Marke B. Archives — Page 35 of 55 — San Francisco Bay Guardian Archive 1966

King me, Fudgie: Spermin’ out with drag’s biggest baller

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August 12, 2008

Hey, girl, hey: In this week’s Super Ego clubs column, I talk to the reigning king and queen of SF Drag: Fudgie Frottage of this Saturday’s 13th Annual San Francisco Drag King Contest, and Heklina of Trannyshack, whose weekly club is coming to a nuclear close after 12 years as I type this (listen very carefully and you can hear dizzy trannies exploding in the distance….) before her giant Trannyshack Kiss-Off Party on Aug 23 at the Regency Center.

Footage of the century: A youngish Heklina plugs the first Trannyshacks at Fudgie’s legendary DragStrip club, April 14, 1996. Arturo Galster MCs.

Look at me, I’m a starfucker. Below is my extended, unexpurgated, sticky-fingered interview with Fudgie, aka Lu Read, whose hairy roots stretch back to the heyday of SF’s punk rock drag scene. Strap one on and dive in.

SFBG: This is your lucky 13 — are you planning anything, like, spooky? Are there any SF Drag King disaster stories you can share?

Fudgie: Well, our theme this year sets us Kings donating to a sperm bank — that is genetically spooky to many, though most find it hilarious. Drag King disaster stories? Well, last year one of my balls failed to inflate during the opening number “Big Balls,” but the concept got across so it wasn’t a total disaster.

Yes Nurse! No Nurse! Photos by Larry Utley

SFBG: What in general do you have planned for this glorious, gorious evening?

Fudgie: Hard and throbbing musical productions, firm and penetrating performances, and extraordinary feats of entertaningly unbridled masculine stamina and staying power. Cohost Indra and I have a few surprizes, Electro, the Pop n’ Lock King, SFDK title holder from 2000 is flying in from NY as our special guest. He hasn’t performed here for 8 years and I’m really looking forward to seeing him — he is a fantastic performer!

The Contest is very much like a variety show, we’ve got bands like The Mighty Slim Pickins and TuffnStuff, aerialist burlesque with Kitty Kitty Bang Bang: some Kings lipsynch, some sing live, some choreograph amazing dance routines, of course there’s Fakin’ Aiken, this year’s title holder plus the troupe title holders The Pacmen from Sacramento who are adorable, talented and handsome. Surely Delicio Del Toro, L. Ron Hubby and Seimen Marcus will do something wild and crazy. The contest is like a mash-up of the Miss America Pageant, American Idol, So You Think You Can Dance, Project Runway, Halloween and a Monster Truck Show.

Fudgie gets fishy

SFBG: An annoying thing for me: Many people I know, even smart ones, don’t know much about the drag king community — drag queens get all the freakin’ press. What do you think about the lack of drag king visibility on the SF scene?

Photo Issue: Molly Decoudreaux looks beneath the nightlife

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August 11, 2008

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Photo by Molly Decoudreaux

It’s hopeless to ignore the incredible explosion of nightlife photography that’s happened on the Web and in art schools these past few years. And what better time than now, with our Photography Issue on the stands, to examine it a little?

For those of us who clung desperately in our ’80s Midwestern teens to every month’s Details (back when it was a nightlife zine and Michael Musto didn’t pee on celebrity legs) or took i-D as our lifeline to street fashion and personality-inversion in the outer world, the big bang’s been both exciting and a bit disconcerting. On the one hand, there’s incredible creativity being documented instantaneously and available to all — even in Djibouti, fantastic weirdos need never feel alone. On the other, there’s the sense that mere dressing up for the ever-present cameras has replaced actual self-expression. Misshapes! Cobra Snakes! Blue States Lose! And then there’s just the pure horrificality of sites like this one, which are about boobs. Par-T&A!

The upside: Club kids from the ’80s

The downside: Hoochies from last week

And yet, and yet. The dancefloor snappers here in SF are giving the nightlife bulbs a spin of their own, by focusing on the more artistic aspects of Clubland’s odd-wonderful players — and taking off in thoughtful directions, not restricting themselves to mere sublebrity paparazzi.

Case in point — the fab Molly Decoudreaux, a well-known nightlife gadabout who’s just published a fine new book, Here and There: Portraits.

The Oakland native got her start snapping pics of her hot dyke and faggot friends in blackout res, and has worked on projects for the Lexington Club, Big Top, and Lusty Lady.

Along the way, she’s developed a fierce photographic aesthetic that positions Clubland’s outsized personalities into a meditation of place. Her photos take in these club kids with admiring eyes, yet also deepen their glorious showboating with examinations of their daytime surroundings and situations. “My primary interest is portraiture,” she told me last week by phone. “Also gender representation and presentation — I started college as a gender and queer studies major — but captured in a way that looks at the layers through which we reveal or transform ourselves. Little cracks can show a lot.”

Two turntables and a saxophone: Meet DJ Purple

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August 11, 2008

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Intrepid reporter Justin Juul hits the streets each week for our Meet Your Neighbors series, interviewing the Bay Area folks you’d like to know most.

Steve Hays, AKA DJ Purple, is a Karaoke DJ — or a KJ as they’re called — who throws dance parties throughout the Bay Area. Forget everything you thought you knew about the karaoke scene. There are no sad old men or drunk frat boys singing Dave Matthews songs at DJ Purple’s shows. Serious music-lovin’ hipsters flock nightly to places like Jacks in The Mission – across the street from where this interview (and drive by shooting!) took place — to sing their favorite heavy metal, rap, and eighties pop tunes while DJ Purple plays back up on the sax. This ain’t your daddy’s karaoke show!!!

SFBG: So what’s your deal?
DJ Purple: I’m Steve Hays, otherwise known as DJ Purple Hays. Did you get that name connection there?

SFBG: Actually I think I just realized it a minute ago. It’s the Jimi Hendrix thing, right?
DJ Purple: Yeah, it’s more of a Jimi Hendrix connection as opposed to drugs or whatever. I actually started using the name back when I was in my first band. I was a little sophomore kid and there was this band of seniors I knew. I used to hang out at their shows and one day I was like “Can I play?” They asked me what my name was and when I said Hays, they were like “Oh let’s call him Purple.” I had no idea what they were talking about at the time.

SFBG: So then you just used it as your DJ name too?
DJ Purple: Yeah, well when I started deejaying -I used to just be a regular DJ, by the way; not a KJ like I am now- I played around with a few names. But then I made a flyer one night and left a stack of them at the bar while I was performing. Some guy picked one up and yelled “DJ Purple, No Way!!!” I figured if the name could get that kind of response out of some random guy at a bar, then it must be good.

SFBG: How long have you been doing the karaoke thing?
DJ Purple: I got inspired by a show I saw in 2002 in Palo Alto. It was a karaoke dance party as opposed to just your standard karaoke show. So this KJ had somehow managed to sell out a 500-person venue with a karaoke show. People from all over the Bay Area came to see him. It was awesome.

SFBG: So what exactly is the difference between a normal karaoke show and what you do?
DJ Purple: Well, 99% of the karaoke shows out there are kind of boring. As a real DJ, my focus is on moving the crowd. I like to get people dancing. So one of the main differences is that I don’t have slow songs in my book. The slow songs always ruin things. Like, you’ll get some high-energy stuff for a minute but then someone will stand up and sing “Yesterday” by the Beatles and the whole place will yawn. There are always weird pauses between songs too. I’m a DJ so I keep things moving. Each song transitions into the next and I do my best to keep the energy up.

“See you at the debates, bitchez”

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August 5, 2008

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OK, fine. I’m sorry, but I had to. The thing that hurts is that I’m actually weighing voting for her after the past week … once I finish this Glamour.

But the real question is: When will Britney respond?

Dinosaur tattoos are the new tramp stamp: Meet Sam Kehl

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August 5, 2008

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Intrepid reporter Justin Juul hits the streets each week for our Meet Your Neighbors series, interviewing the Bay Area folks you’d like to know most.

Sam Kehl is a singer/producer/DJ from Seattle who I randomly met on a camping trip in Morrow Bay. He was wearing a pink hat, a leather jacket, and really really cool sneakers, which was odd because all his friends were decked out in REI gear. Obviously the dude had never been camping before, and I don’t think he’ll ever go again. I mean, a man can drink whiskey and use his shoes for a pillow right here at home can’t he?

I’ve gotten to know Sam pretty well over the past few months and although he may suck at camping, I can say without a doubt that he rules at being weird. Oh and his music is really rad too. Check him out at The Eagle Tavern on August 7th at 10pm where he’ll be performing as both Samuelroy and Samnation. Listen to his tunes here. X-Ray Press and No New York will also be performing.

SFBG: So what’s your deal?
Sam Kehl: Hi, my name is Samuel Kehl. It’s spelled K-E-H-L. So I’m not related to the face products, Kiehl’s, or whatever. Sometimes people put me on flyers and spell my name like the face product. I hate that. Kehl is a German name, but I’m from Seattle.

SFBG: Why did you move to San Francisco?
Kehl: Well, San Francisco has a particular history of being queer and open-minded and there’s always been a lot of electronic music here. Seattle just got boring and I had already lived in New York so I decided to check out SF, mostly for the music.

SFBG: Any bands in particular?
Kehl: Well, I know there’s a lot of really really early experimental stuff here and all those Drum-&-Base people like UFO and DJ Abstract. There are others too, but I can’t remember. And um, Safety Scissors, Eats Tapes. Tiger Beats records. OK, so, not all the people I like are from SF, but I had already done New York and Seattle and I’m petrified of LA, so, well, I came here to do my music.

SFBG: So what’s up with your music anyway? How’d you develop your sound?
Kehl: I’ve been doing music for a really long time and I’ve been deejaying for exactly ten years. I don’t have any musical training, but I had choir and I sang in college. Oh and I played cello too. So I had all these different musical interests and then bands like the Postal Service and The Blow came out and I was like oh God, why don’t I do that? Why don’t I sing and make electronic music? Most of the electronic music that had vocals at that time was really bad. I was more into bands like Plaid and Aphex Twin, and Boards of Canada, like Warp Records stuff, you know? It didn’t really have vocals, but then those other bands came out, and I was like, Oh of course. What the hell? I should do that.

Aerobiqueen

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August 5, 2008

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PREVIEW There ought to be a name for the ecstatic genre of drag where the drag queen whirls and twirls more than she lipsynchs, points, or occasionally stalks across the stage. I’m thinking of when the svelte Varla Jean Merman swings from the rafters or any number of Southern man-belles ringading-ding a song home in a whirlwind of wig-tossing backflips. Acrotranny? Choreodrag? Whatever it is, the fabulously kinetic Edie has made it her own. She’s not only the aerobiqueen It Girl — she’s That Girl with a puffed-out Marlo Thomas ‘do, ass-high spangled shifts that showcase extraordinary legs in blurry strut-kick action, and a forest-fire smile that says "No!" but means "Yes?" Edie’s style can best be described as showgirl cocktail hour, a wry martini with a fruity umbrella that blends Audrey Hepburn cigarette-holder chic, frantic backup dancer shimmy, and occasional bursts of Cyd Charisse and Doris Day. (Yes, she sings.) After her act’s several breathless climaxes, you’re never sure whether to offer her an Eames chair or a Twister mat. It all comes on with a slightly demented edge: Mama misses her barbiturates. Edie’s Internet Boom–era run of performances at Mecca are now legendary — she was the perfect drag avatar of those status-drunk, screwy ultralounge times. After a successful stint with Cirque Du Soleil’s sensuous Zumanity in Las Vegas, she’s popping back into town to blow our Web 2.0 fedoras off. Grab your gimlets.

EDIE Rrazz Room, Hotel Nikko, 222 Mason, San Francisco. Fri/8, 10:30pm. $25. (415) 394-1189, www.therrazzroom.com

Aloha SF! Aloha Fest chills out — pics

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August 5, 2008

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By Ariel Soto

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Twirling hips, shaved ice and the aloha spirit filled the Precidio this weekend for the 14th Annual Aloha Festival. Hula dancers of all ages took to the stage to perform the fluid and precise dance famous of the tropical islands of Hawaii. Everyone seemed to be wearing flowers in their hair (appropriate not only for a Hawaii festival, but also perfect for a San Francisco event) and even a few canine friends got into the aloha mood. Visitors to the festival enjoyed munching on authentic Hawaiian fare and browsed amongst the numerous booths selling everything from bolts of blooming cloth, to cookies packed with macadamia nuts and even hula dancing dolls. What a perfect way to welcome in the misty Indian summer of an SF August than with such a sunny celebration as the Aloha Festival!

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Best of the Bay runners up!

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August 4, 2008

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Due to technical difficulties, aka my five-day celebratory bender, we’ve been unable to present the runners up in hotly contested Best of the Bay Food and Drink, Nightlife and Entertainment, and Shopping categories. Until now! Check ’em out!

Puppy brutally stabbed to death

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July 31, 2008

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First there was this news about a horrifying “puppy mill” being busted in Los Gatos — then we got this release. Please contact Lt. Le-Ellis Brown of Animal Care & Control at (415) 554-9400 if you have any information!

Animal Care & Control Seeking Info on Stabbing Of Foster Puppy

San Francisco – San Francisco Animal Care & Control is asking the public for help to find the person – or persons – responsible for stabbing to death a seven-month-old puppy in foster care with Grateful Dogs Rescue.

Pogo

The puppy – named Pogo – was being exercised by his foster parent at Ocean Beach in San Francisco at Sunset on July 22. He disappeared behind a sand dune and wasn’t seen again until his body was discovered dumped in an unincorporated area of the Bayview on the morning of July 29. Pogo had been brutally stabbed to death.

Pogo was a friendly, trusting pit bull puppy who had been taken from Animal Care & Control – SF’s open-door animal shelter – by Grateful Dogs Rescue. He had a genetic defect that required the amputation of one hind leg. The surgery to remove the leg was partially donated by San Francisco Veterinary Specialists – Pogo had fully recovered and was expected to lead a long and normal life. Grateful Dogs Rescue is one of the most active animal rescue groups working with Animal Care & Control. Their volunteers have taken and re-homed hundreds of needy dogs from the shelter.

Pogo was a brindle pit bull puppy with a white blaze, white around his nose and a white chest. He weighed approximately 40 pounds, was missing his right rear leg and was wearing a red collar when last seen.

Anyone with information about Pogo’s death – or info on Pogo being taken from Ocean Beach – should call Animal Care & Control at (415) 554-9400. A $2000 reward for information leading to the arrest and conviction of the perpetrator has been established by Grateful Dogs Rescue and The Friends of SF Animal Care & Control. To contribute to the reward fund, please contact Animal Care & Control at (415) 554-9412.

Sports: Down for the count

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July 31, 2008

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By A.J. Hayes

Our limited experience atop a pitching mound – and the corresponding disastrous results – precludes us from properly evaluating major league baseball pitch counts.

Tim Lincecum

But based on Saturday’s buzz kill of a finish at AT&T Park – Arizona’s 5-3 comeback win over San Francisco – one thing is abundantly clear. If the Giants are going to continue to keep a clicker on young star Tim Lincecum’s deliveries and routinely yank him from the game after a certain number of throws – the club is going to have to come up with a better mound contingency plan when he exits

Any more results like Saturday’s eighth inning implosion and the Giants risk a redux Chicago’s 1978 disco demolition night, sans burning wax platters of Donna Summer’s Greatest Hits.

As usual, Lincecum was rolling right along, striking out a career high 13 batters through seven innings, when he was abruptly yanked from the game. It wasn’t because Arizona had mounted a rally or Lincecum appeared to be gassed – he had just struck out the side in the seventh. No he was sent to soap up with Irish Spring because he had thrown 111 pitches and the team feared possible injury if he pitched any more.

Lincecum had thrown 121 pitchers in his previous game and San Francisco manager Bruce Bochy didn’t want to push the All-Star.

“The consensus was he was coming off a high pitch game. We’ve got to look after him a little bit here in the second half,” Bochy was quoted as saying.

The fact that he seemed to be throwing with just as much velocity as he had in the early innings or that Lincecum has never injured his throwing arm didn’t seem to figure into the decision. He was gone and that was that. Lincecum was yanked, and the beleagued reliever Tyler Walker was summoned.

What happened next was nearly sadly predictable as watching a gaggle of besodden twenty-something in tight fitting denim wobble down Union street on a given weekend night.

Burning, burning for you: Crucible Fire Arts Festival lights up East Bay

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July 25, 2008

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Guardian videographer Ariel Soto visited the Crucible’s 8th Annual Fire Arts Festival (and talked to some firemen!) for SFBG TV.

America, meet your new gay bachelor

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July 22, 2008

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Yes, the meat is in! But first, let us pause for some sad news. Estelle Getty, beloved Golden Girl, has passed on to that pastel lanai in the sky. (queer tear.)

Yet we move on … to myPartner.com‘s crowning, last week, of America’s Most Eligible Gay Bachelor. It was inevitable, I guess, and my inbox has been absolutely flooded of late with what the more or less cynical among us would regard as desperate capitalization on the whole legal same-sex marriage thing. But I must admit that myPartner is a tad genius. It set itself up before the California Supreme Court ruling as a matchmaking site for gays looking for “long-lasting relationships” — kind of a Bizarro Manhunt, except that Manhunt’s recently evolved into the gay MySpace (it’s no longer crossing the line to know what your bff’s dick looks like, zomg). It all seemed a bit confusing initially, especially since the promotional materials featured hot shirtless guys rolling around in bed and promised the possibility of “making connections” on business trips out of town. Slutty! Hedging their bets! But when that ruling came down, myPartner was perfectly positioned to pimp its romantic fantasy wares, and boy did it jump on that shit with this nationwide Most Eligible Gay Bachelor contest. Good for them.

But enough of that — let’s get to the goods. Here he is ladies and gentlemens, after 35,000 big gay online votes (that’s 350,000 in heterosexual votes!) and a live runoff in San Diego during Pride Week, your new husband on the hoof (with foof) is …. Abel Lima, Mr. Rhode Island, who, oddly perhaps, resides right here in San Francisco!

Just look at that smile! He won $25,000.
Photo by Tara Luz Stevens.

Abel was the winner, out of five finalists, based on high ratings in the category of “mind,” “body,” and “soul.” No word on how he did in the quantum mechanics portion of the contest. Coming in 2020: Most Eligible Gay Widower contest. It’s the Golden Girls all over again!

To scope the other contestants — rather handsome I must say, although I’m still into Polk Street hustlers badly in need of dentistry — click here.

Sports: Jersey Boys will be boys

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July 21, 2008

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By A.J. Hayes

They haven’t been teammates since Jimmy Carter’s swansong year in the White House, but when John “The Count” Montefusco and Ed “Ho-Ho” Halicki got together this past weekend and saucily ribbed each other like a couple of high schoolers – one might have suspected the tart-tongued former Giants pitchers were still Candlestick Park locker mates.

“So when we got on the plane I flushed Ed’s socks down the toilet!” – John Montefusco, on one of his Giants days pranks

Though they haven’t spent much time together since 1980, Halicki and Montefusco have a world in common.

Each former pitcher was born in New Jersey in 1950. They were both signed by Giants scout Buddy Kerr in 1972 and made their major league debuts with San Francisco two seasons later in 1974. Each was a classic clubhouse prankster.

And each ace threw no-hitters for the Giants. Halicki, fired his, a 6-0 win over the New York Mets at Candlestick Park on August 24, 1975. The Count, earned his no-no, a 9-0 domination of the Braves in Atlanta on September 29, 1976.

No Giant has pitched a no-hitter since Montefusco’s bicentennial year masterpiece.

In between bites of mini-pizzas, pigs- in- blankets and other hors d’oeuvres and reacquainting themselves with former teammates such as Jim Barr, Mike Sadek, Tom Griffin and Elias Sosa – Ho-Ho and the Count told us what it was to be a Giant in the 1970s.

Montefusco, on hiding Halicki’s socks in St. Louis:

Ed had just beat St. Louis on the road in 1977 and we were headed to the airport to fly back to San Francisco. Ed had a date that night back in the city and boy, was he dressed to kill. He was hot and all sweaty and was the last one to come out of the locker room and he’s yelling ‘I can’t find my socks!’ He’s looking all around and going, ‘someone took my fucking socks!’ – so he ended up putting on these bright orange sanitaries (baseball socks) that we started wearing as part of the uniform that season – so he’s all dressed to kill, but he’s got on these orange socks… well he gets on the bus and the guys start screaming at him ‘cause he was late getting on the bus and Bill Madlock is sitting there laughing at him.

Ed goes up to Madlock and screams “you better give me back my fucking socks!”

Ta-ta and smack-smack, Trannyshack

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July 19, 2008

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As many if not all know by now, Trannyshack, revered weekly trash-drag temple of glittery gore from the planet Thrift Town, is ending after 12 years of tranny antics (trantics?). Head honchette Heklina revealed to me the exact reasons why in a candid interview back in early February — and I didn’t even have to score her any hot sex with quadriplegic Desert Storm veterans in return! She’s magnanimous. I’m scoopy. We traded memories.

Right now, Trannyshack’s counting down to its close with a series of four command performance nights featuring fave messy queens from the present and past. That will be followed by a ginormous, absolutely ginormous, Trannyshack Kiss-Off Party at the Regency Center on August 23. This shindig will double as this year’s famed Trannyshack Pageant as well, and will encompass appearances by Lady Bunny, Justin Bond, Lady Miss Kier, Ana Matronic, and more. I smell glorious disas-tears.

Let’s leave this off with the incredible Glamamore’s (NSFW maybe!) performance of Bjork’s “Pagan Poetry.”

Old Skool Cafe Gospel Brunch gives back

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July 10, 2008

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Guardian videographer Ariel Soto visited the Old Skool Cafe Gospel Brunch at Farmer Brown restaurant, and really enjoyed the bacon.

Lit: Commie Girl rips OC, invades SF

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July 8, 2008

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By Kat Renz

Commie Girl on the OC: “It took Senor Schwarzenegger’s propositions, overwhelmingly denied through the rest of the state and overwhelmingly approved here, to make me see just how willingly I’d blinded myself. It’s not the conservatism that bothers me: it’s the nastiness. The nattering classes I’d thought were fringey were in fact the decision makers.”

First off, what a great word: nattering. Second, really? I couldn’t believe Commie Girl — a.k.a. Rebecca Schoenkopf, a.k.a. “the black widow/queen bee of alternative journalism”(Orange Country Register) — claimed forced ignorance for nine years. “ ‘That’s a bad rap’,”she told me, describing her excuses over the phone from the porch of her new-as-of-eight-days home in LA. “ ‘We have a lot of Republicans, but we’re electing Democrats in central county and blah blah blah.’ But no, I was wrong. I was totally, totally wrong.”

It seems perfect timing: Schoenkopf’s inaugural book — Commie Girl in the OC (Verso Press, 2008), a compilation of scathing tales of Orange County high and low culture written under her leftie-chick moniker – was published just as she’s moved out of the OC. When I spoke with Commie Girl, she’d just finished whirlwindedly unpacking her boxes among the blue-violet jacaranda trees and 1930’s Spanish bungalows of Los Angeles’s Wilshire ‘hood. Her relocation effectively wrapped up a 12-year tenure at the Orange County Weekly and ushered in a new one as editor of Los Angeles City Beat.

But rewind a decade, when Commie Girl was born after taking over an OC Weekly nightlife column. Schoenkopf insisted her commentary be told through her unique filters: a 25-yr-old socialist, Catholic-Jewish, educated, single mother. About five years later, a little partied-out, her column evolved into pure politics.

Pics: Fillmore Jazz Festival saxes up the art stalls

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July 7, 2008

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By Ariel Soto

The syncopated sounds of the Fillmore Jazz Festival made their way through the huge crowd this 4th of July weekend. The fair-goers perused the many stalls lining Fillmore street, that were filled with vibrant art, jewelry and hats, some of which were directly influenced by the jazz theme that enveloped the weekends festivities. Kids ran around while saxophones blared from three different stages and adults threw back margaritas being sold by women with crazy glasses who were running stalls in front of local bars. Friendly, docile greyhounds were up for adoption (I so wanted to bring one home!), whose booth was conveniently located next to the bar-b-qued oyster and turkey leg stand, which I’m sure kept the dogs noses consistently pleased. The Fillmore District, famous for being a mecca for jazz music for many past decades, seems to be keeping the spirit of the music alive through this yearly event.

All your YouTubes belong to Viacom

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July 3, 2008

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Happy Independence! This is one of those creepy techie developments that I wish our incredible Techsploitation columnist Annalee Newitz would sink her privacy-defending cyberteeth into, but alas, her column has ended this week.

Basically, as Machinist’s Farhad Manjoo reports (via Wired), in an ongoing copyright infringement case brought by Viacom against YouTube, a judge just yesterday ordered YouTube parent company Google to hand over “12 terabytes of logs (approximately 12,000 GB) [to Viacom] that detail each instance in which someone pressed Play on a YouTube video, plus the YouTube username of the viewer who watched it, the date and time at which the user pressed Play, and the IP address of the viewer’s computer. The database covers videos seen both on YouTube as well as those embedded on other pages: If you’ve never visited YouTube but have clicked on a YouTube video from your daily newspaper’s Web site, you’re in the database.”

Comedy Central knows you’ve watched Busty Heart crush a six-pack with her boobs!

Google Search Privacy: Plain and Simple

Viacom, idiotically, still wants to bust YouTube for transmitting copyrighted clips posted by users. “Idiotically,” I say, because if stoner/slackers didn’t put down their combo bong-remotes long enough to post “John Stewart” snippets to YouTube, I’d have absolutely no idea who the heck he was, except someone badly in need of a hairdresser.

I love Web 2.0! We’re all victims of our own pleasure. Next: US Government busts scruffy earnest dudes from Florida who trash Madonna melodically.

Semiconscious Consumerism: American Spirits light the way to the finish line

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July 3, 2008

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Just in time for the Fourth of Independenciality, another installment of our Semiconscious Consumerism blog by confused-with-a-capitalism-C Justin Juul. To read about his previous Nike vs. American Apparel torment, click here.

Sweatpants and Spirits. Fannypackin’ across the Bay to Breakers finish line.

I started smoking when I was 14 years old and I’ve never been able to stop. The gum didn’t work. The patch didn’t work. The plastic cigarette holders that show tar buildup didn’t work. Shit, even adopting a rigorous jogging schedule (I’m up to 25 miles a week!) hasn’t done anything to curb my appetite for tobacco. I’m a smoker through and through. But at least I’m a healthy smoker, a highly functional smoker as we’re called. I run, I bike, I don’t eat meat, and I only smoke American Spirits, the healthiest cancer sticks on the market. Just kidding! I do smoke American Spirits, but I’m not dumb enough to buy into all that hippy marketing crap. I was at one time though.

Mr. V

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July 1, 2008

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PREVIEW Anybody out there miss hip-house? I do, although I often blush at its bare innocence — coming at a time before the separatism of gangsta rap and corporate rave, when 1980s MCs like Fast Eddie, Kool Rock Steady, Merlin, or the Wee Papa Girls could preen over a jazzy or acid-inflected groove and it felt like underground worlds colliding brilliantly.

Nuyorican house DJ, producer, and rapper Mr. V isn’t exactly the reincarnation of that much-maligned genre, although 2005’s "V Gets Jazzy" (Vega) with Louie Vega is a fierce update of KC Flightt’s 1987 hip-house classic "Let’s Get Jazzy" (TMT). Mr. V’s not even a rapper, per se — he’s more into gently exhorting the crowd to "Put Your Drink Down," do "Da Bump," and "Jus’ Dance," because he’s giving you "Somethin’ With Jazz." Those four spoken-vocal jams have been lodged in club speakers worldwide for the past three years, and the 34-year-old Mr. V’s instantly recognizable voice, combined with spooky-stunning mixes from Masters at Work and Quentin Harris, has injected some of the old hip-house glow and energy into house’s ever-looming loungeteria doldrums. When Mr. V sexily growls, "Bring some baby powder to the dance floor," boards from Brooklyn to Jo’burg get liberally sprinkled.

V’ll be spinning an old-school eclectic set — and hopefully taking the mic — at Mighty on Saturday, July 5 as part of the "For the Love of House" party, a title that somewhat confusingly refers to yet another nuevo hip-house hit, 2005’s "4 the Love" by DJ Karizma, who’ll be appearing July 13 at the Super Soul Sundayz weekly in the Temple catacombs (www.myspace.com/supersoulsundayz). A mini hip-house revival? Break out the talcum. (Marke B.)

"FOR THE LOVE OF HOUSE" With Mr. V, John Cutler, Michael Tello, and others. Sat/5, 10 p.m., $10 advance. Mighty, 119 Utah, SF. (415) 626-7001, www.mighty119.com

US Air Guitar Championships soundcheck thrashes past

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July 1, 2008

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By Ariel Soto

With their beer mugs in hand, a crowd gathered around a small stage at Bar None in the Marina for US Air Guitar Championships soundcheck on June 24th, before the show later at the Independent. Hot Lixx Hulahan, the 2006 National Air Guitar Champion who hails from San Francisco, started the evenings show by “playing” a myriad eclectic guitar tunes that spanned several musical genres.

Hey, hey, Hot Lixx

Each artist who performed was unique not only in their way of strumming the strings, but also in their personal fashion sense and ability to interact with the crowd. At the beginning of the show Hot Lixx said that what the judges look for at the actual competition is showmanship, skills when actually playing the guitar, and most importantly that they embody a powerful sense of “air” in their every move.

Video: San Francisco Bicycle Music Festival 2008

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July 1, 2008

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Guardian videographers Rhyen Coombs and Eric Zassenhaus reported from the Bicycle Music Fest on June 21.

Seven Hells of SF: The road to hell is paved with potholes

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June 30, 2008

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By Kat Renz

Rounding the peaks. All photos by Frank Chan. View more here.

“When gas is five bucks a gallon, I’m joining you!” An excellent sentiment shouted by a supportive driver on the afternoon of Saturday, June 21, from her idling car. And it was something I’d been thinking all day, that the three dozen other velophiles with whom I was riding the city’s most vertical inclines, officially dubbed “The Seven Hells of SF Bike Tour” were the badasses who’d easily contend with the realities – at least the personal transportation ones — of the fast approaching shitstorm called peak oil. Yet would the driver have expressed the same enthusiasm had she witnessed our collective past five hours – including the four blocks of Divisadero we had triumphantly climbed to the finish line at Sacramento five minutes before?

You’ll recall from high school lit class that Dante’s version of hell had nine circles, and they were cold. This unique tour’s organizers’, Dan Reider and Frank Chan, rendition had seven hills, all scorchers, exacerbated by the fact we rode midday on the tail end of the very un-San Francisco summer heat wave.

“Maybe I’m the only idiot who’s done this three times.” Chan remarked once we were relaxing back at our starting point, the daisy-dotted grass at the east end of the Panhandle (Chan was also the only one with a gigantic camera dangling from his neck, and he still roasted most of us on the hills in order to document our agonizing glory). There’s a reason why the tour’s only offered about once every two years, as that seems to be the average recovery time. Regardless of our recently burning lungs and wobbly legs, at least three-fourths of our group of 42 finished, and all were stoked. One rider said it was the most fun (Fun?! Yep, fun.) he’d had in a long time, and another dared to suggest the tour should be offered more regularly.

The torturous route

In case you can’t wait another couple years and want to try the hell ride yourself, here’s a lowdown of the route’s most prominent peaks.

More Montreal Fringe Fest: Peg-Ass-Us, Zombie parties, faux kraut rock …

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June 30, 2008

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Nicole Gluckstern reports from the Montreal Fringe Festival. You can read part one here.

It’s Monday morning, three am. In the last week I’ve eaten my way through a pound of chocolate-covered espresso beans, a bottle of Excedrin, and countless bowls of $2 chow mein, and now find myself uttering the unlikeliest phrase of all: “I’ll almost be glad when the party is over.”

The plays, the pleasure, the poster. Photo by Barry Smith

Not that the party is ever truly over in Montreal in June. Montreal in June, like Madrid eleven months a year, is like an endurance marathon of frenetic activity. Sure — the Fringe Festival has come to an end, but tomorrow is Saint-Jean Baptiste — Quebec’s largest and proudest festival day of all, the one day a year that even the dépanneurs (beer stores) don’t stay open. Also happening as I type: the Suoni per il Popolo Music Festival, the First Peoples’ Festival, the Free Jazz Festival, a Baroque Music fest, and the Infringement. And it ain’t free–but I’ve still somehow managed to score myself a ticket to Leonard Cohen’s sold out concert on Wednesday. No, there’s no end to the party around here, but the Fringe, at least, c’est fini. Since last night was the official awards ceremony, I feel obliged to offer my own shortlist of totally subjective, unofficial awards, in no particular order, to celebrate my personal top ten favourite moments of the Montreal Fringe, 2008.

1) Best passionate dissertation in musicology: Led Zeppelin was a Cover Band, by Stéfan Cédilot. Not a play so much as an exploration of the musical path leading from old beloved blues tunes to 70’s rock-and-roll, Cédilot’s love for his subject is evident in every anecdote and every rarity spun. His air guitar skills could use some polishing, but his enthusiasm couldn’t be better.

2) Best off-venue set design and use of space: The Beekeepers. Built into a tiny corner of a tiny cafe, The Beekeepers set is claustrophobic, spare, and entirely apt. Boarded up doors, a solitary bee box, wood floors, and a single suspended picture frame to serve as a window somehow conjure up the vision of an old wreckage of a farmhouse, barricaded against the rioting starving on the outside. We, the captive audience, are not even granted the cover of darkness, and the effect is as if we are watching an uncomfortable fight between a couple struck with cabin fever while sitting in their living room.

Fucking Zombie Party! Photo by Barry Smith

3) Best reason to stay up until 4 a.m. on a Monday (and a Tuesday, and a Wednesday….): The 13’th Hour. This Montreal Fringe variety show, which starts at one am.m every night of the Fringe, is a cornucopia of spontaneous hilarity and a showcase of the best (and worst) performers on the circuit. Suavely hosted by members of local improv troupe, Uncalled For, the hour often lasts two, punctuated by spins of the “money wheel” which leads to prizes the whole room can enjoy. Plus they threw a Zombie-themed party this year which somehow managed to surpass even last year’s Mass Wedding party in terms of sheers debaucherous entertainment.