Wiley the Sheep as Voiced by Mel Brooks

Happy St. Patrick's Day. While this clip from PBS Kids' "Jakers!" has nothing to do with Patrick, patron saint of Ireland, it is set in Ireland (how Brooklyn-born Wiley got there is an unsolved mystery) and features a lot of imaginative antics. And I love Mel Brooks.


The Chicago River is dyed green each year for St. Patrick's Day. Oooh-kay.

Art, It's What's Happening Again

Sherry LaVars took a slew of really fine portraits of Annie Leibovitz for the Contra Costa Times. Leibovitz' exhibit "A Photographer's Life, 1990-2005" will be at the Legion of Honor in San Francisco until May 25th. Sherry said she was so nervous on her way to the photo shoot that upon arrival she locked her keys in the car (cameras within). I thought I only did stuff like that. AAA came quickly to save the day and Sherry told me that Ms. Leibovitz was easily one of the nicest people she's ever met. That doesn't surprise me. Some people exude niceness and it's always a treat to work with them, however briefly.


Jim Riswold, mirthful conceptual Portland artist explores the juxtapositions (most overused word in art journalism--I've never used it before and I never will again; I promise) between tyranny, infamy and pop culture satire, using plastic figurines and his own demented vision. His current show, "Selling Jesus" at the Augen Gallery in Portland, focuses on nice-guy savior, Jesus Christ, and his place in our modern material world.

16 Jesuses Are Better Than One
The Last Supper #20-42 takes you through the process of a 4.5" x 7" paint-by-number project and is also available as a flip-book at the gallery.

Seven-year-old Nathanael got a digital camera last Christmas and here's how he's been framing the world. Seven--good age.

Attack of the Killer Girl Clone Bands

Lez Zeppelin - Dazed and Confused (with bow solo)
Founder Steph Paynes says, "Sexism works in our favor."


The Iron Maidens - Aces High


AC/DShe - sampler video


The Sheenas - Today Your Love, Tomorrow The World/Cretin Hop (formerly Ramonas L.A.)

Perpetual Idea Generator

Scientists are now able to study what areas creativity comes from in the brain. By setting up jazz musicians with a keyboard inside an MRI scanner (no horns--they mess up the magnets involved), researchers measure the performers' neural activity throughout their brains while playing scales and then again, during improv solos. Throughout the improv sessions the brain patterns are similar to dreaming; inhibitions are low and ideas and impulses are allowed to roam about freely.

I know my best ideas come in the middle of the night during my frequent insomniac episodes. That's how I came up with the Lindsay Lohan quilt, Dead Kennedys sports socks, and designer eyes (patent pending). I'm full of useful ideas, especially at 3 a.m.

How about a Butoh Tupperware party? High art combined with American-engineered quality product and sales expertise. I would attend that and admit it, so would you.

What about the Anarchist Bathing Suit? This has been on my plate for years. Why aren't these all over the beach? What is everybody waiting for? Instead we still have to wear brightly colored stripes or big white flowers upon our swimming garb.

Here's another idea: Music Wars. Take any musical concept, genre, year or geographical location, and make a war out of it. For instance, East Coast vs. West Coast, 1968: The Velvet Underground, White Light/White Heat vs. Steve Miller Band, Your Old Lady. Too easy: no contest. Kids today still revere the VU and can't believe they're from the hippie dippie 60s. Nobody back then could believe it either. White Light/White Heat still continues to amaze. On the other hand, nobody wants to hear Your Old Lady. In fact, I'd bet that nobody wants to hear most every Steve Miller Band song, yet those songs are played on the radio CONSTANTLY and the Velvet Underground, hardly at all. So ultimately, VU won the battle, but Steve Miller Band won the war. Boo!

Here's another one: Your first concert vs. your last. For me that would be the Police at the Cow Palace in San Francisco, 1980, vs. Boka Marimba, Autopilot, Gypsy Caravan Dance Company, and The Balloon Guy at The Crystal Ballroom's 94th birthday free-for-all, Portland, 2007. Maybe this is too mismatched. Most people's first concert is a source of embarassment, but perhaps you were very cool and got to see the Rolling Stones in the Ed Sullivan TV studio or something--I don't know.

No contest for me. I'd rather attend a free party with dozens of bands (including a 10-piece traditional African marimba ensemble) with kids dancing around, wearing surreal two-foot-high balloon sculptures on their heads, than get crushed in a mob at the Cow Palace, no matter how cute the Police were at the time. Plus the Fleshtones opened and someone threw a tomato at the lead singer's face. It wasn't easy for new wave in those very early 80s. And who brings a tomato to the Cow Palace? It almost was a war.

Your last significant other's favorite bands vs. your current (or future) significant other's favorite bands. Ha--is this a deal breaker for you? How important is musical taste in a relationship? That's for another time; another post. I have to go try and have a life now. Actually I need to get some sleep. I'm almost out of ideas...

Vancouver, WA - Home of the Teen Sensations

Last week's Vancouver Voice featured three local teen bands who are astute followers of the blues, psychedelia and garage rock, respectively. I've noticed that the teen-agers around Vancouver have quite a lot of personal style, even panache, in how they dress and present themselves. A blend of 70s skateboard park with the added ingredients of 80s Goth and 90s hipster thrown in. Yet they seem very down-to-earth and not trendy at all. This look is very natural for the cloudy damp Northwest. Long hair and dark thrift-store layers wear well during unpredictable weather fronts. And Portland is ten minutes away, for that friendly, urban, indie-rock Renaissance vibe. I'm impressed.

Gunnar Roads is a 13-year-old blues prodigy who fronts his own band. I'm sure he'd hate me for saying this but he's adorable. They'll be playing a ridiculous amount of gigs in March and April. On March 21st, I'll check them out at Real Deal Records (our local record store). Here's a Gunnar Roads guitar solo with a 14-year-old on bass.




The Shivas are psychedelic in a rough, early Velvet Underground way (as practised in a Nuggets-era garage). I'd definitely lighten up on the congas, but I like their dedication to the gnarly sounds of yesteryear--which for them is way, way "yester" indeed. They'll also be playing at Real Deal on March 21st.

Tom Guido, former proprietor of San Francisco's Purple Onion would LOVE these guys. I miss Tom.




Love Trucker (not to be confused with Mother Trucker) has a tighter garage sound. I couldn't find any video, but they've got stuff on MySpace to listen to. Not touching my soul in any particular way but for sure destined for larger things on the horizon. One of their lyrics concludes, "When you sing I forget about the rain." Heh--if only! They're playing a benefit for Africa with a ton of other bands and some on-stage body painting at the 15th St. Pub on March 14th.

Love Trucker sports that Vancouver teen look.

source: Garage Bands Gone Wild by Paige Thomas

The Atheist Who Came To Dinner

Oregonian columnist, Margie Boulé, recently wrote about Billie Sieg, an 80-year-old resident of Brookings, OR, who tried to join her local Elks club. Sieg had attended several social events with her friends who are members, and wanted to join in order to mingle with her peers in a non-tavern setting.

The Elks club is a private organization that requires its members to believe in God but during her interview, she didn't want to lie, so when asked, Sieg said no, she didn't believe in God. Within days, she received a rejection letter from the Elks who not only barred her from joining, but also denied her access to any social function as a guest, even though she had already attended several functions in the past.

OK, first of all: Ass Holes. Second of all: fine, keep the atheists out of your membership--but to not even allow an atheist as a GUEST? That's not very Christian charitable of you, Elks club. I guess it's just too threatening to allow other thought processes that might pollute your perfect eco-system of supernatural worshippers. I'm experiencing steam coming out of my ears, like a cartoon character; an atheist cartoon character. I'm guessing Bugs Bunny is an atheist. Possibly Daffy Duck as well.

Who else swims in the atheist pool? Anyone of note out there?

Ricky Gervais, creator and star of the original The Office; and Extras explains his argument with God in BestLife magazine.

Julia Sweeney, former SNL cast member, has mass-produced her one-woman show, Letting Go of God, into a CD, a film and DVD, book and blog. Good career move.

I'm taking a lucky guess and saying George Carlin is an atheist. Yup, he is.

Who else among us sees God as an illusion and cannot attend a buffet luncheon at the Elks club in Brookings, OR?
Lance Armstrong
Dave Barry
Noam Chomsky
Brian Eno
Penn & Teller
Harvey Fierstein (I knew it!)
Jodie Foster (I knew it!)
Christopher Hitchens (duh)
Angelina Jolie (interesting)
Diane Keaton
Barry Manilow (I love him)
Patton Oswalt
Gore Vidal
Ron Reagan Jr.
Keanu Reeves (surprising)
Howard Stern (not surprising)
Joss Whedon
Salman Rushdie
Eddie Vedder (Eddie!)
Gloria Steinam

And who in the past would have been banned from attending a dinner dance within the sacred Elks club of Brookings, OR?
Abraham Lincoln
Albert Einstein
Aldous Huxley
Isaac Asimov
Charles Darwin (duh)
Benjamin Franklin
Carl Sagan
Freidrich Nietzsche
Samuel Clemens (Mark Twain)
George Bernard Shaw
Richard Feynman
Kurt Vonnegut Jr.
Ingmar Bergman
Helen Keller
James Madison
John Adams
Frank Lloyd Wright
John Lennon
Sigmund Freud
Oscar Wilde
Susan B. Anthony
Vincent Van Gogh
Robert Frost

Robert Frost once said, "It's God--I'd have known Him by Blake's picture anywhere." (might be a good answer if you're ever trying to ace an Elks club interview).

Sources: The Last Bias: Elks lodge bans a woman because she's an atheist
Celebrity Atheist List
Famous Atheists

The Eruption of Mount St. Helens: IMAX

Moving near the Cascade Mountain Range is the best thing we ever could have done for our five-year-old. What small boy doesnt want to live near enough to a volcano to maybe see it blow, but not get injured in the process? Due to Jackson's enthusiasm for everything on earth, we're seriously hot for Mt. St. Helens: its flat table-top, its ever-active crator-building lava dome, its own VolcanoCam, its bouts of steam issuances (a good-sized plume rose above the mountain two weeks ago when we were visiting the Silver Lake Visitor Center--at first we told ourselves it was a cloud--silly us).

We recently watched The Eruption of Mount St. Helens , which was released as a 70mm IMAX film, using footage from rescue helicopters as the mountain spewed forth in 1980. Some of the footage is pretty astounding, although Amazon shoppers were underwhelmed. "It is obviously not made from original 70mm film stock," fumes one reviewer, to whom I say: let's see YOU rescue 198 people from an active volcano while lugging a 70mm film camera in your rescue copter. Another reviewer wrote, "Did anyone else notice the rotary blades of the helicopter were visible in most of the footage?" Again, I can only state emphatically that the rotary blades of a rescue copter help keep it up in the air while its pilots are rescuing people.

Of course, I can't make light of this situation. Jackson reminds us almost daily that 57 people died from the explosion and subsequent ash fall. Today he mentioned that a hundred and million people were rescued. It seems so to him. He's in love with all the snow-covered mountains around us, Mt. Hood, Mt. Adams, Mt. Rainier, but Mt. St. Helens has a hold on him almost as intense as the side-loader garbage trucks he follows weekly around here.

As a documentary, the film kind of sucks--no scientific background; no first-hand accounts; somnolent narration; but the footage is pretty engrossing. I saved way too many screen caps of the big explosion and can only think of limited ways to use them. Perhaps in a postcard format. This mountain is still an active volcano and is a fascinating reminder of how tiny and helpless we are in the face of hot magma.

Mt. St. Helens, pre-eruption.
Then on May 18th, 1980: Ka-blooey.
Pristine Spirit Lake, at the foot of the mountain, pre-eruption.
And after--a post-apocalyptic landscape.
The initial explosion issued from a "bulge" on the north side of the mountain, which had been growing for several days following weeks of measurable earthquakes. The lateral explosion killed 57 people, wiped out countless elk, birds and other wildlife, destroyed miles of old-growth forests, and sent tons of gray ash 12 miles into the air, which then rained down all over Washington, Idaho and Montana.







Puckish Northwest humor (coated in ash).
Inside the new mile-wide crater, a fresh lava dome was forming.

But it blew up. More eruptions followed for the next six years.
The film has been updated with footage from ten years after the eruption but it's outdated now. Plants and animals are back at Mt. St. Helens. There are three visitor centers where you can view the mountain and its ever-growing lava dome within the crator.

To see what happens when a volcano implodes, here's a film still of Southern Oregon's Crater Lake. Several thousand years ago Mt. Mazama sank into the ground to a depth of 1,943 feet and formed the deepest lake in the U.S. Wizard Island, shown here, is a lava dome that later formed in the lake and all that appears to be left of Mt. Mazama (at least to our eyes).


Be sure to visit Volcano World.

70s Super Hero Friday

Electra Woman & Dyna Girl from Syd and Marty Krofft's Krofft Supershow. Super shows that will blow your mind away.


Bob Wilkins as the San Francisco Bay Area's afternoon kiddie-show host Captain Cosmic. He was our home-town hero with an impressively dryyyy wit.


School teacher Andrea Thomas saves the day as Isis (super heroes don't wear glasses).


Shazam! Billy Batson transforms into the mightiest of mortal beings: Captain Marvel. I thought Billy's hair was super-heroic.


Lynda Carter in her satin tights, fighting for her rights as Wonder Woman.


70s Live Action Kid Vid

Asthmatic Kitty Records - Encyclopedia Asthmatica vol 1

Arty or annoying? That's the question that haunted me when I saw the description of this DVD. I think I'll lean towards arty (with slight variances of annoyance). Asthamtic Kitty Records collected a bunch of its bands and filmmaking friends for their DVD collection. Featuring the music, filmmaking, animation and dance of: Bunky, My Brightest Diamond, Half-Handed Cloud, The Curtains, among others.

Trailer for the DVD.


My Brightest Diamond - Magic Rabbit
This could have been a real art-school mess but I find it magical instead.


Surjan Stevens - Palm Sunday Tornado Hits Crystal Lake
Reminds me of the later stuff Harry Smith was animating back in the 40s & 50s for his series "Early Abstractions."


Source: Asthmatic Kitty Channel

"Girls Rock!" Doc plus Rock & Roll Camp For Girls - Portland Benefit

I was galumphing around on Jezebel and found this trailer for the new documentary Girls Rock!. I admit, I got teary-eyed watching these girls discover their inner rock goddesses. The film opens March 7th (this Friday) and Portland is having a red-carpet event. That's classy. March 7, 7pm (VIP reception at 5pm), Cinema 21, 616 NW 21st Ave., Portland, Tix.

Not surprisingly, Portland hosts a really well-regarded Rock & Roll Camp For Girls. They're having a benefit on March 14th with The Killer Llamas, DJs, plus ten girl rock bands from their camps. At the Audio Cinema, 226 SE Madison St., Portland. All ages.

If these camps had existed when I was growing up, I probably would have learned to play the drums when I was nine like I wanted to, instead of in my 30s. Oh well, when I asked for a drum kit, my dad gave me a tambourine to go with my piano lessons. He tried. I'm glad I took up the drums later on; better late than never--that's my motto. If you are a lady and wish to rock out, you can benefit the Girls Rock Camp by attending Ladies Rock Camp. Learn an instrument and jam for a 3-day weekend. What a terrific way to let out all that bottled-up angst.

Concord, CA, There I Was

I visited my parents for four days this week and if you know me, live in the Bay Area, and I didn't call you, it's because I was getting over a lingering three-week bronchitis-like cold and was feeling guilt for moving away from my parents in the first place. That didn't stop me from experiencing the splendor of the East Bay in February--a time when it starts getting weirdly hot before March blows in and reminds us that it's not quite spring yet people, even in California.

What did I accomplish on this truncated visit? So very much, thank you for asking!

Firstly, on Friday, Sue Iconolodge fed me some delicious Trader Joe's hummus. I'm not about product placement, but I had been seriously craving hummus all week and this TJ hummus is not fooling around: you need it in your life. It's got some kind of oily pine nut crust on top--look for that. I visited with Sue's house-guest who's involved in some kind of polyamorous sect based in Marin County, or possibly San Francisco. I couldn't keep track of the people involved or the terminology. As we left for the night, I wished him well in his polymorphous pursuits, which sounded right at the time, though he called me on it immediately and I tried to cover my tracks by describing it as meaning sex with a tentacled person. I don't think he bought that

We headed off into the night, driving alongside the Bay during a polymorphously orange sunset. The water was all choppy and shiny and though the traffic was like driving through a bog, our spirits were high. Because we were heading towards a party at Takara Sake in Berkeley where free sushi and sake would be served from 6-8 p.m. Takara Sake is a big warehouse full of sake, a sake tasting room, and a sake museum featuring all kinds of fabulous 19th-century Japanese sake-making tools. Sue looked at the sake-making pictograms and noted, "They didn't tell us that FEET were involved."

We tasted sake that was flavored with apples, lychee nuts and good old unfiltered rice (milky and cold), plus the usual dry, heated variety, and none tasted of feet. Meanwhile, our friends in The Uptones mingled and were very low-key about the fact that the gathering was a party celebrating the release of their new CD, Skankin' Fools Unite! There was no live music and no visible CDs and they wouldn't play the actual CD. Therefore it was a great marketing coup for sake. Tiny plastic cups in hand, we stalked former Beserkeley Records CEO, Matthew Kaufman (now head of Fun Fun Fun Recordings) and asked if we could see and touch an actual CD. Whereupon he disappeared into a closet and retrieved a couple for us. Thank you Matthew.

You might remember The Uptones from 1981 when they first formed in high school in Berkeley. They were teen-age ska prodigies who grew up, created some new bands then re-formed again as The Uptones. With the three core originators in place plus five more (including a three-piece horn section), The Uptones are an awesome live experience. And the CD is really good with a mix of new and classic Uptones songs; the production is crisply excellent. All the early 80s ska touchstones are in place: rebellious attitude in a porkpie hat: check; celebration of the outlaw: check (Bonnie and Clyde); Jamaican/British 2-Tone influences intact: check (The Specials, The Selector, English Beat, etc.). I especially love "Not From Here"--its theme of alienation couched within an epic chord progression. It will make you do the twist and feel years younger.

Even my mom was really impressed. She loves the horns (note: my mom has good taste in music--especially dance music). So if you're looking for that blend of 50s Jamaican influence in an American punk-rock dance band--here you go.

Paul and Eric of the Uptones have a musical secret: they can play really bitchin' Rolling Stones-like riffs from the Exile on Main St. era. If they ever want to get that stuff recorded, I'm all for that.

On Saturday I talked my parents into driving us up to the top of Mt. Diablo. 3,840 feet of plate-tectonic-produced land mass, rising up behind their house. February/March is the perfect time to go because all the foothills are green. I mean GREEN--Ireland green. And the scrubby old Oaks don't have leaves and look all twisty and artistic. We could see quite a lot from the top , though there was a slight haze. On days after a wind storm, you can see the Golden Gate Bridge and beyond. We then headed to Rock City to climb on the very amazing sandstone wind caves. If you are ever in a state park and you pass a sign that says "Rock City," you should turn off and go there. It will most likely be a good experience.
Wind caves are polymorphous indentations in sandstone, formed by wind. They're like if wind had a sculptural face, except they're covered with graffiti. You can scratch your name on sandstone with almost anything, including a finger, so people do. But still, they rock. Jackson loved finding left-over sand in the path as we mountain-goated through the rock formations. He kept bending down to rub his hands in it--little sand puddles.

After that I wasn't good for much other than art-supply shopping and the airport. I watched Bill Maher with my mom one late night. She and my dad are rooting heavily for Obama--I hope the democrats don't disappoint them. They're pretty depressed about politics and need a win. Maher's show "Real Time" was for the most part entertaining and thoughtful throughout. I like Dan Savage on the Obama campaign trail, asking college boys if they were a little gay for Obama. "We are, a little," they admitted. He also pointed out that security in Dallas was really lax. Federal agents took down all the metal detectors halfway through frisking the huge crowd. Savage asked why and they told him it seemed like a safe friendly crowd. Fuck you Dallas. Swear words I heard while watching HBO: fucking, fucked, and cock. That's the freedom of pay TV.

I put on the Uptones CD while unpacking today and could not help dancing around the bedroom. That is a good situation to come home to. Although it's raining here again, the sun keeps bursting through the clouds as if to say, "Hey there stranger! Remember me?" Yes--welcome back.

photo sources:
Pixieland Amusement Park, Concord, CA
Mt. Diablo Photos
Guide to the Geology of Mt. Diablo

Jeff Mangum - Oh Comely

Keith found much Neutral Milk Hotel on YouTube to get excited about. He asked me to put a video up so here it is. I must say I've always thought Neutral Milk Hotel is a really stupid band name. But it fit that band pretty well--not stupidly--they were just very unpretentious, yet artful and entertaining and Mangum is the mysterious center of it all. Here he is in Athens, GA at the 40 Watt Club in 1997.


Stupid band names off the top of my head (in no particular order or personal musical preference):
Lubricated Goat
Straightjacket Fits
Limp Bizkit
that symbol for Prince
The Artist Formerly Known As Prince
Look Blue Go Purple
Laaz Rockit
Big Head Todd and the Monsters
The Offspring
Puff Daddy
Echo & the Bunnymen
Inflatable Boy Clams
Spot 1019
Camper Van Beethoven
The Cat Heads
I Will Kill You F*cker

Every band I ever played in had a whole lot of stupidness going on:
Not Now
Spinster Playtime
Soft Pump
She Mob
Death By Stork
honorary mention: Winner's Bitch

Haunted Vancouver, Reclusive Jeff Mangum, Acquanetta Too

Blogging from my dad's slow but purposeful PC today. A smattering of info-bits before I head out to visit friends tonight.

At belly dance class this week, my teacher Ruby asked one of the dancers if she would be able to perform once more at the Hidden House in Vancouver, WA. Ruby wanted to know if an encore performance would be possible after what happened last time. If you say something like that in a room full of belly dancers, several voices will shout out at once, "Why?! What happened LAST time?!"

Turns out the dancer and her friend were upstairs in the house, which is also a Greek restaurant, and couldn't find a light switch. She heard a very distinct heavy sigh right behind her shoulder. Her friend bumped into a chair that mysteriously ended up in a doorway that had been clear before. The belly dancer who heard the sigh said her mom didn't want her performing at the Hidden House anymore, but she felt it would be OK.

Is the house haunted? we all wanted to know. Ruby nodded emphatically. "Oh yes," she said with many more head nods. "It's most definitely haunted." Then she told us of the time she was in the bathroom (no light on either--what's with the light switch situation over there?) and she heard, at first very softly, a woman screaming, that got progressively louder and louder. She jiggled the handle to the door but couldn't get out and the screaming became unbearingly full-on wailing, then began to die down again. Ruby finally got the door opened and booked out of there, "But I left my cell phone behind," she said, laughing. "I had to ask George to retrieve it for me."

George runs the restaurant, A Touch of Athens at the house. According to Ruby, he knows the house is haunted too and won't go in there without other people around. I found this such an entertaining way to start my class and even though I threw my back out this week, I was able to dance most of the time and really enjoy myself. Maybe we should start more group activities with some rousing ghost stories. It's quite a bonding experience. And though I worry that people will not frequent a haunted restaurant--I'm more eager than ever to go. I will test all light switches before entering any rooms, and take a belly dancer with me at all times. It's hard to be scared when you're surrounded by spangles.

In other news, Keith sent me this Slate article on Jeff Mangum, super-mysterioso front-man to beloved pop group, Neutral Milk Hotel. Taylor Clark calls him The Salinger of Indie Rock--an apt description. After two CDs, Neutral Milk Hotel slipped quietly into the ether and Mangum traveled the world, had a mental breakdown, and now lives happily with his wife, making art but not music.

Keith and I met him and the band when they toured after releasing their first album "On Avery Island." They were just sitting on some folding chairs and on the floor of Aquarius Records on Valencia Street in SF, playing away like a bunch of creative guys at a college dorm party. Really nice guys. I'm sorry that Mangum has had so many spiritual crisises to contend with. He kindly allowed me to use an intro to one of their songs for my failed opus, Fog, even though he was a little hard to track down at the time.
Fog

Singer/songwriter Sean Hayes, co-starred in Fog. He just played in Portland and will return this summer.

And finally, Captain Bijou had posted the Captive Wild Woman trailer on YouTube, featuring Acquanetta as the Gorilla Girl: (Creature of evil, running amok, blazing a trail of fear-crazed horror.) Unfortunately, YouTube ousted the trailer in a bout of copyright pillaging by whoever owned the property. I guess trailers from the 40s are now free from copyright infringement--everyone breathe a sigh of relief.

Here's "Tarzan and the Leopard Woman" instead from a Tarzan doc. in the making. Acquanetta IS the Leopard Woman.

Busby Berkeley Choreographs "Dames" (1934)

Smiling Dick Powell sings the praises of Dames. Busby Berkeley began his career as a military drill lieutenant where he learned how to make patterns with large obedient crowds. His dance experience came on the job, first for Broadway musicals, then Hollywood, where he found the ideal medium for his singular genius. By moving the camera up, down and all around (extremely rare in the 30s), he created chorus-girl mandalas that still amaze and make me slightly queasy at times. One thing's for sure--the guy liked the dames.



Note the heavy Buz influence in the Coen brothers' cult classic The Big Lebowski. Jeff Bridges = National Treasure.

Husker Du - EIght Miles High

The Minneapolis trio plays the Pinkpop Festival in Landgraaf, Netherlands, 1987. Sometimes you just have to RAWK.



RIP Grant Hart, 2017. You rocked hard, often and poetically.

Alternate Oscars - Great Unsung Performances

Danny Peary, whose great books on cult movies are sadly out of print, has another great out-of-print book, Alternate Oscars. He looked at every Oscar year since day one and picked who he thinks should have won. His picks are thoughtful and interesting.

So I've been wanting to feature some forgotten yet great performances. Like most of America I've seen zero of this year's nominated films. I'm not buying into the yearly time-frame when it comes to watching films anymore. I know--what about the big-screen experience; movies aren't made for television viewing, etc. But films cost $10 or more to see now. Kind of steep. And this year's crop is alternately violent, grim or heavy, and that's just Juno. Sorry. They all sound like excellent films and I will have a look, but meanwhile, let's revel in the fabulousness that was Party Monster.

That's right. Particularly Seth Green as James St. James in Party Monster (2003). The film has a convoluted background. Directors Fenton Bailey and Randy Barbato had already made a critically acclaimed documentary about late-80s club kids in New York called Party Monster. They then went on to make another fine doc, The Eyes of Tammy Faye, and then somehow, some way, secured funding for a dramatic re-telling of Michael Alig's rise as a successful party promoter and fall as a homocidal maniac. Former club kid, James St. James wrote a book called "Disco Bloodbath" (Now out of print and worth hundreds of dollars, but reprinted as "Party Monster" which is still available. How I mentally kick myself for not buying it in 1999 while it sat in stacks at A Different Light Bookstore in the Castro.), and this is what they based the film on. Therefore James St. James, who had a love/hate relationship with Alig, is our storyteller and moral core in an increasingly decadent and vacuous club scene.

Macauley Culkin plays Alig, and if he seems a bit stiff and mannered, it's because Alig, who's a sociopath, never knew how to be completely human around his peers. Unfortunately for Culkin, there's no reward in playing the part of a bad actor. It just looks like bad acting. Green, on the other hand, is funny, smart, kooky and increasingly horrified by the goings-on around him. Two flamboyant guys, traipsing around New York City, dressed in raw meat and glitter--it could have been a nightmare--and in some ways it was--but somehow it works for me. I honestly think Seth Green deserved an Oscar nomination, but this might have been a little too edgy for the Academy of Motion Picture Arts & Sciences.

The clips here won't give away any important plotlines from the films, but some of the links to other clips might curtail your first-time viewing pleasure, should you want to see these movies from start to finish. So if that's the case--don't click on anything.

Here, James teaches newly arrived Michael how to be fabulous.


And here, Michael cheers up James, who's just received some bad news regarding his trust fund.

Best supporting actress goes to Marilyn Manson as the late Christina Superstar. I've seen a lot of footage of the real Christina and Manson's portrayal is not exaggerated at all. Genius!

Another great and surprising performance is Ben Affleck in Hollywoodland (2006), playing George Reeves, former Superman television star of the 50s.

Affleck is now getting back on the career track after directing critically acclaimed Gone Baby Gone, but in 2006, he was nowheresville as an actor--almost washed up and left to dry after a bunch of box-office duds and an avalanche of annoying press about his love life. Then, he played opposite the excellence that is Diane Lane (as Reeves' sugar mama, Toni Mannix--best supporting actress material), and all the bitterness and disappointment that was Reeves' life and career trajectory just oozes out of him in a subtle, masterful performance. I think it's safe to say that Ben Affleck could relate to the sense of failure Reeves felt after he couldn't break free of his Superman role to obtain serious film work.

In 1959, George Reeves shot himself in the head, or did he? Director Alan Coulter's film bops back and forth between past and present, as the borderline sleazy detective played by Adrien Brody tries to piece together the life of the man of steel. The choppy storytelling is sometimes disruptive and annoying but in the end, Affleck's and Brody's characters reach their epiphanies, for good and ill. Affleck does a great job portraying the popular, charming Reeves. Who even knew Affleck could be charming? That's some great acting right there. Watching him flail and flounder on the low-budget TV show is really pathetic and funny, and finally you see his spirit slowly getting crushed--not by external forces, but from within. Great stuff. Unfortunately the only clip I could find of Affleck playing this role is in French (Unsung! Except by the French!), but here's the trailer.


Let's wrap up with Chloe Sevigny in Whit Stillman's last film of his yuppie trilogy, The Last Days of Disco (1998, following earlier films, Metropolitan and Barcelona). Sevigny plays Alice, a sexual neophyte and college-grad, struggling to maintain some sort of dignity in the early-80s Manhattan disco scene. Her bitch of a friend Charlotte (Kate Beckinsale) has given her some bad dating advice, which Alice is employing here, hoping to score with her crush, Tom, a corporate lawyer.

You know this won't end well for Alice, but She's such a pure soul, that you can't help feeling some empathy for her, surrounded by heartless, motor-mouthed scenesters. Sevigny infuses Alice with a quiet dignity--not an easy thing to do in today's movie madness--but Chloe Sevigny has got the magic charisma x-factor thing going on and it looks like several hundred thoughts are swimming around in her brain throughout her quiet interludes--so rare. Best supporting actress: Andrea True Connection singing "More More More!" during that seduction scene.

To marvel at the talent that is Chloe Sevigny, rent HBO's Big Love, where she plays Nikki, the second wife in a Mormon polygamist family. A conniving, manipulative compulsive spender in a ankle-length prairie skirt, Nikki will fill you with seething rage. Hey Chloe--thanks for the emotions!

Since disco will always live on in our minds and hearts, I'll end with my favorite disco song, Heatwave's "The Groove Line." Lead singers/brothers, Keith Wilder and the late Johnnie Wilder, Jr., are Dayton, Ohio's finest.

The Organ - "Brother" & "Steven Smith"

What does a mix of old-school Cure and The Smiths as done by a girl band sound like? The Organ--which I just discovered today, and they already broke up before I could go see them. I feel so lost.

Brother


Steven Smith


From the CD Grab That Gun, another fine Canadian import.

Good vs. Not-So-Good

I know it's silly but I've always thought that Barack Obama is the most excellent Star Wars name never used. Doesn't he sound like a totally cool Jedi Knight? Cooler than anything George Lucas could ever think up. God, it's embarassing to admit you like anything about Star Wars with its characters who sound like the imaginative space inhabitants of a 10-year-old boy. Read these out loud and try to keep a sense of dignity:

Lando Calrissian
Mon Mothma
Leia Organa
Obi-Wan Kenobi
Grand Moff Tarkin
Chewbacca
Boba Fett
Mace Windu
Count Dooku
Captain Typho
Darth Maul and Vader
Jar Jar Binks

Some of these actually have rhyming schemes within their own names. It is hard to make up names, even from our own world, but Star Wars is especially dopey on that account. Anyway, I'm still getting over my horrible cold, so bear with me and my fuzzy logic. Come on Texas--you know who needs to triumph--turn it around for yourselves.

This Week in Arts & Sciences

It's been an exciting week for the arts & sciences. Tonight is the opening gala for "Tonya & Nancy: The Rock Opera." Triangle Productions' 20-song epic covers the lives and loves of our favorite good girl/bad girl skaters from 1994. One more sign that our tabloid culture has infiltrated the high arts and Satan will soon be ruling over us all. The Oregonian has a preview and you can hear the song "Estacada" which contains the awesome line: When I met her, my ex, thought my sucking Gillooly luck had changed, for the best...
"Tonya & Nancy," at The World Trade Center Auditorium, 121 SW Salmon St., Portland; skating through 'til March 8. Tix.

Last night we had a conveniently timed lunar eclipse, quite visible above the tree-line on our street. At 7 p.m., we headed out and watched what happens when the Earth, sun and moon all line up alongside each other: coppery, shadowy moon. Or "Au Gratin" as Jackson called it, referring to the paint color we used in his room.

The moon over the Fremont Bridge in Portland.

The moon near Coit Tower in San Francisco.

Photo sources: The Oregonian, SFGate

CAN Wednesday

My old roommate Stephen Abbate used to DJ record parties in his room. He'd say things like, "Today is Can Wednesday," while pulling out all his Can records. I'd say, "How come?" and he'd say, "Because we CAN." Then he would play all his favorite Can songs and eventually make me a cassette tape. Stephen is still dj-ing. I don't think he can function without playing records for people. You can listen to Stereo Steve on KUSF.com Fridays, 12-3, west coast time--always eclectic and infused with garage-acid weirdness.

Formed in 1968 in Germany, Can is the quintessential Krautrock band: improvisational, proggy psychdelic trance opera. They've had a few singers (most who had never sung before) but I'm focusing on Kenji "Damo" Suzuki, a Japanese street guy picked up by the band one night, who slithered his way through several classic Can albums. Original singer from America, Malcolm Mooney, performed in Oakland a few years ago with Myles Boisen, and a bunch of other improv obsessive compulsives. Myles engineered/produced my band She Mob's cds. See, it's all inter-related somehow.

I knew Can was one of those little-heard yet greatly influential bands, but I never had such a complete list of those bands until Wikipedia enlightened me. Sample of bands/people influenced by Can: David Bowie, Talking Heads, Joy Division, The Fall, The Flaming Lips, Brian Eno, John Lydon. The band Spoon is named for the Can song, Spoon. I did not know that.

Mushroom

Mother Sky

Spoon

Bands who like Can:
Vibravoid - Mother Sky (2005)

The Fall - Cruiser's Creek (The Fall actually have a song titled I Am Damo Suzuki, but I like Cruiser's Creek better and it's all very Can-like, and it's my blog, so I get to pick).

More Fall greatness: Totally Wired. Maybe I should have The Fall Friday...