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.
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.
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.
Four Bands Take It to the Streets at Fall Brawl—Holiday Sail didn't get asked to play Fall Crawl. Again.
... Just for one day. Saturday, Aug. 26. See this week’s feature for the full story. (LM)
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.
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.”