Category: Article

This is it, apparently. With the seventh and final installment in the series (list price: $34.95), the Harry Potter gravy train finally lurches to a halt. That, of course, means this will be a bittersweet occasion for J.K. Rowling’s legion of fans—adults and whippersnappers alike—and perhaps even more so for the publishing industry, which has been stumbling along and inhaling the powerful Potter fumes for nearly ten years. The phenomenon continues to fascinate on any number of levels, even for those who’ve never cracked one of the books or quite managed to understand what the fuss is all about. Surely the magical lad is all grown up by now, so might some of us hold out hope that “the Deathly Hallows” refers to Potter’s long-overdue, drug-fueled Beat odyssey? Probably not.

Ever since Bill Monroe and the Stanley Brothers essentially invented it, bluegrass has been the soul music of white people, and the outfit known to fans as AKUS is a worthy heir to that tradition. Exquisite soulfulness is pervasive in the God-fearing religion they wear on their sleeves and keep in their hearts; it’s also omnipresent in the sublime, string-driven braid of fiddle-dobro-guitar that girds Krauss’s angelic voice on the group’s hoedowns, hymns, and hair-tingling ballads. Purists sniff that they’re too slick and commercial, especially since the Coen brothers’ O Brother, Where Art Thou? movie soundtrack made them a dorm-and-apartment—if not exactly household—name. But listen to Krauss, on fiddle, and dobro maestro Jerry Douglas trade licks on “Unionhouse Branch” and then show me bowers and pluckers in any Appalachian holler who are more pure. 612-624-2345; www.northrop.umn.edu

The Providence, R.I.-based MC Sage Francis hops topics with a cerebrally voracious fervor reminiscent of Slug. It’s no surprise, then, to see Ant (Slug’s cohort in Atmosphere) laying down the beats on the sports-themed “High Step” from Sage’s May release, Human The Death Dance. While it’s more autobiographical and less overtly political than his previous three recordings, Human retains the ingeniously whorled phrases and dense vocabulary that made Francis a champion of freestyle contests, and a slam poet at heart. But it’s the production’s flourishes, like the strings on “Waterline,” that make the biggest difference here. Still, I expect that the bulldozer force and nonstop flow of “Keep Moving,” the career primer “Underground for Dummies,” and the blues-drenched “Got Up This Morning” (for which he cut a video) will be more the emphasis at First Ave. 612-332-1775; www.first-avenue.com

He looks like a cross between Buck Owens and Morrissey—which, come to think of it, is a fairly apt description of the Chris Isaak sound. Whether you were drawn in by that bare-chested babe who pranced about the video for his biggest hit to date, “Wicked Game,” or genuinely fell for the man’s ethereal, rockabilly, and surf-styled ballads, an Isaak concert is a virtual lock to be a smooth, stylish, and thoroughly date-friendly affair. In recent years he’s done some acting and cavorted with Hollywood’s most reliable nip-slipper, Bai Ling, but with the release of last year’s Best of Chris Isaak CD, the finest of quavering troubadours seems to be once again turning his attention to what he does best. 651-989-5151; www.suemclean.com

Regardless of all the reports about beleaguered Republican politicians, it’s liberals who’ve recently been found, by Pew Research Center pollsters, to be “less happy” than their compatriots at the other end of the political spectrum. This madcap musical was created in hopes of cheering them up. Joshua Rosenblum, a New York City-based composer/lyricist, channeled seven years of angst into this comic revue, whose cast lampoons the likes of Dick Cheney, Condi Rice, Ann Coulter, and, of course, our hapless Commander in Chief. The raucous (not to mention vicious) libretto features such memorable lyrics as “Won’t somebody give this guy a blowjob so we can impeach him?” 2821 Nicollet Ave., Minneapolis; 612-871-0050; www.bushisbadminneapolis.com

A quartet of the state’s most compelling pieces of choreography come together in this sixth annual snapshot of the Minnesota dance community. An early standout this year is Our Perfectly Wonderful Lives, a riff on the allure of superstardom by one of our favorite physical-theater troupes, Off-Leash Area Contemporary Performance Works. Co-director Paul Herwig says the story involves “three characters happily skipping down the road to disaster with absolute willingness and smiles on their faces.” It uses Andy Warhol’s biography as a rough launching point, weaving together dance, theater, and even visual art—including a giant tinfoil recreation of Warhol’s Factory. Co-presented by the Walker Art Center and the Southern Theater. 612-340-0155; www.southerntheater.org

Master puppeteer Michael Sommers and his itinerant troupe are spending the summer gigging at local libraries and parks, as well as residential driveways, with two offerings: The Adventures of Katie Tomatie and Little Grandpa’s Big Adventure. They’re traveling light, with entire hand-painted sets and most of their characters—handmade puppets, that is—packed into single suitcases, but they don’t skimp on the best qualities of theater: spirited performances, delightful screwball characters, and live accordion music. Sommers’s sly, dark humor may fly under the radar with kids, but certainly sweetens the pot for older audience members. Best of all, this low-tech gypsy brand of theater becomes all the more magical when viewed under open summer skies. Check the Open Eye website for detailed listings. 612-823-5162; www.openeyetheatre.org

Hands down, this retelling of the ’75 flick Monty Python and the Holy Grail is the Broadway hit of the decade. Its success owes to the Pythons’ pioneering formula—sketch comedy bits on flatulence, effeminate Frenchmen, and such—which, in turn, has attracted the loyal patronage of a most atypical theatergoer: the heterosexual white man aged thirty-five or thereabouts. But this production is an unapologetically slapstick, frisky, and therefore supremely escapist entertainment for all demographics. This touring production features an all-new cast of King Arthur and his knights in tights, as the original blockbuster is still going strong on Broadway. Nevertheless, the ersatz proves as popular as the first: Already Spamalot’s twenty-four St. Paul shows are nearly sold out. 651-224-4222; www.ordway.org

Shortly after Tim O’Reagan’s arrival from Kansas in ’88, it became clear that this Leatherwoods drummer was something special. While other members of the band were singing about eight-balls and dicks, O’Reagan shyly smiled over his drumsticks as he proclaimed himself a happy man in that upbeat Marvin-Gaye style of his. Quiet though he was, it was no surprise when O’Reagan continued on to fame with The Jayhawks as the Leatherwoods fizzled out. Almost two decades later—with a little more irony, a little Dylanesque grit, and an overlooked solo debut—O’Reagan retains his understated manner. He advances quietly, slips in through the back door in the true fashion of a drummer, and consistently delivers solid performances. And bam, one day you wake up and he’s a true pop star. 400 Cedar Ave. S., Minneapolis; 612-332-2903; www.400bar.com

Some people become authors because they are of the exact opposite temperament from a movie star. Putting on a clean shirt can, in itself, be a chore; putting on a pressed one is out of the question. Author photos, then, are the art of making these schlubs and misanthropes look believable, wise, and even a touch mysterious. Nancy Crampton, who for thirty-five years has shot the likes of Norman Mailer, Gabriel García Márquez, Ian McEwan, and Lorrie Moore for New York’s Unterberg Poetry Center, is particularly astute at portraying warmth and piquancy, without making authors look like someone other than themselves. She will discuss her book, Writers: Photographs, a collection of more than one hundred duotones, at the library, where her photos will be on display. RSVP required. 612-630-6155; www.friendsofmpl.org