Downtown's newly opened Hotel Andaluz seems like it was designed to make you feel cool. As we walked through the lobby en route to Lucia, the hotel’s restaurant, the lobby nearly pulled us off course. Semiprivate cubicles with translucent curtains and lushly pillowed couches occupy the south wall, each with its own theme. (One cubicle is adorned with epiphytes and bamboo. Another sports a mother of pearl waterfall.) In the center of the lobby, a fountain is surrounded by an array of couches and coffee tables. As we walked through, groovy jazz-tronica music gently filled the room. There’s even a separate lobby menu, prepared in the Lucia kitchen, but we stayed the course and sat at a table inside the restaurant.
Yes, it’s time once again to nominate the best local bands, players, albums, venues, engineers and labels of the past year. This time around, nominations for Albuquerque’s reader-powered aural Olympics will be accepted daily through Jan. 24. The second round with high-scoring nominees runs Feb. 14 through 28. And the cherry atop the BOBM sundae is a live showcase of winners on Mar. 24. This thing was a blast last year, so let’s do it again!
You Have Until January 19 to Secure Tickets for Alibi Fetish Events’ Carnal Carnevale on January 20
By Julian Adama
The Carnal Carnevale is just around the corner, and we can't wait to bare it all for you. It will be a night of adults-only fun in a secret, downtown Albuquerque location. So mask up, and get ready or a night of kinky fun amid the doors of perception.
As Weekly Alibi celebrates 25 years in ABQ, we’re shaking up our annual—and the original—Albuquerque Best Of contest with two rounds of voting. Vote early and often for your favorite Burque businesses, artists & more during BoB 2018 nominations. (You can renominate your faves daily to be sure they place on the final ballot.) Voting starts on Jan. 3 and ends Jan. 31. Vote local and support homegrown!
We all know of at least one horribly annoying overachiever who accomplishes every goal she sets for herself. She’s run countless marathons, clocked in hours of volunteer work with Guatemalan orphans, and obtained dual doctoral degrees in music performance (she plays cello) and mathematics (her dissertation on four-dimensional fractals sent shock waves through the mathematical community). She doesn’t eat meat or carbohydrates and her French is impeccable. She’s really nice. She leaves you no option but to hate her.
Big butts and bigger problems: Healthy People 2020
By Whitny Doyle, RN
So here we are in January 2010, conscious of the fact that our middle-aged little planet has managed to complete one more twirl around its rather ordinary star. For many, just reflecting on the nature of time can generate enough anxiety to fuel at least one or two New Year’s pledges.
It's that time again. Our legislators made their way to the Roundhouse for a 30-day session that began Tuesday, Jan. 19. It's a short one, and they have to find a way to tame a gnarly budget. It's likely the cash shortfall will eat up most of their time and attention this year. Here's a look at that issue and some of the other measures on the Legislature’s plate in 2010.
Every morning for the past few months I’ve washed my hands with a small bar of clear soap. Embedded in the cleanser is a miniature of the now-iconic blue-and-red silkscreened portrait of President Barack Obama. Surrounding his serious visage staring resolutely into the future are the words: “The Audacity of Soap.”
Dateline: Sweden—For a group of dieters in south-central Sweden, the shedding of the pounds didn’t come quick enough. The floor of a Weight Watchers clinic in the town of Växjö collapsed last Wednesday night after a group of about 20 program participants gathered to record their weight loss. “We suddenly heard a huge thud. We almost thought it was an earthquake and everything flew up in the air. The floor collapsed in one corner of the room and along the walls,” one of the participants told the Smålandsposten newspaper. After the initial collapse, the floor started to give way in other parts of the room. The participants quickly evacuated as the smell of sewage started to fill the room. “We’re going to have to find a replacement premises,” Weight Watchers consultant Therese Levin told the newspaper. The dieters, who were unharmed in the incident, ended up weighing themselves in a hallway outside the collapsed room.
At the time of this writing, the full devastation wreaked by the Jan. 12 earthquake in Haiti is not yet known. What is clear is that, at a minimum, tens of thousands of people have lost their lives in the initial destruction. I say initial because, inevitably, more will pass due to starvation, infection and disease in the days and weeks to come. Though no place can be fully prepared for a cataclysm of this proportion, Haiti is the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere, and much of its infrastructure has been damaged or destroyed.
Last year The Vortex Theatre put out a nationwide call for short plays for a brand-new festival called Womensworx, which would feature only pieces both written and directed by women. It received 186 submissions and culled eight winners from the pile, with playwrights from seven states (Virginia, California, Massachusetts, Indiana, Arizona, Utah and New Mexico). At the end of the festival’s four-week run, two plays will receive honorariums, one for being an audience favorite (you get to vote) and another for winning the hearts of a panel of judges.
Last March, local Albuquerque filmmaker/actor Billy Garberina (director and star of Necroville and featured actor in indie films like The Stink of Flesh, Feeding the Masses, Gimme Skelter, Wet Heat, Psycho Holocaust, Ski Wolf and Deathbone) was named Scary Stud of the Month by Pretty-Scary.net (the website “for women in horror, by women in horror”). The site summed up Garberina’s elusive appeal thusly: “If Eric Stolz and Kevin Bacon were gay and had a genetically engineered child using both of their DNA with which to share their love, but that child ended up straight and his name was Billy Garberina, then Billy Garberina would be a lot like that kid except probably way less rich.” Who can argue? Now Garberina is locked in a fierce battle for Pretty Scary’s 2009 Scary Stud of the Year. He’s got some stiff competition, going up against guys like Mike J. Nelson (“Mystery Science Theater 3000”), Robert Patrick (Terminator 2: Judgment Day), Eli Roth (Inglourious Basterds) and Corin Nemec (Mansquito). He’s stayed near the top of the list, but he needs a little more help to guarantee a victory. Show your love for the local boy by logging on to Pretty-Scary.net and voting for him. You have until Jan. 31!
At age 10, wide-eyed Salt Lake City actor Michael Stephenson got what he thought was his big break. He landed the lead role in a major horror film. Unfortunately, things didn’t turn out quite the way he planned. Little did Stephenson know he was signing on to star in what would eventually be dubbed “the best worst movie ever made.” Years later, sitting in his Hollywood office and looking back on the bizarre phenomenon that is Troll 2, Stephenson can’t help but laugh. How could you not?
Swedish director takes us on a guilt trip around the world
By Devin D. O’Leary
Like Crash or Babel, Swedish filmmaker Lukas Moodysson’s Mammoth employs a polyglot cast, a wide-ranging backdrop and assorted convergent storylines to ruminate on the sad state of interpersonal politics—in this case, modern parenthood and the worldwide socioeconomic factors that affect it both positively and negatively. I know. That sounds painfully weighty. But it’s not. Well, not entirely. For starters, Mammoth is stocked with roughly 175 percent less sledgehammer morality than Paul Haggis and Alejandro González Iñárritu’s heavy-handed (and undeservedly Oscar-winning) parables.
In last week’s column, I casually mentioned that “The Jay Leno Show” would kill network television. Fortunately, NBC plunged a stake into its heart before it could do any more damage. Now what? Will the post-prime-time airwaves become a desolate hellscape in which men battle one another in a winner-take-all competition for pop cultural supremacy? Likelihood: probable.
When it rains it pours. And sometimes it rains men. (Hallelujah!) You might notice this week's section is a little gayer than usual and that's partially because both Venus DeMars and Hunx are gracing Albuquerque with their fabulous presences this week. On top of that, I was introduced to a mind-blowing hip-hop jam genre: sissy bounce (see more in Sonic Reducer). Bounce music—a filthy, dirty New Orleans-born rap style that's heavy on call-and-response—has been around since the early '90s and many of its faces happen to be gay. Top underground acts include transsexual rapper Katey Red, as well as Sissy Nobby and Big Freedia. This is not to say that bounce isn't hetero—Juvenile's "Back That Ass Up" is the genre's big hit, for example. For all things bounce, go to nolabounce.com. For all things gay and hip-hop take a spin around gayhiphop.com.
Venus DeMars and All The Pretty Horses complete a trio of Venuses
By Jessica Cassyle Carr
Motoring around the country in a vinyl-packed 1984 Chevy art van called "The Black Pearl," between shows in Wichita and Phoenix, Minneapolis' Venus DeMars and All the Pretty Horses passed through Albuquerque. Luckily, the travelers made a stop at Alibi headquarters. For 15 years DeMars has been performing in the theatrical style of '70s Bowie-esque glam merged with early '80s Batcave—a combination otherwise deemed "dark glam.” A commanding, leather-clad transgender singer, guitar player, artist, DJ and opera fan, DeMars and her band (completed by LeFreak on bass and T-Rev on drums) are in the midst of a 14-day, six-show vacation and spiritual journey.
Nature abhors a vacuum, as the maxim says, and so apparently does the stage at Scalo Il Bar. Every Friday night for several years now, you could depend on finding pianist Stu MacAskie’s trio, with bassist Michael Glynn and drummer Cal Haines, swinging away, house band to the bubbling conviviality. With MacAskie’s departure for points Far East last month, several jazz groups have been sucked into the void he left and will rotate through on Friday nights.
If you happen to watch the Style Network, there’s a chance you might have caught an episode of the reality show “Split Ends.” The show’s premise is that two hair stylists with opposite aesthetics do a salon switcheroo for a week. On one episode, Seth Bogart, owner of Down at Lulu’s—an Oakland salon and vintage store—is sent to the affluent Florida town of Cocoa Beach, a place crawling with vapid people and conspicuous consumption. Meanwhile, a flamboyant Latin homo named Martin Ormaza is forced to exist amongst Oakland hipsters. The episode, while silly, is excellent watching due to Bogart’s fun persona. To the horror of the snooty Florida salon staff, Bogart shows up looking freaky in clown bows and gold lamé. I won’t spoil the rest of the show in case you want to watch.
How hard is it to look at this flyer without an 8-bit tune manifesting in your head like it’s the ’80s and a younger you is in the midst of a restless, Nintendo dream-pestered slumber? Must. Save. The Princess.
Sometimes we have a helluva time trying to keep fresh herbs from the ravishes of death—by waterlog, freezer-burn or simply old age. We profess a tendency to neglect them in the fridge until it's almost too late.
Spanish auteur Pedro Almodóvar has always worshipped at the altar of the classic Hollywood melodrama. The earthly avatars of Bette Davis, Joan Crawford and Douglas Sirk have long watched over his art-house productions (Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown, Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down!, High Heels, Kika, The Flower of My Secret, Live Flesh, All About My Mother). His latest effort, the self-referential movie industry meller Broken Embraces, is no exception. ... Except that it marks a minor turning point in Almodóvar’s career. This is Almodóvar at his most mature, his most serious. Gone are the drag queens, the sexy nuns and op-art wallpaper. There’s not a trace of camp in this cyclical, soap opera-heavy romance. And yet the film is still unmistakably Almodóvar, right down to the strong central performance by his longtime muse Penélope Cruz.
The 10th annual Revolutions International Theatre Festival
By Julia Mandeville
The mark of brilliance may just be that it stays with you. It affects the way you think about something or, perhaps, the way you look at everything. You contemplate it after you’ve engaged with it. Your future actions and interactions are, in some regard, altered by having experienced it. As it so happens, this is also the mark of revolution. Coincidence? Certainly not in the case of the Revolutions International Theatre Festival.
If you want to see probable greatness, you should probably see Pollock. Joe Peracchio, founding artistic director of Tricklock Company and Revolutions, stars in this one-man show inspired by the frenetic genius of artist Jackson Pollock. Written by David D’Agostino, directed by Broadway veteran Moni Yakim and set to the brilliant jazz compositions of Ornette Coleman, this multimedia performance aims to illuminate the complex evolution of America’s pre-eminent abstract expressionist painter. And, in case that’s not profound enough, it examines the role and status of art and expression in American life. Long story short: Pollock is poised to take your breath away.
A prodigy named Max, the Secret Service, parallel universes, car chases, apologia, J.D. Salinger and Sen. Larry Craig. This is the fantastic stuff of It’s Hell In Here, a play written and directed by Tricklock (when Tricklock was still Riverside Ensemble) alum Abigail Browde, who developed the work during her present residency at Brooklyn Art Exchange in New York. Fusing elements of dance and theater to invent a curiously potent, seemingly allegorical reality, It’s Hell In Here provides an examination of modern uncertainty and, says Browde, a “meditation” on the blur between public and private. Talk about timely.
The preservation of Spanish mustangs in New Mexico
By Christie Chisholm
Carlos LoPopolo is large in stature—and in ambition. His frame seems to dwarf the wooden bench he’s perched on at the Satellite Coffee on University. His height is hard to gauge from a sitting position, but he looms over the table, a studded black cowboy hat bobbing as he talks, which is most of the time. To his right,Paul Polechla serves as his counterpart—a man of average size and quiet disposition, wearing a white cowboy hat and yellow-and-blue checkered shirt, topped with a matching silk bandana tied around his neck. LoPopolo is a Southwest historian and the founder of the New Mexican Horse Project, an organization many New Mexicans know nothing about. Polechla is the group’s biologist as well as a biology professor at UNM.
While many were stuffing Christmas stockings with toys and chocolate, Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab was stuffing his crotch with 80 grams of high-explosive pentaerythritol tetranitrate. After being caught on a flight bound for Detroit, the Nigerian student told investigators he had been trained in Yemen by al Qaeda. So mainstream media began scorching Yemen, the country on the Arabian Sea coast called a “haven for Islamic jihadists” on the New York Times website.
Dateline: Massachusetts—Police in the Town of Barnstable placed 28-year-old James Hinkley in protective custody last Monday night for public drunkenness. After sobering up in the police station, Hinkley was released on his own recognizance at about 1:30 a.m. that Tuesday morning. He was arrested shortly after leaving, however, because police say he left on a bicycle he stole out of the police station lobby. According to Barnstable police Sgt. Sean Sweeney, some late Christmas donations for the Toys for Tots program were being stored in the station’s lobby. Cape Cod Times reports that police officer Matthew Blondin saw Hinkley help himself to one of the kids’ bikes and ride off. Blondin alerted other officers in the area. Hinkley was soon located and placed back under arrest for larceny.
At the start of every year, millions (billions?) of people resolve to live the next 365 days differently, healthier and with more purpose. Resolutions to lose weight, quit smoking, get in shape and call mom abound, and most of these are doomed to failure. Why? Because change is hard, and sometimes it's stupid.
About 30 women, 20 children and 10 languages were present at the last meeting of the Women’s Design Collective, tucked into a room scattered with fabric scraps and thread in the Southeast Heights. Some of the members helped translate the meeting’s minutes into Swahili, Amharic, Nepali, Kirundi, French, Kunama, Tigrinya, Somali, Spanish and, when needed, English. All of them worked on plans that would help launch their own businesses.
Award-winning underground film king Jon Moritsugu (Terminal USA, Fame Whore, Scumrock, Mod Fuck Explosion) will teach an intensive, one-day crash course on low-budget film and video production and distribution. The workshop will take place Saturday, Jan. 16, from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. at Warehouse 21 in Santa Fe (1614 Paseo de Peralta). The class will set filmmakers back a mere $50. Moritsugu’s crash course will focus on low- and no-budget solutions to common problems—from “finding a crew who will work for free” to “film festival scams.” Moritsugu has written, directed and produced more than a dozen films for between $100 and $360,000. His work has played at festivals and exhibits around the world, including Sundance Film Festival, Toronto International Film Festival, New York Underground Film Festival, New York’s Museum of Modern Art, the Guggenheim and the Museum of Modern Art in Paris. For more information about the class as well as payment details, e-mail firstname.lastname@example.org or call (505) 819-9881. You can learn more about Moritsugu at jonmoritsugu.com.
Smart, rude teen comedy finds real humor in mock rebellion
By Devin D. O’Leary
Directed with gusto by controversial indie filmmaker Miguel Arteta (Star Maps, Chuck & Buck), starring overexposed but always amusing Michael Cera (Superbad, Juno, Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist, Year One) and based on the picaresque cult novel by C.D. Payne, Youth in Revolt has the sole misfortune of being a wry, rude, coming-of-age movie in an era already well-saturated with wry, rude, coming-of-age movies. Those who caught Cera in 2007’s Juno can be forgiven for getting a certain been-there-done-that vibe off Youth in Revolt’s trailers. It’s not that Youth in Revolt does anything wildly distinctive, but it’s an intelligent laugh-getter that doesn’t spoil its source material by going Hollywood.
Here we sit, poised between the Aughts (or whatever we’re calling them) and the teens (not to be confused with that last set of teens with World War I and all that junk). It is a time for both reflection and prognostication. What was so great/awful about the last 10 years? What will happen in the next 10 years? Take TV, for example. “The Sopranos” sure was nifty. Remember Darva Conger from “Who Wants to Marry a Multi-Millionaire?” getting naked in Playboy? Crazy days. That covers the last 10 years. Now, let’s look into our cathode-ray crystal ball and speculate on changes for the coming decade.
Things can get really dark music-wise in December and January. First there's the holiday craze. Bands stop touring, and local shows are few. Following Christmas, presumably due in part to cash flow issues stemming from said holiday craze (not to mention the ongoing recession), fewer people dare to venture out into the long, cold January nights. Being one who attends events several times a week, it's painful to witness the barren interiors of venues where crowds of music fans should be rocking out. This problem—tied up in economics as well as cultural awareness, a dwindling band supply, scant support for local musicians, hostility toward Downtown as an entertainment district, absurdly rigid liquor laws, absent public transportation and taxi services, and a mess of other issues—is more complicated than could be contained within a tiny column. In any case, this message is simple. Within the next month the January/December lull dissipates, giving way to cool, interesting, exciting or otherwise music-related events around Albuquerque and Santa Fe. And they'll only increase throughout the year. If you haven't made a resolution for 2010, please resolve to go see live music. By doing so you'll be entertained in a way incomparable to any video game or sitcom rerun, while also supporting the local culture and economy, and fighting the power—be it CABQ or Old Man Winter.
The wickedest band in the area directly surrounding the 12th Street 7-11 releases an album worth at least as much as a mediocre hamburger
By Jessica Cassyle Carr
Composed of the rural New Mexico-raised dirt heads from the late Unit 7 Drain (one of the most relentless Albuquerque rock bands of all time) and I is for Ida, The World on Fyre is the next phase in an enduring sonic assembly. Harry Redus-Brown, Ella Brown, Tony Sapienz and Chris Newman converge here in a noisier fashion, parting with catchy hooks to create a cacophony that should frighten some and titillate others. This week the band unleashes these new sounds in a physical form. In anticipation, we e-quizzed Harry about drinks, New Mexico music and, of course, The World on Fyre.
A bill made of local bands could get stranger than this. What if Death Convention Singers, The Squash Blossom Boys and Cherry Tempo played a show together? Or, say The 2bers, Kimo and Nosotros randomly team up for a night? Still, a 100.3 The Peak-presented bill containing the modern rock stylings of Soular, the slick gypsy swing of Le Chat Lunatique and the timeworn sounds of Albuquerque mainstay The Tattersaints is slightly bewildering. It also sounds like a fun Friday night at the Launchpad, so get your eclectic ass down there on Jan. 15, and mingle with your musical brethren—doors open at 8 p.m. The $5, 21-and-over show starts around 9 p.m. And if you don't like one of the bands, you can always play Simpsons pinball, Ms. Pac-Man or Galaga. (Jessica Cassyle Carr)
Not only is World on Fyre member Chris Newman talented enough to face a fierce drum-off with Neil Peart, he’s also a composer and a student artist at UNM where he’s learning to master the piano. This week he set his phone to “party shuffle” and this is what turned up.
As 2009 closes, most of the highlights in the food realm could be framed in the context of two competing paradigms that have clashed for much of the decade. In one corner we have big food: factory farms, fast food restaurants, mystery meat, biotechnology and other examples of the economics of scale applied to food. In the other corner, small food: farmers markets, ecology-based agriculture, seasonal diets of minimally processed food, locavores, etc.
The Pulitzer Prize for Fiction is awarded each year to an American author whose book in some way captures the spirit of American life. Early in 2009, I wondered what sort of snapshot of the U.S. one could develop by reading each of this past decade's winners. So I did. And what did America look like in the Aughts?
For adults fond of pictures and art accompanying their reading, there is the graphic novel—what Daniel Clowes calls a "marketing moniker" in his depressingly hilarious 2005 book Ice Haven. "Are comics a valid form of expression?," he asks. "The jury's still out, I'm afraid. There exists for some an uncomfortable impurity in the combination of two forms of picture-writing (i.e. letter shapes that form 'words') while to others it's not that big a deal." The past decade saw abundant excellence in adult comic books. Below are a selection of 10 critics' favorites, volumes which also come with the Alibi seal of approval. In alphabetical order:
What America watched, heard, said, read, ate and died from in the first 10 years of the 2000s
Take a bow, 2000 to 2009 A.D. You’ve given this millennium one hell of a first act to follow. Here in the U.S., the decade brought terrorism, biblical floods and two wars—the sort of hardships we always assumed (or pretended) we were exempt from. We no longer have the luxury of that thinking. Yet the decade also ushered some of our wildest dreams into reality—medical and technological breakthroughs that are redefining life as we know it, and a president whose election changed the very face of politics.
The Council clicked its way through business at the Monday, Jan. 4 meeting. New Councilors Michael Cook and Dan Lewis are still keeping pretty quiet but are starting to ask questions and express opinions.
So, have you pulled your head out of your Oh, I am so glad that decade is over, everything was terrible, the world is coming to an end pity potty? Not yet? Then please spare the rest of us. If yes, or better yet, if you never went there in the first place, good on you. Be a shining light, will you?
Dateline: Maryland—A homeless man tried to leave the town of Frederick by stealing a single-engine aircraft at a municipal airport, but he crashed before reaching the end of the runway. Calvin C. Cox, 51, wanted to fly away from Frederick early last Monday morning but ended up in jail on felony charges of theft, burglary and trespassing. Cox was unhurt when the Piper Super Cub ran off a runway at Frederick Municipal Airport and upended in the grass around 2:15 a.m. A canine team tracked him into nearby woods where he was arrested. “He was familiar with aircraft, but I don’t believe he was proficient in the operation of aircraft,” Frederick Police Lt. Clark Pennington told reporters.
What Ludwig Beethoven is to a piano, DJ Rob Swift is to a set of turntables. The award-winning DJ’s career spans more than two decades. Raised in Queens during what many refer to as the golden age of hip-hop, Swift was exposed to graffiti writing, break-dancing, MC-ing and DJ-ing in their rawest forms.
Nothing wrong with a little emo babe-age every now and then, no sir. Although, personally I’m quite a bit more excited about the black-and-white checkered floor. On Tuesday, Jan. 12, Diverside, In The End, TransfRictioN and Red Letter F bring the metal (and possibly a little gangsta clown punk) to the Launchpad beginning at 9:30 p.m.—doors open at 8 p.m. Cover charge is $4. This 21-and-over show is not for the young’ins. (Jessica Cassyle Carr)
To some, indie rock is an aesthetic, something between Sonic Youth and Pavement that’s only played by people with mop-tops, ringer T-shirts and cans of Pabst atop their amplifiers. Others might take the genre literally as music recorded and performed by musicians not affiliated with major labels. Whatever your definition, here are 10 tracks from the past 10 years that continue to amaze.
Comic and collectable toy shop Astro-Zombies in Nob Hill is hosting an awesome “Nightmare After Christmas” event this Saturday, Jan. 9. From 10 a.m. to 2 p.m., cult actor Sid Haig will be at the store meeting his fans and signing autographs. You can buy photos, figures and DVDs at the store and get them signed for free. If you bring your own stuff, there is a small fee. Recent cult film converts will recognize Haig from his work on Rob Zombie’s films—appearing as the creepy killer Captain Spaulding in House of 1000 Corpses and The Devil’s Rejects and doing some fine cameo work in the Halloween remake. Quentin Tarantino is also a fan, having cast Haig in both Jackie Brown and Kill Bill: Vol. 2. Longtime watchers of the weird have seen him in dozens of TV shows (including a fun run as the villainous Dragos on “Jason of Star Command”) and a string of memorable ’70s exploitation flicks with director Jack Hill (Spider Baby, The Big Doll House, The Big Bird Cage, Coffy, Foxy Brown). Astro-Zombies promises this is just the first of many special in-store appearances slated for 2010. Astro-Zombies is located at 3100 Central SE.
Torchwood: Children of Earth—BBC America has become a far more reliable source for fine science fiction than SyFy Channel. Look no further than the invigorated and chart-topping run of “Doctor Who.” (R.I.P. David Tennant, we’ll miss you something awful.) The only reason I’m not putting the good Doctor on “The Best” list is because the “Doctor Who” spin-off “Torchwood” gave us this unforgettable mini-series in 2009. It posited an alien invasion of Earth—but in a way I’ve never seen before. This invasion wasn’t some explosion-filled War of the Worlds story, but rather a frighteningly realistic diplomatic scenario in which Earthly politicians willingly struck a Faustian bargain with some creeeepy alien overlords.
Albuquerque Little Theatre, now celebrating its 80th season, shakes up its reliable formula with Sundays @ 6, a series of programs that will bring together music, poetry, comedy and more. For $6 this Sunday, Jan. 10, at 6 p.m., check out the Dynamite Gang and its assured handling of a range of genres from the '60s to now. ALT is located at 224 San Pasquale SW. For info, call 242-4750 or go to albuquerquelittletheatre.org.
As we reflect on the breathtaking accomplishments of Albuquerque’s visual artists and arts organizations in 2009, at the works produced and the circumstances weathered, we marvel at the very thought of what the upcoming year holds. Lamentably, reliable clairvoyants are hard to find these days, so we can do little more than imagine how our art community will stun us in 2010. Unless, of course, community members tell us. Which is just what they did. Here’s what we discovered ...
Because science continues to lag behind my imagination,the consciousness-splitting self-cloning device is years away from completion, making it very difficult for any one person to experience all of the art Albuquerque has to offer. That's why any "best of" list of mine is going to be incomplete, at best. Still, it's worth a look back. Here are just a few of the notable events, exhibits, people and organizations of 2009.