The Rake Magazine

Month: June 2008

  • Get Smart (2008)

    Re-creating the popular 1960s sitcom Get Smart
    on the big screen is no easy task. Just ask Don Adams, the original
    Agent 86 from the series. He tried to re-create Maxwell Smart on the
    big screen in the 1980s, with The Nude Bomb, a movie that lived up to its title.

    At
    least in 1980, most people had been around for the original show, or
    at least seen re-runs during a decidedly successful decade of television
    syndication. Today, most of the the youthful movie audiences that can
    make-or-break a movie in its opening weekend, have never even heard of Get Smart, let alone seen an episode.

    But
    if you are going to take on such a task, I can’t think of anyone better
    to play the notoriously inept spy character Agent 86, than Steve
    Carell    , the award-winning actor who portrays an overtly inept boss on
    one of today’s most popular sitcoms, The Office. No one expects
    Steve Carell to step into Don Adams’s shoes and reproduce the same
    version of Maxwell Smart; but if anyone in Hollywood today can bring a
    fresh take on Agent 86, while retaining his charming deadpan
    ineptitude, it’s Carell.

    The creators of the big screen Get Smart have
    chosen to re-introduce Mawell Smart to a new generation of movie-goers
    by starting at the beginning, when Maxwell Smart is promoted from
    analyst to agent by his boss, the Control Agency Chief (Alan Arkin).
    Smart gets his chance to work in the field, like stalwart Agent 23
    (Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson), when the Control headquarters are
    attacked. He is partnered with the more competent Agent 99 (Ann
    Hathaway), and must battle the forces of their evil crime nemesis, known as KAOS.

    Arkin,
    Hathaway, and Johnson are all strong choices in their roles, furthering
    the goal of retaining the series’ integrity. But the question still
    remains: how can there be a fresh take for today’s audience.

    One of the original series’ key elements of humor was to spoof the 1960s spy thrillers, like James Bond and The Man From Uncle. Most
    of the gadgets in the original series, like the shoe phone or radio
    pen, were outlandish and not thought to be serious possibilities as
    tools for a secret agent. Today, many of these gadgets exist, hence are far less outlandish to audiences. So, the movies producers chose to
    find gadgets that actually exist today and rely more on Maxwell Smart’s
    ineptitude at using high technology to create the laughs. They did, however, keep the shoe phone and cone of silence for die-hards’
    amusement.

    Agent
    86’s relationship with Agent 99 is another new angle. In the original,
    Agent 99 always stood behind her man. The new version has Agent 99
    taking Smart under her wing and showing him the ropes, playing a more
    dominant role in the relationship, something Carell often gets
    laughs for on The Office.

    With the end of the Cold War, Get Smart
    has shifted its satirical focus from spying on the enemy to internal
    miscommunication — which played itself out recently in great detail in the wake of the 9/11 tragedy.

    The sum total of toe-ing the line and updating this classic sitcom is that the producers of Get Smart have made a spy movie that is funny, rather than spoofing a spoof. So, it seems that all the cards are in place for Get Smart
    to succeed in re-inventing its beloved 1960s predecessor. What remains
    to be seen is if the updates will resonate with today’s youthful
    audiences and succeed at the box office.

  • Orchestra Baobab

    While the elegant Dakota isn’t
    quite as sublime as the outdoor quad in front of Northrop Auditorium—where
    Baobab played under sunny skies and swirling dancers in a beautiful
    evening on their last tour—this amazing 11-piece band does have another
    superb record’s worth of tunes in their arsenal: Made In Dakar,
    released in May, and equal or better than their comeback triumph,
    Specialist In All Styles    . Barthelemy Attisso’s multifaceted guitar
    lines are the main attraction, but it is hard to discount the vibrant,
    beseeching griot vocals, the Afro-Latin polyrhythms (especially the
    verbose vocabulary of the talking drums) and the snazzy saxophone phrases.
    And like all great bands, the synergy is abundant.

  • Is It Counterfeit or Real?

    This painting — a wedding present from my parents — was done by an artist who met me and Howard only two times at my parent’s home. I would love to give the artist credit, but after he painted several originals for my family… well… Lets just say that he’s not the most honest business man.

    How do I tell at this point in my life if someone or something is real or not? How do I distinguish what is Counterfeit?

    I use the only tool I have that doesn’t cost $$$$$$ — my instincts.

    On so many occasions I should have put my foot down, like I did for this photo yesterday.

    But I caved to my vulnerable side, wanting everyone that I love and care about to have the same advantages I have.

    My heart has been in the right place since I was but a little Melly — except when I’ve placed it in the hands of Counterfeit people, who are nothing short of hurtful and dangerous.

    It is perhaps a characteristic of humanity to feel sad when someone we see is hurting, and to feel frustrated when we don’t get our way; but the worst part of being human is the jealousy we feel when someone has something that we don’t have.

    I have been there myself at times, I suppose; but in truth, I don’t have green blood running through my veins. I have red blood that bleeds through my skin when it’s cut.

    Yesterday was one of those days that I wish I could bottle and sell. First, I shared a delicious lunch at Red Stag in Northeast Minneapolis, with people that I like, admire, and respect. (Sharing a nice meal with people with whom you can be yourself is one of life’s greatest pleasures!)

    After lunch, I caught up on the phone with some good friends who I know have my back.

    And then I went shoe shopping with my son and daughter, giving them the freedom to buy shoes that THEY feel comfortable in — at the Foursome in Wayzata. They were, unfortunately, unsuccessful; but I got some great deals on Uggs, Cole Haan’s, Merrell’s, and shoes that make you feel like you’re floating on air—AQUATALIAS.

    Finally, after a great lunch, great conversation with authentic people, and great shoe shopping with my children (resulting in shoes I can actually walk in), my daughter and I picked up a special treat from Byerly’s, so that when my husband and son got home late last night, we all had a chocolate pie party.

    Late last night and into the early morning hours it was hard for me to let go of a most comforting and comfortable day. This was one of the most relaxed and content days I have had since I was that little Melly wanting to give the people I love and care about the advantages that I had. You can’t counterfeit that!

    I went to sleep in one of my husband’s cotton T-Shirts, still wearing Jewelry (well worth the investment), and slept blissfully for four straight hours — making it really difficult to wake up this morning and start a new and realistic day.

    A tip for those of you who think that knock offs are just as good as the real deal: When I was a kid, I was told that if you don’t have the money to pay for something in cash, it’s best you don’t purchase it at all. The same lesson goes for life. If you are Not the real deal and you try to wrap yourself in a Tiffany Box (with nothing inside), you too will be exposed.

  • The Omega Man (1971)

    There
    seem to be a lot of movies lately that feature a select few survivors
    of a catastrophic apocalypse who have to battle mutated humans in their
    search for other survivors (see 28 Days Later, The Happening, I Am Legend, and Shaun of the Dead). This, however, is not a new concept.

    An
    early pioneer of the post-apocalyptic vampire-mutant survivalist story
    was the novelist responsible for the 1954 science fiction book, I Am Legend.
    Richard Matheson’s story about the last man alive in a future Los
    Angeles has now been reproduced as a movie three times.

    The original
    was 1964’s The Last Man on Earth, starring the legendary Vincent Price, and the most recent was 2007’s I Am Legend, featuring Oscar nominee Will Smith. Not to be outdone in star power, 1971’s The Omega Man enlisted one of the greatest actors of the time, Charlton Heston, to play the protagonist, Dr. Robert Neville.

    The Omega Man
    deviates from Matheson’s book and the other movies by turning the
    vampire creatures into a cult called "The Family," an obvious reference
    to the Manson Family and their murderous plot a few years prior.
    Neville must avoid being caught by the nocturnal Family at night by
    barricading himself in an apartment with powerful searchlights outside
    to keep the albino light-sensitive creatures at bay.

    Continuing with its social commentary, The Omega Man
    pits the power of science against the power of God. The Family believes
    that they have survived the apocalypse, which was put into place by the
    power of scientific knowledge, wielded by super-powers China and Russia
    during a final World War. They want to rid the earth of the last
    remaining purveyor of science — Neville.

    With limited special effects capabilities and deviation from the vampire concept, the producers of The Omega Man
    chose to prey on people’s existing fears, rather than an unknown future. The question becomes, what is more scary —
    cannibalistic vampire-mutants, or a violent, delusional, puritanical
    cult?

    Go see The Omega Man at the Northeast ’08 Music and Movies on Tuesday, June 17, at The Basin, 22nd Ave. NE and Quincy St. NE. Death to Our Enemies will provide the music portion of the evening.

  • Don't Mess With The Lohan. (As If.)

    I am sitting here late in the evening babysitting. Perhaps it is because I feel so esconced here in a secure state of suburban responsibility that I can safely venture into a topic I should know little about. Then, of course, it could be because I work with a lot of "young" people. 

    By "young" I mean "millenials"—which loosely describes anyone entering the workforce since the turn of the century—or adults in their mid-twenties. I am a "first x" who came of age under Ronald Reagan but frankly since I partied away most of my mid-20s I feel much closer to millenials than garden variety gen-xers. 

    Speaking of whom (gen-xers) you might want to listen up, because the millenials I favor are literate adults, not Lohans. In fact, the only reason I place the risqué picture of Lindsay atop this post is because she apparently has a new book of her doing bad things. I just learned this tonight when I went looking for a picture online (for this post).

    Fortunately, the millenials I know would never mess with poster trash like Lindsay Lohan. While they are so much more than her, they also might not be that into you.

    They are not, for example, interested in your music. By "your music" I mean primarily the stuff they play on Cities 97 that is composed and performed primarily by white people. Forget Phish. Forget Radiohead. And please forget R.E.M. or Coldplay for that matter.

    They like hip-hop. Hip-hop is their cosmos. It is very explicit, and it can sound like scratches on a trash can to untrained ears.

    So train your ears.

    Because hip-hop and rap (same thing, essentially) is the first entirely new musical art form of the millenium (although it was born in the Bronx in the mid-’70s). It has its own critical cannon, including "flow," which when delivered by a master like the non-retired Jay-Z can be as mellifluous as Mozart.

    The reason you need to know this music is because music defines young people far more than older ones. Movies, books, those kinds of things matter far less than getting into their musical groove (books are not off-limits, just not the lead topic.)

    Young people are also not adept with their phones, except for texting. Older people might look down on this until they realize that younger people text because a) it is cheaper, b) they can do it in class, and c) it’s less intimate (and stressful) than talking to someone.

    Which leads me to my third point: young people prefer to keep their distance. They will not fully engaged with you until you get on their wavelength.

    I may have more insights soon, but that is it for now.

    Do I sound like an expert?

    Maybe I should ask a movie starlet.

    Know any?

     

  • The Three Pointer: As Good As Over

    (AFP/File/Gabriel Bouys)
     

    NBA Finals, Game #4: Boston 97, Los Angeles 91

    Series to date: Boston 3-1

    1. Changing Reputations

    It is just a matter of when now. Because surely you don’t think Lamar Odom finds his composure, Pau Gasol unearths some grit, and Kobe Bryant recaptures his magical mojo in sufficient quantities to take these unrelenting and surprisingly deep Celtics to the woodshed three times in a row. Not after last night. Not when all the pundits such as yours truly have proven to be dunderheaded false prophets. The "best player" has not been, and won’t become, the best player. The "best coach" has not been, and won’t become, the best coach. And the "better bench" has not been, and won’t become, the better bench. Lakers in 5 or 6, I said. Wrong.

    But more high profile reputations than mine are being altered by this star-studded, commercially attractive matchup. Here are the ones most shocking to me.

    * Phil Jackson–It has been a bad, bad series for the Zen Master. Throwing gasoline on the fire by using a very stale Trevor Ariza on Paul Pierce as first off the bench in Game Two was bad enough, but leaving Derek Fisher on the bench in favor of the callow and selfish Bobbsey Twins, Vujacic and Farmar, while his lead disappeared last night was even worse. When Fish left the game with 2:58 to go in the third, the Lakers were up 11, 72-61. Incredibly, the man with three rings and more than 100 starts and 4,000 minutes in the postseason, the man who kept stepping up to staunch the momentum shift in the Celts’ comebacks in the second period and early in the third, sat for more than 12 minutes, entering with 2:10 left to play and the Lakers down 5, 88-83. Ostensibly, Farmar and Vujacic were in the game to provide some ball pressure on Eddie House, a better shooter but less adept on the handle than Rajon Rondo. Didn’t work. The only Celtic turnovers in that 12:48 Fisher sat were offensive fouls on Pierce and KG. Meanwhile, House had 5 points and his backcourt mate Ray Allen had 4. So perhaps Vujacic and Farmar provided some offensive counterpoint and helped spread the floor so Kobe could go to work and have a capable safety valve on the perimeter? If that was the idea, it failed miserably. Vujacic and Farmar combined to shoot 0-5 FG during that stretch, and nothing from the line–zero points–while the Lakers’ team as a unit managed just 11, in 12:48. By the way, Derek Fisher finished the game 5-6 FG and led the Lakers in plus/minus with a plus +7.

    * Kobe Bryant–The Black Mamba. The crunchtime assassin, best closer in the NBA, able to make the big shot when it matters most. With Kobe in the lineup, LA can always stop the bleeding. An all NBA Defensive First Teamer, able to lock down any perimeter player. A more mature teammate whose generosity of spirit and willingness to shoulder most of the responsibility relieves the pressure on his teammates and enables them to play freely and easily, knowing that Kobe always has their back. You can ball that assessment up and throw it in the trashcan.

    * Ray Allen–Aging fast and with bad ankles his already mediocre defense has become subpar. That was the rap on Mr. Shuttlesworth, who merely played all 48 minutes last night, and, unlike Kobe Bryant and Kevin Garnett and even Paul Pierce, didn’t seem the slightest bit winded or gimpy at the end. His up-and-under wraparound layup through Gasol and two other Lakers to bump the lead from one to three was simply cool to savor for the next decade or so; his seizing on Vujacic’s lean in to blow past him for another layup that sealed the win will perhaps leave a permanent stain on Sasha’s psyche. But that’s not why I’m so surprised by Ray Allen. No, it has been his remarkable defensive effort on Kobe (although Pierce deserves more credit for last night), the nine rebounds he corralled while nobody really noticed, and the two perfect dishes to James Posey for treys that broke the Lakers in the 4th quarter. Ray Allen has the entire package.

    * Paul Pierce–Again, it is the defense that is most surprising. Pierce’s block of Vujacic at the close of Game Two, and his block on Kobe–when was the last time you saw Kobe’s fadeaway get swatted? Never? Me too.–was just part of it. His positioning and ability to use his length and strength to maximum defensive advantage was something I simply didn’t know he possessed until the Cavs series, and in retrospect, playing two long dudes like LeBron and Tayshaun probably really helped Pierce prep for Kobe. So did the fact that many people guarded Kobe. But in the second half last night, Pierce was mostly the guy. In the corners of our TV screens the last few games, we saw Kobe and Pierce constantly trash talking each other. Guess what? The best player on the floor in these playoffs has been Paul Pierce (in a close shave over KG).

    2. Garnett and McHale In Their Rightful Places

    During Kevin Garnett’s last two or three years here, there was clearly some mutual frustration going on that began to morph into disrespect. Both men were pretty careful not to say so in public too often, but Garnett thought McHale’s lack of prowess in evaluating personnel was the reason he was getting further from a ring instead of closer as he entered his 30s. For McHale’s part, he thought KG didn’t do the things that turn a star into a champion: Go down and bang for shots and box-outs in the low block, get to the foul line, set nasty picks, and simply do what it takes when the game is on the line to secure the victory.

    McHale has gotten the prototype player he wanted in Al Jefferson, and Big Al, who should never be judged as the KG compensation because it just isn’t fair to him, played well enough that all the homers around the Wolves in the local media crowed that Minnesota actually got the better of the KG trade. One columnist for one of the local dailies even said he wouldn’t trade Jefferson for two KGs. Well it is pretty close to final accounting time and what we see is that the Celtics won a league best 66 games, had the greatest single season improvement in NBA history, and are one victory in three chances away from being crowned NBA champion over the MVP on the favored squad from the better conference.

    As should be obvious to all of us by now, the Celtics win with defense, stifling defense. As should be equally obvious, the Celtics would be at-best a mediocre defensive team without Kevin Garnett. It is KG’s unparalleled combination of length, quickness, instinct and intelligence that enables the Celts to extend their schemes so far out on the perimeter and so wide toward the sidelines. By all accounts from the folks in Boston, it was KG’s selfless passion and relentless work ethic–we saw that work ethic for a dozen years and that passion for about ten a half here in Minnesota–that catalyzed the culture of the revamped roster and created the attitudinal synergy, the pride and trust that are as important as athleticism to creating great team defense. KG is the foundation of the Celtic D: more than any other player in the game today, he is "everywhere" when his squad is defending the ball and he doesn’t take plays off. (That’s why Bill Russell has such a blatant man-crush on the guy.) When the Celts were hopelessly behind last night, he made two plays–denying putbacks to Odom and Gasol about four minutes apart–that are the sort of crucial, unsung bits of grit that help get you out of a hole. It is no coincidence that Gasol always shot from in close with a hurried lack of confidence, and why, except for last night’s first quarter, Odom suffered from lead in the paint.

    Having spent a dozen years up close and personal watching KG, I too was unsure about his crunchtime capability at the offensive end, his desire to seize the game via brutish willpower of the sort he constantly demonstrates at the other end of the court. Af
    ter years and years of rebutting KG haters, and, less convincingly, KG skeptics, I wavered as I watched the Hawks extend the Celts to 7 games, knowing that their best player was not most comfortable being atop the crunchtime pecking order. And I bought into the alpha theory of hoops I so frequently disdained, picking first the Cavs and LeBron and then the Lakers and Kobe to overcome KG and his other Big 2. But last night, with everyone screaming for Garnett to get down in the damn low block and go to work, he did was he always does: played his game his way, with a share of low post moves and a share of midrange jumpers and a share of high picks and deft passes. He took more shots than anybody on the team and made half of them, led them in rebounding, and, of course, defense. He finished fourth on his own team in points and second to Eddie House in overall plus/minus with plus +17 in 37:09, which means the Celts were minus -11 in the 10:51 he was off the court. And the team that has adopted his personality is one win away from the NBA Championship.

    Put me in the long line of people who need to apologize for doubting Kevin Garnett, who in his first year away from the dysfunctional gulag of Minnesota, is on the verge of accomplishing all anyone could ask of him. And remember that the man who belongs at the head of that line is Kevin McHale.

    3. Kudos and Brickbats

    As Bob Horry packs up his trunk load of rings and heads into the sunset it is time to come up with a cool, catchy nickname for James Posey, the new man with the golden touch from outside when championships are being decided.

    Doc Rivers has outcoached Phil Jackson in this series but one thing that mars his great performance is the number of people, me included, who kept hollaring for more minutes for Eddie House at the expense of Sam Cassell. Give Rivers at least half a kudo for seeing how effective House was in keeping Kobe honest on defense, and riding him over Rondo down the stretch. And give Mr. House a full kudo for doing what the Vujacic/Farmar combo couldn’t–make big shots from outside in the second half.

    Gasol and Odom will have a very hard time recovering from this no-show. Even playing a small lineup for much of the second half, the Celts managed to essentially break even with the Lakers on the boards and in points in the paint. What’s more, all the Lakers except for Fisher were frontrunners, Odom worst of all. When LA was rollin’ easy, he was driving like a banshee, pulling up and sticking the 17-footer, and even twirling the ball around his back by the sideline on one play. When crunchtime beckoned, he not only disappeared, he hid. Neither he nor Gasol wanted anything to do with the final outcome of this game–you could see it in their body language. Kobe had yet another bad game. But Kobe also had ten assists and it should have been 15 or 18. Kobe was on an island. It will be a very very hard thing for him to forget this summer.

  • A Taste of Brazil; Japanese in Stadium Village

    Nibbles and tidbits:

    This one sounds too good to miss: Monday night, (June 16),
    French Meadow Bakery and Café is hosting a five course Brazilian dinner, with
    live Brazilian jazz and Brazilian-inspired fashions. Cost is $50, including
    organic/ sustainable wine pairings. It’s a benefit for KBEM, Jazz 88 FM, so at
    least part of the ticket price is tax-deductable.

    The dinner is being prepared by French Meadow’s Brazilian chef
    Fernando Wanderley, so it ought to be pretty authentic. Courses include a wild
    ramps and sweet corn soup; hearts of palm salad; potato dumplings with Wild
    Acres duck confit, and dessert of papaya with crème de cassis, but the real star of the evening is going to be the entrée, moqueca de peixe – red snapper
    cooked with peppers and onions in a palm oil and coconut milk sauce. It’s a
    specialty of Bahia in northeastern Brazil, where the cuisine and the culture
    have a strong African influence. Bahian cuisine is one of great undiscovered
    cuisines of the world, and you can get a taste of it on Monday night.
    Vegetarian options are available.

    Seating is limited. For
    reservations, go to www.jazz88fm.com
    and click on the RestauranTour link.

    Japanese restaurants seem to be
    popping up all over these days, and the latest to join the ranks is Azuki, a tiny
    storefront squeezed in between Chipotle and the Oak Street Cinema, on Oak
    Street in Stadium Village. I am terminally bored with sushi, which has become
    the ultimate generic food – it’s basically the same stuff whether you buy it at
    a fancy sushi bar, the deli case at Lund’s, or in bulk at Costco. A local
    Chinese-American restaurateur tells me we can see a lot more sushi bars opening
    in the next few years as the owners of all-you-can-eat Chinese buffets switch
    to sushi, which has higher profit margins.

    But I liked Azuki. Service is fast
    and friendly, prices are very reasonable, and there is more to the menu than
    sushi. My lunchtime tempura bento box included a couple of pieces of
    batter-fried shrimp, yam and taro, plus a California roll, a couple of gyoza
    dumplings, salad and rice ($9/ $12 dinner.) I didn’t taste my companion’s pork
    katsu donburi – a big bowl of rice topped with egg and friend pork cutlet, but
    it looked like the genuine article ($7/ $10 dinner), and there is a lot more
    that I would like to try, including the udon noodle soups ($9-$12), and the
    oyako donburi (chicken and egg over rice ($7/$10).

    Azuki Japanese Restaurant, 307 Oak St., Minneapolis, 612-331-9551.

     

    Speaking of the Oak Street Cinema,
    this weekend they are screening The Yacoubian Building, my favorite movie from
    the recent Minneapolis-Saint Paul International Film Festival. It’s a wild
    lalapalooza of a movie, Egypt’s Oscar entry for Best Foreign Film. This blurb
    from the Oak Street Cinema website captures it:

    A microcosm of Egyptian society – with its rich inhabitants living in luxurious
    apartments and the poor on the roof, the businessman who bribes his way to
    power; the rich son of a playboy who only appears interested in prostitutes;
    the relationship between a homosexual journalist and the porter’s son, who
    becomes a terrorist after been rejected by the police academy, and love story
    out of a Forties Warner Brothers musical.

    I don’t know what a movie ticket costs in Cairo, but they sure get their money’s worth.

  • Orchestra Baobab: Made in Dakar

    Here’s another seamless,
    masterful mix of Latin and African pop music from Orchestra Baobab,
    proving that their phenomenal comeback album, 2002’s Specialist
    In All Styles    , was no fluke. Baobab was the house band for Senegalese
    government officials during the 1970s, and was renowned throughout Africa
    before splitting up in 1985, beset by dissension and the onslaught of
    more modern, uptempo mbalax musical style. If their reunion 16 years
    later didn’t pack the commercial wallop of the similarly reconstituted
    Buena Vista Social Club, neither did they box themselves in a time capsule
    and milk nostalgia for their appeal.

    The eleven songs on Made
    in Dakar         were chosen by World Circuits producer Nick Gold (the man
    behind both the Buena Vista and Baobab reunions), who opted for a blend
    of new tunes and re-recordings of classics from the band’s 20-album
    discography. The result is an utterly distinctive olio of Afro-Cuban,
    Afro-Latin, and vintage-modern workouts from this supple 11-piece
    ensemble. Thus, the lead track, "Papa Ndiay," was a traditional
    Senegalese griot number honoring an old king, updated by a precursor
    of Baobab in 1968, recorded by Baobab in the early 70s, and now given
    another facelift, with vocalist Assane Mboup (a protégé of Youssou
    Ndour) wailing away in true West African griot fashion (reminiscent
    here of Mali’s Salif Keita).

    You simply aren’t going to
    hear these type of fusions anywhere else. "Ami kita bay" has the
    burnished, flamenco-like guitar and rubbery talking drum of mbalax and
    the shoulder-rolling swing of salsa: the band calls it "mbalsa"
    music. "Nijaay" is a dual-pronged guitar revelry, moving from the
    down and dirty "Secret Agent Man" riff to filigreed Nigerian highlife
    style picking to call-and-response between guitar and horn to some fatback
    wah-wah in tandem to the high-steppin’ of the rhythm guitar. "Sibam"
    is all horns and incredibly expressive talking drums, based on a dance
    usually performed at circumcision ceremonies, with scintillating guitar
    from the nonpareil Barthelemy Attiso toward the end. "Aline" is
    perhaps the only blatant stylistic throwback, a mid-20th
    Century Congolese rumba with weepy vocals sung in Colonial French (Wolof,
    Malinke, and Portuguese Creole are the other languages sung on the record).
    "Bikowa" is a dreamy calypso, smooth as a sailboat ride. "Ndeleng
    Ndeleng" is more powerhouse griot vocals and nasty hollow-body guitar.

    Eleven songs in all. Nary a
    clunker in the bunch.

    Orchestra Baobab
    Made In Dakar
    World Circuit/Nonesuch

    Four and a half stars. ****1/2


    See them play at the Dakota on June 30, 2008.

  • The 160th Trimester

    MUSIC
    Electric Fetus 40 year Anniversary Party

    It’s hard for me to believe the Electric Fetus
    has been slingin’ records almost 10 years longer than I’ve been alive.
    I’m not sure if that makes me feel young or old; I’ve still got a few
    years to go before I need to start validating my youth.
    I am, however, at a point where I know I can’t pull off over-the-top
    trends (no neon sunglasses for me, thank-you-very-much). This
    Minneapolis music staple, on the other hand, has not only seen endless
    trends walk through its doors, but it has lived through eras. Forty years is a long time; a thousand scenes
    have changed and evolved, and the Electric Fetus has watched it all
    quietly, simply making sure that you can get your mitts on everything
    from the most cringe-worthy death metal to the the brightest local
    indie pop, to that Cocteau Twins colored vinyl UK Import that you just
    can’t get anywhere else. This evening’s show takes over the First
    Avenue mainroom AND the Entry for a rockin’ hootenany featuring well-known locals such as Doomtree, Polara, and more — plus "The
    Electric Fetus All-Stars," a super group comprised of musically-inclined Fetus employees.

    Friday, 7pm, First Avenue, 701 1st Avenue N, Downtown Minneapolis, $10

    BENEFIT EVENT
    Wall to Wall

    A collaboration between McKnight Photographic Fellowship recipient Orin Rutchick and Strib travel writer Chris Welsch,
    the Wall to Wall project is an in-depth look at modern
    pilgrimage, with underlying subtopics of obsession, history, and
    religion. Join the artists this evening for a preview that includes Rutchick’s large scale and panoramic photographs from
    both the highly revered Western Wall in Jerusalem and Graceland’s
    famous stone wall, laden top to bottom with Elvis-inspired scrawlings
    from fans. You’ll also hear Chris Welsch read passages from his work, and enjoy libations and treats such as Israeli
    couscous and barbecued chicken. Tonight’s event will also serve as a
    fundraiser to send the artists back to Jerusalem to complete their
    work. The Mpls Photo Coop is a beautiful, expansive gallery and studio
    space nestled in a strictly industrial area on the fringe of Northeast.
    Run by Rutchick, the co-op boasts multiple bright and airy galleries,
    an education center for middle-schoolers, and shared studio space used by over 15 member photographers.

    Friday, 7pm-11pm, Mpls Photo Coop, 2400 Second Street North, 2nd Floor, Minneapolis, $10 Suggested Donation


    READINGS
    David Sedaris

    One of America’s national treasures makes a double-whammy pitstop in the Twin Cities this weekend with readings at both the U of M Bookstore (Friday) and Borders in Roseville (Saturday). Author, playwright, and radio personality David Sedaris, well known for his sarcastic wit and bitingly hilarious commentary, tours in support of his just-released book When You Are Engulfed in Flames, a
    tome saturated with typical Sedaris humor. A satirist to the core and a
    wonderful storyteller, this writer constantly views life through the
    thickest lenses of irony. Tonight Sedaris will treat you to a reading
    from his new book along with a dose of sardonic pleasure that you
    probably won’t be able to get anywhere else.

    Friday, 7pm, U of M Bookstore at Coffman Union, 300 Washington Ave. SE, Dinkytown, Free

    FESTIVAL
    Lowertown Blues Fest

    Saturday’s weather,
    while perhaps a bit overcast, promises few light
    sprinkles early on and nice, even-keeled temps in the 70s
    throughout the day. It’s a good thing too, because this weekend is
    positively chocked full of outdoor extravaganzas! Today’s underdog, the
    Lowertown Blues Fest,
    might be a solid bet if you’re looking for some killer music with room
    to breathe. Take in finger-picking guitarists, roots rock, and New
    Orleans, Chicago, and Delta blues, among other styles. And no outdoor
    festival is complete without a beer garden, lots of food, and family
    activities such as community art projects.

    Saturday, 4pm-10pm, Lowertown Farmers Market, 4th & Sibley, Downtown St. Paul, Free

    FESTIVAL
    Red Stag Block Party

    I love the Red Stag.
    They manage to be classy, down-home, socially conscious, and hip as all
    get-out — all at the same time! On any given night you can enjoy an
    organically delicious gourmet meal
    at this Northeast Supper Club, but tonight they take to the streets for
    the 2nd Annual Red Stag Block Party. Peruse the flea market put on by Familia Skate Shop and Fifth Element,
    participate in a hula hoop contest, watch the Northstar Roller Girls
    bout it out, and enjoy live music from the likes of E.L.No, The Owls,
    Big Trouble, and plenty more. Being environmentally friendly and all,
    the Red Stag promises this event will be 100% zero waste!

    Saturday, 5pm-10:30pm, Red Stag, 509 1st Avenue NE, Northeast Minneapolis, Free

    And just a short hop away, at the Minneapolis Riverplace/St.Anthony Main riverfront, you can enjoy the Stone Arch Festival on both Saturday and Sunday.

    MUSIC
    Angie Stone

    Stone has always struck me as a latter-day Gladys Knight,
    a lady who sings like she knows her way around the church and the
    high-rise and the rural South, who’s comfortable to a fault with
    conservative soul trappings, not realizing that her best moments come
    when she steps beyond the mix and indulges her supple voice and
    emotional credibility in seemingly spontaneous testimony. Having
    endured enough of a career trough to suffer the indignity of appearing
    on Celebrity Fit Club a while back, Stone’s fourth and latest disc, The Art of Love & War on the reconstituted Stax label, is not her best (I’d opt for Mahogany Soul), but of a self-assured piece with her previous output. There are echoes of Stevie Wonder ("My People"), her stint in the Soul II Soul
    spinoff Perfect World ("Go Back To Your Life"), Philly soul ("Here We
    Go Again"), and slow jam romance ("Pop Pop"). Some of them are sure to
    be mixed in the Stone favorites like Raphael Saadiq’s
    "Brotha" and the shimmering "No More Rain (In This Cloud)" – which
    borrows a groove and sense of romantic-spiritual uplift from Knight’s
    bag of tricks. It all adds up to R&B-pop with a dash of hip hop
    that cuts a little deeper than neo-soul. —Britt Robson

    Saturday, 9pm, Epic Nightclub, 110 N. 5th Street, Downtown Minneapolis

    DINING
    Father’s Day Brunch at Nick & Eddie

    I’ve been a fan of Nick & Eddie
    since its inception. From my first visit I felt right at home up at the
    slick mahogany bar with the looming skull painting, and I immediately
    developed a longstanding crush on one of the hep-cat bartenders. Always
    an eclectic crowd at Nick and Eddie, customers range from fat cat
    steak-scarfing business men to Scott Seekins.
    The gourmet fare is best described as luxury comfort food, and their
    weekend brunch keeps true to that reputation with savory selections
    such as Brioche French Toast with strawberry compote, shirred eggs with
    ham, and grapefruit brulee. So, skip the generic hotel brunch and opt
    for a sweet view of Loring Park and a hip and modern ambiance; Dad
    will be surely impressed with your good taste!

    Sunday, 9am-3pm, Nick & Eddie, 1612 Harmon Place, Loring Park


  • Spandex, Coconut Shrimp, and Asphyxiation

    MUSIC
    Gogol Bordello



    Crazy Gypsy-punkers Gogol Bordello
    make a scene on the Cabooze’s outdoor stage tonight. These New Yorkers
    with eastern European roots are well known for their wild performances
    and sleazy/sexy punk rock charm. I would not recommend this show for
    the faint of heart; prepare to be groped, sweat on, danced on, and
    generally tossed around if you’re anywhere near the middle of the fray.
    If anything, you’ll have a good story to tell, as well as a new found
    appreciation for hot eastern Europeans in spandex.


    Gates 6pm, Music 7pm, The Cabooze, 917 Cedar Avenue S, $25



    FILM/NETWORKING

    WIFT Film Social



    Presented by Women in Film and Television (WIFT),
    this rooftop soirée is the perfect opportunity for curious parties and
    potential new members to network and learn a thing or two about a
    wonderful organization. Chat about cool film-related shenanigans going
    on around town — such as this weekend’s 48 Hour Film Project
    (in which yours truly just-so-happens to be participating !), and enjoy drink
    and appetizer specials served up fresh on Stella’s stellar rooftop
    patio overlooking Uptown. Not to mention, Stella’s Coconut Shrimp is tha bomb. Yes, I just said "tha bomb," and I meant it!



    5-7pm, Stella’s Fish Cafe, 1400 West Lake Street, Uptown, Free

    THEATER & PERFORMANCE
    Socktesting

    All the ingredients for an experimental disaster are there: six
    characters on a non-elevated platform of white cardboard — a sterile
    space carved out in the corner of a dingy art gallery — all dressed in
    white, speaking in seemingly disjointed sentences, hugging the wall
    behind them, twisting, writhing, gasping. But Socktesting,
    however experimental, is no disaster. Somehow, creators Mark Abel
    Garcia and Megan Mayer — with the help of six very able actors — have
    pulled it off masterfully. —Cristina Córdova (See full review.)

    8pm, Soap Factory, 518 2nd Street SE, Minneapolis, June 5-8, 12, 13, and 15, 2008, $15 at door, cash only