Marke B.

Wiggletronics

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superego@sfbg.com

SUPER EGO “Many people confuse us with Spain,” MC Kalaf of worldwide dance sensations Buraka Som Sistema says — a back-end hint of fado-like melancholy mixing into his unfailingly chipper voice — when we talk over the phone about how the fab foursome has finally put their homeland, Portugal, on the club-must map. Buraka, two of whose members hail originally from Angola and two from that sunny strip along the Atlantic, represents a double bubbling up of the repressed: the crew has exploded onto the nightlife radar by melding the underground sounds of Luanda’s bumping kuduro dance movement with Lisbon’s buzzy, overlooked electronic music scene.

Last year Buraka’s sophomore release Black Diamond (Enchufada/Sony BMG) quickly shot up the hit lists of beats connoisseurs by jumping the current trend of streaming developing-world rhythms through the latest sonic technology. “We took the sound of the Lisbon suburbs where many Angolan immigrants live — our suburbs are not like your ‘Desperate Housewife’ suburbs — and used our years of dance music on it, and the crowds loved it,” says Kalaf.

Kuduro is often translated as “stiff bottom,” heh, or “hard ass,” referencing the form of lowdown, hips-wiggling motion that sometimes accompanies the deliciously uptempo sound, a hybrid of sensuous zouk, raucous soca, and free-flow hip-hop that shares an affinity for analog atmospherics with early dub. (Or rather, that dance is mostly reserved for women — men tend to go pop and lock crazy, as you can see in the video below.) Along with Kalaf, Buraka members Li’l John, DJ Riot, and Conductor apply their extensive hip-hop, house, and breakbeat production experience to blow the lid off kuduro’s possibilities. 

The superkinetic results reference everything from Ed Banger hardcore and hyperdub freakouts to Orb-esque kaleidoscopics and the late ’80s Sheffield bleep scene. Scoring MIA to guest on “Sound of Kuduro” helped kick that track up the club charts, and basing the excellent “Kalemba (Wegue-Wegue)” on a misheard lyric from the classic Afro Acid house remix of More Kante’s “Yeke Yeke” gave fanboys a theoretical boner. Live, Buraka’s a tornado, with toasting MCs, fierce singers, and, as Kalaf points out, “anything that makes you scream.” Last time the crew was here, a topless female fan stormed the stage. Kalaf half-joked that an upcoming tour of Japan is brief because “if they throw us out of the country, at least we won’t lose a lot of money.”

Some things get lost in the laptop filtration, however. Kuduro isn’t just a groove; like rap, it’s built on extended narratives of hood life. Buraka jettisons those for catchy calls to the dance floor and global unity “I’m from Angola,” Kalaf admitted, “and even I can’t follow most of what they say.” And, for all the talk on its records of the primacy of Africa, the group has yet to tour the continent. “We’re going in 2010,” Kalaf said, “and to be honest, I’m a little afraid. It may be mental.” But Buraka has helped bring the Angolan guests on its tracks an international audience, while waking up the Western world to yet another vital cultural expression on its edges. Let’s get suburban, y’all.

BURAKA SOM SISTEMA

Tue/21, 8 p.m., $14. Rickshaw Stop, 155 Fell, SF. www.rickshawstop.com For more on Buraka’s kuduro connections, click here.

Bounce to this

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superego@sfbg.com

SUPER EGO Hold my hair, Bethany — things are gonna get wicked. The Bay’s set to undergo a massive new-bass invasion on Saturday, April 11, and I’m kind of freaking out about it, kind of having outfit trauma, and kind of fiending for a diet coconut juice. Is that postcolonialist?

Perhaps more pressingly: are the low-frequency freakinetics of abstract dubstep, turbo crunk, and future bass vanishing into the headphone red zones of download fanboys and nightlife intellectuals? I mean, has anyone figured out how to dance to any of this mind-blowing shit yet?

That will be one of the looming, booming nightlife questions as critical darlings Flying Lotus, Kode9, and the Bug rumble through Mighty with a gig tagged "The Future," and Ghislain "King of Bounce" Poirier storms the monthly Tormenta Tropical party at Elbo Room. No question, though: both events will melt your face, so pack yourself an extra and hop between them.

When it comes to dance floor poetics, Montreal-based producer, DJ, and mentor Poirier is the shrewdest of the bunch. The Ninja Tune artist has played it both ways from the beginning, tickling cerebellums with growling reveries and laser-chopped academic beats on some tracks, while on others pumping sharp dancehall grinds and grimy ragga as his guest vocalists strike demanding political poses. It’s this second, much more party-friendly "world riddim idiom" Poirier who’ll pop up at Tormenta Tropical, touring for his new Soca Sound System EP, a pulse-pounding glance toward the Trinidadian genre that includes the infectious "Wha-La-La-Leng" with MC Face-T.

And yet, despite Poirier’s intensely straightforward dance-driven live shows and steady stream of lean-and-mean mixtapes, like last year’s excellent Bring the Fire, he’s still mostly known in the States for his forays into glitch-and-sizzle future bass territory. That may be due to his pioneering work in tearing off the 4/4 beats straightjacket and commandeering homemade, bleeding bass lines to glue his ravenously global-eared sets together. Or it may be because people still have trouble seeing the Great White North as the glorious multicultural clusterfuck it is — they’d just rather slap an abstract label on it. Whatever. "Ideas are the best plug-ins," Poirier told Cyclic Defrost magazine last year — but he knows a free mind should be followed by a bumping ass.

In terms of real abstractitude, though, Flying Lotus, the Bug, and Kode 9 swim in the deepest of waters — and each traffics in his own delightful mental aquarium. L.A.’s FlyLo may still be drowning in positive press ink from his incredible 2008 release Los Angeles (Warp) but he hasn’t sacrificed any of his experimental chutzpah, chopping up hip-hop strains into turbulent, prismatic soundscapes. He’s also the smilingest DJ I’ve ever seen. London’s the Bug brings a throbbing, postapocalyptic edge to his dub creations, and his jazz background adds an ethereal sheen to his production style. Hyperdub Records owner Kode9, from Glasgow, is the most mischievous of the trio. His output aspires to a warped dubstep atmosphere that he likens to "drinking acid rain," but he also brings some much-needed humor to the mix — and reassuring connections to dance music’s past. The B-side of his new "Black Sun" single, "2 Far Gone," is a total rewiring of Adonis’ 1986 house classic "No Way Back" that dissolves me into a nostalgic grin.

When these three bass-purveyors passed through San Francisco last year — Lotus and Kode as part of the Brainfeeder Festival at 103 Harriet St., and the Bug at dread bass throwdown Surya Dub — they put in exquisitely thoughtful and uplifting sessions. Alas, they were mostly greeted with appreciative, hella-stoned nodding from the crowd. Only a few hardcore freaks had the gumption to truly take the floor. This time, I say make like the freaks and lose yourself to the beat in your head. The bass is only the basis. It’s up to us to fill in the bounce.

TORMENTA TROPICAL WITH GHISLAIN POIRIER

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

THE FUTURE WITH FLYING LOTUS, KODE9 AND THE BUG

Sat/11, 9pm-afterhours, $20. Mighty, 119 Utah, SF. www.mighty119.com

Endtroducing … Kutiman

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By Marke B. Kutiman, “Wait for Me” In the future when vids are vinyl, and vinyl is — what? La Chanson de Roland, maybe — people might claim that Kutiman, the Israeli Vegas Pro genius who collages up backwater YouTube vids into breathtaking electronic atmospheric joyrides (see the complete work at http://thru-you.com), was the DJ Shadow of the ’00s. Kutiman, “I M New” I think those people would be wrong (and there are already a number of them). Searching through the all the minor dreck of YouTube to fish out suitable usable samples and build them into destabilized microsymphonies can surely be compared to Shadow’s impeccable crate-diving technique. And the dense sound both derive from their purely sample-driven compositions elicits a similar melancholy (why is that?). But Shadow traded in rarity nostalgia — who the hell else had that 78, man? — whereas Kutiman’s brilliant corners are purely of the moment and completely accessible to all. Except for one of them, now set to “private,” ha. Kutiman is also way more international in musical scope than Shadow — something perhaps more necessary in our globalized age, that Shadow could only hint towards in his Endtroducing… ’90s heyday — which brings Kutiman more in line with the likes of that other frequent Bay boy Amon Tobin, another sample-based innovator who opened the West’s ears to a different native music contextuality and who eschewed nostalgia in favor of up-to-the-minute headtrip breaks. Kutiman, Babylon Band

Fluffy bunners

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› superego@sfbg.com

Look about you, horny toad. There may not be wee lambykins gamboling on your microlawn or the scent of fresh asparagus pervading your water closet yet, but all the mad party signs of spring are sneaking up to floor you: secret sunset shindigs (www.pacificsound.net), hunky Jesus Easter bonnets (www.thesisters.org), blackout drag road trips to Reno (www.trannyshack.com), and, that ultimate in vernal equinoxious signals, a flood of out-of-state gay porn stars looking for extra cash on Rentboy.com and the back pages of the Bay Area Reporter. Spring has sprung! And will probably be passed out in its stiff leather chaps, turquoise Lycra dress shirt, knock off Gucci wraparounds, and George Michael stubble on the corner of 18th and Market soon.

That’s right, those "Oscars of gay porn," the annual GayVN Awards, are coming upon us yet again, as the Castro Theatre plays host to the biggest circle jerk in the butt biz for another year. Downsizing, of course, is out of the question, despite the rash of porno pink slips being fisted out across the industry, which has been hit hard by a combo of economic deflators, internal tussles, and continued grappling with amateur Web competition. (We’ll see if the upcoming onslaught of 3-D dick flicks provides the stimulus package our local studios — second only to backwoods Eastern Europe in terms of sticky-fingered output — so sorely need.)

No, GayVN organizers are gut-pumping all the lubricious glitz they can into a whole weekend of kiki hurrah, with pre-parties, post-parties, Tupperware parties, and brunches that no one will eat at galore. Inflatable personality Janice Dickinson hosts the awards ceremony itself, with backup from homegirl Margaret Cho and Alec Mapa from Ugly Betty (ha!). Online erotic video-on-demand powerhouse Naked Sword, a.k.a. the giant candy-colored Flash octopus that froze my dinky Windows and made me cry with my pants down, will host the official afterparty, Shameless — "the party you’ll never forget, or remember!" — with some big-name DJs and performers I already can’t! It’ll be a wondrous semi-tragedy unfolding in fast motion, worth it if only to ogle the prancing scene. Just please try not to look at the camera when it’s over.

GAYVN AWARDS CEREMONY Sat/28, 7 p.m., $95. Castro Theatre, 429 Castro, SF. gayvnawards.avn.com

SHAMELESS GAYVN AFTERPARTY Sat/28, 10 p.m., $25. Wunderland, 181 Eddy, SF. www.nakedsword.com

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TINGEL TANGEL CLUB


The louche cabaret monthly celebrates a year of mingling salacious New York City talent and West Coast underground hotness. Original Cockettes Rumi and Scrumbly, singer Novice Theory, "hypersexual" musicians SlowMo Erotic and more light up the stage, and ever-crushable JD Samson of Le Tigre will Sam Ronson the turntables afterward. Tingel Tangel Le Tigre — it’s an anagram.

Wed/25, 8 p.m., $16. Café du Nord, 2170 Market, SF.

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FUCK MIAMI


Oh dear, is it that time of year again? Half our stellar nightlife talents (and a lot of pre-tanned wannabes) will be sucked into the studiously Spandexed and belotioned black hole that is the Winter Music Conference in Miami. If you’re too broke — or too allergic to aggressive slickness and pushy V.I.P. chicks — to jet to the coca beach, share the moment with a slew of worthy left-behinds at this lengthy affair.

Fri/27, 4 p.m.- 2 a.m., free. Mars Bar, 798 Brannan, SF.

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"HOMELESS NIGHT"


This party promises to be wronger than shitting in a urinal: anarchic drag weekly Charlie Horse is hosting a homeless-themed night. Partially controversial gender clown Monistat joins perky Percocetted hostess Anna Conda to present shameful acts by talented messes to actually help benefit homeless services. La-da-dee, la-da-dah, don’t try to rip the wigs off these queens or they will cut you.

Fri/27, 10 p.m., free. The Cinch, 1723 Polk, SF.

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LOOK OUT WEEKEND


Happy hours are all the populist rage, especially in these queasy economics, no? One of the biggest and brightest, Look Out Weekend, is moving into new quarters at Vessel off Union Square. The delicious electronic stylings of Oh Land and DJing by the Magnificent Seven complement yummy eats and fashionable freaks at the relaunch. Will L.O.W. 2.0 be as raucous as the first version? Hey, it’s free, so go see for yourself.

Fridays, 4 p.m.-9 p.m., free. Vessel, 85 Campton Place, SF.

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ROYALTY


Well! It may be a bit bombastic, but the name just fits. SF soulful house music king DJ David Harness inaugurates a new monthly to rain some of that ol’ hands-in-the-air spirit down on the children-in-waiting at the lovely Triple Crown. The Crown’s sound system is winning extreme plaudits, so be prepared for a high-fidelity throwdown.

Fri/27, 10 p.m., $5. 1760 Market, SF.

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DEVOTION


A few years ago, DJ Ruben Mancias packed up his little glam-house weekly at the EndUp, Devotion, and skedaddled to NYC to find fame, fortune, and a lot of really neat T-shirts. He’s occasionally popped back into town to show off each, and remind Latin- and soul-tinged house fans of past EndUp glories. Devotion’s eight-year-anniversary will find him back at the space with Oakland house princes Cecil and Dedan warming up. Memories!

Sun/29, 8 p.m.-4 a.m. The EndUp, 401 Sixth St., SF.

Ask a Porn Star: masturbation and legal prostitution

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In which super sexy porn people answer questions — each week — from Bay Area locals
Mediated by Justin Juul

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Fielding your questions this month is local writer/porn star, Stephen Boyer. Check out some of his movies/pics here and an excerpt from his upcoming novel here. Read our 2008 interview with Boyer here. Read the last installment of Ask a Porn Star here

James N: How would legalizing prostitution change the lives of sex workers?

Stephen Boyer: Legalizing prostitution would help prostitutes because they wouldn’t fear being labeled a criminal. They would be empowered and able to take control of their situations better. Plus it would do away with the hypocrisy we are currently indulging in as a society. Take the homophobic Ted Haggard for instance, the priest that was caught with a male escort and forced to leave his church and town. Well, Haggard has since gone on television and has publicly admitted that what he did was a “sin,” but as far as I know he never faced any legal penalties despite the fact he was on drugs committing an illegal act. However, low-end prostitutes are being booked all the time and being shoved down the hellish rabbit hole that is our present legal system. I’m for keeping everyone out of that mess!

Gerry H: How do things change when you tell people that you’ve done porn?

Say you, say me

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› superego@sfbg.com

SUPER EGO Adult contemporary is alive and well and thriving in Southeast Asia. I just touched down from a refreshing jaunt to that worldly hot spot: Cambodia a capitalist riot of beauty and pollution, untamed Laos a communist stoner’s wet dream. Everyone Hunky Beau and I met was gorgeous, despite the odd backpacker overload, which occasioned a few frightful spottings of crocadreadles — northern Europeans sporting poorly waxed dreadlocks, jingle pants, and stomach-churning Crocs.

Memo to the Danes: please stop.

Still, even that led to some perfect Putamayo moments, as when a lovely Jewish-Korean singer at Dead Fish Tower guesthouse in Siem Reap launched into her acoustic version of Daft Punk’s "One More Time." Many of the citizens themselves, however, seemed happily obsessed with Lionel Richie, Westlife, Yanni (it lives!), and Thailand’s answer to Nickelback, Big Ass. The gay clubs were pumping the usual homo-panglobal Kylie Minoguerrhea, sigh, yet the drag was way brill. But alternative DJ and dance music culture — and even the hip-hop aspirations my Amerocentric, quasi-Orientalist mind expected to sense in the region’s rapidly developing economic climate — seemed banished to the land of wind and ghosts.

I’d say I felt a little sorry for the baby-boom youth there, but who am I to make value judgments? Value judgments give me acne, Jessica Simpson — and a few weeks probably aren’t enough time to properly shake out an underground. Besides, here on the other side of the rim our dance charts are clogged with Lady GaGa blah-blah-blah, zombie Prodigy retreads, and something called "Total Dance 2009." Goddess help us all. If ever there was a moment to hit the reboot on Western mainstream dance music — hell, even drag to trash and go running with the night — this may be it.

THE ID LIST

MIKE SLOTT AND KOTCHY


"If you’re tired of all the retro shit, holla," woozes New York City’s Kotchy on one of his typical genre-fuck tracks, blending ambient squelches with trippy bloops from inner space. "Our culture must be in a coma, and I’m not a doctor." Glasgow-based future bass collective LuckyMe brings twilit melodies, brogue-inflected park bench rhymes, and wry Scots humor to the burgeoning genre. Both Kotchy and LuckyMe’s Mike Slott will bruise the speakers with live performances, while graffiti artists sear your sinuses, at this month’s installment of Bass Camp.

Thu/19, 9 p.m., $10–$15. 111 Minna, SF. www.111minnagallery.com, www.myspace.com/basscampsf

DAVIES AFTER HOURS


Do the words "electric strings" excite you as much as they do me? Yeah, that’s right, I’m a geek. The San Francisco Symphony, following in the frisky footsteps of other wildly successful nightlife-aware arts institutions, is launching a monthly post-performance shindig composed of cutting-edge styles. Cellist Alex Kelly’s avant-jazz combo kicks off this month, with electric strings and rock from NTL in April and the massive DJ Masonic with Mercury Lounge in May.

Fri/20, April 24, and May 22, after 8 p.m. concert, free with purchase of symphony performance ticket. Davies Symphony Hall, 201 Van Ness, SF. www.sfsymphony.org

WORLD OF DRUM ‘N BASS


The name may sound like a trade show — and I’m here to tell you that drum ‘n bass fans make pretty great trade — but this huge affair brings serious low-end to Temple’s multiple floors, and a boffo chance to reconnect with, and lose your droopy drawers to, the fractured sound of yore. Chase and Status, Radioactive, 2 Cents, A.I., Havoc, and more break it up. Let’s get ready to rumble.

Fri/20, 10 p.m., $20. Temple, 540 Howard, www.templesf.com

DJ SNEAK


Ah, Sneak, how you play with our heart-shaped equalizers. One minute you’re banging chunky techno tunes, the next you’re upping the bongos for some well-earned soul release — and then you drop some serious freaking Chicago house gangster shit on us and we can’t stop screaming. Through it all you keep a shroom-happy smile on our faces and work the soles off our Keds. Here’s to another 15 years of squeaking the woodwork, and your choo-choo new contribution to the Back in the Box series. With Hector Moralez and Oscar Mirada.

Fri/20, 9 p.m., $10–$20. Six, 66 Sixth St., SF. www.clubsix1.com

CLIVE HENRY


Anyone who caught house legend Francois K.’s head-scratching but still rewarding set at Vessel on March 12 may have taken away the same thought I did — the sparkling Balearic revival of the past few years has now congealed into a full-on non-ironic Ibiza attack. That’s kind of scary, but maybe the crappy-champagne-and-carnival-siren sound is an interesting comment on now. Prolific DJ and producer Clive Henry, of the glittery Circo Loco party based at Ibiza’s humongous DC10, may be the best person to help you rethink the microgenre at EndUp. Whether or not he’ll be sponsored by Got 2 B Magnetik hair gel with pheromones, like most Ibiza denizens, remains to be seen.

Sat/21, 10 p.m., $10–$20. EndUp, 401 Sixth St., SF. www.theendup.com, www.sensesf.com

BOOKA SHADE


The moody duo is still touring — and bridging the gap between thoughtful Berlin minimal and the more laconic side of electro. Yet why would Walter Merziger and Arno Kammermeier ever stop accumuutf8g bonus miles as one of the most acclaimed live acts in dance music, especially with their Get Physical label still scoring kudos and their hoards of ready and willing fans? You may have seen it all before, but that doesn’t mean it’s not the tits.

Sun/22, 8:30 p.m., $22 advance. Independent, 628 Divisadero, SF. www.theindependentsf.com

Super Ego: All aboard for Trannyshack Reno, woot

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By Marke B.

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Your hostesses Heklina and Renttecca, rolling loaded. Photo by Eric Stein.

Oh lord, is it really that time again already? Time for SF’s crazy drag queens to take their “retarted” acts to a largely unsuspecting hinterland?

I just got wind that homelesslike party Charlie Horse is headed to Fresno (more on that later), and now, here I am posting about the annual Trannyshack bus-terfuck road trip to Reno. Oh hell yeah, there’ll be spastic vogue drops droppin’ in the Mickey D’s.

And really, it’s all about the journey:

Isn’t this the real reason that California might split in two?

So, yes, the much-bemourned Trannyshack is rising from the zombie-swamp, loading a bunch of freaks up onto a couple of busses, and taking over Reno’s bars, hotels, casinos, and sidewalks for a couple of days. It all goes down April 11-12 (Easter weekend). Won’t you join them in a total blackout? Tickets available now!

Full release deets straight from the whorses mouth at www.trannyshack.com and after the jump. Try not to gag on the professionalism!

Strap ’em on and ride with IMsL

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By Marke B.

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“It’s THAT time again. Time to pack your leathers, shine up your latex, lace that damned corset, polish those sexy black boots and get your hot ass to San Francisco. International Ms Leather Weekend is calling YOU!”

Hells yeah. Two years ago, Hunky Beau and I had the unique pleasure of attending the climactic event of this wondrous annual weekend-long affair, the International Ms. Leather competition. We were surprised not only by the warmth and openness of the community but by the humor, dedication, and depth displayed by all the contestants — those skill-testing questions were hard! (The best one: “You’re given a stick of gum, a SuperBall, and a frog. How would you use them in a scene?”) And the outfits and talent numbers were damn hot-hot-hot. At the end we were cheering all the contestants on like happily disciplined schoolboys.

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International Ms. Boot Black 2007 Ms. V (front), IMsL runners up Shdiva and Joanne G (right and left) and IMsL 2007 Lauren, from Phoenix. Photo by David Schnur.

It looks like registration is still open for all you sexy (and sexy curious) leatherwomen out there. This is a perfect opportunity to network with your peers, learn a few deliciously naughty and technically challenging tricks, check out an incredibly diverse array of hotties, renew your commitment to the leather code (Honesty, Trust, Respect, and Integrity), and, of course, cruise the multiple play spaces!

International Ms. Leather Weekend 2009
w/ International Ms. Leather and International Ms. Boot Black competition
March 17-19, 2009
www.imsl.org

Alt.sex.column: Cave woman

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By Andrea Nemerson. View more alt.sex columns here

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› andrea@altsexcolumn.com

Dear Andrea:

I’m ready to go live in a cave. It’s been two years since I’ve dated. Partly I backed off from the scene, and partly I’m not receiving much interest. I think I’m smart, approachable, creative, "together," nice, and passably cute. It’s starting to affect my self-confidence.

I joined eHarmony ($120!) and nerve.com, solicited friends’ input on my profiles, and followed up on every match. I got one eHarmony date (great but not local) and rarely heard back from anyone. I try to e-mail one guy a day. Either they don’t answer or our communication peters out soon after I e-mail. The ones who really get me seem very interested, ask me out, then drop it when I accept.

Why? Is this a Mars/Venus thing? Maybe online just isn’t my venue? I do several activities that attract single guys, but haven’t led to much — except maybe embarrassment on my part when I show interest and get a brush-off. Maybe try going through friends again? That worked in the past.

I just turned 40 and would like a partner. Mostly I’ve been solo, and that really sucks.
Love,

Forty & Frustrated

Dear F&F:

Before you go live in a cave, you might consider something a little less drastic, like living in a smaller, less brutally competitive city far from the coasts. It’s an idea.

Barring that, we have to subject your online interactions to the scrutiny of a girlfriend panel. Ideally these would be your girlfriends — they could make far more specific suggestions, like lose that mullet or stop telling everyone about your rectal fistula. But if you don’t have a panel, you can borrow mine. I convened one for you.

Irina: The phenomenon of guys initiating and then vanishing as soon as you try to make a date is very familiar, and probably has nothing to do with her. I could theorize all day, but when it comes down to it, they’re not ready to actually connect with people, so fuck ’em. Next!

Cruising Craigslist: Breakfast of champions

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Each week, Justin Juul combs the SF Craigslist Personals and Missed Connections for true gems that prove there’s enough love for everyone. View his last installment here.

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If there’s one thing that sucks about living in San Francisco it’s the fact that most of us have to hustle our asses off just to make rent every month. We have to work shitty side jobs to avoid homelessness through grad school or we have to hold down three careers simultaneously just so we can maintain one that makes us feel good. It wouldn’t be so bad if our bodies and minds were designed to handle such frantic schedules, but the fact of the matter is that they’re not. We have to sleep at least 20 hours a week and we have to eat at least once a day. And yes, we have to have sex sometimes too. The question is, “When?”

Well, if you’re life is anything like ours, the only time of day that’s almost always open is dawn. You don’t have to be anywhere, you don’t have to answer any emails, etc. With a small tweak to your sleep schedule, you can transform your early mornings from the nicotine-and-caffeine binges they are now into the hot and heavy love sessions you’ve been missing out on. The only problem is, where the hell are you going to find a compatible sex partner at 5am?

Craigslist, duh.

Early morning discreet fun – m4w – 28 (san Jose east)
Reply to: [redacted]
Date: 2009-03-05, 10:46PM PST

Hi, thanks for taking the time to check out my post. I am looking for a discreet encounter w/ a sexy woman who would like me to come over around 5 am and leave around 6:30 am. I am very oral and love to make a woman moan with pleasure as I lick you to ecstasy. I am not picky, just want clean, disease free, 420 friendly woman. fairly open minded pls feel free to email me if you have questions.

Early AM Oral – m4m – 44 (redwood city)
Reply to: [redacted]
Date: 2009-03-05, 9:39PM PST
I love the taste of cock in the morning – can I taste you Friday around 7am? I will be on my way to work in RWC, near oracle, and would love to have a hard one shoved down my throat until I gag but service that dick until it shoots cream that I swallow. Sound like a good time? Write me back and I will answer in the AM – or send me a location to meet you and I will take care of your stiff dick.

The best thing to do right when you wake up… – w4m – 24 (mountain view)
Reply to: [redacted]
Date: 2009-03-06, 9:32PM PST
It’s extra early, and I’m extra horny! Looking for someone to hook up with this morning! 40 and over, pic w/ reply!

Early morning suck – m4t– 22 (Vallejo / Benicia)
Reply to: [redacted]
Date: 2009-03-07, 2:21AM PST
Lets see i am visiting the bay area looking for a early morning fun. basically I want you to come suck me off and leave no more no less I want to use you and kick you out this is a huge fetish for me please help me I’m 5’9″ one sixty five pounds I am straight but I have a weakness for you T girls. I am only visiting this month. Haven’t had me a Cali T-girl yet so prove to me you better then the girls back home.

your pik gets mine no pik no reply

Johny

Ron Paul in queer Libertarian sex nonscandal

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By Marke B.

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Fine, yes, we’re all wearing out our French tips awaiting Borat comic genius Sascha Baron Cohen’s new Austrian thuper-gay fashion disaster epic flick, Bruno: Delicious Journeys Through America for the Purpose of Making Heterosexual Males Visibly Uncomfortable in the Presence of a Gay Foreigner in a Mesh T-Shirt — and after a wee hits-reel preview at SXSW in Austin and a couple of test screenings deep in the bowels of Harvey Weinstein, the press is picking up on every juicy detail it can squeeze out of attendees.

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Like this tantalizing and/or vomit inducing piece just posted by Christopher Beam to Slate, in which one of the test screeners describes a near miss of giant-hairy-backed-dude-nude-wrestling proportions. In the Bruno movie, Cohen wheedles Libertarian leader and noted gerbil Ron Paul into an potentially compromising situation:

Six-leafed clover for St. Patty’s

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Besides following your priorities and getting green drunk (even ecologically drunk) tomorrow night, here’s six four-star musical events totally worth tottering off your pub stool toward. But don’t mistake that leprechaun for your designated driver! Call a cab, Molly O’Shaumessy!

St. Patty’s Day Punk Bash
With La Plebe, Ribzy, Get Dead, Abrupt, Dope Charge, and Excuse the Blood.
Tue/17, 6pm, $8
Elbo Room
647 Valencia, SF
(415) 552-7788
www.elbo.com

Culann’s Hounds, Hooks, Gasmen
Part of the San Francisco Irish Music Festival
Tue/17, 8pm, $20
Great American Music Hall
859 O’Farrell, SF
(415) 885-0750
www.gamh.com

A Very Special St. Patrick’s Day 45 Club
The funky side of soul on 45 rpm with dX the Funky Grandpaw, Dirty Dishes, and English Steve.
Tue/17, 9pm, $2.
Knockout
3223 Mission, SF
(415) 550-6994
www.theknockoutsf.com

Farley’s Coffee 20th Anniversary and St. Patrick’s Day Celebration
Bagpipes and Irish music from 9am-noon; 8pm music and dancing, with a performance from local faves Soul Delights.
Tue/17, 9am-10pm, free
Farley’s coffeehouse
1315 18th St, SF
(415) 648-1545
www.farleyscoffee.com

Food Stamp Tuesdays
This new monthly (second Tuesdays) kicks off with a cheap drink Patty’s Day special at the usually pretty pricey Vessel. With disco soul glammers from DJs Miss Juanita More, Initials P.B. and Pete Notori
Tue/17, 5pm-midnight, free
Vessel
85 Campton Place, SF
(415) 433-8585
www.vesselsf.com

Get Wild St. Patty’s
New crazy-boots band The Primitivas, featuring members of the La-Teenos and the Guardian’s own Dulcinea Gonzalez will funk up Aunt Charlies, with DJ Alexis and hostesses Hunx and Liza Thorn.
Tue/17, 10pm, cheap
Aunt Charlie’s Lounge
133 Turk, SF
www.auntcharlieslounge.com

Too many str8 boys kissing, maybe

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By Marke B.

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OK, all this may be a little tired by now, but I’m still in full agreement with Kimberly Chun’s expert take down of Katy “UR So Gay” Perry from January of last year. That was published before Perry’s odiously catchy “I Kissed a Girl” became impossible to escape last summer — the ditty managed to “have it both ways,” heh, playing both anti-gay conservatives and LGBTs for maximum chart effect. That’s clever, but the song’s lame sentiment (kissing girls turns my boyfriend on — lesbians are only here for my amusement!) still makes my stomach churn.

The parodies came swift and mercilessly, from “I Kissed a Squirrel” (available in many versions) to “I Kissed a Granny” (yeesh!) to “I Kissed a Dog.” Oh, enough already, YouTube Nation.

And then, of course, teh gay. I should have known there would be an onslaught of over-the-top backlash when drag superstar Lady Bunny unleashed “I Licked a Girl” on the world last year (first minute below):

Lady Bunny, “I Licked a Girl” at Southern Decadence

Yay, overly familiar gynophobia! Still, it could all be called hilarious if it wasn’t a trend. Now, the pendulum has swung back, with emo boys embracing the kissing hysteria, and a flood of “I Kissed a Boy” guyliner-bedecked parodies, headed up by primo “hip” parody purveyors Cobra Starship’s version from a Fall Out Boy (!) mixtape. I knew I was gonna have to surrender my critical faculties and just go with the flow when one of my smartest gay friends told me he was completely Lady GaGa for the boy in the video, followed by my bf Hunky Beau’s comment: “Oh goodie, he takes his shirt off.” At least the dood-singer Gabe lipsyncher (a reader informs us in the that this is a fan vid, not Cobra Starship itself) plays with the whole baseball-bat-bashing theme a little, even if he can’t quite bring himself to admit the “he liked it” more than just wanting to “start shit.”

Cobra Starship, “I Kissed A Boy”

So much confliction! Smash! Twist! Contort! Feint! Poor thing. I guess my question is, is kissing really that big a deal? And also, with the super-prominence of porn availability in the Internet age, has kissing become the final frontier of sexual boundaries — the last retainer of intimacy now that all other sex acts have been publicized/commodified? Janet Jackson’s boob, Paris and Britney’s flashed beavers, and then Katy’s emo lesbo-liplock spawn. Well, I guess whatever automatically short circuits “fag” in the comments section these days is maybe a good thing?

After the jump, an explosion of “I Kissed a Boys,” with various degrees of homophobic liberation. Thanks, Katy!

Cruising Craigslist: This week’s best personals

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Each week, Justin Juul combs the SF Craigslist Personals and Missed Connections for true gems that prove there’s enough love for everyone. View his last installment here.

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Remember back in grade-school when you would compete with your friends to see who could make the thickest, longest, or craziest shit? It was a great pastime, but there was always that all-star kid who’d ruin it for everyone by going the extra mile. Like, he’d eat nothing but almonds and vanilla pudding for a month to make his shit white or he’d steal his grandma’s enema kit to make a poo-cano. With that kind of dedication there was just no beating the guy so, if you’re anything like us, you probably just moved on. You graduated high school, went to college, got a job, etc.

We’re all happy and content in our adult lives now, of course. [Ed Note: Ha.] But don’t you sometimes wish you’d kept at it and learned some of the tricks that seemed to come so naturally to your friend? Just imagine how much better your sex life could be!

Well, it’s never too late to start. And it’s easy too. Just jump on Craigslist and get to mingling. If you look hard enough, you might even be able to track down and re-challenge your ex poo-nemesis. Just brace yourself. You won’t believe the type of shit he’s into these days.

Low camp

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› superego@sfbg.com

SUPER EGO Is there any phrase lamer than "the future of dance music"? Every time I hear it, I flash unflatteringly back to the tagline for some horrid 2k5 Dutch hardcore trance Internet station: "The future of dance music … pzew! pzew! … is now — on Osterpoopen Trance-Radiogeschmacken Internet Stream-Schmeirtz!" Apologies, poi-twirling Netherlanders, but I do.

Future bass, a.k.a. lazer bass, a.k.a. turbocrunk, has willingly been saddled with the "future" burden — but if you haven’t hitched your hover-wagon to its woofer-cracking, hip-hop-deconstructing bleeps from the Death Star, you may really need to. Laptop dubsteb, future bass’s quaalude cousin, turned its back on hip-hop when Burial drowned Todd Edwards’ clunky house beats and got moody with the two-step diva samples in 2k7. Future bass ups the tempo and reinjects blingy rhymes, but runs them through the Ableton Moebius strip — so much so that San Francisco’s own Lazer Sword can flip Lil’ Flip’s "I’m a Balla" chorus into an Obama chant.

Until last month, alas, there’d been no regular party here to rep the baby genre. And with the general disarray of hip-hop nightlife, you’d think any sound that twists together T-Pain and Flying Lotus would be bong hits to those exhausted by the hip-pop vs. indie rap divide. Tired. Welcome, then, Bass Camp, a third-Thursday monthly at 111 Minna, brought to us by ArtNowSF’s Joseph Gross, Mochipet from Daly City Records, Josh Pollack of Euphonic Conceptions, and indie promoter Aaron Ketry. Although future bass is the highlight, this cluster of ravenous-eared rumblers, along with residents like Quitter, Shane King, MC Buddy LeRoy, and the totally crushable Epcot and Salva, just want to slap up SF’s low-end. Because, as the old saw goes, "Where’s the fookin’ bass?!?" The next Bass Camp on Feb. 19 takes a metal-crunk-mashup turn with Ludachrist, Kill the Noise, and Hookerz and Blow.

Bass Camp every third Thursdays, 9 p.m., $10. 111 Minna, SF. www.111minnagallery.com

———–

THE ID LIST

"NIGHTLIFE"

Proof of intelligent nightlife in the universe? The brand-spankin’ new Cal Academy of Sciences gets batty every Thursday evening with primo local DJs in a laid back atmosphere, paired with informal talks with the biggest scientifical brains out there. First up on Thurs/12: Darwin gets OMmed, with OM Records’ DJ Fluid and J-Boogie, plus renowned natural historian Keith Thompson. Smart! Thurs/12, 6–10 p.m., $10. California Academy of Sciences, 55 Music Concourse Dr., SF. www.calacademy.org/nightlife

ALY AND FILA

If trance should come from anywhere, it should be Egypt — where they used to fatten you up with honey before they ate you. Cairo’s Aly and Fila, current princes of that most globalized, if not diversified, dance genre, will satisfy any cravings for the blam-blam, plink-plink-plink, blam-blam — and should be worth braving the usual weekend 1015 crowd for. SF’s Taj leads up. Fri/13, 10 p.m.–4 a.m., $20. 1015 Folsom, SF. www.1015.com, www.alyandfila.com

MY BOOTY VALENTINE

OK, new nightlife rule: after this party, anything with the word "booty" in it gets gacked. But — and this is a big but — I’ll make this one exception, if only because Miami’s DJ Craze, despite his Kanye associations, kicks serious cheek with his three-time World DJ Championship skills. Vinyl’s got back. Sat/14, 10 p.m., $10–$15. 330 Ritch, SF. www.330ritch.com, www.hacksawent.com

SOLO

"This Valentine’s Day, use those tears for lube" reads the tagline to this Homochic and Herrera Brothers succor for lonely alternaqueer boys. How could I improve upon that, except to tell you that DJ Jason Kendig will unleash some erotic disco at new hotspot Triple Crown. Bring your own towel. Sat/14, 10 p.m., $5. Triple Crown, 1760 Market, SF. www.triplecrownsf.com, www.homochic.com

UNICRONS

Is electro dead? Maybe, but let’s raid its grave. New local electro label Unicrons, of the energetic Work parties, still generates neon hearts from a spark. Its launch party includes superstar signatories Futuristic Prince, Media, and my current fave raves the Tenderlions, whose "In Addition" track makes me believe in life everlasting. Feb. 21, 9 p.m., $8. Mezzanine, 444 Jessie, SF. www.mezzaninesf.com

BALKAN MARDI GRAS

Wow, I’m totally not going to even touch on the similarities between the Balkans and New Orlean’s Ninth Ward — except to say they both sure know how to party, and there are usually a lot of tubas involved. The outrageous Kafana Balkan crew team up with puff-cheeked Brass Menazeri to celebrate Fat Tuesday with woozy Romani stomps and hyperkinetic reeling. Feb. 24, 8 p.m., $10. Rickshaw Stop, 155 Fell, SF. www.rickshawstop.com, www.myspace.com/kafanabalkansf

>>View more Super Ego columns here.

Super Ego: Bear attacks, roller skates, dry humps

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By Marke B.

Wait a minute, it’s February? Sheesh. In the spirit, perhaps, of our recently bipolar weather systems and my on-again off-again memory banks, I’ve been raving in my cubicle to two disparate tracks all week — one a tingly, moody laptop dubstep (lapstep?) zonker by Mount Kimbie:

Mount Kimbie, “Maybes”

And the other some good ol-fashioned achingly lovely wronged-woman house by Teddy Douglas of the Basement Boys, with his frequent collaborator, the immaculately voiced Margaret Grace. I’ve never really been a fan of Teddy’s basic-seeming beats, but this one really comes together around the three-minute mark, and grows and flows like a classic track by Quentin Harris (who actually cribbed quite a bit off the old Teddy, melody-wise):

God Created Woman (Vocal 12″) – Teddy Douglas feat. Margaret Grace

Neither of which will probably be played at any of the choice upcoming parties below, but hey — a miracle mashup in my wobbly head can be dreamed and deemed righteous, no? Check these out, and also more in my latest Super Ego clubs column. Do whatcha like!

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ROLLER DISCO PARTY
In absence of a nearby rink, rollerskating parties have found a new home in nightclubs and galleries. Just watch out for those warped floors! Do the bump, indeed. SF Indie Fest is throwing a Big Lebowski-themed shindig on wheels at CellSpace, with tunes by the Black Rock Roller Disco camp. Rentals provided – snowball and bromance optional.
Fri/13, 9 p.m., $10, $5 with costume. CellSpace, 2050 Bryant, SF. www.cellspace.org

Inflatable woman to host glorious gay circle jerk

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By Marke B

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Do those “Oscars of gay porn,” the GayVN Awards, actually help premium homosexual video productions gain a wider audience? Sure there’s the “recognition of your peers” aspect for directors, actors, key grips, etc — you may be surprised, but down those stubbly, grunting faces run the tears of several clowns — but do you honestly rush out after the awards are announced and snatch up the winning discs?

Well, we don’t know about that, but the whole shiny shirted shebang — hosted this year at the Castro Theatre on March 28, with satellite events all weekend — sure is a lot of septum-searing fun. (We’ll have all the details on the wild pre and after parties here as the “big event” approaches.)

Super Ego: Hear that Booty Call y’all

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By Marke B.

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Photos from Feb. 4’s jungalicious Booty Call party by Brandon Norris. Hi-ya, Terry T!

This past Friday, Hunky Beau and I breezed through the new and a little lamely named Club Q (didn’t every college town have a straight bar with a gay night called “Club Q” or “Q Bar” or something Q-similar on some random week day? Maybe that’s the point, here. I’ll keep mum on the continuing genericalization of the Castro.) In any case, it didn’t look like it had transformed much beyond the location’s past incarnation, Bar on Castro, which is now Bar on Church, on Church. Confusing! Well, maybe there was some more red lighting.

One definite vote for the new joint though: Joshua J. and Miss Juanita More have kept their fantastically successful Booty Call nights there.

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Your hostess and sometimes DJ, Miss Juanita More

Every Wednesday, fashionista gays (and alt friends!) gather to prance around to some soothing disco, funk, and soul, while fab photog pulls people into the theme-decored back room to snap them in party glory.

Lit: What about Iraqi women?

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By Marke B.

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To a slightly lesser extent than the invasion of Afghanistan — where Taliban assholes are still spraying young girls’ faces with acid — the occupation of Iraq was touted as a women’s liberation project. We were the white knights coming to tear the veils off and throw open wide the doors to fancy new schools, theaters, community centers, and business opportunities.

Boy, that turned out to be quite a bit of presumptive hash. In the giant WTF that followed “shock and awe,” many learned the limits of such blanket assertions — but of course the deaths of tens of thousands are still seen here as nothing but a big fat lesson for Westerners. What about the people who had to live through it all?

One incisive complaint is that the West has failed to include enough voices from Iraq to give a fuller picture of the occupation’s effects — both the disastrous and the hopeful. Iraqi women, especially, seem even more invisible now than before the invasion.

Co-authors Nadje Al-Ali, Reader in Gender Studies at the University of London’s School of Oriental and African Studies and Nicola Pratt, Lecturer in Comparative Politics and International Relations at the University of East Anglia, just released a new UC Press book that attempts a corrective. What Kind of Liberation?: Women and the Occupation of Iraq is the first book to examine how Iraqi women have fared since the invasion, and attempts to “expose the gap between rhetoric that placed women center stage and the present reality of their diminishing roles in the ‘new Iraq.'”

Ask a Porn Star

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In which super sexy porn people answer questions — each week — from Bay Area locals
By Justin Juul

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Lorelei Lee

Fielding your questions this month is local celebrity, Lorelei Lee. Lee specializes in fetish porn (water torture, whips-n-chains, electrocution, etc.) and has a blossoming side-career as a writer. Check out some of her movies/pics here and then stop into The Makeout Room on Valentines Day (Sat/14) to hear her read at Writers With Drinks.

Read our 2008 interview with Lorelei Lee here.

Heather D: Does your vagina/asshole hurt all the time? And if not, what’s your secret?

Lorelei Lee: I do sometimes get sore, but more often it’s my back or thighs that hurt from being, for example, in squatting reverse cowgirl or pressed up against some uncomfortable object – like a desk or a table. I try to do some stretching before my scenes. Actually, it’s pretty much the same thing for my ass and vag muscles – you have to warm yourself up and make sure your muscles are relaxed before you let anyone else penetrate you. I warm up with my own fingers and plenty of lube. Other girls often use their own dildos or butt plugs that they bring to set with them. And we always use a lot of lube – you don’t see that part in the edited movie, but in between shots we are reaching for the lube bottle.

David C: Do female porn stars have fluffers?

Wave your hands in the air

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Parisian hottie and Disco Death Tour headliner Arnaud Rebotini sports the slicked-back pompadour and vintage-shirted ensemblage of a primo rockabilly daddy — right down to the fifth of Jack Daniels he usually stashes behind his onstage equipment — augmented by the handlebar mustache of a ’70s porn star.

The music he makes, however, both as the vocalist with "frozen Balearic gay biker house" heroes Black Strobe and on his own as an analog electro-warrior in a laptop landscape, suggests more a canny backroom raver than a rhythm-and-blues or retro-disco traditionalist. Not to say that the rumble of souped-up engines and the salacious whir of Super-8 skin flicks don’t stream through his ancient electronics, but he’s definitely more about raising hands in the air than laying down steamy riffs.

Rebotini’s last solo release, Music Components (Citizen, 2008), was a valiant and largely successful attempt to build an solid dancefloor set around analog fanboy fetish instruments like the Korg Monopoly, Juno 60, and TRs 909 and 808 — no laptops or external sequencers allowed. What emerged was a MIDI wet dream that stomped the jambox and inverted the Valerie and Ghostly International camps’ Ableton-driven nostalgia formula — this man who looked like he walked right out of Can made actual music of the moment on his tinny machines.

Meanwhile, Black Strobe transformed from a witty electroclash-like DJ-vocalist duo into a full-blown live four-piece, which, confusingly, will be performing a DJ set on the tour. Also on hand will be earnest acid-disco hipsters In Flagranti — but my dream of dreams would be for Rebotini, French king of the analog 808, to someday team up with Alexander Robotnik, Italian king of the acid-generating 303, for a mind-blowing all-night session of laptopless hiptwisters. Rebotini and Robotnik in 2010!

DISCO DEATH TOUR

With Arnaud Rebotini, Black Strobe DJ set, and In Flagranti

Sat/7, 10 p.m., $10 advance

103 Harriet, SF

www.blasthaus.com

>>Marke sez

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Wow, I didn’t think we’d kick off this blog with so much ass play — usually I wait for the check to clear first before the flip. Hang with us folks, we’ve got a bunch of porn posts coming up, including our sure-to-be-classic “Ask a Porn Star” feature, and interviews galore.

Oh, and we here at the Guardian just published our G-Spot guide to love and lust, including features on sexy aphrodesiacs, hipster porn, sending the perfect valentine, and way more Valentine’s Day events than either I or local ramrod Antonio Biaggi‘s sex partners can handle.

Your SEX SF editor,
Marke B.

Christian Sex Toy of the Week

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By Juliette Tang


The Gospel according to Anal

When my twisted mind thinks of a “Christian sex toy,” I think of Linda Blair and her crucifix in The Exorcist. But for many, Christian sex toys are something else entirely. And no, I’m not talking about the The Diving Nun. Because when I think of Diving Nun, I start thinking about the Diving Bell and the Butterfly.

What was I talking about again?

Oh yes, Christian sex toys.

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