Year: 2007

  • For the Love of Vintage

    retroramaModel.jpg
    The Minnesota History Center’s RetroRama event is tomorrow (Thursday) night.

    Note: The promotional photo at left was stolen from the History Center’s site. But I feel entitled to it, since it features a moonlighting model/Rake staff member.

    In any case, about that event: Five local designers, including milliner/ Voltage producer Anna Lee, went digging through the History Center’s enormous textile archives, trolling for inspiration. Tomorrow’s runway show features the fivesome’s vintage-styled dresses, menswear, and accessories. Also on display (i.e., worn by mannequins with twenty-four-inch waists) will be various pieces from the History Center archives (too fragile to let teetering models touch). Vintage entities unto themselves, The New Standards are providing the musical backdrop. (They’re not my favorite band, but I hear Al Franken likes ’em.) And stand-up retro retailers such as Succotash and Up Six will be selling their wares. Martinis and mid-century appetizers (pigs in blankets, anyone? or perhaps a pickle roll-up?) will be handily available, too.

    If you can’t make it, don’t despair. I’ll be there, with Elph in hand. Check back on Friday for the report.

  • The Path

    DSCF1711.jpg
    pimp your Snickers

    Maybe I’ll be a food stylist. There’s clearly a mastery to that.

    Maybe I’ll open a giant snack store.

    Don’t want to be a sushi platter…but I might be a wonton origamist.

    Somehow, I have to find a gig that let’s me mmmmmmmmm my way around the world…

    For now, maybe I’ll just concentrate on launching my Cake-in-a-Jar empire.

  • The Sky Is Falling! The Sky Is Falling!

    What the hell is up with these ridiculous two-game series?

    And what the hell happened to that team that swept three from Seattle on the road?

    Beats me. After stumbling in Kansas City over the weekend the Twins came home and, facing 23-year-old Cleveland pitchers on back-to-back nights, looked anxious and undisciplined at the plate. And as was so often the case in 2005 and early last season, whenever the club is struggling offensively the pitching staff seems to find a way to pitch just poorly enough to lose.

    Tuesday’s 5-3 loss smarted on a number of levels. The Twins of recent vintage have a history of making guys like Fausto Carmona (another great name) look like Greg Maddux in his prime. Carmona was 1-11 in his short career going into his match-up with Johan Santana, yet the Twins seemed to have no clue against him, and it was a painful thing to watch.

    We’ve also pretty much been able to take Santana for granted, particularly at home, and after being virtually bulletproof in the Dome for several seasons the club’s ace has now lost two straight in the Teflon Dump. It’s too early to get alarmed, and Santana has been a slow starter in the past, but every time he loses it just tightens the bolts in the ears of the rest of the pitching staff and ramps up the anxiety level all around.

    This recent patch of turbulence has definitely raised some questions about the Twins’ depth and their dependence on some guys who, last year’s performances aside, are still largely unproven. And it’s kind of scary to consider how much the club needs the bats of aging veterans Rondell White and Jeff Cirillo in the lineup. When you start to ask questions and guys like White and Cirillo are the best answers you can provide you’re heading into some potentially perilous territory.

    It’s a weird
    game. Remember that Yankees team that looked so powerful in taking two-of-three from the Twins earlier in the month? They’re now in last place in the AL East, half a game behind the Tampa Bay Devil Rays. At least half of the Twins’ starting pitchers at Rochester would already be in New York’s rotation.

    Britt Robson and I have been going back and forth since the season started about the relative merits of Justin Morneau and Cleveland’s Grady Sizemore. Britt insists he would swap Sizemore for Morneau in a heartbeat. I’m still not so sure. I am, though, sure that I wouldn’t hesitate to pull the trigger on a Travis Hafner/Morneau trade. Who wouldn’t?

  • The Nays Have It

    When I was a kid, we often took votes at the dinner table. More often than not, the count was four to one, with my Dad being the one. After the count, he’d invariably announce, “Well, I won again.”

    When we’d protest, he’d explain, “My vote is the only one that counts.” (My brother soon devised another vote to counter dad, though. The question was, “Who thinks Dad’s a dork?” The vote was still four to one, but on that one, his vote was the only one that didn’t count.)

    Of course, Dad’s vote counted because, well, he was the boss of the house. (Mom voted with us just to be nice. She really agreed with Dad.) Aside from being the boss, he had more sense than his three sons have ever been able to muster, and his decisions were usually right. I particularly remember once when he refused to let me drive to my girl friend’s house during an ice storm–a decision that has been recalled to me three times when my own children have wrecked cars on icy days.

    So, I had to laugh this morning when reading the story of the New York Times’ annual meeting at which one class of shareholders voted to oppose the current board of directors’ way of running the paper. The Times is a patriarchy if there ever was one. There are two classes of stock, one owned by the public, and one controlled by the founding Ochs-Sulzberger family. The family stock is the vote that counts.

    And that’s why we have a newspaper like The Times, which spends all sorts of money to hire people like reporters–2,000 of them–and spreads them all over the world so those of us who appreciate breadth and nuance in reporting have somewhere to get it.

    Along with The Washington Post and a few other papers who still are under family control, they’re significant contributors to the fabric of democracy, and are so evaluated by their families, who are indeed wealthy, but measure their wealth in more than mere stock prices.

    That’s a lot like our family, I’m proud to say.

  • Rarities in Minnesota

    SPORTS
    Boxing in Minnesota? No kidding.

    jason_litzau_240x230_110105.JPGIt’s not too often I see the words “boxing” and “Minnesota” together in a sentence — unless of course that sentence is about how there’s little to no boxing here. Being a huge boxing fan, this displeases me, but today I am quite pleased indeed. ESPN2’s Fight Night will be broadcast tonight from the Roy Wilkins Auditorium. Minnesota Madness they call it. Of course it’s madness; there’s no boxing in Minnesota. But it gets even better. Why Minnesota? Because the headliner is a local. That’s right — Jason Litzau from St. Paul. In fact, the bout marks his first return home since 2004. See what I mean? We really don’t have boxing here. It’s no joke. You best take advantage of the opportunity. The 23-year-old featherweight (20-1, 18 KO’s) is ranked #11 in the world by the IBF. He’s one of the most exciting fighters out there right now, so go get a good seat up front, where you’ll be sure to catch some spray.

    7 p.m., Roy Wilkins Auditorium at St. Paul RiverCentre, 175 West Kellogg Blvd, St Paul; 651-989-5151; $20-$100.

    THEATER AND PERFORMANCE
    Old World Courtship Meets JDate.com

    Orth.jpgIf you’re looking for something a little less bloody, you might want to check out the Minnesota Jewish Theater Company’s latest offering. Modern Orthodox is a play about old world courtship and internet dating. When an Orthodox diamond dealer sells an engagement ring to a non-practicing Jew he gets entangled in the couple’s fate. Whether or not you’ve ever tried jdate.com, you’ll get a kick out of this one. I mean, really… it’s Jewish humor. You can’t go wrong.

    7:30 p.m., Hillcrest Center Theater, 1978 Ford Parkway, St Paul (Highland Area); 651-647-4315; $17.

    ART
    Toxic Landscapes

    art.Ambulance4175.jpgA razorblade and some spray paint — that’s all it takes to get an exhibit going. OK, that and a whole lot of talent and imagination, both of which artist
    John Grider
    seems to have in abundance. If you haven’t done so already, go check out his latest installation, Big Little Victories. Granted, stencil painting isn’t typically considered hight art, but Grider’s post-apocalyptic landscapes will certainly provoke a response. Isn’t that what art is all about? I don’t know. Maybe he just appeals to my dark side.

    5 p.m. – 8 p.m., Art of This Gallery and Design Studio, 3222 Bloomington Ave S, Minneapolis; 612-721-4105.

    MUSIC
    Electronica from the Congo

    konono_03.jpgBright Eyes is playing at the State Theatre tonight, and you really shouldn’t miss that; but if you’re looking for something a bit more unusual, you can count on the Cedar. All the way from Kinshasha, along the southern bank of the Congo River — Konono No.1 gives Bazombo trance music a fresh twist with an electronic rock aesthetic. The band’s line-up includes three electric likembés, or thumb pianos, hooked up to vintage and hand-made amplifiers; a rhythm section that includes pots, pans, and car parts; three singers, and three dancers. The result is a provocative blend of tribal rhythms, trance, and distortion-laden electronica.

    7:30 p.m., Cedar Cultural Center, 416 Cedar Ave S, Minneapolis; 612-338-2674; $23.

    One more item… a little late in the day.

    FILM
    Two Un-Laborious Labor Films

    If you’re up for an interesting film — or two — a couple of good ones will be showing for free tonight. Meeting Face to Face: the Iraq-U.S. Labor Solidarity Tour (Jonathan Levin, 27 minutes) follows six senior Iraqi labor leaders through 25 U.S. cities during the June 2005 Iraq-U.S. Labor Solidarity Tour. Iraqis explain why the primary condition for a peaceful resolution in Iraq is ending the U.S. occupation and why an independent labor movement is crucial in creating a democratic society. Following that, Breaking Walls (Yonatan Ben Efrat, 47 minutes) is an optimistic film about art and labor activism that tracks three people whose roads entwine near a wall in the village of K’ara in Israel.

    7 p.m., Lakes & Plains Regional Council of Carpenters, 700 Olive St., St. Paul; free.

  • Bouncing Around: Halberstam, AK-47, and the Easily Injured

    A few items while I wait for Wednesday night’s Warriors-Mavs and Nugs-Spurs games…

    There have been many fine tributes to author David Halberstam (my favorite is the superb excerpting of his work by Glenn Greenwald in Salon), and I’d have to put The Making of a Quagmire and The Best and the Brightest alongside Michael Herr’s Dispatches as the three best books ever written about Vietnam. But my favorite Halberstam book, and the best book ever written about sports, period, in my eyes, is Halberstam’s The Breaks of the Game, his account of the Portland Trailblazers during the 1979-80 season. Before Breaks the notion of looking at the inner workings of franchises through the prisms of salaries and race was almost without precedent, unless one was dealing with hoary history. Even today, the book remains a jewel of reporting, analysis, and fine writing. It set a new template for nearly every sports-related book that followed it.

    Halberstam was not perfect. I found The Reckoning to be overly black and white in its indictment of American auto companies and its praise of the Japanese, and his book on Michael Jordan, like everything ever written about the greatest basketball player ever, fails to get past Jordan’s defenses. But rarely does a writer make such a profound impact on both athletics and international affairs. Halberstam did it the hard way, with relentless reporting and painstaking craft that, at its best, was thrilling to read for the ideas and images that filled your head.

    Have you heard that Andrei Kililenko broke down and cried in the Utah Jazz locker room on Sunday over the way he has been used recently by Jazz coach Jerry Sloan. During the Jazz’s first two playoff games, both losses to the Rockets, AK-47 had a grand total of 2 points, 4 rebounds, 1 assist, and 6 fouls in just 34 total minutes of play. Note to Glen Taylor and Kevin McHale: Unless Kirilenko has totally fallen off the face of the earth in terms of talent or emotional stability, he would make a gorgeous bookend next to Kevin Garnett as the Wolves’ small forward. The salary is a whopper, running from $13.7 million next year up to $17.8 million in 2010-11. That’s a lot of coin to invest in someone who averaged 8 points, 5 rebounds and three assists this year. But anyone who has watched Kirilenko play knows that numbers don’t do him justice. He is one of the most versatile defenders in the league, a high-energy guy who is a terrific shot-blocker and team player. He had a thumb injury this year, but something larger is affecting him and his relationship with Sloan. If the Wolves are serious about upgrading next year, one might think they could swap Ricky Davis and his expiring contract plus Mark Blount (Davis and Blount are almost a perfect match for Kirilenko’s salary), or better pieces such as Trenton Hassell or Marko Jaric, who both would fit Sloan’s hard-nosed style of play. Due diligence is required to ensure that Kirilenko isn’t damaged goods in some way. But if there is a chance of him returning to his prime of two years ago (he’s only 26 now), well, this guy is an underrated former All Star.

    And while we’re on the subject of the Wolves, Luol Deng’s coming-out party in the Heat series may have effectively eliminated any chance of Minnesota dealing KG to the Bulls. Any talks and rumors about KG to Chicago always started with Minnesota getting Deng plus at least one other quality starter plus a high draft pick in return. But Deng has been a monster in the playoffs, averaging 30 points per game. Watching Deng play earlier this year made me consider the wisdom of dealing Garnett for the first time since the superstar arrived here a dozen years ago. Bottom line, with Deng’s strong and steady improvement and Garnett’s slight slippage this year, the Wolves couldn’t expect to get too much more of value out of the Bulls along with Deng in any deal. And if the Bulls make it all the way to the Finals, which is certainly possible, it is unlikely they’ll want to part with Deng at all.

    Finally, why is it that some athletes always seem to be injured while others are just as consistently able to perform every game? I was thinking of that when I read the agate type on major league baseball players in this morning’s Strib. Ken Griffey Jr. missed four games with what was originally diagnosed as the flu and later was called diverticulitis. Former dominating closer Eric Gagne is heading back to the disabled list with a hip injury. Former dominating starter Mark Prior had shoulder surgery today. A’s outfielder Milton Bradley pulled his hamstring again and is on the 15-day DL. And the sun will rise in the east tomorrow morning.

  • Should Par Ridder Recuse Himself?

    It came as no surprise that the Star Tribune’s new ownership, Avista Capital Partners, dismissed a call from its Guild for an independent investigation into the rather serious charges asserted against publisher, Par Ridder. The presumption is that it did do knowing full well that the legal process is both glacial and unlikely to produce the kind of cleansing transparency appropriate for a high-profile business allegedly committed to reporting fully and fairly.

    The Guild’s request was as appropriate as it was entirely futile. Both the Guild’s orginal letter and Harte’s response can be read here.

    Publicly-traded companies regularly dodge initial calls for thorough, independent investigations into appearances of executive impropriety. So there was almost zero reason to think a privately-held concern like Avista would consent to something that holds the prospect of way too much transparency … perhaps even into such intriguing questions as, “Who really IS Avista?”

    But even in an era when boardroom arrogance seems to know no bounds, it is discouraging that Chris Harte, Avista’s “journalism face”, doesn’t see the merit in an aggressive, public display of probity. The machinations of Avista are one kind of distraction, the pulpy travails of Par Ridder are another thing entirely, and allowing the legal process to run its course means a constant trickle of mocking and titter-worthy bombshell-ettes, none of which does anything to enhance the integrity of these cities’ major media player.

    I asked Star Trib Guild officers, Pat Doyle and Chris Serres, if they had given any thought to suggesting that in lieu of a full, complete and open independent investigation, Ridder should at the very least be asked to recuse himself from his publisher duties … until the legal process has run its course? That would do something to mute skeptics and critics who will otherwise snicker at the appearance of a righteous news organization, committed to fairness, being managed by a guy accused of both petty thievery and clumsy conniving.

    First though, the matter of their letter to Harte.

    Said Doyle, “We thought the request was reasonable, no matter what the odds,” then adding, “but Harte’s response was not very satisfying, no.”

    “What I also found interesting, [in Harte’s response], was that he didn’t make any defense or endorsement of Par. I don’t know what that means, but I thought it was interesting.” (Ironically interesting coming in the same week as George Bush offering a vigorous, unconditional endorsement of Alberto Gonzales).

    Serres also thought the request was worth making, and insisted it wasn’t purely symbolic. A big part of the basic problem with current interaction between the Guild and management is, as he says, “Quite frankly, we don’t know who Chris Harte is.”

    Or, as Doyle puts it, “There’s just so much we don’t know. Such as, who are we owned by? We don’t know if its 10 guys, 20 guys or 100 guys.”

    While neither sees the twin distractions of a new, very private ownership group with an undisclosed agenda and a publisher under public ridicule as being all that much of a detriment to their daily job performance, neither issue is exactly an asset.

    “This is getting to the point where our sources are asking about it,” says Serres of the Ridder matter. Hence the call for the kind of air-clearing an independent investigation might bring. “What did Harte say in his response, that our call somehow presumes the legal system is ‘flawed’? Well, yes. Our presumption is that the legal system IS flawed. It is both slow and most likely won’t be comprehensive enough.”

    So what about asking for Ridder to step aside until the Avista-preferred legal process reaches a conclusion?

    “That’s an interesting idea,” said Doyle.

    Serres takes pains to emphasize that, “There is a tone of negativity over here that can be very counterproductive, and the Guild wants to avoid making matters like this with Par personal. We always try to avoid that in our dealings with management. Our letter to Harte, asking for an investigation, should not be seen as us making a swipe at Par. I mean, we don’t even know this guy. But there’s no denying this is a distraction we don’t need.”

    Serres adds, a bit cryptically, “Part of the reason you don’t get personal in situations like this is that you have a sense that there are bigger people behind the scenes pulling strings, and that the people out front may just be these pawns in a larger action.”

  • This Week's Take-Out Flicks

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    Jane Eyre, 1944

    My wife likes costume dramas; I’m a fan of Orson Welles. Our interests meet this week with the DVD release of Jane Eyre. If you ask the both of us, Welles is ideal as Mr. Rochester. The big boy’s histrionics perfectly suit that literary madman (and over the years Rochester’s never been cast right–William Hurt was probably the most egregious example). According to the wife, who’s seen the movie on an old library video tape, this Eyre rules the lot.

    Supposedly Welles kept barking at director Robert Stevenson about the latter’s inability to do anything more than pedantic work. As is often the case in a film that Orson starred in, Jane Eyre shows his influence. Stevenson went on to become one of the more prolific Disney directors, making Mary Poppins, Flubber,, That Darn Cat!, and The Love Bug, among many others.


    Naked You Die

    Grindhouse films are on their way, despite the fact that that superior film was a big, fat flop (though it didn’t cost much, so maybe it’ll recoup overseas). This week sees the release of Naked You Die, which looks like one of the spoof trailers, especially Don’t!. Available at Netflix.

    Also: I wrote in the magazine that Tears of the Black Tiger is “a film that moves with the force of a hurricane blasting apart a great marzipan city”. I stand by that bizarre sentence, but I will say that you’re going to lose a lot on the small screen… The Queen won Helen Mirren the Oscar, and it was long overdue. But she didn’t give us the best performance of the year, being met halfway by a public figure. Mimicry isn’t as powerful as an original performance (I would have handed the gold to Penelope Cruz in Volver). Add to that the fact that The Queen, though often deftly directed, panders to the cult of Tony Blair, and doesn’t have much of a sense of humor. Maybe my loathing of royalty is getting in the way… Al Franken: God Spoke is a lousy, unfunny, grating documentary/advertisement that only makes a strong, strong case that Al should not, under any circumstances, be the Dems nominee for Senate next year.

  • Eyeballs on Everyone

    Last weekend, I stopped by a certain tax accountant‘s office/art gallery to soak up the scenes. Among them:

    hoodie.jpg
    The Gap has really foisted this hoodie-and-tie trend upon us, which I don’t entirely dislike. It’s sort of like an updated version of the tie-with-tweed look, since it, too, is worn mostly by brooding wimpster types. (Don’t get me wrong … I find it all very sexy.) This fella took the look to an extreme with his print hoodie, whereas other guys at this party chose tattered hoodies in boring, old solid blacks and grays.

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    I was reminded of how much I appreciate the metrosexual movement, at least when it comes to inspiring the use of styling products. Thank goodness for men with pretty hair.

    two ladies.jpg
    I liked the contrast here. Jahna, a professional stylist, paired the sophistication of a high-waisted skirt with a simple yellow (it looks like vintage) top, whereas her friend rocked a bad-ass rocker babe motorcycle jacket. Nice!

    one lady.jpg
    The camera loves this woman! And my friend Kevin once had a stranger crush on her, too.

  • Alien Indeed

    alien.JPG
    where can a brother get some ribs?

    Sunday ended up with a rainy jaunt to the Albertville Outlets. With four kids to clothe in cargo shorts and ridiculously expensive paper-thin tees, I need all the break I can get, so northward we trip.

    I’m not a crowd-shopper, I reach my patience limit quickly. Needless to say, having been just a touch hung over from the Fri./Sat. night activities, my fuse might have been even shorter. So, as we finished our rounds and the nuggets complained of hunger, it was all about turning into the first parking lot.

    That lot turned out to be Space Aliens Grill & Bar. I know.

    Yes, it’s everything you think: brightly painted with planets, cheesy black light “magic” on the ceiling, spacey movie posters all around, an alien diorama on every flat surface, and an arcade. It’s brilliant.

    The kids were WOWED and we laughed as we named all the little dudes and the movies in which they lived. They ran off and spent a little cash and more energy in the arcade playing various things and winning tickets redeemable for prizes. There were ten whole minutes when no one asked me a question.

    But most importantly, the food didn’t suck. In fact, it was good.

    Now, let’s remember context: I wasn’t looking for any butter-poached lobster or a truffled cheesebuger. Hell, I would have been happy with a Diet Coke for lunch at that point.

    Instead, I ordered Martian Munchies, which despite the lame name, are a great idea: seasoned and slowly smoked strips of pork which come to the table like curled little fingers. They are crispy to the bite while remaining tender on the inside, and are snacky addictive.

    Their BBQ is a big feature for the menu, and at every chance they’ll tout their award for America’s Best Ribs from the National BBQ Convention Cook-off in Memphis. Looking around almost every adult was eating ribs.

    Kids were happy with chicken fingers, burgers, “fire-roasted” pizza (I just hate that term, roasted pizza, it’s just not right) and the like. But it was the fries that killed them: an order of the Outer Space Fries is served in a cone-shaped holder with choice of two dipping sauces. Not just ketchup mind you, there’s ranch dressing, nacho cheese, buffalo wing suace, taco sauce, sweet & sour and more to choose from.

    Sure it’s schticky and gimmicky, the menu has a few too many trademarked silly names (Cosmic Coleslaw TM), but at least they’re actually putting some thought into the food. Apparently there’s one about to open in Blaine, and rumors of another opening somewhere in the Western Metro in the near future. I have a feeling the invasion will be successful….