Blog

  • Caviar on Credit

    Through August 3, A Guthrie Experience for Actors in Training is presenting Caviar on Credit at the Dowling Studio. For the past 12 years, the Guthrie has taken pride in offering continuing education programs to young actors from institutions throughout the country and hosting a stage upon which they exhibit all they’ve learned. In return, the theater hopes to entice the players back to the Twin Cities once they pursue a full-time career: Of the 145 actors who have taken part in the program, over 50 have signed on in some capacity with the Guthrie following their training.

    This season’s show, directed by Marcela Lorca (The Secret Fall of Constance Wilde), casts 14 players in the comedic mystery of swindler Walter Jackson Junior. A case of masked identity and repeat suckers, the actors take turns playing the protagonists, lending a Bourne Identity feel to it all. Perhaps the most impressive aspect of the show, which was written by the cast itself, is the physicality: Each member has equal billing in dance numbers, most of which are cleverly choreographed, not campy, borrowing moves from eras long (and not so long) ago. With a heavy film noir influence, Caviar on Credit has fun playing with time period (jaunty fedoras, but also cell phones). Keep an eye on Laura Esposito who plays (among other characters) the spiritually-wandering Feta Karakas. A master of Cheri Oteri-like cuteness and facial contortion, Esposito doesn’t disappoint, even when focus is meant to be elsewhere on stage.

  • Blood Visions and Bad Haircuts

    Tonight is the night of bad haircuts. There’s the bassist with the frizzed-out white boy Afro. And there’s a whole mess of uncontrolled curls. But who said rock and roll is supposed to be beautiful? Mick Jagger? Fuck Mick Jagger. Music sounds better when it’s snarled, in need of a comb. This evening is showcasing a man who, on his last album cover, stood in his underwear drenched in a bucket of fake blood. That ain’t pretty, but it’s awesome. And Jay Reatard isn’t half bad himself.

    Opening for Jay Reatard are locals Private Dancer. This band may have the weakest stage banter ever. Throughout the set, their fuzzy-haired singer enlightens the audience with lurid tidbits such as, "Sweet. Totally sweet," "That was totally awesome," and "I forgot the name of the next band." Private Dancer is also a group that seems best listened to after three shots of whiskey, which is not inherently a bad thing. It just lubricates the veins in preparation for their primitive frenzy. Bare-boned and screaming, Private Dancer sounds like an off-kilter Pavement with cowbell and indulgent wannabe psych jams. "Do You Like to Read" is the hardest rocker in their arsenal-the only discernable lyrics of which are "Fuck yeah/ Oh yeah/ Oh yeah/ Oh yeah/ Fuck yeah," sung while the singer shakes his non-existent ass.

    Next is Nashville trio Cheap Time. One-third of the band looks vaguely like a 1970s roadie, one-third like a less drugged out Dee Dee Ramone, and one-third like an indie band poster boy. Their jaunty garage rock has spitfire nasally vocals that sound like that bratty kid in fifth grade. It works, and once you sink into it, those bar chords are addictive-the surf drums even more so. Their brand of basement-dwelling punk strips down the excess leaving only the parts that make you twitch and feel good. Really good. "People Talk" is a good example of the band’s irresistible, shiver-inducing explosions. Dual lyrics are delivered rapidly like a well-oiled muscle car with the pedal to the metal, while two-note guitar riffs carry the tune off to oblivion. It’s not smart music, but it’s efficiently primal, and Cheap Time proves something can be both cheap and top quality.

    Jay Reatard blasts through his 11-song set in what feels like 20 minutes, but is probably more like 21. Songs like "Blood Visions," "My Shadow" and "It’s So Easy" are sped up even faster than on the record. With fingers in a blur and feet doing tap dances on his large collection of pedals, it’s nearly impossible to fathom how Jay Reatard even can play his music faster than on Blood Visions. In his fever-pitched fury, the Memphis punker is lost in a mass of long brown hair. And I’m not sure whether it’s sweat or spit, but some kind of liquid is flying off him in massive amounts. Listening to the set feels like a pleasurable electrocution, with sparks shocking synapses and turning the audience into a thickly spasming mass.

    Jay Reatard is quickly rising to the top of the indie watch list. This time the hype is warranted. He geniusly blends his delectable, upbeat ragers with macabre lyrics like, "It’s so easy when your friends are dead," and "I won’t stop until you’re dead/ Because of the voices in my head." Unlike forefathers Misfits and The Cramps, Jay Reatard manages to present his mock-horror in a wholly non-campy way. Sure, if you could actually see his eyes behind that mop of hair, he may be spurting the lyrics with a sly wink, but there is a pleasant lack of overacting. Even without his quirky, morbid lyrics, the music is some of the best retro garage out there. Jay Reatard will get his 15 minutes of fame, but let’s hope it’s probably more like 16.

  • Reading This Post is Not Really Reading

    On the front page of yesterday’s New York Times is an article by Motoko Rich titled, "Literacy Debate: Online, R U Really Reading?" It’s the first in a series that will explore "how the Internet and other technological and social forces are changing the way people read." This installment focuses on the somewhat new debate as to whether online reading promotes literacy, or is detrimental to it. As Rich weighs out both sides of the issue in clear, measured prose, the central point that should have been made is completely lost amidst a sea of statistics and pedigreed quotes (the jab and hook of any journalist, to be sure).

    To clarify: Online reading in this context does not refer to the ingestion of long articles and stories that just happen to be on the Internet, but could just as easily have been printed. Rather, the debate is about un-linear reading, reading broken up by hyperlinks and tabs and blurbs, which allow readers to "skate through cyberspace at will and, in effect, compose their own beginnings, middles, and ends."

    Rich cites an NEA study ("a sobering report") that found only one in five 17-year olds reads for fun every day, down from one in three in the eighties. But then ‘reading’ is later defined basically as data analysis, or a "way to experience information." If this is what students are taught reading is, which seems to be the case, and I suppose has probably always been the case, it’s no wonder that that kids don’t read. How many kids do math for fun in their free time? I wouldn’t be surprised if that number is one in five, too.

    The reason I say the article is mostly worthless is because it considers reading only as a means by which to take in and process information, and then implicitly chastises younger generations for not reading books. There is no mention, sadly, of the pleasure one derives from losing oneself in a narrative or, on the non-fiction side of things, immersing oneself in a subject. If reading were depicted in this way, which it should be, I think there would be more cause to lament. (Rich does have an essay that touches on that here.) In effect, Rich lends credence to the suspect merits of online reading, without getting into the real benefits of books.

     

    To temper my wonking, here is a video of Ernie and Bert rapping.

    The article’s supporting cast of experts likewise define reading in scientific terms. "Reading a book, and taking the time to ruminate and make inferences and engage the imaginational processing, is more cognitively enriching, without doubt, than the short little bits you might get if you’re in the 30-second digital mode," said Ken Pugh, a neuroscientist at Yale. Ooooooh, sounds enriching, doesn’t it?

    But the thing is, reading ain’t for the head. It’s for the soul, or whatever that murk inside our chests is.

    (And yes, there’s a fundamental reading level one must attain in order to function in the everyday world, but the NYT article is about books, and the decline of readership, which is why I’m addressing/about-to-adress why people read books, and why the experience of a book is unlikely to be replicated online.)

    To read a book for its informational value is like joining a soccer team just to burn the calories. Yeah it’s a nice side effect – people who read more novels score better on reading tests (surprise surprise); likewise, people who play soccer in their spare time are probably in better shape than people who sit on the couch. But if you’re playing correctly, then that means you’re actually engaged in the game, immersed in it, caught in the flow and the surges of adrenaline, you care about the final score, and hate the other team, and also maybe hate your coach who doesn’t play you as many minutes as you deserve, the bastard. It’s more than a work-out.

    This isn’t just about novels, either. Non-fiction suffers, too. Consider Stephen Hawking’s A Brief History of Time. If read correctly, one doesn’t come away from that book simply with factoids about black holes and quantum physics; rather it helps one understand, on a larger scale, but in a small way, one’s connection to the universe.

    As Nicholas Carr points out in his Atlantic Monthly article, "Is Google Making Us Stupid?" the fractured nature of online reading necessarily annihilates the act of engaging with a narrative. This, I think, is the real danger.

    A similar idea is depicted in the current issue of the New Yorker, in an article about insight called "The Eureka Hunt" by Jonah Lehrer. He interviews a cognitive neuroscientist who believes that "Language is so complex that the brain has to process it in two different ways at the same time. It needs to see the forest and the trees." The left hemisphere excels at denotation – storing the primary meanings of words; meanwhile the right hemisphere deals with connotation – the emotional charges in a sentence or a metaphor. "The right hemisphere is what helps you see the forest," is the scientist’s next quote. But when one is distracted, he goes on, as one might be on the Internet, the right hemisphere’s functioning becomes limited.

    Meaning, I think, that when reading on the Internet, we can still process direct and obvious information – the stuff they’re concerned about on proficiency tests – but the nuances of literature get lost. Unfortunately, some of the best literature is the most nuanced. Unfortunately, though I suspect Motoko Rich might sympathize with this, it goes unmentioned in the article.

    A last thought:
    Metaphor. From what I can glean from Wittgenstein, which isn’t a lot, when we communicate we are endeavoring to express things that are actually, in a purer sense, inexpressible. Every word ever spoken, then, is a mini-metaphor. We don’t actually feel a word called ‘sadness’ – ‘sadness’ is just the term we’ve come up with to best describe certain awful emotions. The feeling is greater than the word. Likewise, authors use metaphor to give their stories meaning beyond the actual sentences written on physical pages. To make a gross blanket statement, by and large online content does not make use of metaphor. It seems generally to be more reductive. Blogs are boiled-down opinions, and wikis are generalized information. It’s fodder for arguments, rather than thoughts. Hyperlinks are not metaphors, they do not lead out to Real Life, but rather to other facets of the Internet. It’s just that we’re beginning to make the mistake of considering those two entities – Real Life and the Internet – to be the same.

  • Finding Beauty in Politics

    On Tuesday, the 29th of July, the votes will be tallied
    and the people will have spoken, singling out the King and Queen of Minnesota
    politics and bringing an end to the heated debate over who is truly the most
    beautiful at the Capitol
    .

    And while the answer to this question that burns with the
    fire of a thousand orange juice soaked cold sores will be posted here for all
    to see, there’s another option for those who want to be the first to know. The
    Rake is holding a party at The Liffey starting at 5 p.m. Tuesday night,
    complete with the all-important drink specials, where the winners will be crowned
    with proper pomp and circumstance.

    More details can be found here.

  • Hüsker Dü EP Release Party (Really!)

    SPECIAL EVENT
    Hüsker Dü J.C. Memorial EP Release Party &
    Film Exposé

    Snap up a lil’ piece o’ Twin Cities music history tonight at
    Grumpy’s! Minneapolis’ own original punk rock royalty, Hüsker
    , are releasing a super special, super limited edition EP containing three
    live songs recorded in 1982-1983. Why here, why now you ask? Well, Hüsker Dü
    recently lost a dear friend, J.C., and as tribute they’ve released this little
    gem. A pretty epic memorial if you ask me! You’ll also get to rub elbows with Grant
    Hart
    , who will have not only EP’s for ya’ll, but limited edition posters for
    the event designed and numbered by the man himself. Add in a little old-school
    Hüsker Dü video footage put together by Mr. Rick Fuller, lots of cool people,
    some artery-clogging bar food (here’s lookin’ at you, Cream Cheese Burger), and
    you’ve got yourself one hell of an evening. Maybe if you ask nicely, Grant will
    even sign
    your chest
    . It’s worth a shot!

    10 p.m., Grumpy’s Bar
    Downtown
    , 1111 Washington Ave., Downtown Minneapolis,
    Free

     

    PERFORMANCE
    An Evening with Marion Ross Hosted by Nancy
    Nelson

    Did you know the Mom from Happy
    Days
    is from Minnesota? I didn’t. Did you also know that after Happy Days Marion Ross went on to rock
    the Broadway stage and make a ton of movies? I didn’t know that either. Well,
    despite my obvious lack of knowledge when it comes to Minneapolis noteables, I
    still know a cool event when I see one. Tonight you’ll see clips of Marion’s
    work – and not just the ones of her making the
    Fonz
    a sandwich! The real highlight will be listening to her tell
    stories about growing up in Minnesota and her long career in the TV and Film biz. Not only a fun tidbit of Minnesota fame and fortune found, but also an
    inspiring recount of one sucessful woman’s amazing journey that will appeal to
    aspiring actors and the general public alike. Oh yeah, and Happy
    Days
    fans too.

    7pm, McPhail Center for Music Auditorium, 501 South
    2nd Street, Downtown Minneapolis, Free

     

    ART
    The Alice Project: An Installation of Curious
    Proportions

    We all need a bit of whimsy in our lives, and the folks over at
    Steven’s Square Center for the Arts know it! In celebration of the 150 year
    anniversary of Lewis Carroll’s dark fantasy tale, Alice in Wonderland, the SSCA delivers a charming visual
    exploration that will delight art appreciators of all ages. Over a dozen artists
    lent their creativity to this imaginative project that features
    clever interpertation of Caroll’s original vision. Wander through a maze of
    giant Alice-inspired props created by the artists and learn a bit of the history
    behind this well-loved tome. Want to make an evening of it? Whether you’re with
    the fam or a date, reasonable (and nearby) eatery Salsa a La
    Salsa
    is always a cute stop for some Monday night Mexican. The Alice Project runs through August
    17th.

    1-5pm,Steven’s Square Center for the
    Arts
    , 1905 3rd Avenue S., Minneapolis, Free

  • Outdoor Dining: Old Favorites, New Finds

    My how time flies. It is almost August, the days are getting
    shorter, and the evenings of patio dining will soon be a distant memory. I
    still haven’t made it back to my all-time favorite outdoor dining spot, the
    patio at the Black Forest Inn, for a mug of Pilsner Urquell, a pair of bratwurst
    with sauerkraut and potato salad, and a big slice of Apfelstrudel. Speaking of which, next Sunday, August 3, the Black Forest will be celebrating National Bratwurst Day (who knew?) with brat specials, brat prizes, and a special bratwurst day menu cover contest. Accordionist Mark Stillman will play from 6:30 to 9 p.m., which make it worth the trip even if you are a vegetarian.

    But there are more outdoor options than ever these days,
    including several of my favorite Asian restaurants. Jasmine 26 at 26th and Nicollet has a few
    sidewalk tables – and a great all-day drink special: your choice of Kirin or Sapporo tap beer, or a glass of Lizard Flats chardonnay or cabernet-merlot blend for $3.

    Tin Fish also ranks pretty high on my list of favorites – the seafood is fresh, prices are very
    reasonable, and the view overlooking Lake Calhoun is one of those
    quintessential summer experiences. Seafood prices have crept up over the years,
    but you can still get a fried cod taco for $3.95, or a mini-tin fish sandwichsoft shell crab sandwich for $2.75.

    The view isn’t quite as scenic at
    Minneapolis’s other seafood restaurant in a park concession stand, the Sea Salt
    Eatery
    at Minnehaha Falls, but the food is just as good, and the menu is just a
    bit more adventuresome, with offerings like a Thai yellow shrimp curry soup or a crawfish etouffe. And if you walk a few feet from the tables, you get a lovely view of the Falls.

    My favorite Indian (actually Indian/Tibetan/Nepali) place
    these days is the Namaste Café, 2512 Hennepin Ave. S., which offers both a shaded porch and a terraced
    front patio. I am absolutely addicted to one of their appetizers, the paapri
    chaat, a street snack concocted of crunchy chips, chickpeas, yogurt, potatoes,
    tamarind chutney, onions, tomatoes, cilantro and more. They also have a great selection of teas and chai – from the family tea plantation in Nepal, as well as wine and beer.

    Right next door, duplex has followed suite with its own
    patio. I stopped by for brunch this morning – the Argentine chorizo hash with
    poached eggs and tomato béarnaise ($9.49) was no great shakes, but the crab
    scramble with cream cheese and orange crème fraiche ($8.99) was delicious, and I would gladly go back to
    try some of the items on their dinner menu, like the house made fettucine with chicken confit, pancetta, shiitake mushrooms,
    capers, and thyme, ($13.99).

  • Wolves firm up roster; and the hot Cubs-Brewers rivalry

    Wolves Sign Telfair and Gomes

    Both of these deals are far better news than the earlier locking up of Craig Smith for two years. Although the Wolves now have 15 guys under contract for the coming year, Telfair is the only one who could accurately be described as a point guard. Randy Foye is a "combo" guard, more Brandon Roy than Jose Calderon. Nobody will ever accuse Bassy of being able to play any other position.

    The local hype machine tried to portray Al Jefferson as the most pleasant surprise of the package wrought in the KG deal, but Big Al was a distant third on that count behind Telfair and Gomes, in that order. Jefferson put up monster numbers during the second half of his final year in Boston and showed every sign of being the low-post load that appeared wearing #25 last year. His inconsistent and underdeveloped defense was likewise no surprise. Bassy, on the other hand, was almost universally considered an immature bust, his premature career beset by clanking jumpers, lousy on-court decision-making, and a weapons incident that fed the stereotype of a NYC prep star fallen prey to too much playground ball veneration.

    From his first day in Minnesota, Telfair was anything but that guy, proving himself to be nearly as modest off the court as he was industrious, and increasingly sage, on the hardwood. He still couldn’t swish a jumper if his reputation depended upon it (and leave-’em-alone defenses indicated that it did), but his ability to step up and give his teammates a taste of what the various sets in Wittman’s half court system looked like with a true point on the perimeter proved to be invaluable in the development of Jefferson, McCants and the rest of the team’s scorers.

    The Telfair signing feels like a rare bit of good news for those hoping Rashad McCants doesn’t get lost in the personnel shuffle. Bassy and Shaddy always felt like a complementary backcourt duo, and sure enough, Telfair’s plus/minus numbers with McCants are easily better than with anyone else on the perimeter. The Wolves averaged 93 points per 48 with Telfair last season, but that number jumped to 100 pp48 when McCants was riding shotgunner on the wing, without inflating the 103 pp48 the Wolves ceded on D in Telfair’s minutes. One hopes that Foye is paired in the starting lineup with Mike Miller and that Telfair and Shaddy come in together.

    Ryan Gomes was a bit of a surprise only in that you hear about guys doing the "little things," but it is very tough to appreciate until it’s laid out on a daily basis. Gomes was an inconsistent shooter early last year, especially from long range, and he suffered the embarrassment of being the woefully undersized power forward beside Jefferson’s undersized center, but naturally registered no complaint. I’ve extolled his virtues in other fairly recent threads and think whatever Glen Taylor and co. forked over to get him was well spent, so long as it was below the MLE. Gomes provides flexibility, continuity, an easy-going balm in the locker room during a long season. He’s bright and well-spoken with the media and fans, enhancing the image of the star-crossed franchise. And I suspect that he will be thrust in different roles and also see his minutes fluctuate quite a bit–being able to accept that uncertainty without getting sour or mopey is a huge benefit to a ballclub still rapidly and comprehensively building on the fly, without anyone being really certain how things are going to shake out. Put it this way, if Craig Smith is worth $4.8 million over the next two years (more than had been previously reported) than Gomes is worth double that, and is probably receiving less. In contrast with Smith, Bassy’s near-identitical $4.8 m over two years, with a $2.7 m option on a third, is more of a bargain.

    As mentioned earlier, Minnesota now has 15 players signed, with Kevin McHale expressing the opinion that Chris Richard will also join the fold. Presumably this means goodbye to Kirk Snyder, who showed promise last season and should find a spot at the end of a good team’s roster (I’d say the Celts, who remain a little thin and wouldn’t hurt their defensive identity with Snyder on board). I’d say there is also a pretty good chance we won’t see Calvin Booth ever suit up.

    My starting five on July 26 looks like a front line of Collins-Jefferson-Gomes, with Miller and Foye in the backcourt. Kevin Love and Corey Brewer would be my first off the bench, with Collins and either Gomes or Miller sitting, depending on the matchups. Then McCants and Telfair would be in the second wave, with Smith coming in for Jefferson along with Collins to beef up the front line. At crunchtime, I’d seriously consider Foye, McCants and Miller spreading the floor and giving Jefferson room to operate, with Collins, Love, Brewer or Gomes being among the choices for the fifth guy, again depending on the matchup. I’ll try and remember to look back on this in mid-winter and read how silly (or less likely, prescient) that sounds.

    Last but not least on the Wolves for now, while Vegas Summer League doesn’t often mean anything, Brewer’s inconsistency there is a slight cause for concern. It is amazing to me how much personality plays a role in how a player is regarded, more so sometimes than actual performance. You rarely, if ever, hear McCants mentioned by the front office, while the gushing for all the things Brewer supposedly brings to the table remains unabated. But all the talk in the world doesn’t obscure that this is a crucial year for Brewer, who needs to demonstrate that he can parlay great defense against large swingmen like Paul Pierce into a reliable asset–a consistent, kamikaze pace-setter–*and* not be a Telfair-like nonfactor when scoring. If Bowen and Raja Bell truly are the templates, he’s got to learn to stick an open jumper, and have a little nastiness besides. And please, no more Dennis Rodman comparisons. They are somewhat similar in the way they move their feet and try to make a catalytic effect without the ball, but Rodman also happened to be one of the top two or three rebounders in the game during his heyday.

    Cubs and Brewers Fight For A Pennant

    For the first time in my life, I went to Summerfest, Milwaukee’s huge, 10-day music gathering out on the shore at the end of June through the 4th of July. It was a glorious time, as I saw at least a dozen bands in three days/nights that I would have ventured out to see headlining all by their lonesome, climaxing in a stupdenous show by The Roots, who are really featuring a tuba player now, and a guitarist who totally tears it up. It is a long way from when the dual rappers, ?uestlove (the second greatest rock timekeeper in history behind Charlie Watts) and the beatboxer, Raheim, ran the show. Jesse Helms had died just earlier that day, and ?uest gave him his due, noting that he’d vehemently opposed almost every bit of civil rights legislation ever enacted in this country, and finishing off the aside by saying "good riddance" and "rest in peace" in the same sentence. A half-hour later the band was pinwheeling their way through a massive, psychedelic rendition of Dylan’s "Masters of War," which segued into Hendrix’s "Machine Gun." Maybe my best 4th of July ever.

    But I digress. What was particularly noticeable at Summerfest, from a sports standpoint, was the somewhat edgy and yet good-natured bristling that continually took place between fans of the Cubs and Brewers. In late March, I took the great 95-year old blues pianist Pinetop Perkins down from a gig a few miles north of Milwaukee to catch a plane in Chicago (I was writing a Pinetop profile for No Depression magazine) and it struck me how incredibly close these two cities are from each other. As an east coast resident, it reminded me of Baltimore and Washington, or, to a slightly lesser extent, the Boston/NY/Philly triplets. Officially I guess it is 90 miles, but it is a straight shot down the highway and if you press the metal you can go round-trip and spend an entire day at whichev
    er one you are visiting. Vikings fans love to claim this huge rivalry with the Packers, for instance, but anyone who has ever lived near Green Bay tells me that the Bears are the rivalry that matters.

    Anyway, when a Milwaukee DJ introduced the Chicago band Alkaline Trio and half-kiddingly tried to whip up a little Cubs-Brewers frisson, the hefty response he received was eye-opening. From that point on, I began to notice the plethora of both Cubs and Brewers clothing worn by the festival patrons. It was really pretty extraordinary. (And this prompts another digression about sports and Summerfair. The Milwaukee Bucks had a booth at the fest and Yi jerseys were going for $5! Of course Yi is now a New Jersey Net, but that fact makes the dirt-cheap Yi merchandise *more* desireable–I almost bought one, and why not; it costs labout the same as a slice of pizza or a brat. On the other hand, I am not aware of exactly how bad Yi underperformed for the Bucks last year, and whether he contributed to the mightly sense of ennui that wafted off that ballclub whenever I saw them play. I know the Wolves have deeply discounted Ricky Davis merchandise on the gift-shop side of their website, and I would buy a RD jersey for a plugged nickel to give to my worst enemy. The karmic juju would be too dangerous. Okay, back to the Cubs-Brewers.) The drunken yahoos that are the real unofficial logo for any of these big music confabs also enjoyed egging on their rivals, be they Cubs or Brewers fans, whenever there was a moment of quasi-silence in the prevailing din and crush of bodies.

    Then, a few days after I came home, the Brewers acquired ace and reigning Cy Young Award winner CC Sabathia from Cleveland. A day later, the Cubs responded by filching Rich Harden from the A’s. Harden is more injury-prone and less experienced in knowing how to pitch than is Sabathia, but the price the Cubs paid–no prime prospects or on-field starters–was far less than what the Brewers gave up, and the rest of the Cubs rotation is stronger than Milwaukee’s sans CC.

    For some reason I’m giddy over this. The Brewers started becoming one of my favorite teams when they brought up Rickie Weeks and Prince Fielder two or three years ago, and then Corey Hart and Ryan Braun. Once they had finally rid themselves of that gasbag Bud Selig and the rest of his dunderheaded family, they drafted and traded smartly and then, after bagging a new stadium, waited for the kids to come through. And now they have. Ben Sheets has stayed healthy enough to start this year’s All Star game for the National League, and with Sabathia gives the Brewers a dual-ace top side to their rotation, one of the key ingredients for going far in the playoffs.

    Sabathia has been phenomenal. A huge kid–large-boned, physically gifted and fat all at the same time–he’s thrown three complete games in his four starts thus far for Milwaukee, with the Brewers winning all four while CC has yielded just 5 runs and struck out 31 (walking just 8) in 33 innings. Meanwhile, Harden likewise has been as good as advertised. He’s fanned 30 batters in just 17 and 1/3 innings in his three starts, while surrendering a measly 8 hits and two runs over that span. The problem, however, is the 17 and 1/3 in three outings. As a power-oriented strikeout pitcher, Harden throws a lot of pitches, and as a chronically injured young hurler, the Cubs have been wise to limit his pitch counts. Unfortunately that makes him much less valuable than Sabathia–a complete game helps your entire pitching staff by resting your bullpen and thus not taxing your other starters should they need to be lifted. Today, for example, Harden gave up only two hits and one run while striking out ten (his fourth straight game in double digit K’s), but the Cubs lost to Florida, 3-2 in extra innings. As gaudy as Harden’s numbers were today, and as much fun as it is to watch him pitch, Chicago’s bullpen still labored seven innings on a day when he was given the ball. By contrast, Sabathia has been relieved for a grand *total* of three innings in his four starts.

    As even casual baseball fans know, the Cubs haven’t won a championship in exactly 100 years, replacing the Red Sox as the quintessential underdog baseball franchise. I don’t have much sympathy for their drought–Wrigley Field is a huge cash cow which the Cubs’ various ownership groups have dutifully and increasingly milked in the past couple of decades. But with the feisty Carlos Zambrano (who got into fisticuffs with his catcher last year) as the rubber-armed ace, and Harden mixing in with former reliever Ryan Dempster and the sharp but risky fly-ball oriented lefty Ted Lilly in the middle of the rotation, rounded out by above-average journeyman Jason Marquis (and with 16-game winner Rich Hill still battling baffling control problems in the minors), the Cubs have a marvelous cadre of starters.

    But the Brewers appear likely to give them a legitimate run for their money. Sheets and Sabathia make them dangerous in any short series (although Sabathia was terrible in his last post season appearances), and the rest of the rotation, while not on a par with the Cubs, isn’t too shabby, with Dave Bush and the young lefty Manny Parra. (If only another talented youngster, Yovani Gallardo, hadn’t gone down with a knee injury in May.)

    The point is, neither the Cubs nor the Brewers (who last went to the World Series in 1982 and have never won it all, although the Milwaukee Braves turned the trick a mere 51 years ago behind Warren Spahn) are dynastic franchises. Both have occasionally spent (and overspent) to try and win, but are a long way from the Yankees and Red Sox. Both have long-suffering fan bases and a wonderful collection of players on their respective rosters. I think they are the two best teams in the National League and wouldn’t be surprised to see them in the NL Championship series in October. Just thinking about Zambrano versus Sabathia and Harden versus Sheets, with hitters like Fielder and Braun for Milwaukee and Derek Lee and Aramis Ramirez for the Cubs working for runs…It’s enough to make a hoops freak patient before the opening tap of the 2008-09 NBA season in November.

     

  • Yes We Can!

    Bad design is all around us, but there’s no bad design like bad election year design. Let’s take a moment here to catalog some notable atrocities from recent election cycles, and then hang our heads in bipartisan shame. Offender number one is Bush/Cheney’s militantly mindless logo from 2004; you can almost hear the designer making phlegmatic war movie sound effects to himself as he drafted it. There’s Howard Dean’s bumper sticker from the same year – the one that actually had goddamn yellow crayon writing on it. I sent the good doctor a whole bucketful of cash and I still couldn’t bring myself to slap that thing on my car. The Kerry/Edwards ‘04 logo was so incompetently designed it looked like an advertisement for a personal injury attorney named "Kerry Edwards" (and not one of the better ones, either). As for this eyesore, which looks as if it belongs on a bottle of your dad’s favorite aftershave circa 1982, the less said, the better. The sad fact is most campaign materials look, at best, like they were designed by an adjunct professor of design at an unaccredited two-year evangelical college (which may well be the case in some of these campaigns). At worst, they just drip willful contempt for the viewer’s intelligence and taste.

    But think now for a moment about the material Barack Obama has been putting out in the last year. Start with that typeface the campaign uses on all of its official signage, a sans-serif called Gotham. It’s clean, assertive and streamlined. Regardless of your political or aesthetic inclinations, you can easily appreciate that it’s the kind of elegant typeface that you don’t really see in most political campaigns. Gotham was created only a few years ago by a prominent New York typographer, but it draws heavily on mid-century sources, and there’s resultantly an authoritative, timeless sense to it. It looks great and it’s highly functional. Gotham is a capital-M Modern typeface that carries all the cultural implications of Modernism with it – optimism, clarity, progress.

    I know that seems like a lot to pin to something as simple as a typeface, but in the current electoral visual landscape, Obama’s clean, simple design look downright radical, like it came from another world. It certainly calls to mind some of the more inspiring parts of our collective past, but not in a way that panders to baser reactionary tendencies.

    A show of New Deal art called By the People, For the People will be closing this weekend at the University of Minnesota’s Weisman Museum (you can read Julie Caniglia’s outstanding review of the show for mnartists.org). Seeing it a few weeks ago, I was struck by how much the work on display reminded me not of fireside chats and Woody Guthrie ballads, but of the junior Senator from Illinois. I doubt that it was a conscious decision on the part of Obama’s design squad to make explicit references to the aesthetics of the New Deal in his campaign material. But think of that Shepard Fairey poster that looks it like it came right out of an IWW print shop. Think of the explicit references to the American heartland in the campaign’s it’s-a-flag-but-it’s-also-a-farm "O." Even that ridiculous Latin-enhanced faux-presidential seal that the campaign trotted out a few weeks ago (and then promptly retired) bore a strong resemblance to the logos of FDR’s so-called "alphabet agencies" like the NRA, WPA and CCC.

    Throughout the show, I detected a certain philosophical, functional and aesthetic kinship between our era and this one – it’s all easily-deciphered, populist, progressive art-making practices in service of the civic good. I don’t know if it is Obama’s intention to suggest outright that he’s the direct heir to FDR’s high-minded hard-times liberalism (and his detractors would say he’s hubristic enough to do just that). But there is something stirring about his campaign – yes we can! – that owes quite a bit to the outsized optimism of the 1930s, and a lot of that has to do with the aesthetic decisions Obama’s campaign and his supporters have made.

    Much of the work in the Weisman show was created by obscure regional artists working under the auspices of the WPA Federal Art Project, another one of those alphabet agencies that put American artists to work capturing the Great Depression on paper and canvas. I should say rather that many were obscure at the time, and then went on to have very successful careers later. But most did not; most were artists that were paid to do a job well, and went out and did it. As you might expect with work of this nature, it really ran the gamut in terms of quality. Some of it was very staid and workmanlike, some of it was quite distinguished. What was most remarkable about all of it, though, was the uniform clarity and toughness throughout with which the subject matter was depicted.

    The Great Depression battered America in a way that makes our recent economic troubles seem piddling by comparison, but there is a sense to all of the artwork that America is perfectly capable of drawing on its strengths and pulling itself out of unimaginably difficult circumstances. It’s a broad coalition of regular people, too, that will step up to carry out that task, the kinds depicted in the work – miners, laborers, scientists, factory workers, sharecroppers, truck drivers, builders.

    The Weisman show reminds us that artists, too, were a part of that populist coalition. With the death of Jesse Helms this month and all the editorial hand-wringing that has followed regarding the late Senator’s one-man crusade against contemporary art, we forget that artists could ever be a part of a broad-based populist coalition. And yet there they were, being paid to document the troubled times in which they lived and aligning themselves not with the elite and the influential, but with the dispossessed and the downtrodden. Granted, the work they made was not always popular with those Americans it depicted, and the kind of s
    ocial realist art the WPA produced is often bogged down by the struggle between the high-minded principles it espouses and the difficulty and grittiness of the subjects it depicts. But thinking back to those pre-Culture War times and considering that talented artists would be permitted, and even encouraged, to engage in such a dialogue – well, that’s what seems most surprising and satisfying.

    One of the best surprises for me in the show was a photograph of farm laborers by Ben Shahn, the much-admired mid-century painter and printmaker. Shahn was the kind of old-school Brooklyn Jewish left-wing artist that the Obama campaign, for all its talk of inclusion and progress, would probably take great lengths to demographically disassociate itself with – too radical, too East Coast, too "elite"! I’d had no idea Shahn was out there in the field snapping photos for the Farm Security Administration, but there he was, right next to Dorothea Lange and Edward Weston. Would an Obama administration give a contemporary Ben Shahn, an artist with demonstrably leftist sympathies, the opportunity to get out there into the heartland and create art? Would a contemporary Ben Shahn even want to undertake such an endeavor? Hell, are there even any artists left in his adopted neighborhood of Williamsburg making political art?

    Obama’s campaign has been a fascinating one to watch. At times I have felt (a) like it seemed too good to be true, (b) like it was the true last hope for whatever might be salvageable of the American dream, (c) like the whole thing was hopelessly personality-driven and vaguely demagogical, (d) like Obama might be the only major political leader in my lifetime I could get genuinely excited about, and (e) like it was all noble sentiment and erudite speechifying with no real call to sacrifice and action – often all of these confusing sentiments within the space of a week. Many Americans on both ends of the political spectrum also felt the same sort of ambiguity about Roosevelt. FDR’s harshest critics went so far as to decry him as a Fascist, a charge that has recently been unearthed again in two recent books from both the right (Jonah Goldberg’s phenomenally stupid Liberal Fascism) and the left (Nicholson Baker’s elliptical account of the lead-up to WWII, Human Smoke).

    When we look at this moment in time from a purely aesthetic perspective, it seems to me that we’re looking at a mainstream progressive movement that values good artistic practices and welcomes artists back into the fold, for perhaps the first time since the New Deal. In fact, one of the minor planks in Obama’s long-term plans is the creation of an "Artist Corps." Would the Ben Shahns of 21st century Williamsburg clamor to join such a movement for the good of the nation? Before you answer with a flip remark about the callous solipsism of the youth of America, it’s worth visiting this gallery of Obama-specific street art, which runs the gamut between officially-sanctioned campaign iconography and totally wacky guerilla work. Compare it to these beautiful specimens of WPA poster art. Even if Obama’s cult of personality is a bit overemphasized at the expense of the broader issues in much of the newer art, I would say the aesthetic, functional and ideological parallels are readily apparent, and the comparison on all counts is generally favorable. It looks, at very least, like the opening arguments in a long overdue national discussion over what role art is going to play in contemporary political engagement. That’s something worth getting fired up and ready to go about.

  • "Pop Vomit" Throws Up at Altered Esthetics



    ART

    The Throw Up Vol. 4 Release Party



    Elusive Minneapolis art duo, Pop Vomit,
    celebrates a number of things tonight! Not only can you get a last
    glimpse of a very cool exhibit at the closing reception for the Altered
    Esthetics Resident Artists show, featuring Pop Vomit’s installation entitled "Operation: Vomit Boy," but they’ll also have new sticker sets, cool merchandise, surprise projections, and of course, the brand new edition of their collectible art book, The Throw Up Vol. 4. The Throw Up features over 100 pages of black and white print, with work by a number of artists including Mark Vomit, Tony
    Kephart, Kate Iverson (yes, that’s me!), Justin James Sehorn, Katrin Snider, Jeff Evrard,
    Scott Johnson, Jesse Draxler and Coy Douglas Larson. What started as
    a self-released "scrapbook" has turned into a medium for unknown
    artists to gain exposure, a visual candy store for those looking for
    something unique, and an ongoing collector’s series.



    Friday, 7pm-11pm, Altered Esthetics, Q.arma Building, 1224 Quincy Street NE, Northeast Minneapolis, Free





    BENEFIT EVENT

    Jazz for Peace



    You can’t argue with peace. Especially when it’s backed up by world class jazz music. Hit the cool, cool spot that is the Artists’ Quarter tonight for an evening of sultry sounds all in the name of a good cause. Pianist, vocalist and composer Rick DellaRatta has been the shining star behind the Jazz for Peace
    program, touring the world to raise money and awareness for causes that
    promote a better world – including providing musical instruments for
    under underprivileged youth. Considered by those-in-the-know to be one
    of the top jazz pianists and songwriters of today, Rick DellaRatta will
    thrill the audience with his unique sound and Chet Baker-esque vocal
    stylings. Not to mention, if you haven’t been, the Artists’ Quarter is
    an absolute must-go for anyone who considers ambiance to be an art
    form.



    Bonus: Want a later night? Debbie Duncan takes over the AQ at 9pm on both Friday and Saturday!



    Friday, 6pm-8:30pm, The Artists Quarter, 408 St. Peter Street, Downtown St. Paul, $25

    FAMILY

    Wild West Frontier Fest



    Attention buckaroos, cowboys, wranglers, varmints, gunslingers, and cowpokes! This weekend at Harriet Island indulge your inner villian/hero at Wild West Frontier Fest, where your mustache twirling and Clint Eastwood impression
    won’t creep anyone out. A perfect family day or a fun adventure for any
    history buff, this outdoor fest will feature paddleboat rides, a Tom
    Sawyer Fence Paintin’ Contest, old-fashioned photos, costumed
    characters, exhibits, demonstrations, plus live music and performance
    on four stages! Have dinner with Mark Twain or watch a silent movie, then
    learn about the Wild West and the culture and history surrounding it.
    Just leave your pistol at home.



    Saturday-Sunday, Noon-10pm, Harriet Island, Minneapolis, Tickets $12 per day, $20 for both days




    COMEDY

    Bill Maher



    Maybe the best thing about Maher is his refusal to be pigeonholed, his
    keen negotiation of the difference between unorthodoxy and hypocrisy.
    He’s variously proclaimed himself a libertarian and voted for Ralph
    Nader for President (after supporting Bob Dole in 1996), aligned
    himself with PETA and NORML, and was the first to bring Ann Coulter
    into the limelight via his Politically Incorrect show-which became a
    victim of our post 9/11 hysteria when Maher was vilified and PI
    cancelled when he said lobbing cruise missiles from 2000 miles away was
    more cowardly than flying airplanes into the World Trade Center. That’s
    Maher, for better and (occasionally) for worse a fearless slayer of
    shibboleths of all persuasions, at once a notorious skirt-chaser who
    was a regular at the Playboy Mansion, a staunch supporter of gay
    marriage and an unremitting critic of the Catholic Church for looking
    the other way while pedophilia was taking place within the clergy.
    Along with Jon Stewart and a few others, he’s in the vanguard of a
    current wave of social commentary that is simultaneously hilarious and
    astute, as anyone who checks out Real Time with Bill Maher on HBO
    already knows. He’s also extremely topical, so expect a few zingers on
    the stories in this week’s newspapers-and perhaps a few words about his
    friend and mentor, the late George Carlin. – Britt Robson



    Saturday, 8pm, Orpheum Theater, 910 Hennepin Avenue, Downtown Minneapolis, $81-$112





    FESTIVALS

    Bearded Lady Motorcycle Rally



    For the third year in a row, the Bearded Lady Motorcycle Rally
    takes over Northeast Minneapolis! This years’ festivities will be the
    biggest and freakiest yet, with the addition of a block party. Catch up
    on your people watching along 13th Avenue this afternoon as bikers,
    weirdos, and carnival folk show off their brawn, bikes, and
    bizarreness. Register your own bike at 3pm, or simply watch the
    ever-popular bike judging event, where tricked out motorcycles will compete against each other for cool points. Then, chow down on food from Pizza Luce
    while listening to live music from the likes of The Corpse Show Creeps,
    The Rockford Mules, The Evening Rig, Tim Rally Gold, The Brass Kings,
    and Al’s Rock-a-Billy Quartet, as well as enjoying performances by Le
    Cirque Rouge Cabaret & Burlesque, Miss Honey Combs and Ballet of
    the Dolls. The block party rocks from Noon to 6pm, at which point the
    party will travel indoors to the 331 Club and the Ritz Theater. Bonus
    points for bearded ladies!



    Saturday, Noon-6pm Block Party, 6pm-2am Indoor Music, 331 Club, 331 13th Avenue NE, Northeast Minneapolis, Free





    MUSIC

    Muja Messiah CD Release Party



    Muja Messiah’s new album, Thee Adventures of a B-Boy D-Boy, cycles through a medley of styles. The production ranges from the jazzy slow jam to the upbeat to the downright krunked,
    the rhymes from egotistical to introspective. And Muja effortlessly
    navigates from track to track, rapping convincingly over the varied
    beats – it’s not just like he wrote a rhyme and a producer made a beat
    and they synced them up and smashed them together; rather his flows
    seem actually to be linked with the rhythms. Overall, his style has a bit more of an edge than most Minnesotan
    rappers’. Just when I thought the local scene was as saturated as it
    could possibly be – this is a small city to have as many big names as we do – Muja is able to inject it with something that, if not completely new, is at least new to us. – Max Ross



    Read the full review of Thee Adventures of a B-Boy D-Boy by Max Ross HERE.



    Sunday, 8pm, First Avenue Mainroom, 701 1st Avenue N, Downtown Minneapolis, $10

  • Gandhi Mahal – In Pictures

    The first time I visited Gandhi Mahal, the new Indian
    restaurant at 27th and E. Lake St., was before it was actually open
    for business. I introduced myself to the owner, which seemed like the right
    thing to do at the time, since I wasn’t reviewing the place, and I wanted to
    ask a lot of questions.

    But it was a case of Not Thinking Ahead, since I should have
    predicted what would happen the next time I visited the restaurant, a few days
    after it opened. The owner greeted me with an effusive welcome, and proceeded –
    with the best of intentions – to send one dish after another to my table. This
    created the kind of dilemma I try to avoid: I still believe in paying for my
    meals, even though I no longer have a lavish expense account – or any expense account, actually. I didn’t
    want to be rude, so I insisted on paying for a lot of food I hadn’t
    ordered. And I took a lot of pictures.

    non-veg thali at Gandhi Mahal

    When I went back with some friends yesterday to sample the
    lunch buffet, the same thing happened again, but this time the owner insisted
    that he just wanted to show me some of the new dishes on the menu. Since the
    platters didn’t arrive until after we had finished our lunch, I didn’t sample
    the dishes, but just took some more photos.

    At any rate, based on what I have sampled so far, my verdict
    on Gandhi Mahal is mixed, but there are a couple of options on the menu that make it definitely worth a visit.

    The owner is trying to create an image for Gandhi Mahal that
    sets it apart from the many other Indian restaurants in town that all serve the
    same three-pot repertoire of rogan josh and chicken tikka masala, etc.– but the efforts aren’t entirely successful. The names of some of the dishes are
    a bit more elaborate, but much of the menu is basically that same stuff you get
    everyplace else.

    On the plus side, they have done a very nice job remodeling
    the space, which is now adorned with Indian arts and crafts, and a lot of
    photos of Mahatma Gandhi. The menu finesses the fact that Gandhi was a strict
    vegetarian by noting that portions of the menu are dedicated to "a strict
    Gandhian diet" – which, translated into English, means that, just like every
    other Indian restaurant in town, they have some vegetarian dishes on the menu –
    but not as many as some of other local curry houses.

    I wasn’t impressed
    with the lunch buffet – at $9.99, it’s more expensive than most, and the
    quality and variety were only average. But the individual entrée items I
    sampled were actually quite good – including a shrimp coconut curry ($17), and
    (if I remember correctly), chicken tikka masala ($12) and lamb korma ($14).

    entree sampler

    One thing I really like about Gandhi Mahal is the entrée
    sampler – you get to choose sample portions of up to six different entrees (the
    selection varies from day to day) – for only $3 for the first sample, with
    rice, and $2 for each additional sample. The portion sizes seemed generous, and
    it’s a good way to explore a variety of dishes. The appetizer sampler is also a
    good deal – five different appetizer for $5.