Year: 2005

A soaring and reflective composition by the American composer Stephen Paulus (who has a role in our profile of Libby Larsen, his friend and colleague), the world premiere of this oratorio features mezzo-soprano Christina Baldwin, soprano Norah Long, and the Basilica Cathedral Chorus. Expect a heady and deeply emotional performance in an inspiring space, presented by the Minnesota Orchestra to mark the sixtieth anniversary of the liberation of the prisoners from Nazi concentration camps. 88 17th St. N., Minneapolis; 612-371-5656; www.minnesotaorchestra.org

One of our favorite newer bands hooks up with a few of its esteemed forebears from the local scene, for what is perhaps the most anticipated of the Guest Session Sunday concerts. Those puckish young men in their blue tracksuits, who’ve been criminally forced to drop the “Olympic” and play simply as the Hopefuls, will be joined by both drummer Peter Anderson from the experimental popsters Polara and by the Flops, that sly “boy band” composed of John Munson and Matt Wilson (pictured here). And since Dan Wilson is also showing up, this could count as a de facto Semisonic/Trip Shakespeare reunion. Finally, with Rake columnist (and Current DJ) Mary Lucia hosting, this has all the makings for a witty and delightful evening. Fitzgerald Theater, 10 E. Exchange St., St. Paul; 651-290-1221; www.fitzgeraldtheater.org

I know that some people commute many more miles to work than I do and they don’t seem at all put out by it. But to me sometimes it feels like I work in a whole other state or even galaxy. I contemplate the frequent flyer miles I’ve accumulated. I gas up, load the car with supplies and mentally prepare to travel a long, long distance. For I work in downtown St. Paul. For a South Murderapolis gal this is a road trip.
When I first began my daily trek to the land of windbreakers and hockey, I noticed that an unusually large cross section of the driving population travels east on I-94 with an open flatbed truck filled with small, jagged rocks. Naturally, I am always behind this person and their load of missile-like debris. Crossing the river, I start fumbling in my purse for my passport, panicking, “Wait! Are all of my booster shots current? Did I ask someone to bring in my mail and feed my cats?” I do love that this ride provides me with consistent random visuals. One day I found myself traveling behind a rusted-out beater, a huge Lincoln Continental with a mattress precariously tied to its roof. If the driver swerved the tiniest bit within his lane, the Posturpedic shuddered from one side to the other, threatening at any moment to fly off into my windshield. When I made it to the next lane to pass, I saw that the driver was a woman in her early hundreds. I thought about her all day.
It’s natural for the occasional bug to meet his maker by splatting on your car windows, but birds? Is this a St. Paul thing? This has happened to me many times, most memorably the time that I noticed a large, blackish cluster of twigs stuck in one of the wipers. Only when I turned them on to shake it off did I realize it was a hummingbird! I figure I had probably concussed his little head as it dragged back and forth before my very eyes, and now I was so freaked out I just wanted this thing off my windshield. So I turned the wipers on “high,” said a quick bird prayer, and flung that sucker into the St. Paul vortex.
Email Mary at popularcreeps at yahoo.com.

Sometimes, disaster strikes in just the right way. The phenomenal guitarist Django Reinhardt honed his dazzling gypsy jazz style while recovering from a fire that lost him the use of two of his fingers (and nearly cost him his leg). The two-fingered playing style he developed actually improved on his already astonishingly speedy and complex music. Likewise, French composer and jazz guitarist Dorado Schmitt (pictured) used his recovery period from a car accident and subsequent eleven-day coma to learn to play the violin. His virtuoso performances with the festival band keep Django jazz cooking for audiences who can’t get enough of this electrifying genre. 1010 Nicollet Ave. S., Minneapolis; 612-332-1010; www.dakotacooks.com

Romance, love triangles, the older man/younger woman syndrome… didn’t we get enough of all this with Sex and the City? Maybe so, but they’re offered up with some engaging insights (and affectionate jabs at L.A.) in Steve Martin’s adaptation of his 2000 novella. The days grind by for the broke, lonely department store salesgirl Mirabelle (Claire Danes)–until she crosses paths with two archetypal suitors: a suave, womanizing, but ultimately remote millionaire (Martin) and a more age-appropriate but hapless lover boy (Jason Schwartzman). Excruciating romantic dilemma ensues; but count on this one to pan out in not-so-pat ways. 612-925-6006, www.landmarktheatres.com

Yoakam seems like an odd choice for a suburban club that has papered the town with sleek urban ads featuring chic young partiers. But we’re game: Yoakam’s latest recording, Blame the Vain, is pretty kicking. Eighteen albums down the line, and he still refuses to put out generic, compromised Nashville noise. Instead, he calls on the ghosts of Roy Orbison, Johnny Cash, and Buck Owens to remind us how country music should sound. Plus, we found out while perusing his official website that we could actually book him for our next event! Hmm. The Rake’s Holiday Hoedown is just around the corner. 3090 Southlawn Drive, Maplewood; 651-779-6984; www.mythnightclub.com

Screenwriter William Broyles Jr. had his work cut out for him: molding a story from Anthony Swafford’s nearly plotless account of being a Marine sniper in Operation Desert Storm, working with characters that come and go like catnap dreams, and then living with Swafford’s argument that all war films are pro-war ads for young men, because the “magic brutality of the films celebrates the terrible and despicable beauty of their fighting skills. Filmic images of death and carnage are pornography to the military man.” Ouch. With that in mind, the movie’s tagline, “Welcome to the Suck,” takes on new meaning to the idealistic, virile young man.

It’s getting harder and harder to get into the University of Minnesota. Fortunately for choreographer Merce Cunningham, he’s getting his U of M degree–albeit an honorary one–without going through the application process, let alone putting in the miles-long hikes between classes. At eighty-six years old, he’s probably glad about that. This month, Cunningham will be honored in numerous ways for his profound contributions to modern dance. The honorary degree is just the beginning; he’ll also be analyzed in a public lecture (November 1) called “How to Watch a Cunningham Concert,” and an exhibition of his drawings are on display at the Katherine E. Nash Gallery. Finally, his fourteen-member company will perform three landmark works from various points in his career: Suite for Five, with music by John Cage and costumes by Robert Rauschenberg; Native Green, with music by John King; and Split Sides, a 2003 work with music by Sigur Ros and Radiohead. Split Sides is never performed the same way twice; the piece opens with a roll of the dice that determines the sequence of the elements of the dance–the math works out to offer thirty-two possible combinations. 612-624-2345; www.northrop.umn.edu

The presidential campaign of George McGovern in 1972 marked the high point–and apparently the end point–of humane idealism in American politics, and this documentary details that incredible grassroots campaign. Well, Richard Nixon won the fight, but this film captures a brief moment when people believed America could be a country the whole world could admire. With music by Bob Dylan and Elvis Costello, and interviews with Gore Vidal, Gloria Steinem, Warren Beatty, Dick Gregory, and others, McGovern finally gets the hip presentation he could have used a few years back. 10 Church St. S.E., Minneapolis; 612-627-4430; www.bellmuseum.org

Henrik Ibsen’s A Doll’s House, written in 1879, has a long and storied production history. Fearing audience outrage, directors of some early productions ended the show with Nora peeking her head back inside the drawing room–so as to gaze playfully upon her husband Torvald after defiantly slamming out of the room. Then, in the 1980s, there was Ingmar Bergman’s stark reimagining of Nora’s domestic discontent. Now, Nora-the-Amazon meets Torvald-the-midget in a radical production, renamed DollHouse, which physically manifests the power relationship between these two. Mabou Mines is a troupe with its own storied production history as part of New York City’s avant-garde scene. 612-375-7600; www.walkerart.org