Marke B.

Black secret technology

Andrew Lam
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Black secret technology

Detroit. Perhaps you’ve heard of it? Maybe someone forwarded you a link to a fascinating ruin porn slideshow of its abandoned skyscrapers and crumbled mansions. Or you’ve clicked on one of the innumerable feature stories about young, homesteading pioneers plowing new fields among the wind-blasted industrial decay. Maybe your grandfather has shook his head at the glory that used to be the Big Three, a multi-billion dollar auto industry now propped up by government funds. Or perhaps you’ve appeared in a sequined gown and endless gloves in one of your black-and-white snooze-button dreams, backed by Mary and Flo, cooing out “Where Did Our Love Go?”

If you’ve been anywhere near a good club in the past year, you’ve definitely heard Detroit — one thing those strangely same-y media narratives always seem to omit is the other huge industry that Detroit has spawned, namely techno. That’s fine, real techno should always fly beneath the mainstream eye, a Cybertronic bird with tingling feathers and a killer beak-beak-beak.

Yet even in the underground Detroit’s techno legacy was threatened with obliteration: the explosion of bedroom producers who came of age during the minimal era of the late 2000s looked to Berlin for inspiration, rather than the Midwest. The wave of original Detroit innovators had become diffuse. You could sense a struggle for a Grand Unified Theory of Detroit Techno Now to present to newcomers who, after all, couldn’t exactly consult a textbook on such things. To them, “Detroit” was more of an archetypal ideal than an actual sound, let alone one created by Black people. And there was only so much jawing on about the good old days us dance floor seniors could do without being put out to the House Nation pasture. (There are Smart Drinks, nappy dreads, hoop earrings, Maurice Malone overalls, and a lot more bass there.)

Berlin has every right to claim the techno megalopolis crown — it’s done more as a civic entity to promote the music than Detroit could afford — and, hearteningly, it takes pains to venerate its Motor City forebear. No coincidence that one of Germany’s freshest acts is Motor City Drum Ensemble or that the brilliant Berlin club Tresor greets entrants with a giant “Detroit” sign. And it’s not as if Detroit went away — minimal was balanced out by the disco-funk re-edit scene, pioneered by Detroit techno heroes Moodymann and Theo Parrish.

Luckily, the smart kids will always be curious, and Detroit has been thrust back into the spotlight by a yearning for history, depth, and basics in the global techno scene. An awesome, corresponding glut is now upon us of touring DJs from the D to satisfy that need.

In the past two months alone San Francisco has seen appearances by Kevin Saunderson, Mike Huckaby, MK, Scottie Deep, Stacy Pullen, Dan Bell, and honorary Detroiter Richie Hawtin. Jeff Mills, Carl Craig, and Moodymann were here last year. And, this weekend, Parrish himself comes, along with fantastic unsung hero of the early years Claude Young, who isn’t afraid to scratch things up a little. Just announced? Two of techno’s Big Three, Derrick May and Kevin Saunderson (who along with Juan Atkins invented and popularized the whole damn thing) performing together in November in their Hi Tek Soul guise.

One of the real joys of this latest Detroit resurgence, and one it would be most painful to lose: the reclamation of techno as a black musical form, a poetic permutation of soul, rejiggered by freaky sci-fi nerds with one ear attuned to space-jazz, another to krautrock and synthpop, and a third to down-and-dirty electro-funk. Or, as May’s famous formulation has it, “a complete mistake … like George Clinton and Kraftwerk caught in an elevator, with only a sequencer to keep them company.”

As commercial techno claims larger and larger arenas and the Motor City slips further into media cliché, it’s the perfect time to gather back at the roots. Oh, and dancing.

THEO PARRISH

Fri/12, 10 p.m.-3:30 a.m., $10–$20

Public Works

161 Erie, SF.

www.publicsf.com

 

CLAUDE YOUNG

at the Sunset Boat Party

Sun/14, 5 p.m., $45 advance

Pier 3 (Washington and Embarcadero)

www.pacificsound.net

 

HI TEK SOUL

w/ Derrick May and Kevin Saunderson

November 12, 10 p.m.-late

Public Works

 

 

Editor’s notes

Andrew Lam
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marke@sfbg.com

“We live in turbulent times,” my uncle observed last Saturday. He’s right: the world is roiling.

This past week alone: 100,000 students marched in Santiago, Chile to protest education cuts. (The protest turned violent on Friday when police used excessive force and tear-gassed the crowd.) On Saturday, 300,000 people from across the political spectrum marched in Israel, mainly to protest rising housing costs. (A million-person march is planned for next week.)

Syria saw probably its bloodiest weekend of protests yet, as the government sent in more forces to crush anti-authoritarian uprisings. In Spain, a resurgent M-15 — the huge yet ambiguous protest organization that occupied Madrid’s main square this summer — was blocked by anti-riot police from re-occupying Puerto del Sol. And, in Tottenham, London, a peaceful vigil for a man slain by police was stoked into a weekend of riots that is spreading throughout the city as of this writing.

The swelling protests are all unique in their ways, but we certainly seem to be in the midst of a global “protest movement movement.” Many of the demonstrations — at least the nonviolent ones — have been presented in the media as a continuation of the Arab Spring, due to the important role of online social media and the peaceful, game-changing aspirations of participants. And in most of the recent protests, there is evidence of a frightened and over-reactive government (the Chinese government, quaking over growing unrest due to its cover-up of a train crash last month, is flailing at online censorship) or a woefully unprepared police force (the Tottenham police were severely late in addressing public questions about the shooting, and failed to heed community leader warnings about potential violence).

But all have to do with economic inequality, an overwhelming feeling of powerlessness in the face of ineffectual governance, and an onslaught of austerity cuts imposed from above. Last week’s odious debt ceiling charade by American “leaders” has just ensured massive national austerity cuts, and made the economy a lot more anxious (and unequal). Hands up if you feel powerless.

I think of two recent large examples of Bay Area economic unrest: the 2009 student demonstrations against University of California tuition hikes and the reaction to the Mehserle verdict last year. Are we prepared to channel the coming frustration into an expansive, nonviolent popular movement that builds on positive momentum, includes everyone, and brings a whiff of the Arab Spring to our shores?

Face time

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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Face time

I never regret the morning after — but sometimes the night before can stick to my face like Ragu to Tupperware, child. It’s not always pretty! OK it is, but sometimes it’s slightly less so. So when I heard that the nifty new vintage-groomin’ F.S.C. Barber in the Mission was offering something called the Hangover Treatment facial, I leaped to try it.

I mean, I’m usually about as resistant to professional beauty treatments as I am to shaved chests on porn stars or pulmonary tuberculosis. I hope. But the rituals of modern manhood are startling — one day you’re lighting up a Cuban fedora with a baseball bat you shot at par nine while building your own Playboy smoking jacket. The next you’re lying back in a beautiful vintage barber chair (complementing F.S.C.’s 120-year-old restored mahogany barber stations from the Chicago World’s Fair) while an amiable, impeccably fashionable tattooed guy named Brett massages your face. 

It was bliss, a multi-part treatment of lavender and eucalyptus hot towels with a bubbling Malin + Goetz mask that really did make me feel like “a million buckaroos.” (It costs $25.) Who wants more cocktails?

F.S.C., which is all the rage in its Manhattan homebase where there are two branches already, may put out a men’s club vibe, but it’s not really that uptight or theme-y. It has a tasty little clothing shop attached called the Freemans Sporting Club, and manager Jonah Buffa, who opened the SF outpost (his brother Sam is the F.S.C. founder), is as sweet and laid back as they come, a true Missionite raising his kid in the neighborhood.

To all you tech guys who aren’t sure what to do with your look, or aren’t even sure you should have one: please go here. They will help you! It will help all of us!

F.S.C. Barber 696 Valencia, SF. (415) 621-9000, www.fscbarber.com

T.I.M.F. T.M.I. The lineup for this year’s ever-zesty Treasure Island Music Festival (October 15 and 16, www.treasureislandfestival.com) was announced last week, and as usual it’s unofficially segregated into a “dance” day (Saturday) and a “rock” day (Sunday). On my personal “dance day” must-see list? Flying Lotus, Buraka Som Sistema, Shabazz Palaces, Battles, and — hurray for random — Death From Above 1979. There’s no over-the-top pop-dance draw this year (although grime-rapper Dizzee Rascal’s latest “Bonkers” incarnation should please any, goddess help us, Steve Aoki or LMFAO fans).

Also as usual, there’s the merest appearance of Bay Area talent — lovely local chamber-pop outfit Geographer pops in to start things off on Saturday. It seems a shame, and a failure of nerve, since we have so much worthy homegrown dance talent. Could they set up a dance tent with continuously spinning local DJs, as an alternative to the stage acts? That would be dandy.

 

NIKE7UP

Monthly based-goth, witch house and deathrock party 120 Minutes goes darker than ever with a live set by Nike7UP, who melts the chirpy underbelly of chart-pop into a suicidal wish-blorp. GuMMyBeAR, Nako, WhITCH, Teams, and more haunt your earholes.

Fri/5, 10 p.m., $10 ($5 before 11 p.m.). Elbo Room, 647 Valencia, SF. www.elbo.com

 

STEFFI AND MIKE HUCKABY

Huckaby was long the secret weapon of Detroit’s techno scene, a DJ’s DJ who was key in introducing a lot of the Big Names to new sounds. He’s finally getting the breakout recognition he deserves — in May, I saw him open the reconfigured garden of Berlin’s huge Berghain club, bringing a welcome dose of deep to that spring affair. (Listen to his awesome new mix for XLR8R here.) Steffi, whose hit “Yours” might as well be from Detroit in 1988, comes to us from Amsterdam via Berlin, and she’s aces.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9hCJrvfBdw0

Fri/5, 9 p.m.-4 a.m., $15 ($10 before 10 p.m.) Public Works, 161 Erie, SF. www.publicsf.com

 

DUB FILLMORE FESTIVAL

At last, a free, all-ages, daytime dubstep and reggae festival to wobble away the summer hours. One helluvalotta DJs and performers, including Mochipet, Jah Yzer, Nebakaneza, and Johnny5, bring the blaster to two outdoor stages in the Fillmore. Look out below!

Sat/6, 10 a.m.-6:30 p.m., free, all ages. Corner of Fillmore and O’Farrell Streets, SF.

 

ESL SHOWCASE

Ready for funkytime? The ESL label brings out soulfully gifted DJ Nickodemus of sunny house party Turntables on the Hudson for a throwdown with the Afrolicious boys (featuring live drums!), and Rob Garza of Thievery Corporation. Plus: two of my fave clubs, Surya Dub and Dub Mission, duke it out on the upstairs dance floor of Public Works, with DJ Sep and Kush Arora taking turns at the tables. Kush tells me he’s breaking out some rare kuduro and deep afro-house, so get ready to drop.

Sat/6, 9:30 p.m.-3 a.m., $10 advance. Public Works, 161 Erie, SF. www.publicsf.com

 

SPEEDY J

The Dutch master of hard techno was famous in the 1990s for wigging crowds out, true to his name. He still brings the wiggy floor-stomp, but after moving to Berlin and embracing a few minimal and experimental tricks, he’s gone deeper and broader, killing it with painterly tech effects. He’ll be blowing the monthly Kontrol party away with opener M. Gervais.

Sat/6, 10 p.m.-6 a.m., $20. EndUp, 401 Sixth St., SF. www.kontrolsf.com

 

FOREVER’S GONNA START TONIGHT

Last month, the nightlife community lost one of its true legends, Vicki Marlane of the Hot Boxxx Girls revue at Aunt Charlie’s Lounge. At 76, she lived an incredibly rambunctious life and was thought to be the oldest continuously appearing transgender stage performer in the country. She gave every number her all — and considering her propensity for epic numbers like “Total Eclipse of the Heart,” that was a lot of all!

Come celebrate her gorgeousness on Sat/6 at the Castro Theatre, when the awesome and informative 2010 documentary about her, Forever’s Gonna Start Tonight, screens at midnight with bonus performance footage that will bowl you over. It’s a benefit for the AIDS Emergency Fund — appropriate for Vicki’s generous spirit.

Sat/6, midnight, $10. Castro Theatre, 429 Castro, SF. www.castrotheatre.com

Parton me

Andrew Lam
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Parton me

marke@sfbg.com

“Well, hi, Marke! This is Dolly calling you from Nashville. I hope you’re doin’ well out there in San Francisco.”

Are you freaking kidding me? There are no better gifts for a little gay boy on Pride weekend than a call from Dolly Parton. After the squee-squee squealing subsided on my end, we got down to business: discussing what she was going to wear on the tour supporting her latest (41st!) album, Better Days on Dolly Records. Would she be pitching any wardrobe curve balls to throw off the legions of Dolly impersonators when she comes to the Concord Pavilion on Sunday, July 24?

“Now, I know you’ve seen me before,” she laughed. “I couldn’t really get much gaudier — unless maybe I walked out with a beaver on my head!”

Gaaaah, I adore her.

“You know, though, I love the drag queens,” Dolly continued, “and all my gay fans, too. I’ve always loved all my fans equally. We just have so much fun together when I’m up on the stage. I always look forward to seeing what the impersonators are gonna wear. It cheers me right up.”

Dolly has never been lachrymose, exactly, but she does have a famous way with homespun bluegrass melancholy — something that’s put to use only sporadically on the new album. Instead, Better Days is meant to be a rootin’, tootin’ shot of inspiration in these dark economic times. Like Backwoods Barbie before it, it doesn’t shy away from sharp power anthems and those unmistakable Dollyisms (“I’m quite content with who I am/And if you ain’t, well, kiss my ham”).

Now playing the honky-tonk preacher — rolling chords and gospel choir included — Dolly’s determined to lift spirits. Her melodies here, including a sparkling solo redo of her great 1974 duet with Porter Wagoner, “Together You and I,” are as infectious as always. And at points her bootstrap-tugging lyrical confidence almost crosses into televangelistic materialism or even classic gangsta rap territory (albeit with killer banjos), unabashedly boasting in “The Sacrifice” about how leaving family, friends, and fun behind has been worth it to be rich and famous. Get that skrilla, Dolly! Make it rain.

“That was an important song for me to write,” Dolly said. “I get a lot of comments on it. But I wanted to be honest. If you want something bad enough, like I did, you need to have faith, work hard, and you can get it. You just need to be prepared to pay the price.”

Some of Better Days‘ razzy boosts might help keep the ever-ambitious musician and businesswoman herself in a positive state of mind, especially now that she’s navigating the current industry with her own label, launched in 2007.

“People may think I’m crazy to start my own thing like this now, but I love calling the shots and being able to release my own material. And to tell you the truth, there just aren’t the big record contracts out there for established performers anymore — those multimillion-dollar deals are mostly for the young people on the rise. And this way, with Dolly Records, I can adapt faster to all the changes going on in the music business.

“I can also be a lot more flexible in what I do, try some new things,” she continued, a mischievous spark lighting up her voice. “I’m even thinking about doing a dance record. I wrote this song just the other day called ‘Just a Wee Bit Gay’ that I think would go really well on the dance floor.”

I told her that the extended version of her 1983 stomper “Potential New Boyfriend” has been ruling certain parties lately, and she sounded tickled. “I never thought that would be what everyone’s into! I’ll have to look into re-releasing that one.”

“You know, I can’t wait to get back to the Bay Area. The people are so warm and friendly,” she concluded. “Now you just make sure to grab all your drag queen friends, fluff up that tutu of yours, and come down and see me, you hear?” Yes, ma’am!

DOLLY PARTON

Sun/24, 7 p.m., $34–$206

Concord Pavilion

2000 Kirker Pass Road, Concord

www.ticketmaster.com

DOLLY PARTON DRAG TRIBUTE

Thurs/21, 10 p.m.–1 a.m., $5

The Monster Show at the Edge

4149 18th St., SF

www.cookievision.com

 

Couscous with Al Qaeda part 2

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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0
Couscous with Al Qaeda part 2

TRUE TRAVEL TALES: This is part two of Marke B.’s culinary journey through the Arab Spring. You can read part one — spicy! — here.

Before we left Tunis, the lovely people and open vibe of which which we’d rapidly fallen in love with, we ate at a mind-blowing West African lunch off a small street near the African Development Agency building, El Khalifa. Heaping plates of sauce-covered, deeply flavored attiéké poulet brasse (a creamy, manioc-based specialty of Côte d’Ivoire) and choucouya de poulet au cancancan, smothered with onions over berberé-spiked rice, were served cafeteria-style to a bustling room of suits talking international affairs in a head-swimming number of languages.

All the development-speak in the air got us scheming about how to bring more tourists back to this great city, with its intense cosmopolitan air, historical riches, and perfectly enchanting old city section — although we’d already witnessed one option in play: activist tourism. 

In the medina (old city) of Tunis

Fortunately or unfortunately, our hotel (the majestic, insanely reasonable Grand Hôtel de France, go stay there) had played host to a coterie of trendy-anarchisty Western student-types, perpetual cigarette smoke wreathing their immaculately styled dreadlocks. They had come, like us, to see the after-effects of the revolution and make contact with some of the people behind it. But they also wanted a piece of the action, joining demonstrations and breathlessly relating tales of being chased by police — before heading out for a day at the beach. Part of a loose organization called the Knowledge Liberation Front, they had gathered from all parts of Europe, hoping to formulate new models of resistance to the austerity measures sweeping the Union. (The fact that there were so many Italians there, raging against Berlusconi, was kind of encouraging.) They were cute! If, of course, deadly serious. Whatever Tunisian group that had facilitated their “revolution experience” certainly had a great thing started in terms of possible revenue streams.  

But now we were on our way south via Tunisia’s main railroad line, hoping to reach the Grand Erg Oriental, a rippling sea of sand in the Sahara that looks like the pictures in your head when you hear “Sahara.” From there, our ultimate destination would be El Ghriba on the island of Djerba, the oldest synagogue in North Africa, and its huge annual Lag B’Omer festival, which draws tens of thousands of Jews from around the world in a celebrated pilgrimage.   

The third-century Roman-style amphitheater at El Djem 

On the way, we stopped in El Djem, a neat little town that just so happens to contain a humungous, remarkably intact Roman coliseum-like amphitheatre, a 35,000-seat wonder built in the 3rd century (with ancient graffiti carved into its stone!), which we had practically to ourselves. It also has a well-designed museum of ravishing mosaics, including some depicting the martyrdom-by-wild-beasts that the amphitheatre (actually more like a killing factory, really) showcased. Innumerable christians and animals – including now-extinct species of elephants, tigers, even giraffes — were sacrificed horribly for the crowd’s entertainment.

We had the most extraordinary lunch. At Cafe Le Bonheur, a traditional central Tunisian feast with several salads and a main course of tender rabbit stewed in saffron, served in casual French style by a hip young waiter for cheap. Score! Some balmy afternoon time in cafes over cafe filter (coffee served in a glass) confirmed that El Djem is one of those magical little places you could sink into for a while.

The only other tourists in El Djem belonged to a random British family. Hang in there, Tunisia!

Then it was on to Gabes at the end of the train line, an unremarkable oil town (with attendant pollution — but also plentiful alcohol and solid business-traveler restaurants), where we planned to rent a car and drive to the desert. As soon as we got to Gabes, though, we saw our plans would be interrupted. The barbed-wire around the city square was not an encouraging sign. We were now officially in the south, where the revolution had started and which, with its large and impoverished Berber population, had always been restive. 

Now that the Libyan revolution had begun, and tens of thousands of refugees were flooding into Tunisia (which, wonderfully, had welcomed them with open arms, providing housing and resources), the situation had grown more complicated. According to the press and the government, some of the Libyans were bringing weapons into the country with them — weapons stashes had been found in nearby caves. And, alas, on the route to the Grand Erg from Gabes, an Al Qaeda plot had been foiled, with more evidence of Al Qaeda presence being found in the region. (Both Tunisia and Morocco had remained almost Al Qaeda-free until recently, this was all sad news, although it still seemed divorced from the citizen’s everyday reality. Tunisians, especially, seemed casually or privately religious on the whole.)

We realized that it might not be the best thing to drive through the desert countryside, already a tricky operation, without a guide. So we switched plans and headed to tourist center Douz, where once busloads of tourists unloaded to ride camels and 4x4s into the scrubby surroundings, but which was now slowly but valiantly weathering the almost complete lack of tourist traffic since the revolution.

Livestock market at Douz

(First, it’s kind of gross that thousands of package tours cancelled now that there was no dictator, although people on package tours seem like the most vulnerable to feelings of uncertainty. Secondly, it was pretty inspiring to see people who were slowly slipping into poverty due to lack of income hold their heads up because they had won freedom — and remain positive that once things had settled down, people would come back. We heard that again and again.)   

So, swallowing my environmental eeks, we chartered a 4×4 to drive us over the dunes (after we had passed any cryptobiotic hotspots) to the hot springs oasis of Ksar Ghilane in the Grand Erg Oriental sand sea, which I probably don’t need to mention was aaaaah-mazing.

We rode camels named Caramel and Ghaniya (“pretty girl”) through a halcyon sunset into a full moon. And then it rained! In the freakin’ Sahara! Awesome.

We were, as usual, the only tourists there (and devoured delectable chicken tagine in an empty, cavernous mess hall right out of The Shining: camel-riding makes you ravenous!). As we were as well at our next stop, mountainous Matmata, the famous “trogolodyte” Sand People/ Mos Eisley Cantina town from Star Wars. I think that’s right — don’t kill me Star Wars nerds. There things, however, took another unexpectedly sinister turn.

Matmata is one of the biggest tourist draws in Southern Tunisia, thanks to the whole Skywalker connection. We rode in bumpily aboard a louage, the shared minivan taxis that are the main means of transport in these remote regions. But as we approached we saw smoke — and a tour bus, the only one of that week we later heard, rapidly retreating. As we entered the town center, the smoke grew overwhelming. A large group of men were burning tires in front of the government outpost. We were told that a govenment official was supposed to arrive from the capital that morning with news of a jobs program, but he never materialized. Out here the unemployment rate is around 70-80 percent, so this was a big deal (even though driving away the few tourists seemed like a bad idea.)

In the morning, after the tire fire

We managed to stay the night in one of the sunken, white-washed, fantasy-come-true underground trogolodyte dwellings, mingle with the locals, and stuff ourselves with kousksi bil djaj (chicken couscous), shakshouka (eggs poached with tomatoes, peppers, and tumeric) and makrouth — sweet, date-filled pastries native to the city of Kairoun.

The next morning, though, protesters had blocked the highway and were burning more tires. 

With no means of transportation, we started hiking the 12 kilometers to the next biggest city — luckily the day was overcast, this was still the Sahara after all! A nice man in a truck with government plates stopped to give us a ride, but as we rounded a large curve we hit another roadblock. A gang of young men from a nearby mountain town were standing ominously behind rocks piled on the road, makeshift weapons of former highway signs in their hands. As we slowly approached, they silently surrounded the truck.

“Uh oh,” I telegraphed to Hunky Beau, “I’ve seen this movie, and it doesn’t end well.” And then, “Well, at least a couple of them are hot.”

The guy giving us a ride backed slowly out and we retreated while he made a few calls. We went back to Matmata, our hearts sinking because the situation was getting heavier there as well. We waited a couple of stomach-wrenching hours on a bend outside of town, wondering what to do, at least enjoying the clifftop views. Lo and behold, our guardian angel in the truck returned with two hardcore, seasoned military men aboard (one of them a thick-faced number who looked like he saw a lot of torture under the old regime — and he wasn’t on the receiving end). We quickly squeezed in. As soon as we got back to the roadblock, the army dudes leapt out of the truck and charged the gang, bellowing and waving their arms.

“That’s the way to do it,” I thought, watching through laced fingers. “Barge the fuck right in.” There was a scuffle, one of the kids tried to grab an officer’s gun, weapons were hectically raised, but the kids eventually backed off after getting to vent a bit, and we charged through. Government escort? I’d never been so happy to have one. And all to help two complete strangers make it to their next vacation stop. Tunisia, I love ya.

But yeah, frustration out there is growing. When we eventually made it back to Douz, we had one of the best meals of my life. Finally, we found a great bowl of Ojja, the egg stew cooked with merguez sausages, served by the wonderful women who run Restaurant Chez Magic —  it really was a house of sausage stew magic!

Ojja at last. Crappy iPhone photo by Marke B.

Final destination: Djerba island, the legendary “Land of the Lotus Eaters.” Probably beautiful in its normal, sunny, sparkling blue Mediterranean state. Racked by magnificent storms when we were there. No Tunisian martinis at the beach for me.

No problem, though — there was plenty to enjoy, including one of Tunisia’s most bewitching specialties: brik. I know that there was a lot of other stuff involved, but if ol’ Odysseus and his Greek crew had trouble leaving this isle behind on their quest to return home, I’m pretty sure brik was involved.

Brik at Bric

Imagine, if you will, a thin-skinned pastry, stuffed with mashed potatoes, tuna, capers, parsley, olives, chopped onion, and harissa folded into a triangle and lightly deep-fried. But wait! Before the pastry is folded, and egg is gently broken into it, so that when your fork pierces the pastry skin, the yolk gently breaks and oozes out like a swoosh of golden flavor. I am sorry my vegan friends! Magnificent, and the place to get them is called Bric Belgacem in Houmt Souk, the capital, on January 14, 2011 Street (named after the date of the dictator Ben Ali stepped down). Gaaah, I want one.    

We had come to Djerba, like supposedly tens of thousands of other pilgrims, for the huge annual Lag B’Omer festival at the ancient synagogue of El Ghriba, in one of Northern Africa’s last remaining Jewish communities. Yep, on this small island, Jew and Muslim live side by side in peace — we’d unfortunately seen a dismaying share of anti-Semitism (not just anti-Israelism) on our journey in the form of graffiti, alas. We felt bouyant to be a part of this giant celebration.

And sure, in 2002 Al Qaeda had tried to blow up El Ghriba, which holds possibly the world’s oldest Torah (paraded through the streets during the festival). A truck bomb had killed 21. But that was long enough ago not to frighten people away, right?

El Ghriba synagogue

Not really. Spooked by the revolution and the turmoil just a few kilometers away in Libya (a flood of Libyan refugees was engulfing the island: there were more Libyan license plates than Tunisian ones), so many tourists had cancelled their pilgrimage that the celebration itself was cancelled. And boy, was it cancelled. When we showed up at the ornately-decorated, marvelously Moorish-style synagogue, there were just five old men praying, a father-daughter pair from Kansas (who had just crossed dangerous Southern Algeria for the heck of it) and the effervescent Zoey, a middle-aged Englishwoman who was receiving text messages from God. Let’s let her finish out this account:

“I woke up one day at my home in Norwich one day and I heard God telling me to drive to Israel.” She looked me in the eyes, completely calmly. “So I loaded up my camper and began to drive, trusting him to provide — and he has, oh how has. I made it to Libya and I asked God how was I going to get in. And you know what? He opened the borders for me, just opened them right up so I could drive through. As I was driving toward the border post, the rebels captured it, peacefully, and in the confusion I just drove. I met the rebels and slept in the mountains with them, until it was time to go. I drove on to Benghazi” — she was in a station wagon towing a trailer with a Jesus fish on the bumper — “where God taught me to accept my fear of being bombed, as bombs rained down all around me. I can tell you that was something.

“Checkpoint after checkpoint opened up before me. Sometimes they would search my car, but I had a Koran, and when they saw I had the Word of God with me they let me through. Once when danger approached, I received a text to avoid a certain area. Then finally, I was stopped and they ransacked my trailer. They tried to ransack me as well, but God put a stop to that! I was blindfolded and sent to a prison in Tripoli for a week. They ended up deporting me, and so I’m waiting here at the border until God tells me to try again. Really, you just need to trust sometimes. I can see that you’ll be hearing from him today, just by coming here.

“Sometimes,” she continued, “we have to do whatever crazy thing our heart tells us we should do, and call it belief.”

And with that, she went to drop a harboiled egg in an ancient well, which is the tradition at such occasions.

 

The energy of Arab Spring uprisings soon spread to Spain, although with a very different effect: you can read my report here.

 

 

 

 

Great Bay escapes

Andrew Lam
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Great Bay escapes

culture@sfbg.com

 

AÑO NUEVO STATE PARK

Due to their penis-noses and penchant for lazing about, no animal invites as much tittering as the male elephant seal. We are currently in the thick of their molting season (older males nap and shed on the beach from July until the end of August), the perfect time to hike out to their hangout on the tip of Año Nuevo. Be sure you snag your visitor’s permit — you’ll need one to enter from April-August — from the entrance station.

Open March–Sept., 8 a.m.–6 p.m. 1 New Year’s Creek, Pescadero. (Off Highway 1) (650) 879-2025, www.parks.ca.gov

 

ALAMEDA BOOZE DISTRICT

On the western edge of the island of Alameda, a one-time naval station has been repurposed into the discerning boozehound’s day trip of choice. Located within a easy block’s stumble of one another lie the tasting rooms of St. George Spirits (boasting absinthe, flavored vodkas, and coffee liqueur on the shelves) and Rock Wall Wine Company, a co-op of local wineries. They’re both a sunny walk from the ferry terminal — stroll by the massive aircraft carriers docked farther down the shore if you need to sober up after, or west to Rosenblum Cellars (2900 Main, Alameda) if you need more tastes.

St. George Spirits, 2601 Monarch, Alameda. (510) 769-1601, www.stgeorgespirits.com; Rock Wall Wine Company, 2301 Monarch, Alameda. (510) 522-5700, www.rockwallwines.com

 

CANDLESTICK POINT STATE RECREATION AREA

Candlestick Point has gone through a lot of changes in its varied history — but its current incarnation as a well-tended, if sometimes landscaped-feeling, urban refuge perfectly jibes with our times. Refreshing views of the bay, some fantastic hiking trails, and a sense of seclusion (despite the nearness of Highway 101 and the stadium) make this a neato spot to picnic, bird watch, or fish. Don’t forget to bring those layers though becuase sometimes the wind attempts to rifle gently through you.

Candlestick Park exit off Highway 101, SF

 

CHINA CAMP STATE PARK

Historically this waterfront slice on San Pablo Bay is important as the site of a Cantonese immigrant shrimp-fishing village in the 1800s (there’s a wee museum). For nature, there’s a delightful salt marsh and lazy-day winding paths drenched in sunlight and the calls of waterfowl. But — why hide it? — this is one of the best make-out places on the bay, with couples gladly making hay in the grasses. After the picnic, of course. Wet your whistle for the Annual Heritage Day Celebration on Aug. 27, 11:30 a.m.–4 p.m.

101 Peacock Gap Trail, San Rafael. www.parks.ca.gov

 

INK WELLS

Damn this SF summer fog! Escape north to Marin, where just past Boonville and just inside the border of Samuel P. Taylor State Park lie these cool pools. The rocky, clothing-optional swimming holes cascade into each other and feature prime jump-off spots for the daredevils among us who can’t be satisfied with a shady forest and some cold water on a hot day. Park your car just past Shafter Bridge (coming from Lagunitas) and walk underneath the copper-colored bridge to arrive. Samuel P. Taylor Park, Sir Francis Drake, Lagunitas

 

SLACKER HILL

Don’t freak, you don’t have to go far for nature adventures. This inappropriately-named Marin Headlands summit is just a 15 minute — albeit gnarly — hike up a gorgeous trail from a stop on the No. 76 Muni line. Once you’ve peaked, rest in the tall grass with a phenomenal 180 degree view of Sausalito, the bay, the bridges, and the city from downtown to the avenues. It’s like you’re inside one of those awesome Panoramio pics, but it’s not freezing your computer.

Trailhead begins on the right, 100 feet downhill on McCollough from the Conzelman intersection, Marin County.

 

UPCOMING FESTIVALS

SUNSET CAMPOUT

Three-day dancing and frolicking to superlative house music with thousands of others. With DJ Larry Heard, a.k.a. Mr. Fingers.

Fri/15-Sun/17, $125–>$150, Belden. www.sunsetcampout.com

 

PAL BLUES FESTIVAL

A smokin’ BBQ competition will satisfy, as will roots and blues music from dozens of performers.

Friday, July 22, 6 p.m.–8 p.m. and Saturday, July 23, 11 a.m.–8 p.m., free.

Courthouse Square, 2200 Broadway, Redwood City. www.palbluesfestival.com

 

SONOMA COUNTY FAIR

It’s the 75th year for this bonanza of California country living, with carnival rides, turkey races, vaudeville performances, wine tasting, and live music.

July 27–Aug. 14, various times, $9, kids under six and seniors free. Sonoma County Fairgrounds, www.sonomacountyfair.com

 

WANDERLUST

Bend over backward, outdoors, as yoga meets music with Michael Franti and Spearhead, Girl Talk, Cornflower, MC Yogi, and more.

July 28–31, $24.50–$450, Squaw Valley. squaw.wanderlustfestival.com

 

GAIA FESTIVAL

Celebrate the earth by getting down (and dirty?) with India.Arie and Idan Raichel, Aaron Neville, the Wailers, Funky Meters, and dozens more.

Aug. 5-7, $5–$180. Black Oak Ranch, Laytonville. www.thegaiafestival.com

 

GOOD OLD FASHIONED BLUEGRASS FESTIVAL

The Northern California Bluegrass Society goes all out with three days of pickin’ and pluckin’ campground jams and family fun.

Aug. 12–14, $8.50–$65. Bolado Park, Tres Piños. www.scbs.org/events/gov

 

OUTSIDE LANDS

A revamped food and wine aspect refreshes the massive SF music fest, whose star power includes Muse, Phish, and Arcade Fire.

Aug. 12–14, times and prices vary. Golden Gate Park, www.sfoutsidelands.com

 

BODEGA SEAFOOD ART AND WINE FESTIVAL

Drink, dine, and shop to your heart’s content. Also: Bodega Seafood Festival rubber duck races!

Saturday, Aug. 27, 10 a.m.–6 p.m. and Sunday, Aug. 28, 10 a .m.–5 p.m., $8–$15. children under 12 free. 16855 Bodega Hwy, Bodega. www.winecountryfestivals.com

 

LOVEVOLUTION

The Bay’s hugest legal outdoor rave returns, now in Oakland for your fun-fur, hands-in-the-air pleasure. There will be a million DJs.

Sept. 24, price and time TBD. Oakland Coliseum Grounds, Oakl. www.sflovevolution.com


For more summer fairs and festival fun, visit www.sfbg.com/summerfests.

 

Na Nach-ing on (rave) heaven’s door

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Na Nach-ing on (rave) heaven’s door

In this week’s Super Ego nightlife column, I get all excited about the Na Nach subsect of Hasidic Jewish followers of the Rebbe Nachman of Breslov. The Na Nach embrace an endearing philosophy of ecstatic dancing in the streets (via their brightly colored vans) as a form of worship, equal parts Sufi whirling dervish and 1990s trance party. They also have a very active Web presence.

In the past couple of months, everyone from the Jewish Daily Forward to Vice Magazine has taken notice. Since dancing around crazily as a form of spiritual practice is basically my life, I’m less interested in the not-so-unexpected intersection of Jewish mysticism and raving in the streets. Over-the-top Orthodox Jewish men’s wedding dancing is, after all, one of those wonderfully bizarre and irresistible human cultural treasures, no matter what you may think of conservative religious practices. (Needless to say, there are no female Na Nach dancers in evidence.)

No, what mostly interests me is the charming — and sometimes really well-produced — homemade trance and electro music that accompanies the Na Nach dancers. And of course the inevitable gay parody. 

Below are some videos featuring Na Nach that give you some flavor of the dancing and the music. At the end, there’s a special treat from the great Tel Aviv gay club Arisa, whose slickly produced, hilariously parodic video flyers have been causing a sensation on the homo Web. Enjoy, and let these remind you to get outside and dance around a bit in this beautiful weather!

Na Nach renegades

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jL17-69b5yA&NR=1

Cosmic Na Nach groove

Dubbed out Na Nach psy-trance

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6ZX_yiy1ycQ

Funky Na Nach

The comedy TV parody

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DC_Jrw2X9Tw

The gay party parody from Arisa

 

Na Nach hey hey

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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Na Nach hey hey

marke@sfbg.com

SUPER EGO My ever-ahead Hunky Beau just introduced me to Na Nach techno — and I’ve been kinda freaking out about it, like I would about 3-D animated GIF nail polish, that you could upload Hipstamatic photo booth pics of you and your friends to, reenacting tacky 1980s movie dance montages, but happening on your nails, in 3-D, if it even existed, which it doesn’t, so why don’t you just get off your boring global warming-proving ass and do something fabulous about that, Mr. Scientist. I already know the weather’s weird. I want Footloose on my fingernails!

Na Nach is the name of a newish Hasidic Jewish subsect of followers of Rebbe Nachman of Breslov, the kabbalist mystic who lived 200 years ago. But unlike the larger Breslovian following, it has mobile rave units. Driving around Israel in white vans graffitied with giant Hebrew letters, the Na Nach stop at intersections and come tumbling out, blasting homemade electro trance, chanting “Na Nach Nachma Nachman Me’uman” (the Rebbe’s name spelled out), and dancing ecstatically in outfits that are part typical Orthodox dude and part Ali G. It’s basically a glorious logical conclusion to the whole “trance music as religious experience” thing. Of course the Sufis already got there centuries ago but, one suspects, without the aid of JBL 18-inch portable subwoofers and a pirated copy of Ableton Live.

The happy, energetic music and mood are actually pretty infectious. And the Na Nach, some of them former ravers and gangsters, have become so ubiquitous that hilarious parodies have started springing up — including one by the great gay Tel Aviv party Arisa (whose video flyers rule the homo Web right now.) Have a Na Nach look and listen at www.sfbg.com/nanach.

 

TABOO

DJ David Harness’s lovely, deep-yet-breezy party anchored San Francisco’s soulful house scene throughout the early 2000s, one of those joints where you could use the words “vibe” and “spiritual” and not feel like you were tossing up disco clichés. Yes, there were candles and, er, incense involved, and quite a few flowers tucked behind perked-up ears — hands snaking luxuriously up into the air as well. Now the party returns, finding a new biweekly Oakland evening home at the spacious Bench and Bar. Organic sounds, no labels.

Thurs/7, 6 p.m.–midnight, free. Bench and Bar, 510 17th St., Oakl. www.bench-and-bar.com

 

TIPPER SOUND EXPERIENCE

Cosmic, Burner-like blasts of time-warped bass and cheeky step from multimedia mindblower Tipper, the modest Brit who takes his audio technology fetish to another level. Gotta love it when he drops the lingo: “Featuring a five-way crossover sound system in a Quadraphonic Array with specialized subwoofers dedicated to 45 hertz and below … ” With a six-screen projection rig thrown in, you’ll basically be entering the electronic space-pod of your ear dreams. It’s an experience.

Fri/8, 8 p.m., $22.50. Regency Ballroom, 1290 Sutter, SF. www.theregencyballroom.com

 

LEE BURRIDGE

The bloke from Bournemouth who was crucial in spreading the acid house gospel in the ’80s — and brought rave to Asia, with his storied seven-year stint in Hong Kong — has become a reliably sunny, techno-twisty force on Top 100 DJs lists and better global dance floors. Good, solid fun is had whenever he gets to town (and sometimes I just randomly prance around and drop to his xylo-yummy 2010 track “Wongel” in my head) so go already. Nikola Baytala, Rooz, and other locals work the build-up.

Fri/8, 10 p.m.–late, $15. Mighty, 119 Utah, SF. www.mighty119.com

 

LEE FOSS

Guess it’s a battle of the Lees this week — luckily there’s some after-hours leeway to hit up both. This Lee comes to us from the Midwest via Los Angeles and London, were his chiseled looks and dreamboat eyes were at first as much of a talking point as his music. Luckily he overcame that crippling handicap to inject some bouncy tech-funk flavor into the trademark R ‘n’ B house of the Wolf and Lamb set. Call it the new New Jack Swing sound if you like. And you will like, especially when grouped at Public Works with Beats in Space radio host Tim Sweeney and my not-so-secret French house crush, Le Loup. (I love his little fuzzy mustache!)

Fri/8, 10 p.m.–3 a.m., $12. Public Works, 161 Erie, SF. www.publicsf.com

Vicki Marlane, 1934-2011

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Vicki Marlane, 1934-2011

San Francisco lost true drag royalty today when Ms Vicki Marlane, “the Girl with the Liquid Spine” who performed with the weekend Hot Boxxx Girls revue at Aunt Charlie’s Lounge, passed away at 7:04 a.m. at San Francisco General Hospital. No official cause of death was immediately available, but her co-entertainer Gina la Divina said she “had been down for a while,” presumable meaning she had been ill. (This information was passed on to me this morning by Matt Slusarenko of Queerty.com, and he’s just posted his tribute.) From circus sideshow act in the 50s to drag road warrior in the swinging 70s — she lived a life, honey. That life was documented in a fantastic film released last year, “Forever’s Gonna Start Tonight.”

Besides enjoying her performances countless times, I had the pleasure of interviewing her for the Winter 2008 edition of our nightlife guide SCENE.

Vicki Marlane, seated third from left next to Gina La Divina. Photo by Matthew Reamer.

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lRdj_2Ex_cY

Where to get blown (up?) for FREEDOM

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Annual fireworks extravaganzas: What a gorgeous waste — celebrating America! Johnny Funcheap has his huge, annual guide to sky-high Bay Area gunpowder-showers up, if you’re looking for some good ol’ patriotic shock and awe. Courtesy of China via Italy. Like Spaghetti-Os. And Katy Perry.  

PRIDE TOP 5: Bobby Viteritti’s sleaze songs

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PRIDE TOP 5: Bobby Viteritti’s sleaze songs

DJ Bobby Viteritti, the resident DJ at San Francisco’s legendary Trocadero Transfer from 1977 – 1981, appears on the new Horse Meat Disco CD, Horse Meat Disco III — he curates a disc of favorite “sleaze songs.” And you KNOW he’s got the dance floor goods, henny. After the jump, he sleazes us up and reminds us how hot Pride used to get (and will this weekend again).

Bobby Viteritti’s Top 5 sleaze songs 

1. “Runaway Love” by Linda Clifford (Curtom), 1978 

2. “Walk the Night” by Skatt Brothers (Casablanca), 1979 

3. “Evolution” by Giorgio Moroder (Casablanca), 1978 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SuGGrRXW67k

4. “Hot Butterfly” by Bionic Boogie (Polydor), 1978 

5. “Anambra” by Ozo (DJM), 1976 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vhjsy5K9yr0

 

PRIDE TOP 5: Horse Meat Disco

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PRIDE TOP 5: Horse Meat Disco

Magical UK disco foursome Horse Meat Disco (the four horsemen of the discopocalypse?) are joining House of Stank at Juanita More’s super-kiki Pride party on Sunday — and hottie Jim Stanton from the quartet has gifted us with his Pride Top 5. Get ready to twirl, because there’s also a hot-hot Horsemeat minimix after the jump, celebrating the upcoming July 4 release of their third compilation disc, Horsemeat III (holy mirrorballs, Duck Man, just check out this track list). Get into it.

Macho, “I’m a Man” (Prelude), 1978
Macho is a proper disco song that reminds me of San Francisco because of the leather scene. It is sooo gay and hard! Perfect for that “dark room” action. Haha!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-VbLB4UEFvw

Locussolus, “I Want It  (Prins Tomas Remix)” (International Feel/UK), 2011
Prins Tomas turns DJ Harvey’s celebrated epic club track into a funky Dr Buzzard’s Original Savannah Band-style work out for our new disco generation. BIG!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3EDtfBDSWug


Ava Cherry, “You Never Loved Me” (RSO), 1980
EVERYTHING you want from  a disco track jam-packed into 8 minutes. Bitterness, heartache and regret? Check! Searing strings? Check! Brass section to die for? Check! And that trippy break HIT!!!

 

Run Baby Run, “Let No Man Put Asunder (Ron Hardy Edit)” (Salsoul), 1983
I love the original a lot, BUT I like Ron Hardy’s “raw” side! A proper Chicago legend. I edit this to another level. Soo ENERGETIC!!!Always in my set.


Paul Parker, Right On Target (Megatone), 1982
A muscular slab of energetic and frisky true San Francisco. Non-stop heavy action from Patrick Cowley the godfather of hi-NRG.

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

And check out this minimix!!

 

<< <Horse Meat Disco III Mini-Mix by Strut

PRIDE TOP 5: House of Stank

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PRIDE TOP 5: House of Stank

House of Stank is coming to town for Pride, playing Sunday at Juanita More!’s infamous pool party. We asked the NYC house and tech duo — W. Jeremy, who many will recognize from his years in SF, and Christy Love — for a top 5 list of their favorite Pride tracks, from booty-tech to old-school End Up classics.

5. “Big Freek (DJ Deeon Remix),” Freak Nik

— Christy Love first discovered Booty House while living in SF and this song is one of her all-time faves.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a80csXQ3-kQ

 

4. “I Feel Good Things For You,” Daddy’s Favourite

— End-Up classic that samples Patrice Rushen.

 

3. “In and Out of My Life,” Adeva

— Jeremy is from New Jersey. Adeva is from New Jersey. ‘Nuff said.

 

2. “Do Ya Wanna Funk,” Patrick Cowley feat. Sylvester

— Two Bay Area Disco Legends on one track.  Every time we hear this song it reminds us of SF Pride.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w6yLwhKYVHY

 

1. “Day By Day (Green Velvet Mix)” – Dajae

— We are so excited to play alongside Dajae at Juanita MORE!’s Pride party!

 

W. Jeremy says: “2011 has been a busy year for us. The thing that we’re most excited about is our new record label, Get Up Recordings. We’re gearing up for our third release, a track called ‘Tonite’ by Honey Dijon and Sebastian Manuel, which is definitely going to be a future classic house track. We’re super excited about our upcoming roster, which will feature releases from Severino (Horse Meat Disco) and Nico Deceglia, also known as Hyena Stomp, the SF/Bay Area’s David Harness and another release from us. We just finished up a remix for The Two Bears for a track called “Bear Hug” on Southern Fried Records. We’re playing Cielo NYC for the first time in July with Tedd Patterson which is very exciting because of the club’s Funktion One sound system.”

Wild is the wind

Andrew Lam
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Wild is the wind

marke@sfbg.com

SUPER EGO “I remember the last time I saw Nina Simone, it was just after the Bush-Gore election fiasco. She was maaad,” graciously loquacious jazz chanteuse Kim Nalley told me over the phone when I asked her about the High Priestess of Soul’s relevance today. “Here was this woman who had been there through so many stages of the civil rights struggle, fought for voting rights in Mississippi, been there through all of that — and then to hear about black communities, Jewish communities, where the votes just disappeared …

“Well, she wasn’t having any of that. She told us we had to always keep up the fight, keep the fire going, and never let go. What was gained in one generation could be completely wiped out in the next. And all the while she was playing the most spellbinding music. I think that’s her angle on now”

Golden-voiced and full of fierceness, Ms. Nalley, a longtime (but not too long) Bay Area phenom and former owner of Jazz at Pearl’s in North Beach, intends to keep that message alive for five straight weeks at the Rrazz Room — and sing the sugar out of a Nina Simone set list that runs to 44 songs, augmented with tales of the activist diva’s life and accomplishments. If just thinking about doing all that makes you draw a breath, add in that Nalley is finishing up her Ph.D. in history at UC Berkeley, teaching jazz to grade school kids, and preparing to embark on a string of international tours and recording projects. Plus she’s catching up on all four seasons of Mad Men. Did I mention she’s gorgeous and actually exists?

She’s also well aware of the hold almighty Nina still exerts on the dancefloor imagination — from the famous, or infamous, Verve Remixed series of the early ’00s, to more recent sample-based efforts like those of Massive Attack, Gui Boratto, Ark, and this spring’s rather unfortunate minimal-tech hit “Sinnerman 2011” by Sean Miller and Daniel Dubb, which apparently took two people to make. (Civilization has so far escaped an Auto-Tuned strip-rap version of “See-Line Woman” or Deadmau5’s “Young Gifted and Black” but I could easily see Nicki Minaj as all “Four Women” at once.)

“You hear these newer versions of her, but some can sound so dated so quickly,” Kim said. “The originals never stop being fresh, alive. There’s nothing wrong with introducing her to new audiences in different ways. But Nina has always been with us, right there, so go out and hear her actual music, already.” *

SHE PUT A SPELL ON ME: THE MUSIC OF NINA SIMONE

Through July 17, Wed.–Sat., 8 p.m.,

Sundays, 7 p.m., $30–$37.50

Rrazz Room at Hotel Nikko

222 Mason, SF

www.therrazzroom.com

 

TRANNYSHACK: HEKLINA’S BIRTHDAY

The highest hog in dragland turns 103, and this night of greatest hits command performances will be an over-the-top trashtacular. Plus: Justin V. Bond from New York City, and probably some light rimming.

Fri/17, 9:30 p.m.–-3 a.m., $12–>$15. DNA Lounge, 375 11th St., SF. www.trannyshack.com

 

PRECOMPRESSION

It’s that time, again — time for the Burning Man gear-up and things that sound like this: “We invite you to live out this year’s theme in ways that manifest your personal journey.” I’m gonna be a pizza! Put it on the pizza! Put it on the pizza! It’s all good. With a holy helluva lot of DJs, theme installations, and fun-fur coughs.

Sat/18, 8 p.m.–4 a.m., $15 in “Playa finery,” $20 without. Public Works, 161 Erie, SF. www.publicsf.com

 

FLYING SAUCER BEACH PARTY

What do you get when you mix big-headed invaders, a slew of hot bodies, a ton of zombie-Martian makeup, and the “Hand Jive”? No, not Weinergate II: Night of the Living Tweets. Culturally invaluable burlesque crew Hubba Hubba Revue and a slew of groovy ghoulies play beach blanket bingo — but with laser guns! — at this ginchy all-day dress-up-and-rock-out bash.

Sun/16, 2 p.m.-8 p.m., $10 before 3 p.m., $12 after. DNA Lounge, 375 11th St., SF. www.hubbahubbarevue.com

Not the face!

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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Not the face!

marke@sfbg.com

SUPER EGO Henny, I don’t even know where to start. I leave the country for a lousy two months and I come back to this? No more Eagle Tavern to blow my mind on Thursday nights and blow my other parts on Sunday afternoon? No more Ti Couz for a hot bowl of pear cider when it’s pissing down rain? Straight people from Richmond puking all over the Castro on the regular? (Actually not too sad about this. I love my Richmond girls — and their unattended purses and boyfriends.)

Perhaps worst of all — um, Kreayshawn? Wow. At least we’re balancing out that catastrophe with a healthy, sleazy obsession with the Weeknd.

OK, I’m gonna move it all along, not dig my claws into bygones. I just flew in and my arms are too short to box with blah. It’s actually great to be back in blackout among my SF dance floor family. So let’s toast the future by getting toasted, because there’s a Jeroboam-load of parties sparkling in the fridge. Hiya!

 

BAWDY STORYTELLING: “LIBERTINE!”

“Carnal chronicler” Dixe De Tour’s over-the-top scandalous, sexy Bawdy Storytelling reading series is so successful it just expanded to Los Angeles. But home is where its, er, heart remains as Oakland’s infamous Ouchy the Clown joins a bevy of ear-burners for a no-holes-barred night of free speech.

Wed/8, 7 p.m. doors, 8 p.m. storytime, $10. Blue Macaw, 2565 Mission, SF. www.bawdystorytelling.com

 

WIG OUT: KIM KONG BENEFIT

Beloved DJ and promoter Kim Kong of Non-Fat and Bitches with Stitches was just diagnosed with lymphoma, and the SF scene is stepping up to lend support at this bonkers fundraiser. The Housepitality, dirtybird, and Non-fat crews are bringing heavy hitters Mr. C and Claude VonStroke to the decks — you throw on your favorite wig and dance around.

Wed/8, 8 p.m., donation requested. Icon, 1192 Folsom, SF. www.wigoutwednesday.com

 

BLOW UP SIX-YEAR ANNIVERSARY

You mean our seminal electro banger glamourpuss joint is already six years old? That’s almost the age most of the kids who went there were during its insane early Rickshaw Stop days, what? Blow Up power couple Ava Berlin and Jeffrey Paradise join the Tenderlions, Nisus, Trevor Simpson, Holy Mountain, and more for the hands-up blur.

Fri/10, 10 p.m., $16 under 21, $12.50 over. DNA Lounge, 375 11th St., SF. www.blowupsf.com

 

DAVE NADA

The godfather of Moombahton — pitching Dutch house down to its deliciously tropical (and far less annoying/wannabe gangsta) roots — hits the raucous Lights Down Low party, not previously known for its reggaeton or Netherlandish leanings. But dude, when it gets darker anything goes. U.K. funky beatsplitter Canblaster and IHEARTCOMIX’s Franki Chan open up, local locos Deevice, Sleazemore, and Eli Glad preside.

Fri/10, 9:30 p.m.-3 a.m., $10. SOM, 2925 16th St., SF. www.lightsdownlow.net

 

EVOLVE ANNIVERSARY

Monthly party Evolve has grabbed the crown for deep yet spirit-raising soulful house in the Bay. (Was there ever any doubt Oakland would reign supreme?) And while the emphasis is on the “sacred element of music,” DJs David Harness and Soul Luciani don’t stint on the more earthly pleasures of a friendly, packed dance floor.

Fri/10, 9 p.m., $10. Era Art Bar, 19 Grand, Oakl. www.oaklandera.com

 

LEE DOUGLAS

Sophisticated nu-disco and deeper house funkiness from this Brooklynite, who has garnered a star-studded following by unashamedly embracing the lo-fi analog techniques of yore. (No fear of the wah-wah here!) He’ll be at the monthly No Way Back party with DJs Conor and Navid.

Fri/10, 9:30 p.m., $5–$7. 222 Hyde, SF. www.222hyde.com

 

LOOSE JOINTS THREE-YEAR ANNIVERSARY

One of the funkiest parties in the city — a real topper combining secret sampled classics with up-to-the minute edits into a heady yet hip-swinging brew — hits the triple. Guest star: live beatboxer, producer, and instrumentalist James “Ayro” Ellison of Ubiquity Records, with residents Tom Thump, Damon Bell, and Centipede.

Fri/10, 10 p.m., $5. Make-Out Room, 3225 22nd St., SF. www.makeoutroom.com

 

MALL MADNESS

The totally not ironic, awesomely gnarly, giddily drag-ridden tribute to 1990s boy bands, ’80s Spandex pop, and ’70s unicorns on roller skates (bonus Bieber nods!) is folding up its Sunglass Hut and moving on with its life. Hostess Oxana Olsen serves up Glamour Shots and Hot Topics for the final installment.

Sat/11, 10 p.m., $7. UndergroundSF, 424 Haight, SF.

 

FADE TO MIND

Those wacky Tormenta Tropical kids are at it again, expanding the signature electro-cumbia sound of their monthly gig with some warped global bass action. This Fade to Mind showcase flies in the L.A. label’s biggest draws: rave ‘n’ b king Kingdom, bouncy duo Nguzunguzu, and kooky pixellator Total Freedom.

Sat/11, 10 p.m., $10. Elbo Room, 647 Valencia, SF. www.elbo.com

 

THIRD ANNUAL SUNSET MUSIC AND ARTS PICNIC

It doesn’t exactly feel like summer as I write this — most likely because one of the Bay’s most adored free summer-launching events hasn’t occurred yet, right? The Sunset crew is once again taking over Treasure Island for a daytime dance and chill extravaganza, featuring a live set by the actually legendary house and jungle pioneer A Guy Called Gerald of “Voodoo Ray” and “Black Secret Technology” fame. DJs Solar, Galen, J-Bird, and (yay!) Primo Preems support.

Sun/12, noon–8:30 p.m., free. Treasure Island. www.pacificsound.net 2

 

Blast rocks Marrakech tourist restaurant: live report

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Chaos here on the giant, tourist-packed Djemaa El Fna square in Marrakech, Morocco as an explosion has just rocked the Argana terrace restaurant two stories above the square at around noon local time.

We’ve seen apparent evidence of casualities being pulled from the wreckage of the dining room. A Reuters photographer has found out from the police that the source was gas, specifically reserve cannisters stored along the staircase (also, everyone here smokes a lot). Al Jazeera is reporting this now — as well as 10 dead. If we learn more we will update this post.

A previous large explosion at a Moroccan tourist cafe occurred in Casablanca in 2003, part of a series of Islamist suicide bombings that left 45 people dead.

UPDATE 1:56 p.m. local time: AP is now reporting 14 dead and word is still going around that the cause was a gas canister explosion, although AP is also reporting that the explosion resulted from a “concentration of gas in the basement” and that the state news agency MAP quotes an Moroccan interior ministry statement calling the explosion a “criminal act.” This raises concern among some observants, because two weeks ago in response to public demonstrations, King Mohammed VI “pardoned or reduced the sentences of 190, mainly Salafi jihadist, prisoners — roughly one in 10 of the 2,000 or so people tried, sentenced and jailed after the Casablanca bombings” according to the New York Times.

Our own observation of the damage suggests that a basement explosion is questionable. Damage appears to be concentrated on the second level (and the third floor windows were blown out), yet hawkers’ stalls on the square near the first floor seemed undamaged, although we were unable to get too close to the building. Also, the building itself is still standing.

Whatever the cause, after the concussive blast the scene itself was incredibly grisly, with injured staff and patrons, some visibly dismembered, being removed on yellow tablecloths or curtains, bodies strewn over railings, and members of the public frantically gesturing from the blackened terrace for assistance. Beams and sections of roofing were dangling from above the terrace, and crowds below watched helplessly until a fleet of ambulances tore through the packed square. Locals attempted to assure foreigners who had made their way to Cyber Parc Arsat Moulay Abdeselam — the city’s public wi-fi hotspot and rare green space — of their nation’s safety for tourism and lack of terrorist violence. 

UPDATE 7:15 p.m. local time: A tense and eventful day here in Marrakesh, as much of the Djemaa el Fna — usually writhing with snake charmers, storytellers, Berber musicians, and juice vendors — has been cordoned off by police for the blast investigation. A largely Moroccan crowd gathered to watch in silence; the tourists (a group of Welsh charity hitchhikers at our hotel, for example) mostly seemed to hole up in their hotels and share stories of near-misses and might-have-beens.

The word on the “Arab street” — literally, as we ate shwarma on Rue Bab Agnaou — veered from gas canisters as a cause to a basement water heater to a bomb. The Moroccan government is now officially investigating it as a bomb attack, but is stopping short from calling it terrorism. The death toll is now at 15, and the square is lined with police anti-riot vehicles. Shops remain open in the souks but the mood is somber, and even the more aggressive street vendors have dialed back their hustle, offering supportive words and plentiful information.

Both Al Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb and the Polisario Front, which seeks to drive Morocco out of Western Sahara, are on the list of initial suspects in the explosion. Should the blast prove to be a terrorist bombing, it would be “the largest in Morocco since 2003, when 12 suicide bombers attacked five targets in Casablanca, killing 33 people,” the New York Times says in an article on the explosion. The King has promised a full investigation, as well as to pay for burial of the dead, according to the official Moroccan MAP news agency.

UPDATE AND WRAP-UP, May 1, Madrid, Spain: With the bombing now being blamed on Al Qaeda in the Maghreb, and the victims of this heinous attack all identified, I wanted to answer some readers’ questions. David and I were about 200 meters from the Argana Cafe, at a locutorio (cyber cafe), when we heard the blast. We finished up quickly and walked out onto the square, where we saw the immediate aftermath. We had spent the previous nine days traveling all over Morocco (it’s huge and incredibly diverse) and talking to people. Although we sensed much frustration with the country’s economic situation, and even a little with its politics, we never felt threatened in any way. Even after the explosion, Moroccan life proved especially resilient — there’s just too many people, including tourists, and too much going on to stop everything in its tracks for long.  Below is my original report.

Wicked, man

Andrew Lam
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Wicked, man

marke@sfbg.com

RAVE CULTURE Here’s a classic San Francisco rave story for you. First the official legend: “In the spring of 1991, a small, brave crew of acid house seekers set sail from southeast England in search of adventure. San Francisco was the destination. They made their mark under the Golden Gate Bridge at Baker Beach with the first in a six-year run of wild and lawless Full Moon parties.” And now the party reality: the crew set up during heavy fog after touching down from Britain — and at least two of Wicked’s four members, Garth and Jenö, had absolutely no freaking clue that they were beneath the Golden Gate Bridge.

“We Brits were virgins to that beach,” Garth told me. “We were all enjoying a psychedelic dance when the sun started to come up, and the fog peeled back to reveal the bridge above our heads, lit up like a spaceship! We were hooked from that moment on. The decks were set up on a blanket on the sand. No table. Walkman speakers made makeshift monitors. One well-prepared gay friend improvised a cardboard dancefloor for himself and went about his vogueing like he was back at the Endup or Paradise Garage.”

The Wicked Brit saucer, launched from the illustrious Tonka Sound System renegade rave base, touched down on our shores at a moment when the Bay Area psychedelic sound and spirit was flagging. The West Coast underground party scene was being commercialized into the kind of slick, infantile, overproduced spectacles that unfortunately came to define rave in many ’90s people’s minds. And the music was veering from true basement soul to Big Bird carnival woo-woo — not that there was anything too awful about that, at the time it was fresh. But a pagan squadron of prog-rocky, deep acid house and baggy beats lovers setting up on a beach was a blast of fresh air.

Update on the Wicked crew: Almost all have benefited from our wonderful current dance music moment that values historical broad-mindedness over genre lockstep. (Really, the era-roving Wicked DJs have never sounded better than right now). Garth now lives in Los Angeles and has been releasing a steady stream of re-edits and remixes on his two labels, and through his King & Hound project with beloved local disco archivist James Glass. Former punk protestor and anarchist bookstore haunter Jenö plays live acid house every first Saturday at 222 Hyde, broadcasts the weekly “Noise from the Void” radio show (Tuesdays at 9 p.m. at www.90hz.org), and is codirecting a documentary on the social implications of San Francisco’s early rave scene, due out this summer. Thomas is in New York City as one-half of the awesome Rub N Tug production team and owns Whatever We Want Records. And Markie? The dude is and always will be Markie, party legend.

On the eve of the full moon Wicked: 20 Years of Disco Glory reunion party (the name is a cheeky play on one of Garth’s already cheeky dance floor hits), I talked to Garth, Jenö, and Thomas over e-mail.

SFBG It seems like a boatload of Brits emigrated here in the ’90s and had a huge impact on the party scene — in fact, they’re still coming. Is there something special about San Francisco that draws you guys? 

Garth I think a lot of Brits followed us here after they heard what was going on in the Bay Area, the freedom. The U.K. party scene was outlawed by Thatcher’s conservative government when it passed the criminal justice bill, which made it illegal for groups of more than 10 people to congregate while listening to repetitive beats. So there was a kind of party exodus: trance heads went to India (specifically Goa), other Brits went to Thailand, Australia, and Spain in search of a more fun life. San Francisco is particularly appealing to Brits because the climate suits us. It’s never too hot or too cold, and there’s a good dose of fog. It’s very liberal, the architecture is Victorian, it’s by the ocean with hills and those trams — plus great food and a strong, self-sustaining music scene.

Thomas It’s poetic, cosmopolitan, and charming without being European: we like that.

SFBG You definitely did bring a pagan spirit with you — not just with the full moon and witchy Wicked angles, but also in the sense of reinfusing the local music scene with a particularly enchanting Northern California-British psychedelic rock sensibility. Is that spirit still alive? After seeing how the West Coast techno scene has progressed in the past 20 years, do you have any thoughts or gripes? 

Garth Life’s too short for gripes. And I don’t consider it a “West Coast techno scene,” really. It’s all just music. We’ve always played the best in disco, acid house, psych rock, and all points in between. It’s the tempo that keeps things moving, and move it always will.

Jenö I wouldn’t consider Wicked as even being a part of the techno scene. Our music was a lot broader than that, dominated more by psychedelic house and soulful disco grooves. But we definitely influenced the West Coast music scene, and that influence can still felt today in the style and sounds of the current crop of local DJ crews, from the Sunset parties to the hipster clubs currently delving into obscure house and disco-driven sounds.

Thomas I’ll tell you this: I live in New York, and there’s too much disco.

SFBG Any good stories from the early days of Burning Man? 

Garth We were the first and only sound system there in 1995, and of the 5,000 or so people out on the playa, we had a few thousand of them all grooving out under the open skies: no marquees, no lightshow, just a kick ass 15K Turbosound system, right out of the box. During the height of my five-hour set on Saturday night, one naked freak (they never seem to be clothed) ran up and flipped the tables on top of me. There was thunder and lightning and a mad electrical hum until we got the gear up and running again. The crowd went apeshit — it’s still the highlight of my DJ career!

Jenö I didn’t make it the Wicked BM camps back then. But I did attend the last-ever Stonehenge Free Festival in the U.K. during summer solstice in 1984, which was the epiphany that drove me to want to create my own anarchic and free-spirited musical gatherings. Very similar to BM in style and substance — art and music-driven with countercultural ideals, but without the dust and ridiculously expensive admission of Black Rock City.

Thomas I didn’t go because I didn’t think I’d get served a proper cocktail. A foolish mistake on many levels.

SFBG Top five quintessential Wicked records?

Wicked DJ Garth & Eti, “20 Minutes of Disco Glory” — all the boys did excellent remixes of this seminal West Coast classic.

!!!, “Hello Is This Thing On? (Rub N Tug Remix)” — this incredible remix really sums up the Wicked sound, and they recorded it on a full moon!

Colm III, “High as a Mountain” — the title of this 1988 release says it all. Jenö brought it with him from England and played it at the first SF Full Moon party.

Marshall Jefferson, “Open Your Eyes” — deep vibes from the master of early Chicago house. More than just good music, it’s a spiritual journey.

The Man Collective, “No Hassle From the Man” — anthem. It’s rock and rave and soul and psych and passion. That’s maybe what we’re all about. 

WICKED: 20 YEARS OF DISCO GLORY

Sat/23, 10 p.m.–7 a.m., $20 advance

Mighty

119 Utah, SF

www.mighty119.com

Facebook: Wicked Disco Glory

 

Flannelalia

Andrew Lam
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Flannelalia

marke@sfbg.com

PLAID OBSESSION We live in a post-Etsy world, people, and the latest homemade, zero-kilometer focus is on small-batch clothing production. As usual, the Bay Area is taking a lead here, weaving its green intentions and entrepreneurial zeal into its free-spirited fashion sense and a strong garment manufacturing legacy — and producing stylish duds with enough professional veneer to take to the runway or just out for a beer.

The three sharp dudes from Pladra (www.pladra.com) — Scott Ellison, Ian Ernzer, and Jeff Ladra — add another Bay tradition to the mix: classically avid sportiness. “As passionate outdoorsmen, we have never found a flannel that we could wear both in the field and to the bar after getting blood on it,” they say, and so they set about combining their love of surfing, fly-fishing, camping, hunting, skateboarding, and nature photography with flawless design skills and vintage beauty. (It doesn’t hurt that a good plaid flannel is the one item that still unites many of our current style tribes.)

I admit I’m a flannel freak, and Pladra’s three current lines, including an awesome one for women, had me wiping drool off my keyboard. But I wanted a glimpse into the new local-production trend, too, and the Pladra boys happily provided, answering my questions over e-mail.

SFBG Pladra is all about plaid flannel — how’d you come to focus on that? Will you be expanding? 

PLADRA I think it’s safe to say we’ve all had a few go-to flannels throughout our lives. You know, the one you camp in, then come home and go straight to a bar or concert in, then wear to work the next day — each stain is a story and a memory. In terms of our growth, we’d love to let everything grow at its own pace, although we definitely have some ideas. For now, we’re keeping production small and tight. We wanted to start with plaid flannel shirts because they’re timeless and represent an iconic outdoor style we feel really connects to life in the Bay Area. It’s funny that people peg flannels as a trend, but even the gold miners wore flannel. Jeff grew up here, and his grandparents spent their whole lives building and racing motorcycles. He still has photos of them wearing flannels.

SFBG Right now you’re foregoing retail outlets and selling direct from your website. I’m assuming that’s to keep costs down, yes? Has this been a problem in regard to getting your product in front of people?

PLADRA That’s true, we’re selling direct through our website to maintain the lowest price possible. Our goal is not to turn a profit, but to make the best garment possible at the most reasonable price — and our price range is $89–$109. Truth be told, this is what it costs to have a quality, American-made, custom shirt. We’ve found that people who initially scoff at our prices backpedal when they find out what goes into making something in the USA. Americans are so accustomed to paying for cheap garments that are imported mostly from Asia. We’re not condemning that, the truth is that a lot of production out of Asia has great quality. But at a certain point, we need to step back and consider the ramifications that one of the USA’s largest imports is apparel. Many U.S. cities used be the home to some of the best and biggest fabric mills in the world. Now what? All the mills are overseas. Very few companies can afford to use fabric milled in the USA. Even denim companies have to use reclaimed fabric.

The direct selling approach certainly makes it difficult to reach a wide range of people off the bat. But we do want to offer reasonable pricing to our customers. We want to focus on the brand integrity and we don’t want to dilute our product and blast it everywhere right away. We are taking a slow and careful approach in our growth.

SFBG What were the specific challenges of designing and producing everything in San Francisco? 

PLADRA It was really important to us to keep things local and support local businesses. But limiting our geographic range also meant limiting our accessibility to materials that would maintain our desired quality while not forcing our prices to skyrocket. That meant we had to challenge ourselves to search harder for vendors that could deliver great materials and finishing — and we ended up partnering with some incredible ones who went above and beyond to support our vision.

SFBG Pladra isn’t just all about hunting and designing. What are some of your favorite shops and bars in SF? 

PLADRA Shopping-wise, we really like Union Made in the Castro. Our friends at Park Life in the Inner Richmond and the General Store in the Outer Sunset offer amazing home-produced goods. And the Aqua and Mollusk surf shops have always been amazing at supporting their communities. As for going out, we could happily spend the rest of our lives drinking our way through the menus at Toronado and Alembic. And we just scored one of our favorite clubs, 111 Minna, to host our official launch party. See you there? *

PLADRA LAUNCH PARTY Tues/26, 5 p.m.–9 p.m., free. 111 Minna, SF. www.111minnagallery.com

 

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