Year: 2004

Truly smart poetry, with its seductive surfaces, sometimes risks the hollow note. But the poems in Earthling, the first book from Minneapolis poet Steve Healey (just published by Coffee House Press), display a heart that beats with the iambic resonance of a credible soul. Intelligent, playful, and fast-moving, they also contain a sense of genuine wonder and the power to astonish again and again; when least expected, Healey reaches deftly down into the achingly human: “Something sharp and soft, / a turning corner that didn’t say good-bye, / there’s a reason for being gone.” These are poems with a sensibility of quiet humor, startling inversion, and depth: “A backwards escape artist, the way clothes / wear us, it takes detergent to wash us out.” Healey reads from Earthling as part of the Rain Taxi Reading Series. 110 5th Ave. S.E., Minneapolis; www.soapfactory.org

The publication of political books is coming so thick and fast that you’d be forgiven for wondering if a recent NEA study, the one about the decline of reading in America, just plain got it wrong. Among them is the paperback release of Molly Ivins’ best-selling Bushwhacked: Life in George W. Bush’s America, with an author tour cannily timed to add to the heat under Bush’s (seemingly fireproof) ass. The policy-oriented sleuthing of Ivins and co-author Lou Dubose connects the struggles of average people over the past forty-three months to actions taken—or withheld—by the Bush administration. An elderly Philadelphian who died of listeriosis illuminates USDA policies regarding the meatpacking industry; a high-school student in Texas gets “Bushwhacked” twice by No Child Left Behind rigamarole; and a single mother represents millions of pre- and post-9/11 unemployed who fell through the cracks during the great jobless recovery. In these and more than a dozen other tales as witty as they are well-researched, the authors pointedly note that culture wars, smoking, lifestyles, religion, etc. are all distractions from the basic fight at hand: “It is about who’s getting screwed, and who’s doing the screwing. And anybody who tells you different is lying for money.” Additional nuggets of common sense will surely be dispensed at the reading. Galleria, 3225 W. 69th St., Edina; 952-920-0633; www.bn.com

Considered one of Chekhov’s best—if shortest—plays, The Cherry Orchard’s mix of comedy, tragedy and romance in in turn-of-the-century Russia is still relevant, given the hardships that continue to plague the country. Madame Ranevskaya leaves her no-good husband in Paris and returns to her homeland estate to tend to its beautiful orchard. She struggles with money, unable to give up her lavish habits, and soon feels the pressure of the feudal system shifting around her. In a twist of irony, the son of the peasant who used to tend the land now might buy it out from under her—taking the cherries and leaving her the pits. Chekhov masterfully juggles a huge cast of characters, each flawed and heroic in his or her own way, so the audience must suffer and sympathize equally with each one. Theater in the Round’s set—it’s round, you know—facilitates this by offering perspectives from all angles. 245 Cedar Ave., Minneapolis; 612-333-3010; www.theatreintheround.org

The Jungle and Craig Wright aren’t the only theatrical team tackling 9/11 this month. The Illusion’s Northern Lights project, in fact, is an admirably ambitious affair, staging eleven plays that grapple with the meaning of that pivotal event of our time, all newly commissioned and selected from among eighty contenders. The works include Newsday columnist Jimmy Breslin’s drama about a man haunted by the disappearance of a neighbor he barely knew, and a selection of Minnesota playwrights, including Anne Dimock’s Woman Bakes American Flag Cake—a tweak of the Onion’s 9/11 issue. 528 Hennepin Ave., Minneapolis; 612-339-4944; www.illusiontheater.org

If you want to catch a rising star, this is a good place to look. The venerable Second City comedy troupe, in business since 1959, is easily America’s most prolific source of comedy talent. Besides Belushi, Candy, Murray, Radner and the rest of the Saturday Night Live and SCTV crew you probably already know about, Second City’s given us folks like Alan Arkin, Robert Klein, and more recently, Mike Myers and Tina Fey. The young comics that’ll be working their improv magic at the O’Shaughnessy might be unknowns now, but in five years, they might be starring in the next Blues Brothers. (Or the next It’s Pat, but let’s hope not.) 2004 Randolph Ave., St. Paul; 651-989-5151

Most would agree that finding humor in 9/11 seems nigh-impossible. But humor is too essential—to the human condition and to our need to cope with the enormity of the disaster—to discard entirely. That Craig Wright found a way both to be funny and to face the great darkness at the heart of 9/11 is remarkable; that he wrote the script the week after the towers fell is nothing short of amazing. Events, briefly, is a 9/11 romantic comedy that concerns a blind date on 9/12, and mixes heavy drama with such absurd touches as a sock puppet that role-plays Joyce Carol Oates. This bold concept opened to mixed reviews in New York last year (perhaps largely because of Heather Graham’s performance in the lead role). But between director Bain Boehlke and the Jungle’s long relationship with Wright—they’ve produced every one of his previous works—there’s probably no other theater with a better understanding of how to stage Wright’s work. Wright setting his play in Minneapolis is an added bonus—here, perhaps, is the first significant theatrical work about 9/11 to come from a Midwestern perspective. 2951 Lyndale Ave. S., Minneapolis; 612-822-7063; www.jungletheater.com

Though Albert Kuvezin grew up in the tiny Soviet republic of Tuva and learned the astonishing polytonal singing technique, khoomei, that’s the hallmark of the country, he also found inspiration in underground American acts like Sonic Youth. (We can only imagine how hard it was to get a copy of EVOL in 1980s Communist-era Siberia.) So it’s no surprise that of the many Tuvan throatsinging groups that have found an audience among Western world-music fans, his group Yat-Kha has the greatest interest in rocking out—combining traditional Tuvan instruments and song styles with that quintessentially American export, the electric guitar. When they’re really cooking, as on “Karangailyg Kara Hovaa (On the Endless Black Steppe),” from the 2000 album Yenisei-Punk, Kuvezin and crew pound out a dark, rich, dangerous, and thoroughly satisfying witches’ brew. The group kicks off its U.S. tour right here in Minneapolis. 416 Cedar Ave. S., Minneapolis; 612-338-2674; www.thecedar.org

The live album everyone remembers, of course, is Stop Making Sense, thanks to the Jonathan Demme-directed movie and the iconic image of David Byrne in that gigantic suit. But as much as we like Sense, it’s hard to beat this double-disc set, finally out for the first time on CD and with a half-hour of unreleased material added. This Band collects material from the Heads’ formative early years, 1977 to 1981, when they were at their most white-hot creatively—the brilliant concert revamps of their Remain in Light songs are especially thrilling. Available now

We’ve been admirers of John Hermanson’s brand of harmonic, smart guitar-pop since 2001, the year his band Alva Star released Alligators in the Lobby, and couldn’t be more pleased that he’s got not one but two lovely new CDs out. Alva Star’s Escalator is a breezy, uplifting set of tunes fronted by Hermanson’s pleasing tenor and heart-on-his-sleeve songwriting. And Storyhill, Hermanson’s cult-favorite collaborative duo with Chris Cunningham, has just come out with the splendid Duotones, covering songs by the 1970s singer-songwriter pairs who inspired them, and with liner notes by Chuck Tomlinson and Joel Stitzel of the Radio K program Cosmic Slop. It’s currently only available on storyhill.com until the official release next year, but is well worth seeking out. Available now

The problem with far too much electronica is that it’s so darn electronic—mechanistic, repetitious and soulless. (That’s one of the things that drove us out of the dance clubs before we were thirtysomething with bad knees.) What we love about Mouse on Mars, and especially the German duo’s wonderful new album Radical Connector, is how organic the music sounds—the seemingly random pops, bleeps, whirrs and vocalizations all fit together in some strangely computerized but very groovy way. We especially keep returning to “Wipe That Sound,” a perfect rolling rhythm that isn’t built at all the way James Brown would have approached a song, and yet is irrepressibly and indubitably funky. 110 N. 5th St., Minneapolis; 612-338-3383; www.thequestclub.com