Marke B.

A quick glimpse into the SF Mime Troupe’s history

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The amazing SF Mime Troupe has been part of San Francisco so long, it basically is San Francisco. In honor of 53 years of guerilla theater (and new show “The Last Election”), the troupe put together this little vid full of nifty clips of past presentations. Catch ’em in Dolores Park and beyond.

Prancing at the revolution

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Prancing at the revolution

marke@sfbg.com

QUEER ISSUE “Right now it seems we have more in common with the Christian Right than the gay liberation movement. We’ve become so focused on marriage as the end-all and be-all of gay rights that it’s completely within the realm of possibility that the next leader of Focus on the Family could be a gay man. We all have to get married now for tax breaks, health care, or to stay in this country? Are you kidding me?” Mattilda Sycamore Bernstein spilled some truth into my hot pink Princess phone.

“I don’t know how we got to this position where we’re either agitating for more tax breaks for the rich via marriage, or we’re treating people like disposable objects on hookup sites because they don’t conform to certain standards. It’s really sickening. How does any of this further any agenda at all besides becoming what we’re supposed to be fighting against? I don’t get it.”

Sycamore Bernstein, who often writes for the Guardian, was speaking about the impetus behind her latest book, Why are Faggots So Afraid of Faggots? Flaming Challenges to Masculinity, Objectification, and the Desire to Conform (AK Press), an invigorating collection of essays from a vast variety of queer people that “challenges the assimilationist norms of a corporate-cozy lifestyle.” (Let’s just say that President Obama’s limp “evolution” on same-sex marriage was not going to be a topic of conversation.) From envisioning a more faggoty Internet and reclaiming perversity as a proud, queer norm to honestly exploring the complex cultural confusions that Western-originating political expressions of gayness can wreak on immigrant and native homos, Faggots goes there with inspiring directness.

“I wanted to put out something that captured the spectrum of radical queer thinking that’s been going on while it seems everyone else was in line to get married. There are so many topics that affect our lives that have just been completely bulldozed by the ‘gay rights’ corporate lobbying groups’ crazed marriagemania.

“For example, Chris Bartlett, in his contribution ‘Gravity and Levity’ talks about how the idea of ‘risk’ in the gay community has been so associated with AIDS that it may have pushed any aspiration towards risk — emotionally, politically, socially — right out of gay consciousness. Yet being gay used to be all about taking risks. It’s what got us so far in the first place!

“I think exploring how the medicalization of AIDS terminology may have numbed us from each other — or how race still defines us in the ‘community,’ or how every dollar sucked into the corporate marriage machine means less for those in need of actual life or death help, or how hate crimes legislation ridiculously puts more power and resources into the hands of the very system oppressing us — is something we desperately need right now. We’re raising an entire generation to think that marriage is the only fight. Meanwhile, we’re discriminating against ourselves in so many other ways.”

Faggots is no mere spitting into the wind, either. Although Sycamore Bernstein has been sounding the assimilationist alarm for years, the prolific author and activist, now living in Seattle, has been surprised by the tome’s positive reception. (“It’s quite shocking!” she says with a lilting laugh.) Edmund White, Samuel R. Delaney, and Mx Justin Vivian Bond offered blurbs, and younger readers and the press have been grabbing onto Faggots’ incendiary yet sophisticated tone. Could the recent wave of AIDS activist nostalgia and a Occupy-like disillusionment with big money Pride sponsorships (embodied locally, especially, by a Wells Fargo advertisement covering the entire front page of Bay Area Reporter’s Pride Issue and a Stoli-sponsored GLAAD Pride float) be buoying the book’s popularity?

“I think the re-emergence of interest in things like ACT UP is very interesting. When I came to San Francisco I was part of ACT UP, and — with everybody dying from drugs, suicide, and AIDS — there was a real drive to come together to confront this massive structural neglect and recognize how brutalities align themselves to bring about our annihilation. But nostalgia can be dangerous without recognizing the reality. There was a very real, very dangerous moment in the 1990s when activism suddenly became about discrimination in the military, of all things.

“It turned from trying to guarantee health care for all to being about whether or not we could go die faster in wars. Whose decision was that?”

Marke B. is the author of Queer: The Ultimate LGBT Gude for Youth (Zest)

 

The prestige

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The prestige

marke@sfbg.com

SUPER EGO Everybody’s in an uproar. Panties: twisted! Wig: askew! Weave: berated! Kanga: roo’d! The upper lefthand quadrant of the Internet is aflame.

Respected undergroundish house DJs are being kicked out of upscale club booths at an alarming rate. In February, Dennis Ferrer was tossed from the tables at Miami’s Mansion for not playing “commercial enough.” Last week, our own beloved Mark Farina got bumped from the Marquee poolside in Las Vegas because the management was “getting complaints from the table service crowd” about too much house. (And, most inexplicably, adorable ambient sage Mixmaster Morris was unplugged at a prestigious Berlin event late last year, for not wanting to spontaneously tag team with the tipsy promoter.)

Beyond screaming, “Why the hell would you play these idiotfests to begin with!” (each has their own credible individual explanation), I tend to think this rash of boots is simply symptomatic of dance music’s current bout of mainstreamification. A similar thing happened when oonce-oonce techno took over mainstream-y dance floors in the mid-1990s. Suddenly it seemed every DJ disappeared except Paul van Dyk, Paul Oakenfold, Armin van Buuren, and Sasha and Digweed. Creepy. This time around, house lovers, there’s plenty of venues and crowds for everyone, without having to cry about our time slot in the Electric Daisy Cannibal of life. All is full of PLUR. Just don’t fuss with our Farina again, Vegas, or we’ll Mushroom Jazz your ass.

 

DMITRI FROM PARIS

And now I will spin you a shaggy tale of reverse-douchebagginess. The year? 2000. The place? Winter Music Conference in Miami. The party? Playboy Mansion. All the fixings of a bottle service fake boobs popped collar disaster-fantasy! Of course I went. But then. Someone handed me one of those little shaker eggs that make maraca noises. And then. DJ Dmitri from Paris launched into a 12-minute version of “Love is Always on Your Mind” by Gladys Knight and the Pips. The floor went wild and I went straight (forward) to heaven. It was totally like that moment in the gay bar in 1978 when someone hands Sandra Bernhard a tambourine. Free at last! Ever since then I’ve adored this kicky disco Greek Frenchman, and now that he’s launched several re-edit projects, he’s back in the pulsating limelight. Will he drop the epic opera version of Pet Shop Boys’ “Left to My Own Devices”? As a guest at Marques Wyatt’s monthly Deep party, one of the best and most diverse in SF, anything goes.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mi50cNBjSMw

Fri/15, 10pm-3am, $15 advance, $20. Mighty, 119 Utah, SF. www.mighty119.com

 

THE MAGICIAN

Have we at least reached the late Steve Miller Band stage of electro-disco? Abracadabra, out pops this mysterious prestidigitator, pulling blissful, keyboard-chiming, fog-enshrouded tricks from his fuzzy-wuzzy dream hat. I am assuming ze Magician is French, because he pulls off that excellent French touch trick of pulling your feverishly beating heart out of your chest right when the strobes hit. But in a more contemporary, happy house way. (UPDATE: The Magician is possibly Belgian. Magic!)

Fri/15, 9pm, $17 advance. Mezzanine, 444 Jessie, SF. www.mezzaninesf.com

 

MAYER HAWTHORNE

Don’t call him a “throwback” — the young soul-funk revivalist prefers to count J. Dilla among his influences, even while he’s nicking inspiration from Holland-Dozier-Holland. The Stones Throw label favorite’s DJ set should span a spectrum of mood-bending, rootsy sounds.

Sat/16, 9pm-late, $10–$15. Public Works, 161 Erie, SF. www.publicsf.com

 

SON’Y RAYS

Kind of freaking out about this one. Some of the deepest, most intellectually soulful —– and danceable! —– tech-house future beats are being made in Oakland right now (and for the past few years) by the Deepblak crew. This showcase will bring together most of the major players at SF’s SOM: Diaba$e and Nasrockswell, Blaktroniks, Aybee and Afrikan Sciences, and Damon Bell. Do not miss this night of exquisite hometown, hand-crafted live machine vibes.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ASEDs4n6HOk

Sat/16, 10pm, $10. SOM, 2925 16th St., SF. www.som-bar.com

Tricky sings

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Tricky sings

MUSIC Compared with the smooth operator currently installed in the Oval Office, how nervous Richard Nixon looks now as a representative of America abroad, all stiff grins, rumpled shiftiness, outbursts of awkward rhetoric. Reviewing vintage footage of him recently, I half expected a rappin’ granny to suddenly appear, and goofy Uncle Dick to start “breaking it down.” And yet, 40 years after California’s second-most problematic political progeny (pace, zombie Reagan) went to Beijing to “open China” — ending 25 years of separation and going on to win re-election in a landslide, despite the growing Watergate scandal — might it be time to look past the jerky, jowly image of Tricky Dick and reassess the character of the man and the moment, to keep us on our toes?

“Nixon was an incredibly complicated man, whose intellect constantly got in his way,” Canadian opera director Michael Cavanagh told me over the phone during a wide-ranging interview. “And it’s especially relevant to examine him now in that light, with a certain distance of history. We tend to stop at the jowls, the scandal, and the Republicanism. But it’s often been remarked during this election cycle that there’s no way in hell Nixon would ever be considered for the Republican ballot now. He was too small ‘r’ republican, too centrist. So there’s this complexity to him that confronts lefties with their own stereotypes, assuming most patrons of the arts lean left. That’s something I really like.”

Cavanagh’s complexifying occasion will be his production of John Adams’ 1987 Nixon in China, part of the San Francisco Opera’s nifty-looking summer season. The opera, with a luminescent libretto by poet Alice Goodman and an engrossing, fever-dream score by Adams, whose melodies, time signatures, and musical reference points churn and shift like memory itself, takes us from the moment Nixon’s Spirit of ’76 touches down on the tarmac (Kissinger in tow), through his historic meetings with Chou En-Lai and Mao Tse-Tung, along with First Lady Pat on an eventful factory tour, and finally into the major characters’ bedrooms, memories, and fantasies. It’s a sensually intoxicating work, full of barnstorming arias sung by a multi-ethnic cast (you will have “I am the wife of Mao Tse-Tung” stuck in your head for days) that examines media spectacle, modern myth-making, and cultural difference on a truly, well, operatic scale.

San Francisco Bay Guardian Nixon was Californian, Adams is a longtime Bay Area resident. It’s the 40th anniversary of the China visit, and also an insanely contentious election year. The Bay Area as a huge Chinese population — many families escaped Mao’s Cultural Revolution. Do you feel any particular pressure bringing this production here, now? 

Michael Cavanagh I feel a tremendous amount of responsibility, but I also feel a lot of freedom. Of course, the events the opera depicts and its roots in the Bay Area will resonate, and that’s hugely exciting. But this isn’t a documentary, it’s a rumination, more of a poem. As Nixon says in the beginning of the opera, “News has a kind of mystery” — and I feel that’s what Adams and Goodman were really expanding upon with this.

I do think that this production, especially, will bring up memories for a lot of people. I myself had an inkling of this whole thing happening when I was really young — it’s something that a lot of the world shares, a memory of this iconic moment, even if that memory is only a glimpse of pavement or a handshake, kind of like my own. The opera works with that abstraction, those fuzzy frames of memory that overlay images of the past, while still sharpening some of the more historically relevant moments. I hope people can relate to it on all of those levels.

SFBG Twenty-five years separate us from the opera’s premiere in Houston in 1987 — and yet China remains, to use a slightly loaded term, as inscrutable as ever to many Americans, yet as enmeshed in their daily lives as ever. What relevance do you think the opera may hold today?

MC I think it has an eerie relevance. Even back when Nixon in China premiered, China was still remote and threatening to many, and this was before the reform machine revved into life, before China’s emerging economic dominance. In one scene, in Mao’s library, Mao goes off quite poetically about the revolution, and how things were changing, and he plays fast and loose with the concepts of capitalism and communism, almost as if he foresees the necessary reforms ahead, that came to pass.

Beyond that, the opera is very prescient about the evolution of the media — this was one of the first major world events to be broadcast on a global scale, to be covered as the kind of spectacle we base much of our opinions and thoughts on today. We think of Nixon as shifty-eyed, but he was really just trying to figure out where the cameras were most of the time, trying to acclimate to this new kind of fishbowl environment in which political figures were treated like movie characters. The opera records the beginnings of all that, and ends with them reviewing their memories of everything that’s occurred as if it was all this footage, which it is quite actually on stage.

Basically, though, the deepest relevance a work can have is by connecting to the audience through its characters. Take Pat Nixon. We hurt for Pat Nixon. She’s been betrayed. Nixon promised her a simple home life, the comforts of family and a man at home, and here she is traveling all the way to China! She’s bewildered, but as First Lady there’s really no place for that, so she forges her own, I think very American kind of resolve that cracks a couple times, but still gets her through.

It’s a very poignant psychological and emotional study, projected on the world stage, and amplified as only opera can. That’s what opera does better than any other art form: it amplifies life.

SFBG You’re a Canadian — have you caught any flack for interpreting these events that are so associated with the US?

MC You know, despite appeals to the contrary, our two countries really share the same history. This version of the opera was premiered in Vancouver during the Olympic Festival — it’s what Canada chose to represent itself will to the entire world. And when it comes down to it, really, everything you do effects us Canadians just as much. We sleep with the elephant. *

NIXON IN CHINA

June 8-July 3, times and prices vary

War Memorial Opera House

301 Van Ness, SF.

(415) 861-4008

www.sfopera.com

 

Deep dish

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Deep dish

SUPER EGO Ooh, she's windy! And everybody knows it. I'm writing you from Chicago, specifically and improbably from the Hard Rock Hotel in the gorgeous old Union Carbide building. It's not so tacky (I'm staying on the Prince Floor, displaying several of his blouses), even though it's brimming with hopefuls for the International Mr. Leather Competition-related "Grabbys," the big annual gay porn awards. Someone please tell their hairdressers that 2005 was seven years ago! No more gay porn cockatoos, please. It is also big, hairy bear week here — officially called Bearpawcalypse 2012, I shit you not — so everything is thuper-thuper-gay.

I'll be back to join you at the following ragers, but right now I'm off to "grabby" me some drinks in the stunning Second City. First stop: a strong sidecar and some live Latin jazz at Al Capone's favorite hang, the Green Mill. Straight mobbin', y'all.

OMAR SOULEYMAN


Are you ready to completely lose it, hypnotic synth-groove hi-NRG Syrian folk-pop style? Even just thinking of how this hyper-energetic, legendary Middle Eastern singer somehow came to be embraced by Western ravers makes me smile — but we'll all be too busy bouncing and trying to sing along to deconstruct all that.

Fri/1, 8pm doors, $20 advance. Mezzanine, 444 Jessie, SF. www.mezzaninesf.com

STOMPY 20-YEAR REUNION


The Stompy label, party crew, and music production powerhouse has helped keep the chunky, funky, banging SF house sound alive (DJ Deron, Stompy's honcho, is one of my favorites when I just wanna let loose). To celebrate its second decade, Berlin's sunny tech-house wiz Ian Pooley is joining Jonene, Tasho, Sweet P, and Deron to stomp us good.

Fri/1, 9pm, $10 before 11pm, $20 after. Monarch, 101 Sixth St., SF. www.stompy.com

DOPPLEREFFEKT


Keepers of the true mad scientist techno flame, this mysterious, essential group — headed by mental lab technician Heinrich Mueller, a.k.a. Gerald Donald, a.k.a. Rudolf Klorzeiger — was all the rage, and one of the actual quality offspring, of the electro clash scene, which is now experiencing a full-blown revival. Dark thoughts and porn dreams burble up through insanely catchy melodies and sci-fi Kraftwerk affect. With C.L.A.W.S., Robot Hustle, Josh Cheon, Caltrop, and the No Way Back crew.

Sat/2, 10pm, $25. Monarch, 101 Sixth St., SF. www.monarchsf.com

KONTROL GRAND FINALE


What would the city's techno scene be like without Kontrol? Ace new crews like As You Like It and Rocket might not be around if it hadn't been for the seven-year-old monthly blast of live news from the global techno underground. Originally started at the storied Rx Gallery as a clean, minimal-pumping break from all the baroque, bombastic clutter that was techno in the early 2000s (and as a showcase for the burgeoning international touring circuit created by the Internet and advancing digital technology), Kontrol grew at the EndUp into one of our invaluable electronic faces to the world. Now the Kontrollers — Greg Bird, Alland Byallo, Sammy D, Nokloa Baytala, and Craig Kuna — have way too much going on, damn their popular talents! This seventh anniversary event is also the end of the line for the monthly party, although Kontrol will live on in other forms, including, I'm sure, one day, a 21st anniversary party, at which I will be raving in my hover-wheelchair. Berlin master Heiko Laux performs. Danke and aufweidersehn!

Sat/2, 10pm-6am, $20. EndUp, 401 Sixth St., SF. www.tinyurl.com/kontrolbye

WICKED 21-YEAR ANNIVERSARY


After last year's incredible reunion (and a hugely successful world tour) one of SF's original rave crews — the one that brought a tasty touch of pagan British psychedelia to its eclectic productions — gathers again to howl. DJs Garth, Jeno, Thomas, and Markie, plus a signature cast of beloved characters, get devilish all night. *

Sat/2, 10pm-7am, $20. Mighty, 119 Utah, SF. www.mighty119.com

Movement Detroit day one: Sweetest Kiss-Over (or, I Feel French)

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Movement Detroit day one: Sweetest Kiss-Over (or, I Feel French)

Not much gets better than dancing with 33,000 people in downtown Detroit at the fantastic 12th annual Detroit Electronic Music Festival, aka Movement, to the techno music that was invented here.

The first day of three, a bit stormy weatherwise but warm and squiggly on the musical front, saw the five stages brimming with choice DJ segues like Greg Wilson into Todd Terje, David Squillace into Seth Troxler with Guy Gerber, SBTRKT into Roni Size, Derrick Carter into Lil Louis — and the triumph (for me, and native Detroiters) of last night, young techno keepers of the flame Kyle Hall and Jay Daniel, playing a smooth classics timewarp set, into quintessential DJ’s DJ Mike Huckaby, who took us all the way into wiggy jazziness.

The lovely vibes, zillion afterparties, surprising diversty, and distinctly non-pop energy are already helping compensate for some of the fest’s dogged disappointments — only five women out of about 100 DJs this year, all bunched up into opening sets, and only two San Franciscans by my count. (In a wee slap on both ends, one of this year’s most exciting techno up-and-comers, SF’s Christina Chatfield, is relegated to afterparty status. Next year please!)

But how can I complain when shirtless, buffed up, pecil-mustachioed house sage Lil Louis closes the main stage with his iconic “French Kiss” that breaks expertly into Diana Ross’s “Love Hangover” during the slow part, and then Donna Summer’s “I Feel Love” (sounding absolutely aces on a huge system) when everything gets fast?

Louis didn’t let some horrifying technical glitches get in his way — when his complex set-up melted down, he mixed headphoneless and rode a thick bass beat like a trooper while festival technicians actually built a whole new one practically from scratch next to him. No one can say Detroit industriousness is dead.

The big overarching narrative of techno right now — and one that has huge reverberations at the festival — is how the many established strains of techno, and its more adventurous community of listeners and connoisseurs, are reacting to the current spectacular pop success of EDM (electronic dance music represented by commercial juggernauts like Dead Maus and Tiesto, and heard at Movement’s evil twin fest, Electric Daisy Carnival) and the droves of American youth pumping watered-down dubstep of the Skrillex variety into their earholes.

No, the all-ages Movement was not a snob-fest, and already it seems to be channeling its old underground, alternative energy again, now that all of its subgenre variations have something to unite about and rebel against. Teens flocked to the Red Bull stage for its more global bass lineup — but I only heard two wub-wub dubstep drops while I was there, and the neon-drenched kids did just fine with an onslaught of good ol’ polyrythmic UK two-step (the progenitor of dubstep) and old school live Brit-accented MCing, with hectically beautiful snippets of vocal garage house (dubstep’s other progenitor) floated over top. It was a fine education from the likes of Brenmar, Photek, and Bok Bok, indeed.

And then Derrick Carter started slaying the main stage with passing train-horn sounds that rattled 10,000 bones — his joke on the dubstep drop? — and everybody laughed and screamed.          

Tour de F*ck You: Sons of Science speak!

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Tour de F*ck You: Sons of Science speak!

In our recent Bike Issue, we profiled several of our favorite Bike People — freewheelin’ movers on the 2012 bike scene we particularly admired. Among them, for how could it be otherwise, were the Sons of Science, an augmented trio of musical bike-tivists whose side-splitting viral “Motherf*cking Bike” video hit lampooned and celebrated SF’s precious, in-your-face bike culture. 

John Benson and Ward Evans of Sausage Films teamed up with amazing bike horn soloist Hector Pérez for the one-off (perhaps?) project — and there are plenty of juicy local cameos in the video. Benson and Evans took some time from sippin’ lattes on their fixies (kind of!) to answer some questions.

SFBG So…. I heard Russell Crowe just tweeted about you ….

SONS OF SCIENCE  Yes apparently he’s an avid cyclist, and we think he approved of the language. The video got several thousand more hits as a result of his tweet, and to show our appreciation we’re going to rent every one of his movies — even Breaking Up.

SFBG Who’s all in the band and when did you get together? Is it an outgrowth of other media projects?

SOS Sons of Science are Hector (Pérez, who appears as Horn Solo in the MFB video), John (Benson, who appears as Fixie Hipster) and Ward (Evans, who plays Stoner Messenger). We’ve known each other for years and just recently decided to collaborate for fun, and it clicked. John and Ward also direct as a team, so it was a great excuse to do a video. For this track we were also very lucky to feature Tim Brooks (formerly of the Young Offenders, who plays the Angry Commuter), he brought a pantload of energy and genuine cyclist cred to the project. He also knows the MASH guys, which was how we got that great cameo.

SFBG Are you all on a motherfucking bike right now?

SOS Hells yeah, we are live-tweeting this interview from the center lane of Market at rush hour while sipping nonfat lattes.

SFBG Who are some of your bike heroes (besides Russell Crowe)?

SOS A guy named Joff Summerfield rode a penny farthing around the globe, he’d be right up there. Then there’s Elliot from ET, Dave from Breaking Away, Juliette Lewis (who also tweeted our video and has probably been on a bike), and pretty much everyone on two wheels who risks their lives in traffic every day — while employing common sense and basic courtesy, of course.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VAJBXtVg8nQ

SFBG Will we see you performing live soon?

SOS You can see us anytime on YouTube, but a live show will require more songs and the perfect ratio of smoke to lasers. Right now we’re focused on MFB, but it’s definitely on the to-do list.

SFBG What’s your next big project? Because I want to see you rolling down Valencia on a motherfucking Ferris Wheel, living the dream of the 1890s.

SOS We’re considering some kind of performance art piece involving giant illuminated human hamster balls out on the Bay, but the wind and tides would have to be just right. It’s a work in progress.

SFBG If you could rename the Wiggle, what would you call it?

SOS We shot a good deal of Tim’s bits in and around the Wiggle, so in his honor we’d probably go with the “Tour de F*ck You.”

A brief transgender punk heroes primer

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A brief transgender punk heroes primer

The web is all abuzz — rightly — about the bravery of Against Me! singer Tom Gabel “coming out” to Rolling Stone as transgender and beginning to live her life as Laura Jane Grace (while remaining legally married to her wife and raising their child. Take that, North Carolina!). ‘Tis a wonderful thing indeed, and most of the commentary on the high school hearthrob band’s website has been positive.

As much as it pains me to call any band that came after Fugazi “punk,” Against Me! wasn’t half bad to soundtrack your 2000s teenage mall rebellion, carrying on the legacy of punks through the ages. And Grace’s transformation carries on another legacy as well — that of famous transgender rockers.

I’ve lately been rereading one of my favorite books, Please Kill Me: The Uncensored Oral History of Punk — if ever there was a book to make your life seem utterly boring shite, that’s it. It’s full of hyperenergetic boys donning frocks, from punk founders the Dead Boys and the New York Dolls to the glam heroes that punk was meant to take down, like David Bowie and Gary Glitter. And of course many fierce women of the early scene were shaving their heads and kitting out in “mens’ clothes.” (There was actually a time when Robert Mapplethorpe’s cover shot for Patti Smith’s Horses was a scandal, really.)

But all that was mere transgression, welcome as it may have been to the oppressed queers of the day — and now for that matter. Being transgender is something different, having the courage to reconcile your physicality with the mental and emotional image you carry of yourself inside. And then to rock the fuck out? Cool. Here are some of my transgender punk heroes:

 

>>Jayne County

She became famous in the late ’70s, kicking against the pricks in London as Wayne County (with band the Electric Chairs) — but was an NYC underground mainstay before then, taking part in the 1969 Stonewall Riots, hanging with the Warhol crew, and starting one of the first punk-like bands Queen Elizabeth in 1972. (“God Save the Queen” indeed.). She soon rechristened herself Jayne County, performing unabashedly before punk audiences as a transgender woman. As an actress, she starred in seminal underground queer films like Derek Jarman’s Jubilee and Rosa von Praunheim’s City of Lost Souls. She’s still raging.    

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tiih9H29pDM

 

>>Genesis P-Orridge

The outrageous and outrageously talented founder of ’70s experimental industrial-noise-punk-electronic outifts Psychic TV and Throbbing Gristle, Genesis approaches gender in an experimental vein as well. Already well into his own gender recalibration, he and his wife Lady Jayne Breyer P-Orridge began an odyssey of physical transformation in the 2000s to become a single pandrogynous entity to be called “Breyer P-Orridge.” Sadly, Lady Jayne died in 2007 of stomach cancer, but Genesis continues to challenge gender expectations, as the recent release of lauded doc The Ballad of Genesis and Lady Jaye attests to.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GPpet98Hick

 

>>Lynn Breedlove

The indispensable local trans man was instrumental in the punk revival of the ’90s with his insane dyke outfit Tribe 8, and now helps keep queers safe on the streets of SF with his Homobiles on-call transportion service. He’s also an accomplished author and performer in his own right. Queers fight (and write) back!!

 

UPDATE: In the comments below, readers below have pointed out two very important transgender punks: Sarah Kirsch, formerly Mike Kirsch, guitarist and vocalist seminal East Bay outfit Pinhead Gunpowder, Fuel, and a ton more including Fuel and Sawhorse (and who is currently recovering from cancer). I couldn’t find a good vid of Sarah in her current incarnation, but here’s a recent one of Pinhead Gunpowder at 924 Gilman. 

PLUS the incredible Ginger Coyote of the White Trash Debutantes, who was pretty essential to the Mabuhay Gardens punk scene here.

And of course, there is a thriving, vibrant, now-decades-old underground of scrappy queer and transgender punk rock bands — and wonderful local trans musicians like Christine Beatty and Justin Bond and even lounge singer Veronica Klaus who keep the proud and outspoken transgender musical flame alight. In the immortal words of Jayne County, “If you don’t want a piece of the action, take a walk!”

 

 

 

We had a big fashion party at the museum, and it rocked

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Last month, our “Beautiful Rebels” Jean Paul Gaultier fashion show-party with Peaches Christ at the de Young Museum rivaled the Gaultier opening gala itself. Check out these beautiful rebel shots by Robbie Sweeny.

Blood Orange’s “Champagne Coast” enters odd interiors

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We missed Blood Orange‘s appearance here a couple weeks ago (kicking selves). Now, he’s rocking the “Champagne Coast” with his latest strange journey — yeah, it continues and broadens the Weeknd’s brilliant ’80s flashback-meets-future R&B and features hot scantily, cleverly clad models dancing erotically. We do not mind this one bit.   

Address of the beast

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Address of the beast

SUPER EGO Is San Francisco experiencing a douche drain? Suddenly a heck of a lot of, er, “upscale” clubs are mediating their bottle service images with creative, musically forward parties. I can’t think they’ve run out of Appletini orderers, or that the real nightlife money is in importing obscure Crosstown Rebels label DJs — although maybe all the bachelorettes really have fled to Castro gay bars and the stiff-collar dudes are glued to their Girls Around Me app? I’m loving finally feeling comfortable (and digging the quality sound systems) at some of these shiny joints. I’m also tickled by the occasional accidental crash collision of crowds, as when a bleach-blond klatch of stilettoed, squealing singles found their meat market had been occupied by lumbering gay techno bears, but stayed to dance anyway.

The trend kicked off three years ago when 1015 Folsom rebranded its “underground” basement as 103 Harriet, then Holy Cow roped in Honey Soundsystem Sundays and Vessel launched techno-riffic Base Thursdays. Now a number of clubs, including Monroe in North Beach on weekend mornings and Otis on Sunday nights, have joined in. The kooky part is how some of these clubs have been surreptitiously changing their names to their addresses in promotions when they get a little “alternative.” Besides 103 Harriet, Harlot is “46 Minna,” Icon Ultra Lounge is “1192 Folsom,” Ruby Skye’s former VIP room is “4Fourteen” (Mason). This is so hilariously shady and bland at the same time! Yet it tickles. Just please don’t call it pop-up nightlife — call it a stealth takeover, darling.

 

JUANITA’S FUNKY CHICKEN

What better thigh to gnaw on than a drag queen’s? Hostess with the hot plate Juanita More pitches in for the Dining Out for Life AIDS fundraiser (www.diningoutforlife.com) with her traditional menu of chicken covered in honey goo, blue cheese salad, corn muffin, and red velvet cupcake. Plus old school soul from the Hard French DJs and a crowd of gorging gorgeousness. Eat it, ladies!

Thu/26, 6-9pm, $22. Mars Bar, 798 Brannan, SF. For reservation info, see www.juanitamore.com.

 

GREG WILSON

I admire a ton of DJs, but Greg is one that I actually love. His tailor-made funk and soul re-edits, many from the darker reaches of the vaults, hit me just right. And when this UK veteran (almost 40 years of experience! The first DJ to scratch on British TV!) mixes them all together and throws in some unexpected singalongs and sound effects, it’s party heaven.

Fri/27, 9pm, $20. Monarch, 101 Sixth St., SF. www.monarchsf.com

 

PUBLIC ACCESS

Party promoter wunderkind Marco de la Vega is filling several fun voids in our nightlife with his audio edge-play productions. And he’s upping our intellectual ante, too: “Club culture is inherently performative. Public Access is an experiment in the nature of that performance. A feedback loop of spectacle and spectator,” he says of his latest extravaganza of Technicolor darkness, featuring lo-fi nihilists Hype Williams, dream-rave duo Teengirl Fantasy, lurid discothequers Gatekeeper, and Zebra Katz, whose filthy “Ima Read” track is spring’s official club anthem thus far.

Fri/27, 9pm-3am, $15-20. Public Works, 161 Erie, SF. www.publicsf.com

 

CLAUDE YOUNG

He lives in Tokyo now, but second generation Detroit techno man of many talents Claude Young honors his roots on the decks — mostly by slaying crowds with his signature jazzy-tech flair and insane manual dexterity (let’s just say the man can mix with his chin). A perfect complement to the jawdropper that was fellow Detroiter Jeff Mills’ set at Public Works last week, and a rare opportunity to hear Young on these shores. For $5!

Sun/29, 9pm, $5. Holy Cow, 1535 Folsom, SF. www.tinyurl.com/claudeyoung

Utopia, mon amour

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Utopia, mon amour

marke@sfbg.com

VISUAL ARTS With Occupy gearing up again and a fresh round of election hell full upon us, another cycle of protest — and the urge to engage with the problems of the world while somehow escaping them — is in the air. The Oakland Museum’s current “1968 Exhibit” (through August 19) offers a family-friendly, multimedia trip through the Bay Area’s most famous political and cultural upheaval. But here are three ongoing shows that look closely at individual creators from the past whose work transcends nostalgia, transmits a fair amount of beauty, and drums up some idealistic lessons for the present.

 

“ARTHUR TRESS: SAN FRANCISCO 1964”

A miracle to inspire cafe artists everywhere. In 1964, 23-year-old NYC photographer Arthur Tress winged through San Francisco for a season, shooting the populace at a particularly turbulent time: the Republican National Convention, the Beatles’ first North American tour, auto worker protests along Van Ness, the passage of the Civil Rights Act. He developed the negatives in the communal darkroom off Duboce Park, had an unremarkable show in the back of a cafe, packed the photos up at his sister’s, and moved on. After his sister died, he found them in a box of her effects, and realized their significance.

And what a find: Forget Mad Men, this is the real 1964, perched on the edge of a cultural unraveling, its existential beehive slowly loosening into flower child ideals. The 70 photographs on show at the de Young, curated by James Ganz, expertly play with composition to bring rough social patches to artful life. A distorted shot of a George Romney presidential campaign poster delivers Orwellian chills. Screaming girls hoisting “Ringo for President” banners intimate repressed political hysteria. Dashing union workers form impressive phalanxes. Patrons at a Fifth and Market diner embody an microcosm of economic disillusionment. A transgender woman suns her hairy legs on the Embarcadero, a plaid-shirted boy holds up a hand-drawn hammer and sickle.

All of it coated with the glamour of deconstructed nostalgia, in which one can indulge and critique at once. But there’s more: “You have throw into the mix a heavy dose of social commentary and criticism — the idea that the photograph can be a vehicle for social change,” Tress tells an interviewer in the show’s handsome if carelessly annotated catalogue. “You photographed street demonstrations, you photographed protests … it was a way of becoming part of the movement.”

Through June 3. De Young Museum, 50 Hagiwara Tea Garden Dr., deyoung.famsf.org

“THE UTOPIAN IMPULSE: BUCKMINSTER FULLER AND THE BAY AREA”

Inside the great Henry Ford automotive museum just outside of Detroit, you can tour an actual Dymaxion House, designed by preternaturally productive designer, philosopher, and dissembler R. Buckminster Fuller. It’s as perfect a realtime experience of walking around in someone’s 1940s sci-fi Utopian dream as one can ever have. A polished aluminum mushroom cap subdivided into tiny rooms bursting with ingenious “squee!”-worthy gadgetry to handle all of life’s projected needs, the Dymaxion House never took off as vernacular American architecture, despite its supposed ease of construction, light weight, and good intentions to house an expanding population. (Among its bland nemeses: rain, expense, and snarky architecture critics.)

But while it’s particularly poignant to see this polished dream deferred nestled among the many wheeled ones populating Henry Ford’s shrine to the former glories of the Motor City — and even though geodesic monument Spaceship Earth at Disney’s Epcot, another eerie graveyard of sleek Utopian ideals, remains Bucky Fuller’s only famous American architectural manifestation — the Dymaxion concept, and several other Bucky wonders, have had a profoundly positive and energizing effect on the Bay Area, as this visionary show at the SFMOMA reveals.

Curator Jennifer Dunlop Fletcher forewarned, “To be clear, it’s not so much a show about Fuller.” Indeed, but in the first rooms prepare to be blown away by gorgeous blow-ups of Massachusetts-born Bucky’s hyper-geometric blueprints, which will surely provide several indie electro bands with album cover inspiration for years to come, and a wall of insanely detailed notecards from “Everything I Know,” his late-life video-recorded brain dump.

Then the real magic of the show kicks in, as it opens up into displays of Bay Area movements and products directly traceable to Fuller, from glorious hippie artifacts like the Ant Farm architecture collective, the Whole Earth Catalog scene, and the iconic North Face “Oval Intention” dome-shaped tent (really!) to contemporary tech initiatives, like bright neon specimens from the “One Laptop One Child” campaign and the utterly transfixing “Local Code” by UC Berkeley Assistant Professor Nicholas de Monchaux, which digitally renders the transformation of all the unused public space in SF into “a common ecological infrastucture.”

Beyond reviving interest in Fuller, the ambitious project of SFMOMA here is to showcase the deep connection between the Bay Area’s brilliant tech legacy and its transcendental communal one, an audacious, successful synthesis that would bring Bucky joy — and one that only a full-size recreation of Steve Wozniak’s garage could probably best.

Through July 29. SFMOMA, 151 Third St., SF. www.sfmoma.org

“RADICALLY GAY: THE LIFE OF HARRY HAY”

Harry Hay seemed to drop almost effortlessly into so many essential 20th century ideal-driven environments — Hollywood, unions, the Communist Party, gay rights, naturism, really the list goes on. That this modest show at the SF Main Library, curated by Joey Cain, not only clearly distills Hay’s timeline and influence, but also manages to illuminate new corners of his life and sometimes bring on a few tears, is rather a sensation.

Seriously, the man was multitude. Hay is best known as the founder of one of the first gay rights organizations, the Mattachine Society — here revealed through documents, org charts, and touching photos to have been a sort of Moose Lodge for “homophiles.” In one of the show’s most astounding touches, the exquisite Edwardian tea set used by his mother Margaret to caffeinate the early Mattachine meetings is displayed in full.

But of course there was more for this Mad Hatter, including pleading the Fifth before the House Un-American Activities Committee in the 1950s for his Communist party membership and Marxist musicology studies, his 1930s radicalizing tryst with actor and union supporter Will Geer, a.k.a. Grandpa from The Waltons, the “Circle of Loving Friends” desert commune, the national campaign to stop the damming of the Rio Grande — all laced through with references to underground SF gay clubs and arts happenings. (Some things, like his controversial early support for NAMBLA, which could benefit from some honest contextualization, seem glossed over, perhaps due to space concerns.)

Hay’s creation in the 1970s of the Radical Faeries, a collective whose anti-assimilationist, Pagan aesthetic continue to influence and inform Bay Area style, is well-represented here, as is perhaps Hay’s most stable pursuit: his loving 40-year relationship with John Burnside. Two seemingly politically contradictory Utopian ideals, embodied in one mercurial spirit, revealed beautifully.

Through July 29. SF Main Library, 100 Larkin, SF. www.sfpl.org

3 Kings of House come to Mighty

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This Sat/28, three actually legendary house music DJs and producers — Li’l Louie Vega, David Morales, and Tony Humphries — will combine to melt the floor at Mighty. Here’s footage from them last month at Miami’s Winter Music Conference. If you’re a head like me, you start shouting in your cubicle right at 1:24.  

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