Step outside of the mundane and step into the Carnal Carnevale, an “adults-only” party brought to you by Alibi Fetish Events. Albuquerque, reward yourself for making it through the holiday season with tickets to the Carnal Carnevale; and if you act now, you can stuff those stockings with tickets at at discounted rate. You have until midnight, on Sunday, Dec. 17 to purchase tickets for the still-discounted price of $55. Prices go up after that, and no tickets will be available for purchase at the door. The location of this kink-and-cocktail-filled voyeur’s delight remains top secret, and will only be revealed only to our lucky few ticket holders.
It's only a hop and a skip away, but it still seems like a world apart. An easy 10-minute walk from downtown Albuquerque takes you to Out ch'Yonda, a hip, relatively new performance and exhibit space located in the heart of Albuquerque's historic Barelas neighborhood. A little over a year ago, local artists Stephanie Willis and Virginia Hampton opened shop in the pleasantly ramshackle building, creating a venue to promote work by artists of color. It's an experiment in grassroots arts and activism that's a much-needed addition to Albuquerque's cultural landscape.
African Americans: From Freedom to Slavery to Freedom
By Stephanie Garcia
Vivid images of intolerance and cruelty toward humankind are revealed in a new exhibit that reflects just one of humanity's many vices. “By the age of two a child has been taught how to hate and how to discriminate,” said Werner Gellert, president of the New Mexico Holocaust and Intolerance Museum and Study Center, as he and his fellow employees set up a new exhibit titled African Americans: From Freedom to Slavery to Freedom.
All right, all you art-savvy hipsters. This one's for you. Magnífico Young Collectors is a membership organization serving youngish art lovers ages 21 to 40. If you fork out some cash for a membership the money goes to support the arts in Downtown Albuquerque. The fee for this year is $100.
After centuries of painstaking refinement, shrew taming finally went out of style in the Western world in the late '60s. The feminist movement convinced most men and women that such behavior was barbaric. It's still practiced in some quarters, of course, but only by smelly miscreants and losers.
Feast your eyes on this. The Seventh Annual Artfeast comes to Santa Fe this weekend. Thirty art galleries and restaurants will present an array of exhibits and extravagant cuisine to benefit Artsmart, a nonprofit organization that brings arts education to public schools. The big event will occur on Friday, Feb. 20, during the Edible Art Tour. For $25, you can take part in a walking tour offering access to all kinds of great art and grub. For details, call the Santa Fe Gallery Association at (505) 982-1648.
Dip your cute little toes into the steaming stew of Klezmer culture when the annual Klezmerquerque festival comes to Congregation Nahalat Shalom. From Friday, Feb. 20, through Sunday, Feb. 22, there'll be more dancing, music, classes and straight-up Klezmer-style partying than you'll know what to do with. It should be a genuine certified guaranteed hoot for all concerned. For a full schedule, give Nahalat Shalom a call 343-8227.
Excerpts from Charles Becknell's forthcoming book No Challenge, No Change
By Steven Robert Allen
Born in 1941, Charles Becknell grew up in rural southeastern New Mexico, attending a segregated school until 1954, the year the U.S. Supreme Court found such schools to be unconstitutional. After finishing graduate school, he founded and directed the Afro-American Studies Program at UNM and later served as Secretary of Criminal Justice under Gov. Jerry Apodaca.
There's nothing like looking through food magazines to work up a wicked hunger. After a week of drooling all over copies of the latest foodie rags I've somehow managed to lose my appetite for anything that isn't actively glistening, steaming or oozing juices. Also, I only want to look at my food in the warm light of a fire's glow, preferably as I lay on a fluffy Persian lamb rug at my house in Aspen (or wherever it is these food magazine people hang out in February). If firelight doesn't do it, I know I can also try holding a bite below a tungsten bulb and looking at it up really, really close. I'm not sure why, but for some reason extreme close-ups of food seem to make me drool. In Gourmet I flip past a long shot of croissants but am stopped dead by a larger than life Triscuit topped with cheddar cheese, salsa and sour cream. I don't even like Triscuits but I think I can actually see the grains of salt shimmering within the wheaty woven cracker and it makes my mouth water. If only there were a team of 10 prepping my every morsel and I never had to leave my furry perch in front of the fire. I guess I'll just have to pump up the glisten factor of my teriyaki chicken bowl with extra sauce and eat it by the warm light of the TV.
“On Corrales Road, just past Hooters but before you get to Applebee's.” That's how Narendra Kloty describes the location of Bombay Grill, the Indian restaurant he hopes to open at 3600 Corrales Road this April. Kloty is also the owner of Santa Fe's India Palace, a much-loved city institution located a few blocks south of that city's plaza. He says that Bombay Grill's menu will include more grilled items and more Atkins-friendly dishes than familiar Indian menus do. Right now renovation is underway, a process Kloty describes as “de-Orientalizing” the place. Of course he could leave all of the dragon-paned lanterns hanging and put Dan “The Automator” Nakamura's Bombay the Hard Way disc on shuffle/repeat but that might be a little too postmodern for Rio Rancho.
The District Bar and Grill's owner on Wi-Fi, food and “flair” bartenders
By Rachel Heisler
With full-service bars both inside and on the patio, free Wi-Fi access and a funky, global menu, The District (115 Fourth NW), promises to shake up the city's lunch, dinner and late-night scenes. The menu, created by Chef Jeff Cordova, looks creative and approachable, with Jamaican steak frites salad, slow-roasted pork carnitas and pan-seared potstickers but no hamburgers.
City moves to condemn proposed Bosque Wilderness Subdivision
By Tim McGivern
From a bird's eye, it's just the Bosque. You have to get down real close to the dirt to see the property markers and barbed wire fence lines that separate the proposed Bosque Wilderness Subdivision from the plain old Bosque wilderness. But the line markers are there. And when news of the proposed subdivision circulated publicly a few weeks back, public officials began to take more than the bird's-eye view of the situation and started working on getting some money together to buy the property.
Cry us a river. In a lame-ass attempt to convince folks that she cares about something other than lining the pockets of pharmaceutical companies at the expense of America's senior citizens and under the guise of extending "a prescription drug benefit" to the very people that are actually getting screwed by inflated drug costs, Rep. Heather Wilson (R-N.M., unfortunately) literally cried foul on Wednesday as a House Telecommunications Committee spent two hours chastising Viacom president Mel Karmazin over this year's Super Bowl halftime festivities.
Interview with Rick Smith, former acting superintendent of Yellowstone National Park
By Tim McGivern
Richard Nixon is remembered mostly as a disgraced liar, but by today's standards (summed up in four words—Dick Cheney Energy Czar) he was one helluva Republican environmentalist. After all, Nixon created the Environmental Protection Agency, signed the Endangered Species Act and the Clean Water Act. The first President Bush was no Nixon, but he did sign the 1990 Clean Air Act.
It's one of life's more poignant ironies: Everyone wants into heaven—it's the part about dying that's a drag. On similar lines, many of our elected officials saythey want greater infill and redevelopment of the existing city and less of the current Westside growth pattern. But whenever the political heat from area neighborhood associations gets a little too hot, all those lofty ideals go straight to hell.
Heather Wilson's bizarre outburst misses the point
By Jerry Ortiz y Pino
I keep hearing about "media literacy" and find I'm intrigued by the concept. I heard a presentation on it by an Albuquerque Academy teacher and a panel of students a few years ago and my curiosity has grown ever since, whetted by occasional references to it.
Dateline: Taiwan—A 57-year-old motorcyclist was struck in the head with more than 20 million in Taiwanese dollars as he passed under a highway bridge in a Taipei suburb. The cash, bound up in two plastic garbage bags, had been tossed off the overpass by the relatives of a kidnap victim, just as the kidnappers had instructed. According to the United Daily News, the bags knocked out 57-year-old Lu Fang-nan who was on his way home at the time. The bags were immediately picked up by the kidnappers, who were waiting nearby. Lu regained consciousness a few minutes later and was hospitalized with bruises and a swollen leg. He did not realize that he had been cold-cocked by flying cash (worth some 600,000 in U.S. dollars) until television reported the kidnapped businessman's safe return and the delivery site of the ransom payment. “What does this have to do with me? Why did I get hit? I'm certainly unlucky enough,” United Daily quoted Lu as saying.
Nuke Night at the Movies—The People Before Profit film series presents Do It for Uncle Sam, a new film on New Mexico's 60-year nuclear legacy by filmmaker Candy Jones. Following the film will be a discussion with speakers from the Los Alamos Study Group, Citizens for Alternatives to Radioactive Dumping, Stop the War Machine and Southwest Research and Information Center. The screening/discussion will take place Thursday, Feb. 19, at 7 p.m. at the Albuquerque Peace and Justice Center (202 Harvard SE).
Harrowing high-altitude doc is as easy as falling off a mountain
You know when you're watching a horror movie and you want to scream out to the people on screen, “No! You freakin' idiots! Don't go into the basement”? It's never going to produce any results, but you're seized by the urge nonetheless. Well, the new docu-drama Touching the Void is a lot like that. Though it's based on a true story, viewers will undoubtedly wish they could climb up onto the screen and warn the subjects about what is clearly going to happen next.
The list of honorees at this year's Academy Awards is certainly one of the most depressing in years. It's not the quality of work that's depressing. In fact, the quality is outstanding. Rather, it's the subject matter. With films like Mystic River, 21 Grams, House of Sand and Fog, Cold Mountain and Monster on the slate, Academy members can be forgiven for their sullen expressions and overall feeling of existential ennui.
While the name “Friday Night Debut” is something of a mystery, the special show scheduled Friday night, Feb. 20, at Puccini's Golden West Saloon should be one hell of a local rock event. The bill features Once Misguided, an acoustic set by Mosquito to Moscow, Soular and Breaker 19. ... Speaking of Breaker 19, someone please inform guitarist and radio blowhole Michael Moxey that his band will also be performing on Saturday, Feb. 21, at the Atomic Cantina with simple. and a hack bluegrass band consisting of several members of the Alibi staff. Bring veggies to throw. ... There's still time to break your bank account and attend the 16th Annual International Folk Alliance Conference in San Diego, Calif., Feb. 26-29. It'll cost you roughly $500, but if folk music is your thing, this is certainly the event for you. Visit www.folk.org for more information. ... Or, for an additional $50 and a rock fetish, you can check out South By Southwest in Austin, Texas, March 17-21. Somewhere in the neighborhood of 700 bands from all over the world will perform during the five-day event, including our very own 12 Step Rebels and Fivehundred (a.k.a. Mr. Spectacular). Try www.sxsw.com for information. ... Weekly Alibi is proud to sponsor phenomenal French guitar master Pierre Bensusan on Saturday, Feb. 28, at the Outpost Performance Space. A full preview of the concert will appear in next week's issue, but there's a good chance it'll be sold out by then, so get your tickets now at the Book Stop in Nob Hill (268-8898) or at the Outpost (268-0044).
For the past decade or so, vocalist extraordinary Cassandra Wilson has become most widely known for her "popification" of jazz—gently blurring the chalky line that separates pop from jazz until it blends with the colors on both sides, creating countless ghostly hues with a peerless contra-alto voice and supreme melodic sensibilities. And it's inside that no-man's land that Wilson seems most comfortable, flirting with funk, soul, jazz, pop and blues until she finds just the right combination for each song.
On Glamoured, her new Blue Note release, Wilson strips away the horns, pianos and orchestrations that marked some of her previous releases in favor of groove-oriented instrumentation, and the organic combo of guitars, upright bass and percussion—and the occasional harmonica and banjo—serves both her original material and eclectic selection of covers extraordinarily well. In Wilson's hands, Willie Nelson's "Crazy," Bob Dylan's "Lay Lady Lay" and Abbey Lincoln's "Throw It Away" emerge from the trappings of timelessness as rekindled souls. But it's Wilson's original compositions that transcend, from the Latin essence of "Heaven Knows" to the blues-inflected "On This Train."
Jason Lakis' (a.k.a. The Red Thread) debut was built on understated alt.country pop numbers that flirted with the broad, windswept soundscape tendencies of bands like Lanterna and the folk-heartedness of the Idahos and Haydens of the music world. Tension Pins doesn't stray far from that elegant formula, but Lakis nonetheless sounds more confident, more in-the-moment and startlingly more relevant with regard to both lyrical content and compositional skill. These 11 songs harbor a dreamlike quality that enables the vilified notions of soft rock to coalesce with indie aesthetics and inklings of countrified pop. Incredible songwriting and unpretentious instrumental prowess. Killer.
You read that right and this is an article all about sex! The hot, steamy, lusty, juicy, loud and noisy, toe-curling kind of sex, right? Wrong. I don't share my hard-won secrets of sexual satisfaction anymore, not that they were all that secretive. They just didn't lead to the kind of satisfaction that I and millions of other people seem to crave and can't seem to find or keep. Relationship book sales continue to rise right along with the divorce rate, which has quadrupled in this country over the past 40 years. The Census Bureau recently predicted that half of all marriages now occurring will end in divorce while the percentage of people who never marry is increasing rapidly despite the sexual revolution and a national obsession to produce more and better orgasms as a path to a better relationship.
Every 10 years or so, the U.S. Department of Interior reviews our nation's natural resource management policies, and then officials determine things like how many drilling and mining permits will be issued to private industries.
Legislature offers compromise bill to clarify new water utility authority
By Tim McGivern
Following all the controversy surrounding the new Bernalillo County-Albuquerque Water Utility Authority, it appears the state Legislature has resolved to modify the bill that created the new, third government agency in 2003, instead of granting the wish of Mayor Martin Chavez, who wanted the water board dissolved.
Sandwiched between the Super Bowl and New Mexico's Democratic Presidential Caucus, playing opposite Bush's Budget of Ballooning Baloney, and going head-to-head with Punxsutawney Phil, the Feb. 2 City Ccouncil meeting adjourned in less than two hours.
I'm told that very few (if any) of the congressmen and women who voted on it had even read the full 681 densely packaged pages of mind-numbing prose that made up the latest Medicare Reform legislation when they acted on it last Fall.
I may be the only who feels this way, but the most offensive part of the Janet Jackson/Justin Timberlake Super Bowl fandango (which overshadowed the event's "family-friendly" advertisements for beer, erectile dysfunction and flatulence) was Timerblake's apparent belief that he's some sort of hip-hop gangsta from the hood representing his homies. Watching Timberlake (of suburban Memphis) crotch-grab his way around the stage you got the sense that his ’tude is about as natural as the silicone in Jackson's breasts. A few years ago, Timberlake was singing high tenor for the Mouseketeer Club but overnight (did Mickey "dis" him on the mean streets of the Magic Kingdom?) he's acting like he's got the same street cred as Dr. Dre, Eminen and 50 Cent.
Dateline: South Africa—A retired surgeon and his brother were killed in Polokwane last Friday when their homemade hyperbaric chamber exploded. Dr. Paul Eloff, 76, was undergoing treatment for poor blood circulation inside the pressurized oxygen chamber located in his brother's back yard. Eloff's brother Gerhard, 66, was standing near the heavy steel cylinder with his 27-year-old son Georg when the device exploded. The blast ripped open the steel wall of the cylinder, which was between four and six inches thick, and shattered windows on surrounding houses. Dr. Eloff's remains were found about 30 feet away from the chamber. Its hatch lay about 50 feet away. Georg escaped with only minor injuries, but the elderly brothers were killed instantly. “The remains were taken away in plastic bags. It was horrific,” neighbor Marieta Herselman told South Africa's Sunday Times. “It was like scraping leaves together in your garden and putting them in plastic bags.” A police spokesman confirmed that the chamber was a “homemade thing and they didn't have a license for it.” Hyperbaric treatment was originally developed to treat deep-sea divers for “the bends.” It is now used for a variety of ailments including carbon monoxide poisoning, anemia, bone infections and burns.
A handful of us Bud-swilling, queso-consuming, Janet Jackson's boob-ogling partygoers powered through about a pound of the new black and white M&M's on Super Bowl Sunday. As you must already know, the different colored candy-coated chocolates don't taste noticeably different from each other. This is not surprising. But you might get a kick out of testing yourself the next time you sit down to a basket of tricolor tortilla chips. Because blue corn chips are made from a different kind of corn it seems logical that they might not taste exactly like white or yellow chips. And the bright red chips, which might be made with red corn but must also use some food coloring, have a completely novel flavor. While you're waiting for your food to come, eat a few regular white or yellow chips just to familiarize yourself with the flavor. Then break off three similar-sized chunks of the different colored chips into your hand. Close your eyes and shuffle them around a bit then pop one in your mouth. Chew it up and try to guess which one you're eating. You'll probably recognize the regular chip right away. Blue corn chips are often denser, grainier with a more earthy flavor. The red chips are mellower, almost sweet. There, that's your new party trick. I hope it wins you a few bets and a free margarita or two.
Roadrunner Food Bank's annual Souper Bowl, held on Jan. 24, raised more than $30,000 for hunger relief. The food bank provides more than a million pounds of food every month to homeless shelters, food pantries and soup kitchens throughout New Mexico. More than 20 restaurants competed in the Souper Bowl, serving up samples to hundreds of hungry guests who then voted for their favorites. Copeland's of New Orleans won first place for their crawfish and corn bisque; Ranchers Club's seafood bisque earned second place and Trattoria Trombino took third with an unlikely sounding favorite: spinach and mascarpone soup. A panel of six judges also chose favorites in a blind tasting. Critics' Choice Awards went to McGrath's at the Hyatt (green chile chicken with wild rice), Copeland's of New Orleans (the crawfish and corn bisque again) and Peppers of Albuquerque (green chile crab chowder with red chile dumplings). Flying Star Cafés and Gold Street Caffe tied for the Best Presentation award. Desserts were more prominent at this year's Souper Bowl and several stood out. The Marriott Pyramid wowed the crowd with a sparkling apple cider dessert soup, chocolate passion fruit mousse, lemon cream puffs and chocolate espresso pyramids.
The ultimate topping for necks, nipples and Neapolitan ice cream
By Gwyneth Doland and Laura Marrich
If you spend any time doing Valentine's shopping at adult gift shops or chocolate shops you'll probably run across jars of chocolate body paint. This stuff can be a recipe for a sexy (if sticky) night of fun but not if the chocolate paint tastes cheap and fake as most of them do. So we set out to make a chocolate sauce that would leave you licking your lips whether it's used to write a love letter across your lover's back or top a bowl of ice cream. We tried easy methods like simply melting chocolate chips and coating chocolate but couldn't come up with a sauce that had the two essential qualities we were looking for: rich, deep chocolatey flavor and a thick, dark, glossy look that would be perfect for painting. Eventually we came up with a recipe that gets instense flavor from cocoa powder, just enough sweetness from a simple syrup and a touch of richness and shine from butter. We can't guarantee it won't ruin your sheets but we can bet you probably won't care.
Fried Butter: A Food Memoir by Abe Opincar(Hardcover, Soho Press, $18)
By Gwyneth Doland
Sometimes you just don't have the mental hunger to sink your teeth into a big, meaty novel, especially if—like many of us—you only get the time to read right before bed. It's late, you're tired and by tomorrow night you'll have forgotten everything you read during tonight's last waking moments. That's when books like Fried Butter are particularly appetizing. Abe Opincar's memoir is a collection of very short stories, brief invitations to moments in his life that might seem entirely unrelated were they not all linked by the presence, taste and aroma of food. Though this menu of literary tapas is food-themed, it is much richer for its moments of bare emotion and frank self-reflection.
Heartbroken—If you're one of those cynical, unromantic types, then I'm afraid there's a reason to be even more cynical this coming holiday. Despite a certain amount of ballyhoo last week, the Alibi's Midnight Movie Madness screening of My Bloody Valentine scheduled for Feb. 13 and 14 has been cancelled. Though we had hoped to provide a romance-free zone this Valentine's Day with a showing of the classic 1981 slasher flick, Paramount Pictures determined that their last surviving print of the film was unsuitable for public viewing. (Would have been nice if they'd figured that out when we booked it a couple weeks ago.) Digging up these old film prints is a difficult and often frustrating task. It's downright scary to find out that these films may soon be unavailable. Seems that the print of My Bloody Valentine has been trashed over the years and Paramount just doesn't want to let it out the doors. It's a shame, and we're sorry to have raised the hopes of all you moviegoers looking for a good old-fashioned pickaxe murder to help coax your date into your lap this Valentine's Day. Looks like you're on your own now. Again, we're very sorry for the cancellation, but we'll be back in a week or so with a new Midnight Movie Madness offering.
Robert McNamara answers the question, “War: What is
it good for?”
By Devin D. O'Leary
In The Fog of War, the riveting new documentary by Errol Morris (Gates of Heaven, The Thin Blue Line, A Brief History of Time), former Secretary of Defense Robert S. McNamara declares, “The human race needs to think more about killing.” While it sounds rather chilling, he's right any way you look at it. The key word here is “think.” And The Fog of War is nothing if not a think piece.
The year 1984 was a watershed for breakdance cinema, with the release of Breakin', Breakin' 2: Electric Boogaloo, Beat Street, Delivery Boys and Body Rock (starring a young Lorenzo Lamas). The following year saw a tiny spate of follow-up films (Krush Groove, Rappin'), but the trend (cinematically speaking, anyway) seemed short-lived.
In yet another boneheaded decision by a local band, the formerly brilliantly named Mr. Spectacular have officially and rather unfortunately changed their name to Fivehundred, which, in my opinion, is meaningless and utterly forgetable, quite unlike the band formerly known as Mr. Spectacular. For their sake, let's hope they make their upcoming South By Southwset appearance as Mr. Spectacular, the band the SXSW folks are expecting. Congratulations, guys. And shame on you. ... The New Mexico Symphony Orchestra, who are not considering a name change, will host their first-ever media auction on Thursday, Feb. 12, at the NMSO offices at 4407 Menaul NE. Attendees will have the opportunity to cast their bids on more than 50 lots, including valuable advertising packages from many of Albuquerque's top media outlets. KKOB-AM afternoon windbag Jim Villanucci will provide stand-up comedy, while members of the NMSO will provide music during the event. All proceeds from the auction will benefit NMSO's youth education programs. Tickets are $20. Call 881-8999 for more information. ... If I don't mention the following this week, Mary B will hunt me down and kill me: Mary B and her parent company, 89.9-FM KUNM, will present Texas polka legends Brave Combo for the 713th time on Friday, Feb. 27, at the Paramount in Santa Fe, and for the 714th time on Saturday, Feb. 28, at the Sunshine Theater. Stay tuned to future issues for a full preview of these Polish-friendly events.
Thanks to its unforgettable opening melody, which invariably insinuates its way into the heart, Tchaikovsky's First Piano Concerto has earned a deservedly permanent place in the repertoire. Arcadi Volodos' rendition of the concerto is the third to arrive from a major label in the past few months. As with the other two, the first featuring Lang Lang backed by the Chicago Symphony Orchestra and Daniel Barenboim (Universal Classics), the other showcasing 2001's Eleventh Van Cliburn International Piano Competition winner Olga Kern and the Rochester Philharmonic Orchestra and Christopher Seaman (Harmonia Mundi), the recording is available as an SACD-hybrid multi-channel disc.
Thursday, Feb. 19; Sunshine Theater (all ages, 7 p.m.): Somewhere between Quicksand's post-hardcore fury, Social Distortion's three-chord Californicated version of the Ramones' classic sound and At the Drive In's clear-cut emo, you'll find the Hot Water Music sound. Sure, tons of other comparisons can be drawn (Burning Airlines, late-era Helmet, the entire stable of Dischord bands circa 1989, and so on), but the only thing you really need to know is that of all the bands currently treading emo's ever quaking, never-quite-solid ground, Hot Water Music tread the lightest and with the biggest stick. Their various and wide range of influences are pressure cooked within the confines of Chuck Ragan and Chris Wollard's twin guitar/lead vocal blast furnace, then simmered into thick post-punk riffs and near-anthemic choruses.
Tuesday, Feb. 17; Kiva Auditorium (Albuquerque Convention Center, all ages, 7:30 p.m.): Laugh out loud all you want, but Albuquerque is nothing if not a classic rock town. At one time in the not-so-distant past, our city boasted the most classic rock radio stations in the entire Western United States. And they all thrived, right up until those two companies bought up all the radio stations in the Western United States.
Tuesday, Feb. 17; Stella Blue (21 and over, 9 p.m.): In the spirit of not letting dead Garcias lie, the Dark Star Orchestra tour the country presenting excruciatingly detailed reenactments of Grateful Dead shows, set list for set list, song for song, concert for concert. Going far beyond the realm of most "tribute" bands, the Dark Star Orchestra recreate specific Dead shows given on specific dates, which they keep secret until the encore of each show. They even go so far as to present the shows using replicas of the instruments the Dead used for the original performances. The audience, some of whom may have seen the Dead show to be played out once again, can get clues as to the date of the original show by checking mic number and placement, keyboard setup, guitar and bass varieties, etc., assuming that attending Grateful Dead shows has been their life's work. A Dark Star Orchestra show is just like being dead all over again.
Puddle of Mudd are like the book-learners you went to high school with: They studied Nirvana and the grunge movement with precision only to come away with a sterile knowledge of the music but no feel for its underlying soul. They're moderately effective emulators, but there's nary an original idea in their collective head. Life on Display is a bland, repetitive exercise in music that meant something a dozen years ago. Bereft of hooks or exemplary songwriting, it falls flat on its face in its first seconds and doesn't bother to struggle to its feet. Frat dicks will love it.
You'll never view the Bible in the same way again. El Jardín tweaks the bejesus out of the story of Adam and Eve, retelling the ancient Judeo-Christian myth in a way that spoofs everything from the Catholic Church to historic scholarship to colonialism to racism and gender bias. This bilingual play by Carlos Morton also presents a genuine slice of vintage Chicano protest theater as this genre first developed in the late '60s and early '70s.
Shenoah Allen—that dirty, dirty dog—lied to me. A week or two ago, he told me that his new one-man show, Karmic Debt, which just opened at the Tricklock Performance Space, would be extremely dark. He made it sound like he'd be torturing small animals on stage while exploring what it would be like to suffer from the simultaneous effects of leprosy, Parkinson's disease and schizophrenia. He promised a tiny glimmer of light at the end, but I still expected his new show to be macabre and depressing.
The politics of love gets the ruthless skewering it deserves in Sleep With Me!, a play by award-winning local playwright Susan Erickson. A dentist named Elliot comes to terms with his wife's affair with an FBI agent in ways that can hardly be considered constructive. The result is a zany romantic comedy that will be fun for a substantial fraction of the whole family. Sleep With Me! runs through March 7. Fridays and Saturdays at 8 p.m. Sundays at 6 p.m. $10 general, $8 students/seniors. 247-8600.
The Bush administration doesn't want dissenters to be seen or heard.
By James Bovard
When President Bush travels around the United States, the Secret Service visits the location ahead of time and orders local police to set up “free speech zones” or “protest zones” where people opposed to Bush policies (and sometimes sign-carrying supporters) are quarantined. These zones routinely succeed in keeping protesters out of presidential sight and outside the view of media covering the event.
Union? No. The fight for a union at La Montañita Food Co-op is over and workers have lost. Pro-union workers, sounding sad and defeated, have reported that the union representing them has stopped unionization efforts before it came to an employee vote because of lack of support.
The International Aerospace and Machinists' Union (IAM), which is representing the workers, requires a pre-vote poll to see if the majority of workers support a union. If enough workers had signed their names, pledging that they would vote for a union in the upcoming election, the process would have continued as planned and the election, scheduled for Wednesday, Feb. 4, would have occured.
Your business has been chosen for a feature article in the New Mexico Business Journal. ... Imagine that. Your business is doing such a great job, leading the way in productivity, efficiency, employee retention, customer service and satisfaction, well-paying job creation and just about every other newsworthy category and, as a result, a monthly business magazine wants to do a story on you.
In a swift move orchestrated by former Colorado U.S. Senator Hank Brown, the billion-dollar charitable foundation created by Bill Daniels, a Denver-based cable television magnate with strong family and business ties to New Mexico, has been neatly highjacked and converted into yet another tax shelter and money funnel for right-wing, political causes.
Dateline: Swaziland—In this week's good news/bad news category comes word that the king of Swaziland has officially postponed the start of the school year in his country. Unfortunately, the week-long delay is so that young boys can participate in one of Swaziland's most sacred rituals—weeding the royal fields. Opposition leaders and many parents have criticized the move by King Mswati, which affects some 30,000 students who attend the kingdom's state schools. The weeding is the last part of the traditional Incwala rituals, in which Swazis selebrate the start of the harvest season and sanctify the monarchy. “I have no problem with culture, but it should be dynamic and must not supersede daily routines that make the country tick,” said opposition leader Mario Musuku, who has three children in school. “This is a clear sign of absolute dictatorship.”
Westside needs a vision that the rest of the city can buy into
By Greg Payne
The Westside secession movement represents many things: disappointment with the failure of the $52 million road bond package to pass last October, frustration with City Hall's inability to effectively address very real Westside traffic problems, exasperation with the lack of the same sort of north-south/east-west road grid west of the Rio Grande that exists east of the river and the belief—whether it's real or imagined—that Albuquerque has the same amount of love for the Westside as Natalie Maines does for Toby Keith.
Maria Chabot was 26 years old and Georgia O'Keeffe was 53 when the two women met in New Mexico in 1940 and quickly became friends. Chabot, an aspiring writer, began spending summers at the famous painter's Ghost Ranch. Later, she organized the restoration of O'Keeffe's decaying adobe house in Abiquiu.
The Three Athenas and A Royal Flush at 516 Magnífico Artspace
By Steven Robert Allen
There's something serenely calming about the three towers Rachel Stevens has installed in the front chamber of 516 Magnífico Artspace. Suspended from long, white hooks, The Three Athenas stretch 24 feet from ceiling to floor, but they never quite make it all the way down, hovering just slightly, an inch or so above the floor. If you ask nicely, the gallery's administrators will even lift up the metal and fabric hoops and let you step inside so you can stare up into Athena's hollow interior, or out through the white mesh like a bird trapped in a cage.
Frank Melcori and Karen Fox do some serious clowning in a new bit of nontraditional movement theater taking place starting this Friday at the Harwood Art Center. Melcori plays the clown Pantalone. Fox plays the clown Akira-me. Both move around in a lonely, post-apocalyptic world, bringing life to their layered, idiosyncratic, experimental allegory. Expect The History of Pantalone ... Before the End to be more Beckett than Barnum & Bailey. The show runs Fridays at 8 p.m. through Feb. 27. $10. 242-6367.
Palestinian Pic—The “People Before Profit” film/lecture series returns on Thursday, Feb. 5, at 7 p.m. with a screening of Jenin, Jenin. The film is described as a riveting and troubling documentary account of the Israeli Defense Force's spring 2002 military invasion of the Jenin Refugee camp deep in the Palestinian West Bank. The night's speaker will be Ben Jones, who recently returned from a three-month tour in Jenin, Palestine, working with the International Solidarity Movement. The screening/lecture is free and open to the public and will take place at the Albuquerque Peace and Justice Center (202 Harvard SE).
In the arena it's a winner; out of the arena it's on thin ice
By Devin D. O'Leary
The pleasantly sentimental sports drama Miracle begins with an under-the-credit montage of news footage spanning the decade 1970-79: Vietnam ends, Nixon quits, disco runs rampant, Carter gets elected, gas dries up, Russia invades Afghanistan. The sequence exists solely to inform viewers under the age of 23 that, yes, kids, there really was a decade known as the '70s. The makers of “That '70s Show” wouldn't lie to you. Those who lived it, however, may find their slumbering sense of nostalgia tweaked just enough to realize the horrible implications of this movie: Not only will we be exposing ourselves to the horror that is “hockey hair,” but we'll be combining it with the decade that gave us feathered locks on men. Hockey hairdos in the '70s? Could there be a more frightening skeleton in our nation's closet?
The controversial new thriller The Statement requires a certain suspension of disbelief from viewers. It's not the film's central conceit that the Catholic Church was complicit in the extermination of Jews during World War II that's hard to swallow. It's not even the idea that modern-day European church and government officials may be engaging in a conspiracy to hide former Nazi collaborators. No, the purely fantastical part is asking audiences to swallow Michael Caine as a Frenchmen.
Goddess of Arno, Burque's premier Balkan dance band, will host their first Balkan dance party of 2004 on Saturday, Feb. 7, at R.B. Winning Coffee Company at 8 p.m. (Beginner dance lessons will be given at 7:30 p.m.) Cost is a meager five bucks, and kids under 12 are admitted free. Also that night, reggae fans can get their groove on at the Sunshine Theater in the company of Michael Franti and Spearhead. ... The following evening, local bands Dead City, Cole Mitchell and the Currs and Rakes of Mallow will rock the Atomic. ... In non-musical, but nonetheless important, news: The Monte del Sol Charter School will present Moises Kaufman's “The Laramie Project” on Friday and Saturday, Feb. 6 and 7 at Warehouse 21 in Santa Fe. All ages are welcome for $5. Both shows begin at 7 p.m. Call (505) 989-4423 for more information. ... Jason and the Argonauts, led by the incomparable Jason Daniello, are headed out for a long-ish tour of Arizona and northeast Texas beginning on Feb. 6 in support of their recent live album. And, with any luck, they'll get back to discover they've been invited to SXSW, and will be headed to Austin along with the 12 Step Rebels and Mr. Spectacular for the festival that begins March 17.
He's written 15 books, some 300 art songs, and dozens of orchestral, chamber and choral works. Yet despite winning the 1976 Pulitzer Prize for his orchestral piece Air Music, earning renown as America's undisputable living master of the vocal idiom, and enjoying the luxury of spending the past 40 years of his life only writing music on commission, composer Ned Rorem has until now seen his early symphonies largely ignored.
Wednesday, Feb. 11; Launchpad (21 and over, 9 p.m.): The Deathray Davies' latest record, Midnight at the Black Nail Polish (Glurp) makes it difficult to believe that Dallas doesn't have a “London District” the way big cities have Chinatowns, Little Italies and the like. But that six Texans can sound so convincingly Brit-pop is only part of the story. The other, more important part is that the Deathray Davies make Brit-pop with teeth—cleverness, melodic sensibility, warbling organ and all. These guys write songs that are guaranteed to tug at the heartstrings of any self-respecting XTC fan, likewise fans of Flaming Lips. But the band also employ undercurrents of early Sonic Youth, Hüsker Dü and just about every '60s garage and snotty '80s new wave band you can think of.
With hooks worthy of the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame, cleverly biting lyrics and surprisingly little pretentiousness, the Deathray Davies may just be the most perfect pop band in the world.
Local musician and teacher Kevin Kinane is a Renaissance Man is the truest sense. He's played drums with some of the biggest bands in town, performed as a multi-instrumentalist with countless other local bands and as a solo artist. His musical endeavors, from his stint with the relatively straightforward rock ensemble, The Withdrawals, to his alter-egos Daddy Long Loin and Recycle-Man, have always been cutting-edge in Kinane's own way. But he's also found a way to channel his creativity and genuine love for all things musical into programs that benefit local children.
Consisting of guitarists Hank Shermann and Michael Denner of Mercyful Fate, two members of King Diamond's “solo” band and singer Martin Steene, Force of Evil is essentially Mercyful Fate (or King Diamond) without King Diamond. To his credit, Steene doesn't often attempt to mimick Diamond's caterwaul, but he does manage to employ every Satanic cliché in the metal canon. The lyrics are laughable, but the music is Don't Break the Oath-era piercing, with Shermann and Denner offering up a solid duel attack. Not exactly groundbreaking, but not entirely bad, either.
The morning-after's ultimate parting gift: a hearty breakfast
By Liza Wheeler
You roll over on Sunday morning and look at the clock glowing 7:45. Your head hurts, you roll the other direction and see her. Suddenly it all comes back to you: playing pool, drinking beer, the cute girl, late-night whiskey shots, bringing her back to your house. And she's still in your bed!
Up in upper Nob Hill lies a very cool little restaurant and coffee shop called The Café Next Door, so named because it is attached to Sisters and Brothers alternative bookstore (4013 Silver SE, 266-7321). And if alternatives are what you're looking for, you'll certainly find them here. The menu is small but chock full of none-too-common dining options like wheat-free rye sandwich bread, vegan mozzarella, miso mayonnaise, organic coffee and soy ice-cream. Those of you who think you would never touch soy ice-cream with a 10-foot spoon might reconsider if your dining companion happened to order a two-scoop sundae topped with caramel and chocolate sauce (as mine did). No, it really doesn't taste as good as ice cream, but if I were a vegan or lactose intolerant I would probably really enjoy a soy sundae. Even more surprising was the vegan tofu “egg” salad. If you guessed that there weren't any eggs in that egg salad you'd be correct. But if you guessed that it tasted like wet cardboard you'd be wrong again. The stuff wouldn't pass for egg salad but it was reminiscent of the real thing and didn't incur any tastebud objections. Shocking but true. Check this place out for coffee, sandwiches or dessert any day of the week.
Uh-oh, Valentine's Day is creeping up and you've neglected to make plans. Some of the most popular, most “romantic” dining destinations are already completely booked but most still have reservations available. Take a look through this week's “Chowtown” listings for our recommendations on lovebird grub. If you're single (and loving it!) you might ignore Feb. 14 completely or you might choose to celebrate your freedom by dining out with similar-minded friends. Get drunk! Eat like pigs! Be equally affectionate with all of your table mates and make the other patrons think you're having a meeting of the Polygamy Society! Wait, you say you weren't planning on making plans? Don't worry, wallowing in self pity is always on the menu for Valentines. Here's a simple recipe: Take one bottle of extremely cheap wine, add one bag sour cream and cheddar-flavored potato chips and one pint triple-chocolate chunk ice cream. Combine with four hours of Lifetime Television for Women and let the big tears roll! Best if served with one box Kleenex and one stack of old love letters.
If you're going to pay more for them you should know why
By Gwyneth Doland
It's gotten so that even simple foods aren't so simple anymore. Who could have expected that we'd one day be comparing nutrition labels on cartons of eggs? But scientists and farmers have discovered that changes in their hens' feed can result in eggs that carry nutritional features attractive to consumers. It's entirely possible that we will one day have eggs that fight the flu, strep throat or athlete's foot. At least for now there is a limited number of features boasted by those cardboard cartons. As you're evaluating one box versus another (and whether you should pay more for “designer” eggs), keep these terms and definitions in mind.