Author: rakemag

Odell takes up the sympathies of two mothers on opposite sides of the racial divide, who are connected by grief as they deal with the loss of their sons and watch the dawn of the desegregation era come to their small Mississippi town. Odell once had a successful corporate career. He tossed it, and almost everything else in his life, aside for a soul-searching expedition to Costa Rica. He came back and wrote this book. 10 E. Exchange St., St. Paul; 651-290-1221

In the wake of the tsunami, some well-intentioned Americans looked into adopting orphaned children. Perhaps they should read Jan Jeong Trenka’s memoir, The Language of Blood, before buying a ticket to Jakarta. “Remember that your joy as a parent is a direct result of your child’s first loss,” Trenka cautions adoptive parents. A Korean-born child adopted into a white Northern Minnesota family, Trenka writes of her search for her birth mother, who was forced to give her up, and her struggles to come to terms with an Asian identity her adoptive parents never recognized. Her story, told in part through one-act plays, dream sequences, and crossword puzzles, won a 2004 Minnesota Book Award. 7001 York Ave. S., Edina; 952-847-5900

Those darling DJs at the Current have been playing Nick Cave’s profane-to-profound music with such enthusiasm you’d think we’re in Australia, where he’s achieved elder statesman status among alt rockers. Hearing the dark-side crooner so often reminds us of what we like about him–his brooding intensity, his amazing gift for melody, his throwback lyrical style–but we concede that even fans may find this three-CD, fifty-six-song set a lot to digest. It spans a couple of decades and a huge range of styles, meaning listeners might use their “skip” button a wee bit to keep things interesting or to spare themselves abrasions from Cave’s rougher edges. But don’t be too quick to jump ahead: Cave always rewards brave listeners with shining moments of brilliance.

It’s been ten years since the folks at the Schubert Club brought Minnesota its first gamelan, and in collaboration with the Indonesian Performing Arts Association of Minnesota, they’ve put it to good use ever since. For this concert, Midiyanto, an acclaimed Javanese puppeteer, will shape an evening wayang kulit, or traditional shadow puppetry performance, around the music. The puppet master gathers concertgoers around the fire (Okay, they’ll make do with giant gongs, in this case) to tell the story of the young Bima, a traditional character who sports a conspicuously long thumbnail. The multitasking Midiyanto will guide Bima through the Mahabharata world of demons, giants, and gods, even as he conducts the gamelan players through their mesmerizing sweeps of percussion. Sundin Hall, 1531 Hewitt Ave., St. Paul; 651-523-2459; www.schubert.org

Al Green’s been boiling in our blood all along, his deep moans and hungry wails laying down soundtracks for everything from lost virginities to Viagra-assisted hook-ups. After that period in the eighties when Green went reverend on us, devoting himself full-time to gospel and God, he returned to R&B in the mid-nineties, but it was a disappointingly lackluster effort. Luckily, in 2003 he came full circle with I Can’t Stop, an album on which he reunites with his old producer, Willie Mitchell, and reconciles his Christian beliefs with the corporeal pleasures his music magically incites. Indeed, he really couldn’t stop, because his new album follows the same earthy path. It’s a raw effort peppered with spiritual energy and Green’s signature Southern soul. Everything’s OK loves all God’s creatures–especially honeys, babies, and mamas.

Not every folksinger offers paeans to cornfields and chicken coops. Lucy Kaplansky is a purely urban soul, and her New York City songs tell stories with subway trains below and skyscrapers above. Nor do her curly hair, modern love songs, and psychology degree fit with your average folkie image, but she cuts to the heart of things with a sweet and yearning voice. Her latest recording, The Red Thread, crosses oceans to China, where Kaplansky and her husband recently traveled to adopt a baby daughter. The title refers to an invisible thread, which, according to Chinese lore, links newborn babies to every person they will meet throughout their lives. It’s a good reminder of the fragile connectivity of life, which in itself is a key to happy urban living. 416 Cedar Ave S., Minneapolis; 612-338-2674; www.thecedar.org

B.B. King is coming to town, and the man is turning eighty this year, so don’t put off today what you might not be able to hear tomorrow. Not that the reigning King of the Blues is slowing down any. With a world tour and a new album (The Ultimate Collection, twenty-one of King’s greatest hits, is available March 15), the man is in fine form, and sounds as good as ever. His music really should be heard in a venue that serves some good fried food (seats that spin are ideal, too), but King has earned a measure of comfort after so many decades of hard work, and his smoky, low-down voice should rumble the cubes at Orchestra Hall just fine. 612-371-5656; www.minnesotaorchestra.org

Mail doubles as works of art (postcard, painting, sculpture), in this exhibition. Each artwork, while it is stamped and addressed to the gallery, and bears a postmark tattoo, seems to have very little road wear. Sure, it would be pretty hard to damage the block of wood carved ironically to resemble a package, but it’s clear that the cork collage and the soft doll, who floated unprotected through the system wearing her address label like a piece of jewelry, got kid-glove treatment. Which is maybe not so surprising–wouldn’t doll-mail be a bright spot in the otherwise monotonous day of a postal worker? 1111 Mainstreet, Hopkins; 952-979-1100; www.hopkinsmn.com/_hca

A crank and a recluse, a seeker and an obsessive, Biederman was the kind of artist who made art simply because he couldn’t not do it! He was from a whole different era than the graduates turned out by today’s BFA and MFA programs, but he might as well have been a whole different species. As a quintessential modernist, Biederman was forward-looking, using fluorescent tubes in his work in 1940, decades before Dan Flavin (whose work is currently sought after by the kind of art-world “phonies and hypocrites” that Biederman loved to hate), but he also reached back. In a sense he was our last long link with early moderns like Cezanne, his first love. Don’t pass up the opportunity to rediscover a true American original. As Biederman himself proved, a restless eye does not go unrewarded. 333 E. River Rd., Minneapolis; 612-625-9494; www.weisman.umn.edu