premier Pagan Lounge Ensemble” hailing from Oakland with a small string orchestra, a few horns, lots of hats, great mustaches, and feather embellishments. A carnival full of kink. 9pm, $15, Café Du Nord

SUN/21
Marabelle Phoenix
Marabelle Phoenix strums light and sets the perfect Sunday night mood with rusty tones and porch-friendly lyrics. 9pm, Bluesix Acoustic Room

In the Whispering Pines

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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In the Whispering Pines

This is the year when your scribing cowgirl returns wholly to the barn — or at least the fabled Cabin-in-the-Ppines where folks used to pick, grin, and get up to no good throughout my father’s youth in southwest Georgia. And sho’nuff the Whispering Pines’ fine, self-released debut, Family Tree (self-released), will be in tow alongside the potbelly stove, vintage Akan gold weights, and patchwork spreads courtesy of my late great-aunt, the hedonistic quilter Kate.

Family Tree served as fitting accompaniment not just to holiday doldrums but also the tail end of sonic voting season — when the results of the Nashville Scene‘s ninth annual Country Music Critics Poll, which I contributed to, heralded the genre’s likely future. While I don’t disagree with anointing Brad Paisley and Miranda Lambert for a soon-come twang Mount Rushmore, and would give my right pinky toe to cut a record with the great outlaw heir Jamey Johnson, the psychedelicized wing of cowboy music needs more recognition as its revival reaches its maturity. And it seems we ought not to wait a year or more to claim what’s worthy. So here’s stepping out in Topanga dirt at the ghost site of the ole Corral on behalf of the Whispering Pines’ efforts.

Family Tree, reaching back to twang’s glorious midcentury of pioneering fusions to fetch sounds for envisioning the near-future, is surely as much of an aesthetic atlas for country’s current progression as Brother Johnson’s stunning commingled pathos and mirth on “Mowin’ Down the Roses” or “Women.” Of course, the long-haired and denim-clad quintet of Brian Filosa (bass, vocals), Joe Bourdet (guitar, vocals), Dave Baine (keys, guitar, vocals), Joe Zabielski (drums, percussion), and David Burden (harmonica, percussion, vocals) abide and create in a vastly different space than Music Row or the plains and Rust Belt enclaves of Midwestern alt-country. This is reflected in the sunny clarity of their sound and sometimes mellower lyrical concerns. Silver Lake’s Whispering Pines is part of a loose, freewheeling confederacy of young SoCal-based solo artists and groups who purvey what some used to call “wooden music” and my friend Zach a.k.a. DJ Turquoise Wisdom has taken to terming “bootcut.”

This movement has bubbled under during recent years, yet has seemed to enjoy quite a spike recently. Over the last 18 months, several colleagues released histories of Laurel Canyon; maxi dresses (or “town gowns”) were deemed chic in downtown Manhattan and Los Angeles’ Echo Park; and Kamara Thomas’ Honky Tonk Happy Hour at assorted New York City venues reminded audiences that the East Coast has a rich stake in cosmic country, too. Likewise, Hair‘s ballyhooed Broadway run and Taking Woodstock reacquainted the fickle masses with festivals and freaky-deak; Neil Young dropped volume one of his storied Archives; SoHo sported a vintage store actually called Laurel Canyon, replete with embroidered western shirts, perfectly-scuffed boots, and Gunne Sax; my friend Henry Diltz’ iconic images of CSN and their friends crowned a blockbuster exhibit at the Brooklyn Museum; and Levon Helm just won a Grammy for Electric Dirt (Dirt Farmer Music/Vanguard Records). This past month, New Jersey’s Wiser Time put out their strongest evidence of a northeastern-minted “Southern rock,” Beggars and Thieves (Wiser Time). A slate of Essra Mohawk reissues is in the wings.

The network for the emerging acts intent upon reinfusing the “western” part of what used to be country and western into their sounds stretches in an illusory but potent line from New York, where Filosa used to hold down the low end for the lovely Maplewood, to Northern California, where assorted Devendra Banhart boys hold sway. Indeed, I first became aware of Whispering Pines via its association with folk-rock magus Jonathan Wilson. Less than six degrees of separation from Wilson tends to yield artists with a deep host of ideas excavated from the lode overseen by beloved Gram Parsons and the Band’s Richard Manuel. Whispering Pines is definitely in the Cosmic Americana camp: deriving its name from Manuel’s fragile beauty; covering the likes of J.J. Cale (“Crazy Mama”); spinning as far out as Les Brers and their San Franciscan soul mates from the Grateful Dead on “Stars Above” and the rollicking boogie of “Grapevine Blues.” The band displays clear affection for Scott Boyer’s lost, lamented Capricorn label gem, Cowboy.

Maybe it’s just because I spent the entire fall in thrall to pre-Sufi Mighty Baby, but I can dig where Whispering Pines is comin’ from; there is a winning light in the chorusing of the four voices. Although neither hillbilly-tooled enough to compete with Trace Adkins nor polemical enough to address the amber waves’ current disarray, Family Tree is still a great record for 2010, militant in its mellow as corrective to the gray of our times. Early adopters and ecstatic praise for Family Tree have typically come from Europe, where they’re unafraid to unfetter their ears.

Back East and down the road from Nashvegas, Valerie June is also pointing a fierce way forward for country by looking even farther back. She harks back to the prewar mountains of the Carter Family and rural blues vainglory of Jessie Mae Hemphill and Elizabeth Cotten. Born in Jackson, Tenn., the Memphis-based Valerie June has been percolating on her local scene, with several forays to busk in California and make connections in the East, independently releasing collections of her “organic moonshine roots music” such as 2006’s The Way of the Weeping Willow and 2009’s Mountain of Rose Quartz along the way. It’s not that we haven’t seen such leanings before from assorted folk revivalists over the past two decades, but they almost never spring from the soul of a black woman in her 20s. Sistagirl’s womanist, unabashedly burlap manifesto “No Draws Blues” delineates these tensions.

While our brothers and sisters of European descent were riding the wave of Woodstock/Altamont’s 40th anniversaries last year, and the country establishment was wrapping its heads and resources around the chart- and Opry-bound breakouts of former Hootie Darius Rucker and Rissi Palmer, alternative black country artists were not really traveling the canyon circuit, even if they popped up at Merlefest or Bonnaroo. During his downtime from the Mayercraft, David Ryan Harris’ solo turns and the Soul of John Black’s great, underrated Black John (Eclecto Groove) showed new fire in the so-called soul-folk vein, even as Still Bill, Damani Baker and Alex Vlack’s stirring documentary on the genre’s grand master Bill Withers, made its way from SXSW ’09 to a theatrical run in Manhattan.

Several NYC-area events honoring the late folk titan Odetta provided another necessary spotlight for rising luminaries of the “black banjo movement,” like the legendary Ossie Davis and Ruby Dee’s son, Guy Davis. Bela Fleck’s Africa project Throw Down Your Heart traces from Western Sudan to the Southeast’s hollers. The sad passing of Jim Dickinson unleashed two cross-cultural celebrations on Memphis International of world boogie and twang reclamation from his elder son, Luther: the dirge catharsis with the Sons of Mudboy, Onward and Upward, and the South Memphis String Band’s deep tread into bluenotes via Home Sweet Home. Even John Legend has surprised with a riveting spin on Richie Havens’ chamber-rock rearrangement of “Motherless Child” at George Clooney’s Haiti telethon.

Considering this, when sister Valerie recently rode into NYC to play Mercury Lounge — with Clyde (her trusty six-string), Mose (her banjo), and them boys from Old Crow Medicine Show in tow — her real pretty renditions of “Wildwood Flower” and original songs all seemed part of an auspicious moment. It only remains for the two strains of independent roots music to truly have a reckoning some time this year. This would likely be even more hallowed if it goes down far from the thronged fields of Manchester, Tenn. in June. I’m scooting my boots now toward that distant point of power-light.

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?

Sonic Reducer Overage: Woods at ‘Pines’, Os Mutantes, Baseball Project, Dirt Bombs, Foreigner, and more

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By Kimberly Chun

So much to do and so many Mayyors ‘n’ Lamps hoedowns, Outside Lands night shows, and damaged prom benefits to attend. San Fran never disappoints. Here are the worthies still to come.

Big Sur Festival 2009/Party in the Pines
A mini-fest to rival Golden Gate Park’s massive — with way coolios like Kurt Vile, who puts out his first Matador disc, Childish Prodigy, in October, and SXSW breakouts such as Woods. With Wooden Shjips, Vietnam, Ariel Pink’s Haunted Graffiti, Gang Gang Dance, Dungen, and Saviours. Sat/29, noon-11 p.m., $31. Henry Miller Library, Highway 1, Big Sur. www.henrymiller.org. Dungen also plays with Woods and Kurt Vile Sun/30, 8 p.m., $14, at Bottom of the Hill, 1233 17th St., SF. (415) 621-4455.

Blue Sky Black Death
From Haight to the wide blue yonder, with estimable hip-hop sounds for all. With Boy Eats Drum Machine and Boy in Static. Sat/29, 10 p.m., $10. Bottom of the Hill, 1233 17th St., SF. (415) 621-4455.

Death Angel
You can’t keep the Bay thrash vets down. With Skinlab and Kaos. Sat/29, 9 p.m., $15. Uptown, 1928 Telegraph, Oakl. (510) 451-8100.

Sonic Reducer Overage: TV on the Radio, Bun B, Fischerspooner, Webbie, Floating Goat, Passion Pit, and more

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Memorial Day weekend – the wind is down, and the moment has come to break out the hibachi, dust off those sassy hot pants, and kick back for at least a day or three. And of course, there’s more worthy music to fit in there, in between the sunbathing, cookie-baking, and electroclashing.

Fischerspooner
Does the GE halo give me a double chin? And does it electroclash with the rubber tubing? The jaw-dropping live act whips out a dour, synthpop Entertainment, as well as a new stage show. Fri/22, 9 p.m., $29.50. Fillmore, 1805 Geary, SF. (415) (415) 421-8497.



TV on the Radio and Dirty Projectors
The praise-rattled TVs were peppy as all get out at Treasure Island fest last year – and here they come again with the better-than-ever Dirty Projs, which blew everyone away at SXSW this spring. Fri/22, 8 p.m., $30. Fox Theatre, 1807 Telegraph, Oakl. (415) 421-8497.

Madcap laughs

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a&eletters@sfbg.com

SONIC REDUCER "I told you so" are the sweetest, shortest words in the lexicon of raving visionaries and maligned prophets, but Sir Richard Bishop is far too gentlemanly to resort to such snack-sized snarkery. Still, I’m thinking the world’s attentions and the brothers Bishop and their many projects might finally be harmonically, magically converging as I park myself on a thrift-store coach beside the charming Bishop in the airy, uncannily tidy West Oakland flat he shares with Mark Gergis (Porest, Neung Phak, Mono Pause).

After the 2007 death of Sun City Girl Charles Gocher, attentive underground music fans — who’ve revered the band for its determinedly DIY, cassette-culture cussedness — collectively blinked, rubbed their eyes, and wondered why they hadn’t paid closer attention to the endlessly productive Girls (even now issuing rarities via the new Napoleon and Josephine: Singles Volume 2 [Abduction]). Attention from figures like Bonnie "Prince" Billy (who told me that the Bishop Brothers’ Brothers Unconnected show at Slim’s was the best he saw last year) and labels such as Sub Pop, which talked to the Bishops about doing a best-of, soon followed.

Likewise Sublime Frequencies — the label Richard and Alan Bishop toiled on for years amid accusations that they were ripping off artists, failing to follow academic protocol, and simply not applying enough polish to their rough aesthetic — began to get its due as a groundbreaking disseminator of obscure sonic gems from such far-flung, seldom documented sites as Burma, Laos, and Western Sahara. Richard, who is less involved with the imprint these days, says they’ve become adept at tracking down and paying the performers. Today, the label gets the kind of praise it richly deserves, including a hefty feature by onetime naysayer Clive Bell in Wire. Sublime Frequencies is also producing the first European, non-Mideast tour by breathtaking Syrian folk-pop legend Omar Souleyman, whose Highway to Hassake (Sublime Frequencies, 2006) positively shreds with phase-shifted Arabic keyboard lines and frenetic beats.

Meanwhile Sir Richard is concentrating on his new Oakland life, bathed in the soft light and BART train roar streaming in from the ‘hood. "It seems like it’s alive here — whereas in Seattle it’s kind of dying and not just musically," he says happily. "This is not the best neighborhood, but when I go out the door, I’m alive, and I’m totally aware of what’s going on, and there’s just some cool creative energy to grasp onto."

Guitars and instruments are neatly clustered in an alcove across from a massive TV rigged to catch Mideast channels — perfectly tuned into Bishop’s current obsession with and studies into the music the half-Lebanese musician first heard his grandfather play on old cassettes. Here in Oakland — aided and abetted by the half-Iraqi Gergis and his collection of Middle Eastern MP3s, cassettes, VCDs, and vinyl — he’s been digging deeply into the music of Lebanon, Syria, and Egypt, a homecoming of sorts since Bishop started out studying Egyptology around the time of Sun City Girls’ early ’80s inception.

When Bishop started tracking his fine, even sublime new The Freak of Araby (Drag City) in Seattle, the switch from making a poppy electric-guitar album to one centered on Middle Eastern-related originals and covers was a natural one — a tribute to his latest fave, Egyptian guitarist Omar Khorshid. Bishop scrambled to learn new songs in six days, but he’s pleased with the result, which he’ll fill out live with tour mate Oaxacan as his backing combo. The disc "was very rushed, and I didn’t have time to hash out a lot of the ideas," he says. "There are people who are not going to like it, but that’s okay, it never bothered me before!" And with that, the jolly Sir Richard laughs. *

SIR RICHARD BISHOP AND HIS FREAK OF ARABY ENSEMBLE

Fri/22, 9:30 p.m., $10

Stork Club

2330 Telegraph, Oakl.

www.storkcluboakland.com

FITS AND WIGGLES

OBITS


Drive Like Jehu and Hot Snakes are in the Brooklyn post-punkers’ past, now gathering steam with Sub Pop singles and SXSW blather lather. Wed/20, 9 p.m., $10–$12. Bottom of the Hill, 1233 17th St., SF. www.bottomofthehill.com.

BLK JKS


Don’t fear the guitar solo, all ye Johannesburg black-rockers. Fri/22, 9 p.m., $12. Independent, 628 Divisadero, SF. www.theindependentsf.com

NOMO


Out now with Invisible Cities (Ubiquity), the polyrhythmic Midwestern mind-blowers destroyed all reservations at their last BOH show. Fri/22, 10 p.m., $10–$12. Bottom of the Hill, 1233 17th St., SF. www.bottomofthehill.com.

LADY SOVEREIGN


The pint-sized electro-grime poobabe finds a Cure with "So Human." Sun/24, 9 p.m., $18. Rickshaw Stop, 155 Fell, SF. rickshawstop.com

SXSW: Petering out with PJ Harvey, AIDS Wolf, Moriarty, Sons of Albion, and more

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By the light of the moon: PJ Harvey and John Parrish at Stubb’s.

South by Southwest peters out with… Peter, Bjorn and John. Actually, not really – I dig those Scandinavian whistle-bait popsters and they were playing multiple shows – but there were other less familiar artists and rare diversions to seek out on Saturday, March 21, in Austin, Texas.

The sweet ‘n’ sunny Saturday morn started with slowly with some quality, low-price thrifting at Texas Thrift Store (Joanna Newsom and folk-psych gals would have appreciated the dusty rose, homemade patchwork vest and nautilus-shell purse) and a visit to western wear superstore Shepler’s, both off I-35. Then off to the Convention Center – which, by the end of the week during each SXSW, starts to seem a little like home (that is, if home was strewn with fat bundles of The Austin Chronicle and free bottles of Fuze green tea). There, Neil Young’s famed manager Elliott Roberts and his documentarian Larry Johnson talked up Young’s forthcoming series of box sets, starting with Neil Young Archives Volume 1 (1963-1972), on BluRay, DVD, and CD. Pretty amazing stuff – the BluRay edition will offer interactive components that will allow Young and company to offer up new photos, music, and film when they become available (one example, Robert said, are the Mynah Birds recordings made by Young and Rick James, which aren’t the now-locked box set – they just managed to license the tracks from Motown so when they’re available the BluRay owners will be notified and can likely download them directly).

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Mystery crust theater: Imperial Battlesnake takes aim.

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Pedal mettle: Increased bike presence at this year’s SXSW and surrounding day shows.

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