Tedeschi’s breakthrough came with her sophomore disc, Just Won’t Burn, which despite the title caught fire with blues fans, prompting numerous Bonnie Raitt comparisons and a Grammy nod in 2000. The followup, last year’s Wait for Me, picked up another nomination and, more important, showed significant improvement in her arrangements, adding a healthy touch of soul, pop, and old-school R&B. Tedeschi never strays far from her roadhouse roots—for better or worse, her growly, no-nonsense vocal delivery has its limits and works best on belting the blues. But she’s kept getting better year after year, and we’re guessing she hasn’t yet hit her peak. O’Shaughnessy, 2004 Randolph Ave., St. Paul, (651) 690-6700, http://www.stkate.edu/oshaughnessy
Category: Article
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Hands Across the Ocean
Though it is nearly 20 years ago now, some of us are old enough to remember the Official Preppy Handbook. It told girls called Muffy how to adjust their pearls, push pennies into their penny loafers and pursue men in tartan trousers (which they called plaid pants).
The other day I came across the British equivalent, the Sloane Ranger Handbook (Sloane Square is a smart part of London, near Harrod’s grand emporium). From it, Caroline and Henry Sloane discover how to get green Wellington boots, where to study Cordon Bleu cookery, and which pack of hounds to hunt foxes with. For Americans, it offers a rare chance to consider whether our two great nations are divided by more than a common language.
They are. What the great Augustine would call the “loves” of Sloanes and Preppies are quite distinct. Consider attitudes to the land; in England rural is smart, in America it means hick. Or think of smell. Caroline and Henry think it sad that Americans do not smell of anything. All those showers kill smell dead; far better to wallow in a steamy bath. Caroline married Henry largely on account of his smell, a delicious amalgam of pipe smoke, Labradors, and old leather.
The English simmer (where I write) is ripe with aromas. I do not refer to the overpowering stench of prevarication emerging from a government that persuaded many Members of Parliament to vote for its war in Iraq by announcing we could all be blown up at 45 minutes notice by Saddam Hussein’s Weapons of Mass Destruction. The public has a strong sense that if Her Majesty’s ministers were so sure these large but elusive weapons existed, they ought at least to be able to say where they are. This is a smell that will not go away anytime soon.
Thank God there are pleasanter airs abroad. Freshness rises from the pale green grass of the aftermath, where the crows are pecking among the bales of new-mown hay. The sweet peas are flowering, as powerful as brandy, as honeyed as Sauternes. But perhaps the most characteristic smell comes from the black currants—not blackberries, the autumn fruit that looks like raspberries dipped in ink, but black currants, Ribes nigrum, like small cranberries, growing on thornless bushes with leaves like vines.
In the sunshine, they are as pungent as skunks but a whole pile pleasanter, slightly oily (reminiscent, in fact, of the oil boys used to drip onto their electric trains), sweet, sour, and fruity all at the same time. Wine made from the sauvignon blanc grape, especially Pouilly-Fumé from the Loire in western France, is often said to smell of black currants.
The black currant is the most widely grown fruit in Europe. John Tradescant the Elder brought it to England from Central Europe in the early 17th century, in time for it to be transported to the American colonies. It has never been widely grown in America.
Forestedge Winery in Laporte, Minnesota, however, is said to be adding black currant to its range of wines made from local soft fruit and berries. Look out for it.
In the meantime, try a summer aperitif called Kir. Quarter-fill a wine glass with crème de cassis, the liqueur made in Burgundy from black currants and far too sticky to drink on its own. Top it with dry white wine. In Burgundy, they use aligoti (the name of a grape), but you could try anything white, dry, and light. With champagne it becomes Kir Royale. Watch the pretty pink swirls, like marble in motion, then sip judiciously as the sun sinks, the loon calls, and the dog falls into the lake for the nth time (where n is a large whole number).
Kir is named after a priest from Burgundy, Canon Kir, a hero of the resistance and then for many years, in the Fourth Republic, mayor of Dijon. The good canon’s name may be seen on the bottles of the premixed version of Kir, but if you cannot find them, it is easy to mix your own. There are few fruitier ways of keeping down the bill for preprandial libation. Besides, it stretches a hand of friendship across the Atlantic, and that cannot be bad.
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3 Legged Race's Summer, Blizzard 2003
The exciting thing about a night of works in progress is that you never know what you’re going to get, and it’s possible that the performers might not quite know either. The downside to that—well, it’s obvious, but the risk is worthwhile. 3 Legged Race’s fifth annual Blizzard invites five groups of artists from around the country to spend two weeks in development at the theater before strutting their stuff onstage. This year features new pieces combining dance and movement with video, clowning, aerialism, and even, we’re told, “bunny suits.” Sounds intriguing. And so does the aerial duet between James Sewell Ballet regular Sally Rousse and Homer Avila, a New York dancer who’s continued to produce new work despite losing a leg to cancer two years ago. Southern Theater, 1420 Washington Ave. S., (612) 340-1725, http://www.southerntheater.org, http://www.3leggedrace.org
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Art With Text
Near the entrance of this Northeast gallery, there’s a photograph of a rabbi studying the Torah, which nicely encapsulates the theme of this month’s show—that the printed word, far from being the opposite of the image, is itself a visual icon with special power to unlock life’s mysteries. As a nice counterpoint, just a few feet to its right there’s Guy Chase’s Ten Commandments tablets emblazoned with the rules for the board game Life. There’s a rich variety of media on display here: painting, papermaking, furniture, jewelry, and more, all adhering to the law of the letter and exploring ways to combine graphic design with words. It’s a whole new way of minding your p’s and q’s. Artco, 1620 Central Ave. N.E., (612) 788-8613, http://www.artcogallery.com
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Charles Ezell: Make Room for Love
Cue the hometown-boy-makes-good-then-comes-back-for-a-show music. St. Cloud-born comedian Charles Ezell has been a writer on Court TV (the funny parts), Burly TV, and Imposter on TBS. He can be seen this month in The Real Roseanne, a new ABC reality show about the titular star’s attempt at creating a cooking/lifestyle program. His first show in Minneapolis, Make Room for Love, will feature characters, stories, jokes, and a little song and dance. Guaranteed funny and, most likely, highly inappropriate for children and people who wear embroidered kitties on their clothing. Jungle Theater, 2951 Lyndale Ave. S., (612) 822-7063, http://www.jungletheater.com
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The Mystery of Irma Vep
Two heads are better than one, sure, but how about eight? Charles Ludlam’s enduringly popular drag satire tests that proposition by casting just two actors (in Park Square’s case, Charles Hubbell and Steve Lewis) to play all eight characters, male and female, in a goofball sendup of penny dreadfuls, Alfred Hitchcock, and horror films. Ibsen this ain’t: Story line falls on its sword in favor of the pun and the jokey reference, and careens loosely around characters including a werewolf, a mummified Egyptian princess, two preening aristocrats, and a vampire (anagram enthusiasts, take another look at the title). Mixed in with the quips and winkingly overblown dialogue (“It’s alive!”) are ludicrously frequent backstage dashes to change wigs and costumes—sometimes with only a single line of the other guy’s dialogue for cover. In other words, pure nonsense in the best sense of the term. Park Square Theatre, 20 W. Seventh Pl., St. Paul, (651) 291-7005, http://www.parksquaretheatre.org
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Orson Welles Rehearses Moby Dick
Orson Welles was a world conqueror in 1941 when he came out with Citizen Kane, a career high point he never reached again, though sporadic successes over the years kept reminding people what he was capable of. Kent Stephens’s new play centers on one of those later productions, Welles’s 1955 London stage production of Herman Melville’s novel. It’s a portrait of the artist as an older man, well played by Garry Geiken as an arrogant and mercurial genius slowly being eaten away by fears that “former genius” is more accurate. He’s questing after the ghosts of his former glory, and Stephens and director Bain Boehlke make the most of the parallel between Welles and whale-crazed Captain Ahab. It’s a witty, highly allusive play that weaves in threads of meaning through constant references to the original novel, the most well-remembered scenes from Welles’s filmography, and Shakespeare’s Tempest. To Stephens, Welles isn’t just Ahab, he’s Prospero, the wizard in exile who dreams of reconquering the kingdom. Jungle, 2951 Lyndale Ave. S., (612) 822-7063, http://www.jungletheater.com
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JP American Bistro
With all the present turmoil in the restaurant business and the malaise of the economy, it’s wonderful to see someone buck the odds and throw caution to the wind. You can do that when you get so many great ideas all at the same time, and execute them the way J.P. Samuelson has with this brilliant new joint at Lake and Lyndale. See here: The main thing killing fancy restaurants right now is the retrenchment of Minnesota eating habits. Thanks to the recent golden age of restaurateuring, we have evolved to demand world-class cuisine, but we want more of it for less money. Plus we want a really good reason to stay out late enough for the second seating. JP has our number here, and every chef in the city should pay close attention.
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Breaking 2nd Wind
“Why buy new when slightly used will do? EXCEPT when the deals are this good!” Dick Enrico’s catchy slogan has been confusing potential buyers of secondhand (new?) exercise equipment for years. Now he turns his copywriting skills to the classics!
William Shakespeare: To be or not to be. That is the question. Except when the being is this good!
A rose by any other name would not smell as sweet. Unless it were actually a rose, but with like a nickname.
Rene Descartes: I think therefore I am, I think. Am I?
Friedrich Nietzsche: What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, but it does make you more sensitive
to price.Ecclesiastes: There is nothing new under the sun.
Slightly used! All is slightly used.Franklin D. Roosevelt: The only thing we have to fear is fear itself. Except when we’re this afraid!
Herman Melville: Call me Ishmael. Just don’t call me late to dinner.
John F. Kennedy: Ask not what your country can do for you. Ask about free delivery in the metro area!
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Get your own no guns poster here
Here’s a sign you can post in your very own home or office. Now all you have to do is personally notify everyone who enters the premises, and you, too, can have your very own gun free zone.
Please note: the file may take a minute or two to download, or even more with a dialup connection.
If you do intend to actually use it, you must print it in its full 11 x 17 size for it to be legal.
If you don’t have Adobe Acrobat reader, you can download it here.