Citizens of Earth! Nowhere in the great state of New Mexico do some many local and national music acts converge in one bustling metropolitan hub, on a single heroic night. We call it "crawling," and its never been more action-packed! Buy one flat-rate wristband ($10 in advance, $15 day-of-show) and you'll gain access to six hours of original, live performances this Saturday, Aug. 26.
Tom Udall’s been around the block a few times. Starting his nearly 30-year political career in New Mexico in 1978, he climbed the proverbial ladder as quickly as any aspiring politico possibly can. It started with an appointment as the assistant United Stated attorney for our state, followed by two terms as attorney general. In 1999, he landed himself a spot in the U.S. Congress, where he has remained ever since. This November, he plans on holding onto that seat.
A Thing Called Delusion--The untimely demise of two New Mexico soldiers last week, Leroy Segura and Jose Zamora, gave the local media a chance to lay down a thick layer of schmaltz similar to that of their big-city counterparts in those “Fallen Heroes” segments.
A gated community in the Northeast Heights found resolution to one chapter of its epic tale. Some residents consider it a victory for free speech. To others, it's rampant solicitation, the kind the people who live in the 485 houses of Towne Park pay to keep out.
APD Chief Ray Schultz finds police officer guilty of racial profiling
By Jerry Ortiz y Pino
Sometimes the most important news in a community doesn’t arrive with trumpets and a splashy press conference in front of television cameras. Sometimes the most important shifts in a society almost slip past us, virtually unnoticed.
New Mexico candidates reveal themselves … and it ain’t pretty
By Christie Chisholm
Last month, we announced in these pages that we were partnering this election season with one of the nation’s biggest and most respected voter-awareness organizations, Project Vote Smart [News Bite, “Vote Smart,” July 13-19].
Que lastima. What a shame. Three-term United States Senator and one-time Vice Presidential candidate Joe Lieberman made history again this month. In 2000, he became the first Jewish-American at the top of the American political ticket. Last week, he became one the few senators in modern U.S. politics to lose his seat in a primary. In Connecticut, like much of Democratic America, the natives were restless.
Dateline: Germany--A seven-member family is facing eviction from their east Berlin apartment after neighbors complained about the family’s loud prayer sessions, which are keeping the entire building awake at night. Neighbors told the German newspaper Bild the screams and singing that emanate from the family’s second-floor apartment sometimes begin as late as 2:30 a.m. and can be heard as high as the building’s fifth floor. “We have our work in the morning and need our sleep,” said taxi driver Horst Berghahn, who lives on the third floor. Berghahn said he has asked the family to lower the volume several times since they moved into the building 10 months ago, but has seen no result. “I really don’t want to disturb the neighbors, but the high volume is needed in the battle against the devil,” Pierre D., the 42-year-old father of the Christian family, told the newspaper. He is fighting the eviction in court.
The American public's widespread support of the death penalty is a badge of shame for multiple reasons. One of the most poignant is the irrefutable fact that innocent people are all too often imprisoned—and in some cases even murdered—by the state.
The Wonderful Ice Cream Suit, a story by Ray Bradbury, revolves around a conman named Gomez and his desire for a $60 white suit. Gomez and five other men pool their money to buy the suit. They then take turns wearing it, and it magically transforms each into the man he dreams of being. The Wonderful Ice Cream Suit will be playing at the National Hispanic Cultural Center, 1701 Fourth Street SW, Aug. 31 to Sept. 2, at 8 p.m. A free community outreach performance will be performed on Wednesday, Aug. 30, at 2 p.m. Tickets are $15, $20, $25. 883-7800, ticketmaster.com.
Rebecca Salazar’s movie-like childhood is rolling around inside her head, giving her a case of extreme nostalgia. She expresses her skewed sentimentality through painting. Her canvases are hanging at the Sol Arts Performance Space and Gallery (712 Central SE), and a reception will be held on Saturday, Aug. 26, from 6 to 8 p.m. Also at Sol Arts this weekend is Loose Women of Low Character, a theatrical collaboration between Brandy Slagle and Tifanie McQueen that will run through Sept. 17. Fridays and Saturdays at 8 p.m., Sundays at 2 p.m. $10 general, $8 students. A performance on Thursday, Aug. 31, at 8 p.m. will be a pay-what-you-can show. (There will be no performance on Sunday, Sept. 3.) For more information on either of these events, call 244-0049.
Shortly after moving back to his native Missouri Ozarks, novelist Daniel Woodrell realized he might need to give his wife, who hails from Cleveland, a few social pointers. “You are going to go into the store and try to write a check to pay for the groceries,” he recalls telling her. “And somebody is going to look at you and say, ‘Who are your people?’ I told her who to say—my grandparents—and her checks were always cleared.”
Popcorn and Pop Rock--On Thursday, Aug. 24, at 10:15 p.m., the Guild Cinema will host a special premiere screening of two locally shot music documentaries, “Welcome to Wherever You Are: Albuquerque” and “The Oktober People: Spring Crawl 2006.” The films feature live concert footage of Albuquerque bands The Oktober People, Scenester, Skinnyfat and much more. They also arrive just in time to give a sneak preview of the Alibi’s Fall Crawl 2006 (taking place this Saturday). There is a small cover charge of $3 at the door to help support future films and future music gigs here in Albuquerque.
Indie fright-fest opens the door on a chilly homecoming
By Devin D. O’Leary
A psychological drama with an emphasis on the “psycho,” Head Trauma is the second film from ultra-indie auteur Lance Weiler. Weiler’s first film was 1998’s The Last Broadcast. That no-budget horror flick received a brief hiccup of publicity for being: A) the first feature to be shot, edited and screened (via satellite) using solely digital technology, and B) a major influence on 1999’s The Blair Witch Project. Honestly, the first designation is the more significant. The Last Broadcast was assembled on home computers for a mere $900, making it an impressive precursor to today’s rampant digital filmmaking scene. (Both Last Broadcast and Blair Witch borrowed a healthy dose of inspiration from 1980’s Cannibal Holocaust, rendering that “who made who” debate a bit moot.)
I’m guessing kids have always liked gross things. I don’t recall too many fart jokes in Peter Pan oran abundance of snot references in the works of Charles Dickens. But that isn’t to say kids in the Victorian era and earlier didn’t appreciate a good gross-out. Boys, after all, are made of “snips and snails and puppy dog tails.” (The original Mother Goose compilation, published in 1916, used the phrase “snaps and snails.” Common variations include “snips,” “slugs,” “snakes” and “frogs.” I don’t know what a “snip” is supposed to be, but most of the other stuff is pretty slimy.)
Does anyone really care about the Emmy Awards? I mean, if you’re a castmember of “Desperate Housewives” you probably do. But is the life of the average American actually affected by who wins Outstanding Guest Actor in a Drama Series? I doubt it.
In the business of music writing, it’s easy to get inundated with information. CDs are shipped in, electronic press kits arrive for bands passing through town on tour and publicity reps clog up the phone lines with requests for review. Whether the music is any good, though, is anyone’s guess. Last week, someone plunked a DVD on my desk, ready for my viewing pleasure. The accompanying press kit was my first introduction to the Asylum Street Spankers.
It’s easy to see how bands from Albuquerque, and bands in general, can fall into a niche and stay there. Like contented fish swimming in a sea of local talent, they keep their day jobs, practice on weekends and play the bars when they have a free night.
Sunday, Aug. 27, Bandito Hideout (all-ages); 8:30 p.m., $6: Ruby Dee and the Snakehandlers are a band because, plain and simple, they enjoy each other's company. "You can hear that we like each other and that we’ve been working together for a long time," says Ruby Dee. She and the Snakehandlers have been playing roots, rockabilly and genuine country for the past four years. Ruby may write all the lyrics, she says, but the band is what really makes the songs come to life. "We all add something to the mix, and that's important," Ruby says. For this quintet, the "and" might be the most significant part of their name.
Monday, Aug. 28, Launchpad (all-ages); $8-$10: You needn't throw out your conceptions of emo, screamo and pop-punk when attempting to comprehend what Seattle's The Classic Crime brings to the table ... but your definitions might need some updating.
Sunday, Aug. 27, Bandito Hideout (all-ages); 8:30 p.m., $6: Ruby Dee and the Snakehandlers are a band because, plain and simple, they enjoy each other’s company. "You can hear that we like each-other and that we have been working together for a long time," says Ruby Dee. She writes all the lyrics, but the band writes the songs, she says.
The Return of La Crêperie Roulante--In addition to running Café Gee out of Atomic Cantina in the evenings, Richard Agee is reviving his La Crêperie Roulante cart for streetside lunch services. Richard plans to be back in his mobile kitchen with the original Crêperie Roulante menu from around 11 a.m.-3 p.m. weekdays, starting immediately. “Yeah, and no drunk-people sandwiches!” he says, referring to the fact that “some people” can't wrap their heads around what a panini is during bar hours. So he's returning to the perennial favorites while he can, in sober daylight. That means savory and sweet crêpes, a soup or two and, yes, those impossibly flat, pressed sandwiches. (Don't worry, drunk people. You can still get a Burque turkey inside the Atomic when the Café Gee kitchen is open.) When hunger strikes at lunch, look for his supercharged, shiny black food cart on Gold between Third and Fourth Streets.
We’d like to think that when Marlon Brando was getting ready to emerge on the set of Apocalypse Now he started gorging himself on something that was regionally specific. He wanted something that would keep him cool and satiated in the jungle, something that would soothe and excite his sizable abdomen when Francis Ford Coppola pumped him full of drugs after butchering cows and freaking out in front of Playboy Bunnies. “I don’t need to read the script,” he thought. “I just need another goddamn sandwich.”
Who the #@%* was Marco Polo? As we here at the Alibi are all about education, let’s do a historical sneaky peak. The famed name belonged to a globe-trotting Venetian merchant who went to China, met Kublai Khan, wrote a book, got kidnapped, got released and retired while sitting on a proverbial pile of cash. Then, of course, he lent his name to a fun pool game. It is reputed that our boy returned to Venice from China and was going around to his friends and neighbors bragging about his travels, only to have few believe his seemingly tall tales.
Throwing a contest is a lot like throwing a party. There's always some risk no one will show up, and you'll find yourself alone on your couch at 2 o'clock in the morning, filled with bitterness at your fellow man, nursing a fifth of tequila while watching infomercials for improbable exercise machines. We were a little anxious here at the Alibi about how our first scavenger hunt would turn out. We filled up the punch bowl, strung up the piñata, slipped some Sinatra onto the turntable and hoped for the best.
This is the list of people, places and things we sent out to scavenger hunt participants. The numbers in parentheses correspond to the points awarded for photographs of each item. Hunters were required to include their face(s) somewhere in each photo.
Some Albuquerqueans like to spread around the notion that our city doesn’t actually recycle. That, sure, we have recycling drop-off sites around town and big trucks come to haul away our paper, aluminum and plastic every week, but that they really just dump all that stuff in the landfill to rot for the next thousand years. Don’t pay any attention to those naysayers. They don’t know what they’re talking about.
The stereotypical blog is a monotonous diary of a person's daily activities and interests. Example: “8 a.m.—woke up to annoying alarm. 8:01 a.m.—hit snooze button. 8:16 a.m.—woke up and took the longest pee in my life ...” You get the idea. You also get to see shameful pictures of the blogger's drunk friends.
Tear this out, laminate it, frame it and hang it on your living room wall. Not only does this list of local numbers make a fine piece of contemporary artwork, it’s also extraordinarily useful. Also listed, whenever possible, are TTY and TTD numbers, as well as e-mail and web addresses.
A chat with one of the founders of New Mexico's Gay Rodeo Association
By Marisa Demarco
Bob Pimantel is the kind of guy who wears his light-colored cowboy hat and easy smile naturally. He's about to get a new title: grand marshall. Pimantel is one of three founding fathers of New Mexico's Gay Rodeo Association (NMGRA), and he'll be bestowed the fancy new moniker alongside Mark Marshall at this year's event for his major contributions to the rodeo's parent organization.
A task force's call for more strident penalties for New Mexico bars has been answered [News Feature, "Strong Medicine," July 6-12]. On Aug. 10, Gov. Bill Richardson announced amendments to the Liquor Control Regulations that tightened the rules, though it's not quite the squeeze many bar owners were fearing.
Overheard at a meeting of the Four Hills Neighborhood Association, held at the Four Hills Country Club: “We must do our part as our city grows. Industry must locate somewhere. I move we get an asphalt and concrete plant to build at the Ninth Hole.”
Being an indigenous person from Honduras left her with no other choice. Though she says her home country’s government fails to be as openly nasty toward indigenous peoples as, say, Guatemala, it's not above shooting protesters and removing fingernails in a most unpleasant manner.
“My father was the first indigenous doctor in Honduras,” she says. “He had his car blown up."
The car bomb was most likely the work of the government, she says. He survived.
Simultaneously duller than a chalk butter knife yet utterly terrifying, last week’s City Council meeting--the first after the Council's monthlong hiatus--oozed paradox. This mad beast meandered on for seven hours, testing the collective resolve of those with short attention spans, but the topics of discussion were far from boring. Floods, gentrification, crime, police brutality, the slow erosion of Duke City history and housing developments turned into illegal speedways were all debated thoroughly. One public commenter claimed city workers conspired to steal 13 of his dogs. Irate homeowners waged a war of words with a shifty cell phone company rep over a telecommunications tower impeding their view. The police department unloaded old German Shepherds at bargain basement rates.
We Need a Reason—We get spooked. In the wake of another attempted terrorist attack uncovered by the Brits last week, I, for one, was pretty creeped out. That might have something to do with my lack of faith in airport security.
Dateline: Canada--A judge in Newfoundland wasn’t buying a drunk driver’s argument that it wasn’t the rum in his rum and cola that caused him to kill a 15-year-old boy in a hit and run--it was the cola. According to the Toronto Star, Robert Parsons of St. John’s, N.L., remained silent as Justice David Orr found him guilty of failing to remain at the scene of an accident. “It is not the verdict I had hoped for,” Bob Simmonds, Parsons’ lawyer, said outside court last week. In March 2005, Parsons struck and killed Matthew Churchill while he was driving his car in St. John’s. At his trial, Parsons testified that he consumed three rum and colas before he got behind the wheel of his car. Parsons argued that he had no recollection of the accident and was in a “state of automatism brought on by a diabetic blackout.” Parsons will be sentenced Sept. 29.
Big 10—New Grounds Print Workshop and Gallery (3812 Central SE) is celebrating its 10-year anniversary this month. Stop by the gallery this Friday, Aug. 18, from 5 to 8 p.m. for live tunes, some delicious chow and special presentations by New Grounds members. For details, call 268-8952 or go to www.newgroundsprintshop.com.
For a city this size, it's amazing how much theater we have. Almost every weekend offers a fresh new batch of choices. It doesn’t matter who you are, where you're from or how old you are, theater is for everyone. Even if you don’t like a play, it sparks conversation, thoughts, feelings and a connection with others. Good, bad, funny or sad, every theater experience changes you in one way or another, so get out of the house and see theater this weekend, and the weekend after that, and the one after that, and ...
Take a trip down Route 66 to mosey around art galleries, listen to live music and snack on cheese, crackers and fruit platters. From striking still-lifes to unusual and richly painted law books that have been nailed shut, this Artscrawl has something for everyone. It'll take place on Friday, Aug. 18, from 5 to 9 p.m. at a gaggle of galleries along the old highway, such as New Grounds, Mariposa Gallery, Fisher Gallery and many more. Make sure to stop by Alphaville to rent a film or two and to watch Steve White’s live PEZ theater performances starting at 7 p.m. For more information, visit www.artscrawlabq.org.
Go Native on the Big Screen--The Native Cinema Showcase at the CCA Cinematheque in Santa Fe will kick off its sixth year this Thursday, Aug. 17. This celebration of indigenous media arts features groundbreaking films and videos by and about Native people. Thursday night begins with a focus on producer/writer/director Paul M. Rickard at 7 p.m. at CCA. Following a screening of two shorts (”Winter Chill,” “Aboriginal Architecture, Living Architecture”), author Beverly Singer will conduct an on-stage interview with the filmmaker. At 7:30 p.m. there will be a free screening of Native shorts at the Gary Farmer Gallery. At 8:30 p.m., it’s an opening night party at CCA Warehouse. Screenings will take place at the Farmer Gallery (131 W. San Francisco) and the CCA (1050 Old Pecos Trail) throughout the weekend. Highlights include The Blossoming of Maximo Oliveros from the Philippines, Mohawk Girls and Johnny Tootall from Canada, Waterbuster and The Snowbowl Effect from America and Views from Maori Country from New Zealand. Log on to www.ccasantafe.org for a complete schedule of films and events. Tickets are $8 general admission, $6 CCA and NMAI members, $5 student and senior members. A $75 Patron Pass includes priority admission to all events and the Filmmaker Brunch. A $40/$35 Festival Pass includes priority admission to all films and the opening night party. For box office info, call (505) 982-1338.
An interview with directors Jonathan Dayton and Valerie Faris
By Devin D. O’Leary
These days, the “music video helmer-turned-feature director” has become a Hollywood cliché. But Jonathan Dayton and Valerie Faris don’t fit the stereotypical mold. For starters, they’re married. Secondly, instead of picking some hip, quickly edited action flick, the couple settled on the quirky indie comedy Little Miss Sunshine as their debut feature.
Quirk-filled comedy/drama takes dysfunctional clan on road to self-discovery
By Devin D. O’Leary
The “road picture” is, in many ways, the kiddy pool of the American filmmaking industry. Countless neophyte filmmakers have tested the waters of Hollywood with the inexpensive, anything-goes formula of a road picture. Pick a character or two, put them in a car and have them drive across America encountering as many random pit stops as they can between point A and point B.
At first, I was skeptical. I was weaned on comic books. I’ve got a garage full of “Captain America” back issues. I worship Stan Lee as much as the next True Believer. But a TV reality show in which people dress up in dorky costumes and vie for the chance to be America’s next great superhero? ... Well, it all sounded incredibly dorky.
KRS-ONE to Headline Fall Crawl!--Founding member of Boogie Down Productions and politically explosive, hardcore hip-hop icon KRS-ONE will--and there's no better way to put this—blow the fucking roof off of the Sunshine Theater come Saturday, Aug. 26. To be honest, he's going to scare the crap out of you. But you'll like it, I promise. Advance Crawl wristbands are $10 (they're $15 the day of the show), coming soon to www.alibi.com, Natural Sound (plus service fee) and TicketMaster (plus service fee). Stay tuned!
Sunday, Aug. 20, Atomic Cantina (21-and-over); Free: No matter how snide, hip and condescending indie rock is supposed to be, when it comes from San Diego, it’s going to sound a little bit like pop-punk sunshine. Even in Hot Like a Robot’s press photos, where the band has clearly been instructed to look cool and as though they’ve been brooding for days, it still seems a little forced.
with Blowupnihilist, Unnatural Element and Dirtybirdies//Group
By Jessica Cassyle Carr
Thursday, Aug. 17, Albuquerque Center for Peace and Justice (all-ages); 8 p.m., $5: Remember last week when we wrote about the Santa Fe recording studio, performance space and generally cool music collective, High Mayhem? Well, here’s an excellent chance for Albuquerqueans of all ages to sample some of their choicest goods: The Late Severa Wires, an “institution in High Mayhem’s philosophical and artistic development.” The group who last year provided the soundtrack for approximately 40,000 people at the Burning of Zozobra are taking time out from recording an LP, forthcoming in October, to demonstrate for Albuquerque their exceedingly strange sound collage.
Driving gypsy acoustic guitars, weeping violins, pulsing accordions and a singer with a penchant for soaring tragedy make DeVotchKa a gem in a world where popular music has taken a decidedly restrained approach.
Trilobite is 1) a jewel-like 540-million-year-old arthropod fossil, and 2) a terrific local outfit with cello, theramin, low brass and a rootsy, spiritualized timbre. One of them is always on display at the New Mexico Museum of Natural History and Science. The other is at Zinc Wine Bar and Bistro on Thursday, Aug. 17, with Selsun Blue. Just don’t confuse the two. (LM)
Krispy Kreme Leaves a Donut-Hole in Its Wake—Just five years after opening its doors in Albuquerque, the last of the city's two coveted Krispy Kreme shops failed to open Thursday morning. And every morning since. Susan Stiger wrote a rather poetic front-page eulogy in the Albuquerque Journal Saturday, stating that the company that owns the Albuquerque stores—as well as eight others in Arizona—has made a claim for Chapter 11 bankruptcy protection. In other words, the franchisers are out of business, not the Krispy Kreme corporation itself. It's still possible for another shop or two to take their place. But with slipping sales, stadium-sized pools of excess American blubber and more explicit health issuances from the government, the question is whether anyone will be willing to try again. Is there room for donuts in the 21st-century? Or are we in the midst of another health craze like we saw in the ’20s, when heritage recipes began to disappear and processed, faux-health food took their place? (In Candyfreak, Steve Almond mentions two chocolate-covered candy bars of the day made with dehydrated vegetable matter. One was called Vegetable Sandwich.) Your mouth is a minefield. Choose carefully what goes in it.
On the edge of Yellowstone National Park, Montana’s first buffalo hunt in 15 years is underway. For each licensed buffalo hunter there is a herd of observers. Hunting with an entourage only works if the prey doesn’t run away.
French food is misunderstood. In fact, it’s one of the most misunderstood styles of food here in the States. (Probably because many of us have grown up on the Bugs Bunny cartoons where the slinky, mustachioed waiter screams “oui, oui!!” every couple of seconds.) French cuisine is generally perceived as being too exclusive, with impossible-to-navigate menus and single meals that will cost you a firstborn child. How did we get here? Can we keep it real with French food?
An easy guide to the City of Holy Faith with our favorite patron saints
By Amy Dalness
Let’s get this right out into the open: Santa Fe is a touristy town. The art, the architecture, the history—Santa Fe has been selling itself as a world-class vacation destination, and people are buying. There’s no point in denying the facts, and tourism in Santa Fe is a fact. Another fact is that tourism isn’t the city’s only commodity. Now, now, don’t let your bias get in the way. Santa Fe isn’t only for rich yuppies with money to burn, nor is it full of stinky hippies who wish it was still the ’60s. And you Santa Feans—you know you harbor bias toward the Burqueños, too. Albuquerque is not void of culture, nor is it a cesspool for crime. There are plenty of reasons for residents of both cities to visit the other, from cultural events to culinary decadence, artistic gatherings to outdoor adventure. The long-standing sibling rivalry may never end, but isn’t it nice to sit and have a chat with your slightly overbearing sister over tea, even if you go straight home and bitch about her yappy dog? You know she’s talking smack about your hairdo, but family is family.
Bat Boy Eats Writers—Where the heck are the wacko conspiracy theorists behind Trust No One News? The Rio Rancho tabloid-style monthly hasn't put out an issue since its third at the beginning of June as best I can tell. Given its content, I'm thinking alien abduction.
Bill to raise the nation's minimum wage passes in the House but dies in the Senate
By Marisa Demarco
A measure that would have propelled the federal minimum wage up to $7.25 an hour failed in the Senate on Thursday, Aug. 3, with New Mexico's senators split strangely on the issue. Democratic Sen. Jeff Bingaman voted against it, while Republican Sen. Pete Domenici voted in favor of it.
Dateline: India--If you’re Indian, you fight fire with fire and monkeys with monkeys. In an effort to keep marauding monkeys off the nation’s trains, India’s Delhi Metro has started up its own monkey squad. On June 9, a monkey boarded a subway at the underground Chawri Bazaar station and reportedly scared passengers by scowling at them for three stops. The monkey disembarked at Civil Lines station. In the wake of that most recent incident, officials at the Delhi Metro Rail Corporation have hired a langurwallah--a man who trains and controls langur monkeys--to patrol the train cars in an effort to scare off freeloading primates. “It started working about a month ago, and since then we’ve not had a single incident,” Metro spokesperson Anuj Dayal told the Hindustan Times. The langur handler is being paid a retainer of 6,900 rupees ($160) a month and “will be called whenever there is a monkey problem.” Langur monkeys are already employed around the grounds of parliament and some government buildings in New Delhi.
There's a tired old adage in American politics often attributed to former Democratic House Speaker Tip O Neil: “All politics are local.” It means that even for members of Congress engaged in making decisions about American foreign policy, what folks and donors at home think is often more important than what is in the national interest of America.
Trained 10 years ago as a massage therapist, Cheney was thrust into the position of researcher when her son Raja was diagnosed with autism at the age of 3. A seemingly normal child until about a year and a half into life, aside from inexplicably intense colic, Raja began to withdraw. He didn’t speak and was highly destructive.
See You at the Crossroads--“Variety keeps up busy,” explains Crossroads lead singer Joy Baca. Well, that and extensive touring throughout the Southwest, two CDs and a working pedigree that stretches back almost 20 years must keep all eight members pretty busy too. But maybe Baca's referring to the enormous range of styles the group spans.
Sunday, Aug. 13, Atomic Cantina (21-and-over); Free: One unfortunate thing about Albuquerque is that it's an inconvenient stop on a band's tour—kind of out-of-the-way, really, depending on where the group is coming from. That's a big deal when you're on the Cheetos-til-you-puke, pocket-change-equals-another-mile tour. It means you might not want to spend a precious big-money Friday or Saturday night in a town that's a few hundred mile off-the-trek diversion from middle America to California or Phoenix.
Tuesday, Aug. 15, Burt’s Tiki Lounge (21-and-over); Free: Imagine yourself on a bus with no one on it except you and the driver. Suddenly, the bus lurches forward and the bus driver reaches back to where you’re sitting and places his hand on your knee. He tells you, “We’re going to be OK,” as he gives you a yellow-toothed but sincere grin. With that, he launches the bus, careening out of control, until finally you go crashing through a glass-walled building. As the bus comes to a halt, you realize that, save for a few glass shards in your lap, you are completely unscathed and after seeing that your body is intact, the driver shoots you another grin as he exits the vehicle.
Mark Pickerel played drums for the Screaming Trees, laid down studio time with Nirvana and collaborated with Neko Case. Now he’s coming through on a solo project, supporting his debut Bloodshot Records release, Snake in the Radio. See this quintessential man-about-Washington on Saturday, Aug. 12, at Burt’s Tiki Lounge, with Sin Serenade and The Grave of Nobody’s Darling.Free. 21+. (LM)
Get Your Chones On!--On Thursday, Aug. 10, the Yale Art Center will host its second “Thursday Night Chones,” an open-sheet screening of local short films/videos. Come see the work of Albuquerque’s talented local motion picture artists and meet people in the field of film. Thursday Night Chones takes place on the second Thursday of every month. For more info, log on to www.yaleartcenter.org. Yale Art Center is located at 1001 Yale SE.
An interview with the director of World Trade Center
By Devin D. O’Leary
It’s been a long, hot summer filled with heatwaves, monsoons and that pesky war in the Middle East. But Oliver Stone is sitting in a hotel room in Seattle looking surprisingly comfortable. Following one of his most high-profile failures (Alexander), Stone is about to shepherd the release of what looks to be his most controversial film to date, a real-life examination of the events surrounding 9/11. And yet, the famously contentious filmmaker is at ease, cheerfully answering questions about his successes and his shortcomings. What gives?
When Paul Greengrass' 9/11-inspired film United 97 hit theaters earlier this year, many moviegoers asked the question, “Are we ready for this?” People wondered if, as a nation, we were ready to confront that tragic day head-on. Given the relatively positive response the film received, the answer seems to be, “Maybe.” But now comes Oliver Stone’s high-profile tackling of that delicate day, World Trade Center. And, again, the question is being raised: “Are we ready for this?” Having seen and digested the film, I can say beyond a shadow of a doubt that’s the wrong question to be asking.
The way I see it, Cartoon Network’s Sunday night showcase of mature-minded cartoons--known far and wide as Adult Swim--is something akin to Bell Labs in the ’60s. It’s sort of an experimental haven in which radical new ideas are carried out--sometimes with disastrous results, sometimes with earth-shattering import. You never know what will result from this mad tinkering, but occasionally you end up with a carbon dioxide laser ... or an episode of “The Venture Brothers.”
Ice, Ice, Baby—So, the other day I'm riding my bicycle over to the New Mexico Museum of Natural History and Science to see the exhibit they've got on display about Antarctica. It's the middle of the afternoon and hot as hell. I'm really sweatin' it up. Pedaling madly in that insane heat, I'm not even at the show yet, and I'm already daydreaming about emperor penguins and big, wide, white plains of frigid Antarctic ice. Once I finally get inside, it only takes a few minutes to feel fully immersed in that other world. They've even piped in Antarctic sounds—howling winds, creaking ice—to aid in the illusion.
Janet Lippincott, one of the few remaining New Mexico Modernists, settled in Santa Fe more than 50 years ago. Before calling New Mexico home, Lippincott received formal training in New York and Colorado and became familiar with Picasso’s cubistic innovations while living in Paris with her family. After serving in the Women’s Army Corps during WWII, she attended Emil Bistram’s Taos Art School. Janet Lippincott: Six Decades of Works on Paper is a collection of Lippincott’s abstract and figurative ink-and-watercolor paintings on paper from the '40s through the '60s as well as monotypes printed in the '70s through the '90s. The show opens with a reception on Aug. 12 from 4 to 7 p.m. and runs through Sept. 15 at Artspace 116 (116 Central SW, Suite 201) Mondays-Fridays 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. For more information, call 245-4200 or visit www.artspace116.org.
The mainstream art world can be dirty, deceptive and painfully exclusive, especially for scrappy unknown artists struggling to make names for themselves. For whatever reason, money too often trumps artistic merit, and nepotism seems to rule the day. Thankfully, events like this weekend's We Art The People Folk Art Festival exist to pull the arts back down to Earth where they belong.
You've got to be some kind of literary masochist to be willing to take a long, unflinching look at your own personal history—warts, cold sores, pimples and all—then share what you find with a bunch of complete strangers. All the best memoirs in the world, though, are fueled by precisely this kind of fearlessness, and J.R. Moehringer's stunning memoir, The Tender Bar, is no exception.
Africa, written by the most acclaimed and widely produced playwright in Korea, Tae-Sok Oh, will have its premier performance in the United States performed by Rough Theater at N4th Theatre. Rough Theatre is committed to creating new works that reflect, explore, inspire and challenge, which makes them an appropriate theater company to perform Oh’s Africa. The play deals with themes of global terrorism and the absurdity of racism and religious hatred. Africa opens Aug. 11 and runs through Aug. 27, Fridays and Saturdays at 8 p.m., Sundays at 6 p.m. Tickets are $10 general, $8 students and seniors. After the Friday and Saturday shows, stay to see The Entrapment Zones at 10:30, a late-night series modeled after the "Twilight Zone." Tickets $5. For all tickets and information, call the N4th Theatre (4904 Fourth Street NW) at 345-2872 or visit www.vsartsnm.org.
C is for Correction—One cake-loving reader saw that I incorrectly listed Patisserie C's old address on Central in last week's “Alphabet Soup” feature. Baker/store owner Susan Caplan says they moved more than a month ago to 9577 Osuna NE (in Bear Canyon Plaza at Osuna and Eubank), because they needed a bigger space with better parking. “It was a fun place for three years, but I outgrew it quickly,” she says. “The [lack of] parking was tough for the customers.” Susan's creative cakes and cookies are still available by appointment only, but now you can at least order tins of fresh cookies for pickup or shipment to your home at www.patisseriec.com. Visit the website for an eye-popping photo catalog of her other specialty items or call 247-3131 to set up a personal meeting in the new store.
A season forecast of the Santa Fe area’s fruitful growers’ markets
By Laura Marrich
Stuffed and contented is the food-lover that finds herself in Santa Fe. There are the world-class restaurants, to be sure, and the rogue, rule-bending chefs that have put them on the map. There are bedrock institutions like The Santa Fe School of Cooking, the pervasiveness of ingredients like piñon and blue corn, and community action groups like Kitchen Angels that feed souls as much as stomachs. Those are each well-worth the trip alone.
Malls scare the hell out of me. Ever since I was a child, I was terrified of going to the mall. They appeared to be huge, noisy castles with scary ladies pelting me with perfume, and I never once believed that the guy in the red suit was really Santa. So when I made the trek over to the First Plaza Galleria, I was appropriately apprehensive. As it turned out, I had no reason to be because the place seemed awfully uninhabited—empty storefronts, an out-of-service escalator and a few stragglers outside smoking cigarettes by the fountains. The mostly deserted castle did have a little bright spot in the corner, La Esquina, which apparently has been there since the ’70s (the current owner and staff have been there since 1985), but doesn’t get a lot of press due to its indistinct location.