boogie woogie

he was a child prodigy destined for greatness. he only needed one name. he was a pioneer of the personality-as-commodity school of celebrity. and, as he was so fond of saying, he didn't give concerts -- he put on a show.

last weekend i took a road trip to blazing hot las vegas to see the liberace museum. my pals catherine and julie cooked up this idea at cat's birthday party a few weeks ago, so we did not take the beast but instead rode in the air-conditioned comfort of cat's honda. not sure why i decided to go along, as i'm not particularly a fan of "mr. showmanship" -- the flashy pianist who was the greatest entertainer of someone's generation, but not mine. in fact, i didn't really know much about him. but suddenly we all really wanted to see the museum before it closes on october 17, due to declining attendance and the liberace foundation's desire to focus on its work providing scholarships to students in the arts. which, especially in this day and age, is more important. (the collection will live on as a touring exhibition, according to the foundation's official press release.)



in life, walter "lee" liberace (who died in 1987 and was for two decades the highest paid entertainer in the world) assumed such sobriquets as "the glitter man" and "mr. showmanship," but his retconned catchphrase is "the king of bling." it's all over what's left of the merch in the gift shop -- postcards, stand-ups, refrigerator magnets, t-shirts, etc. and once you get a load of his mirrored automobiles, mirrored pianos, and elaborately sequinned costumes, it's hard to argue with that.



the museum is in two buildings in a corner strip mall on east tropicana avenue. liberace's music -- a blend of classical and pop revered by his fans and often reviled by critics -- wafts through both spaces, delicate and light-as-air, playful and unfailingly joyful. one building displays his cars and his pianos, the other one presents his costumes and jewelry, a little bit of furniture, and walls full of awards.

cat insisted there was no way he could possibly drive the mirror-encrusted roadster shown above, because it would blind people! also among the auto collection is his 1972 gold metal flake bradley gt (with a silver candelabrum etched on each side), his custom-made mirrored rolls royce (with convenient one-man bar in the back seat), an old british taxi with a working meter (which the info card said he occasionally used to pick up friends at the palm springs airport), and a pink vw pimped out like a rolls royce.

the pianos include a mirrored grand and a vintage player piano customized with mirrored tiles and other flourishes. another one is painted a deep blue to match one of his outfits. my favorite was this elaborately painted number that was featured in the 1945 film a song to remember -- about the life of frederic chopin, who was of polish origin like liberace. it inspired the budding mr. showmanship to create his famous candelabra-on-piano stage settings, and he bought the movie piano later on as a memento.



for me what made the trip worthwhile were the costumes. almost all of them are totally over-the-top, but what do you expect from the glitter man? sequins, beads, feathers, fur -- all the trappings of luxury and excess, reflecting his oft-repeated quotation of his friend mae west, that "too much of a good thing is wonderful!" every outfit has a cape to go with, and special shoes too, because one cannot go running around in custom-made finery with off-the-rack footwear, darling.



i took a lot of pictures, all with my iphone, which did surprisingly well considering that the showroom is covered in mirrors and draped with chandeliers, so light rays are constantly bouncing around. some of the cooler costumes are in a glass case, which made it really hard to get a good shot, but most are just behind ropes/rails. the purple ostrich feather ensemble above is among my favorites; it reminded me of lilacs (and i learned later from the website's trivia page that lilacs were liberace's fave flower, omg). but it's hard to choose just one. check out my gallery if you want to see more, including his famous red-white-and-blue bicentennial hotpants outfit and a fairly spectacular matador-themed costume, along with this red and black number that is vaguely art deco:



i couldn't get a good picture of the most amazing one -- the crazy-elaborate "king neptune" suit. (luckily, someone else on the internet has a great shot of it.) it features a ridiculously high, clamshell-shaped back collar, loads of pearls, and a cape lining embroidered with shimmering green kelp strands and coral branches. it was his heaviest costume and weighed 200 pounds!!

i told my dad about the trip, and he had a story about seeing liberace live, some time in the '70s, at a nightclub in jersey. his party was seated right next to the stage, and the woman in the couple he was with had on a LOT of gorgeous diamonds. liberace made his way up to her and kissed her hand, saying, "i don't know what you do, madam, but you're obviously doing it right!" ahaha.

reading about liberace in the fairly extensive wikipedia entry left me pretty impressed by how driven he was and how much he did. (he played in cuba. he met the pope. he performed for the queen.) and also wondering what he was really like. in the clips i watched on youtube, including the one linked from the title of this post, his public persona is likable, almost sweet, and he seems to genuinely be enjoying himself even while busting out the schmaltziest shtick. he was savvy enough to lampoon himself (as did many comedians and critics), as when he appeared in a double role on the '60s batman show, playing a concert pianist and his criminal mastermind twin brother.



which is an odd irony, and not because liberace had a twin brother who died at birth (shades of elvis, ahaha). liberace lived a double life -- he was gay but spent his entire life denying it. it's sort of sad that a man who exhibited his talents and tastes so boldly ended up having to hide who he really was. but otoh it's hard to feel sorry for him, and he probably wouldn't have wanted that. after all, back in the '50s, he won damages from tabloids that made insinuations about his sexuality. and, as he said then, "i cried all the way to the bank!"

our house

so last week was the big family reunion of my mom's people -- held at my uncle ara's palatial home in rochester, NY. (pictured above is the view of the pool and hot tub from the deck of the house ... the yard beyond is huge, and the house behind dwarfs all others in this nice suburb.) synchronistically enough, the weekend celebration incorporated not only my big brother's birthday -- we busted out the two cakes (one chocolate, one lemon, both delicious) after midnight on friday, when all the little kids were asleep, ahaha! -- but also the tenth anniversary of my mother's death. in fact, the last time i saw most of the family was at her funeral and wake.

this was a much happier occasion, of course. our part of the clan converged on the estate on friday afternoon; my younger sister and i drove from erie in a borrowed '96 mustang convertible (sweet!), following my dad in his honda minivan to the rochester airport to pick up my eldest sister, affectionately known as the squirrel. the airport is reached via a sharp, short ramp off the highway ... the place is so small that i almost didn't see it at first, ahaha. which made collecting our human package quite a lot easier than picking up someone at LAX. when we arrived at the house, my niece was already there, and my bro and his wife soon turned up.

this is the armenian side of the family, so the theme of the weekend was "would you like something else to eat?" shortly after arriving, i was introduced to buffalo chicken wing dip -- an alarmingly delicious concoction of all-melted-together chicken, buffalo wing sauce, cheese, and maybe some other stuff, which we scooped up with those fritos that are shaped like spoon bowls. omg, get it away from me! wait, maybe just a little more.

the first night was a casual feast of burgers and hot dogs, macaroni salad, green salad, fruit, and other sides i've now forgotten. my uncle and wife cheryl had stocked many coolers with beer, soda, and tons of varieties of mike's hard lemonade, a not-very-alcoholic drink that's pretty pleasant when consumed sparingly. (pomegranate lemonade, ftw!) i started drinking kind of early and felt pretty tapped out by around 10:30 -- lame, but oh well. i had to catch up on the new torchwood anyway.

bedrooms were handed out according to age, so my dad, who was the oldest one there, got a room, which he shared with my bro. but i got to camp out in my uncle's huge RV in the driveway with my two sisters, sister-in-law, and niece, which meant we all got a slice of bed -- a rare privilege when many attendees were sleeping on the floor, some of them in the giant closets. (the advantage of closet-sleeping became apparent on saturday, when those who were thus situated slept in a lot more, isolated from the hubbub, than those who were not.)

mornings brought coffee, danish, croissants, cereal, and baked egg 'n' meat dishes galore. the whole weekend seemed like one big long meal, but technically the main armenian family dinner was on saturday. my brother and niece cooked a giant vat of delicious rice pilaf, shown here in progress:



my bro brought along his own pan and other tools, plus something like 6,000 pounds of butter for this dish. my niece did a stellar job ... we're all so proud of her for carrying on this family tradition. and my sis-in-law made TDF stuffed cabbages and green peppers, which went FAST when the feast was finally laid out.

another tradition, trickier to reproduce, was my grandmother's version of kata, an armenian flatbread. not like a cracker, but a round, low loaf ... i've heard it called other things, but that's what they always called it, so hey. grandma's kata was legendary and fiercely prized. whenever she showed up for holiday dinners or family get-togethers, we always looked for the greasy brown paper grocery bags containing the magical stuff. (and when i was in college, she would make it for me to take back to the dorms, oh yeah!) but of course she didn't have a written recipe, so reproducing hers has been a challenge, to say the least. one big joke is always that the secret ingredient is cigarette ashes -- i don't think anybody actually added them, although several family members took up the kata gauntlet.

here are the bags with the golden booty, awaiting unveiling:



the greasy spots mean they've done something right. here's the treasure on the plate:



note the generous supply of butter alongside, just in case you need some more on top of what's already in there. btw, not everyone in the family likes this stuff. some say it "tastes like cardboard." that's ok, heretics -- more for us!

earlier, we had some lovely homemade hummus and baba ghanoush with pita, and a nice healthy veggie platter:





the main course included kebobs grilled to perfection by my cousin kara's husband, who also made blender drinks all weekend. he was the mixmaster and the grillmaster.



also we had the aforementioned stuffed cabbage and green peppers, plus baked beans, another family fave:



on the lighter side were tasty bean salad and fruit:



the dining room table was also covered with plates of cookies and other sweets, including loads of different baklava from an armenian bakery ... but kara made some of her own. i shared a piece with cousin sandy while we were making our nearly triumphant comeback at trivial pursuit (or maybe it was when i was helping her win at scrabble?) ... omg, soooo good. almost as good as grandma's, and i mean really, almost as good. as in, totally awesomely delicious.

in spite of the endless amounts of fantastic food and the gorgeous surroundings -- plus a bonus thunderstorm that was pretty thrilling to behold and didn't dampen our saturday all that much, as it eventually moved on -- the best part of the weekend was being with the family. as a child and even a teenager, i loved gatherings on my mom's side, b/c there was always so much boisterous fun and delicious food. this was a return to that sort of thing, except now i was one of the older people, along with the aunts and uncles and first-gen cousins, surrounded by teeming hordes of young second cousins ... some of whom are all grown up and have kids of their own, others of whom are teens, preteens, and younger.

the logistics required to pull this off must have been very complicated -- kudos to ara and cheryl, cousin sallie, and everyone else who planned this thing. (how many store runs did ara make in just one day? i dunno, but i think wegman's loves him now.) we even all got gift bags with family reunion t-shirts. i don't know how they did it, but i definitely enjoyed being part of it. my own contribution was burning many copies of an interview i did with grandma 25 years ago while a student at penn state, with her talking about escaping the turkish massacre in armenia and coming to the states as a child.

i spent a fair amount of time with my immediate family, whom i don't get to see very often. part of that was passed being soundly trounced at backgammon (tradition!) by the squirrel, who was clearly channeling mom when she rolled double fours, double fives, and double sixes all in a row. but also, i discussed the merits of majoring in photojournalism with my cousin jenna, who's going to penn state (another big fam trad ... the reunion t-shirts were penn state blue and white). and two of the teenagers of kara and sandy entertained me well into the night on saturday (after the fiercely fought scrabble and trivial pursuit games were done), spinning 'round the menus on their ipods and asking if knew this artist, and this one and this one, and check out this AWESOME drum part, and aren't that guy's vocals just the best? diana and TJ, you rule.

we reminisced, caught up, teased, laughed, played games, snapped photos, jumped into the pool, relaxed in the hot tub, watched auto racing, snagged free diagnoses from the family's doctor, took walks, napped, drank, snacked, noshed, nibbled, scarfed, and dined in a huge, ever-changing swirl of relative bliss. at any given moment, lots of people were doing stuff -- eating, cooking, drink-making, gaming, hacky-sacking -- while lots of other people looked on. it was like being at a golf tournament, except with a lot more noise and talking. and no clubs.

my younger sister's husband drove up on sunday morning, so i had the mustang to myself when i took off for erie later that afternoon -- stomach full of delicious pulled pork sandwich, grilled steak, leftover pilaf and kata, bean salad, etc., etc., and head full of family. being plunged into the middle of all those people and automatically belonging felt kind of great -- a sensation i've never really thought i missed, but it was surprisingly comforting. along with simply loving the kids and being happy just watching them conduct their own party-within-a-party, i was especially glad to have spent time talking to my mom's sister, aunt rosebud, on saturday. plus sandy and i, who are the same age and hung out a lot in certain summers of our youth, totally rebonded, and i was sad to have to leave her. especially since we would've totally kicked ass on the '90s version of trivial pursuit.

i got gas and headed for the thruway (what we californians call the freeway), as i had to make a dinner date (hahaha) back in erie that night. i was thinking about how much mom would've loved the weekend -- she used to hold big family parties sometimes, back when we were kids -- and just how long it has been since she's been gone. some snow patrol song came on the car stereo i had hooked up to my ipod, and i got kinda sniffly for a while. good thing nobody saw that.

have you got it in you?

when i read last year that david tennant (star of doctor who) was going to play hamlet this summer/fall at the RSC's theater in stratford-upon-avon, i thought, "hmmm, that would be a cool thing to see." but when i read that patrick stewart (captain picard of star trek: the next generation) was also going to be in the play (as claudius/the ghost) ... i knew i had to be there. my TWO fave sci-fi tv heroes (pictured above -- DT at left -- in a rehearsal photo from the RSC) in one shakespeare production?! chance of a lifetime! so, a whole eight months ago, i bought a ticket to that play and to love's labour's lost, also featuring tennant (though, alas, not stewart), as berowne. i figured i might as well get the whole package if i'm traveling that far.

david tennant as the doctor is the most popular ever to play the role -- even leaving longtime champ tom baker in the dust (although, WTF, tom baker will always be MY doctor ...). so naturally, his casting created a sensation -- pretty much anything DT does creates a sensation, as he is a huge star in the UK. it's been a total media frenzy over there for months. (nobody but fellow doctor who fans knows who tennant is on this side of the pond, howev.) tickets are sold out (and allegedly going for up to 500 pounds on ebay). and there was the inevitable backlash, with veteran stage director sir jonathan miller criticizing the stunt casting of celebs in shakespeare (jude law is gonna play hamlet in the west end not long after tennant's done). he pouted that director gregory doran had hired "that man from doctor who" to star in his modern-dress production strictly b/c of star power. there may be some truth to this, but tennant, like stewart of course, has already done some willie the shake for the RSC before (including romeo and juliet). and now they are doin' it together (RSC production photo):



anyway, previews started last week, and the official opening was tuesday. in short, the reviews are in.

the general consensus is, "that man from doctor who" is very good, with caveats. stewart is universally getting high praise for his perf. and director doran is being universally dinged for some of the cuts he's made to the text (charles spencer in the telegraph called the play "sometimes brutally cut"). including, apparently, not revealing the fate of rosencrantz and guildenstern, who are killed by hamlet (c'mon, there can't be spoilers! this is shakespeare!).

benedict nightingale in the times gave the production four out of five stars and said tennant kept him "riveted throughout" -- although he'd seen "bolder hamlets and more moving hamlets." but nightingale was more forgiving of tennant not reaching a certain depth than other critics.

like charles spencer in the telegraph, who had many good things to say -- and also found stewart to be exemplary -- but added that "Tennant isn't in the pantheon of the great Hamlets yet."

"What's lacking, at present, is weight and depth. He delivers the great soliloquies with clarity, but he doesn't always discover their freight of emotion."

spencer gives examples of problems with "to be or not to be" and the "nunnery" speech. but he adds that tennant is best when he does tap into his emotions and has some advice:

"As the run continues, Tennant should trust his feelings, dig deeper, expose more of himself."

giving us a little bit of a feel for what it was like to be in the theater, paul taylor in the independent described the crowd and added that having tennant play hamlet was good for everyone:

"It's a joy to see Stratford's vast Courtyard Theatre packed to the rafters and liberally sprinkled with children who remain rapt throughout."

taylor finds tennant adept at most aspects of the role but notes he "excels when the prince becomes a prankish provocateur." he certainly gives the actor high marks but, similar to spencer, also says he wouldn't "put him in the absolute front rank of contemporary Hamlets" (to taylor, these would include simon russell beale, mark rylance, and stephen dillane). his reservations are in line with spencer's as well:

"In the soliloquies, the finest performers seem to be, partly, laying bare their own souls to us, too and laying us bare to ourselves. At the moment, that strange double-feeling of exposure and spiritual connection is not as strong here as one could wish here."

but he also thinks tennant is capable of getting better at this aspect of the performance.

another four out of five stars from michael billington in the guardian. he seemed especially taken with tennant, calling him "immensely engaging." and yet still ...

"If there is any quality I miss, it is the character's philosophical nature, and here he is not helped by the production."

the major party pooper was quentin letts of the daily mail, who called tennant (with much reluctance, one sensed) "memorable" but "not the greatest Dane" (groan ... oh, yes, he diiiiid). this critic was generally quite snarky about tennant's perf (while also complaining about doran's cuts, and praising stewart). but, frankly, this dude sounded like nothing but an asshole when he said:

"On Monday night I saw about 30 members of the audience leap to their feet at the end to show delight at Mr Tennant's performance. All but two of them were women.

Maybe it's because he's such a TV pin-up or maybe his interpretation of Hamlet (light on power politics, heavier on personal hiatus) is likely to appeal more to the female mind.

so you'll excuse me if -- after a totes sexist and flippin' stupid statement like that -- i don't take his sour words all that seriously.

finally, this mostly descriptive and praiseworthy take from caroline briggs of BBC news also nodded to the notion that tennant has room to improve. (at this link is a clip showing tennant coming to the stage door afterward, signing programs, and there is indeed a mob of people waiting.)

i suppose this is good news for tennant (and i know i'm relieved ... how much would it suck to make plans to travel so far, only to see something crappy?). dunno if he'll read the reviews, or heed the advice. one thing we know for sure, howev, is he still looks good in a tux:



anyway. it certainly seems possible that this notion the critics have of tennant needing to dig deeper could be viewed as a challenge -- something he genuinely seems to relish as an actor. i figure by the time i get there to see it, he'll have it all worked out.

mama weer all crazee now

after the panels, we spent the rest of thursday wandering around the con ctr. the trade show in the main hall was overwhelmingly jammed with humans, both in costume and not. many went for authenticity, others for camp value -- like this "stormtrooper elvis" in the photo above (by mimi, like everything in this post). my favorite touch was the belt:



it reminded me of many years ago, when some friends and i checked out a star trek convention at a local hotel, and across the hall was an elvis convention. i got a great shot of a klingon and a vegas-elvis together, which at the time seemed hilariously strange.

anyway, so ... we made a beeline for the bbc america booth and loaded up on toys. we considered huge sets of daleks, sonic screwdrivers, a face of boe, and the voice-activated dalek, but eventually i settled for the con-"exclusive" action figures of the ninth doctor and the tenth/fifth set from "time crash" (where peter davison's doctor is styled as he was in his prime, and not with the paunch and receded hairline of his actual appearance in that special). but my favorite thing is this tiny little TARDIS cell-phone charm:



it spins around and flashes a blue light whenever i make or receive a call or a text (and sometimes at random moments, which is fun). they also had a teeny dalek, but i just had to have my very own TARDIS in a jar. yeah.

we looked at endless amounts of t-shirts, but nothing really grabbed us. we did find a guy selling patches; she snagged a slytherin one and a robin (as in batman and robin) one, and i got a doctor who logo from the tom baker years. awes! we were frustrated in our search for buttons, though. i thought that was so weird -- putting tiny badges on one's jacket is as hip as it was 20 years ago when i was a youth, and yet we saw hardly anyone selling them or giving them away. (but one place did have an excellent eyeball button, which i scooped up for a buck.) maybe we just weren't looking in the right places -- the room was huge.

we visited the sci-fi channel pavilion, DC and marvel, dark horse (where much umbrella academy stuff was purchased by mimi ... including buttons!), top shelf, fantagraphics, and so many more i can't remember them all. also stopped by the booth of my pal mary fleener and her artist friend scott saw to chat for a while.

and we saw cylons, both old-school ones:



and new models:



plus a version of puppet-angel from that crazy evil-children's-show episode of angel called "smile time":



later, amid the merch vendors, we saw an apparently official puppet-spike doll too, but i don't remember spike getting turned into a puppet. that was a long time ago, though, so i could be wrong.

naturally, there was the requisite star wars audience-participation floor show:



and, of course, lego versions of star wars stuff (pretty impressive kit, i'd say):



what we didn't see a lot of, all things considered, was comic books. tucked away in a corner of the hall, somewhere between the small-press folks and the goth-clothing vendor, were a relative handful of people with the familiar long, narrow cardboard boxes holding actual funnybooks. "silver age comics -- 50% off!" read one sign. that was actually kind of depressing. my only other trip to the con was all ABOUT tracking down reasonably priced golden ages and searching out missing issues of the alan moore swamp thing -- a treasure hunt that i'd imagine few people even bother to participate in nowadays, what with the reprint collections making it so much easier to read the old stuff from any era.

still, i was amazed that so many people were there to get their geek on, in whatever form that meant. i loved seeing the people in costume and how much care so many took to get the details right (the old-school cylon above and his mates even had helmets with the red light and the sound effects). but i am still getting used to the notion that geekness is cool. (i still can't forget that TV ad for the LOTR fellowship DVDs from several years ago, with the little kid turning to his dad and going, "gandalf is THE MAN!")

OTOH, it makes total sense that comic book movies and other fantasy properties are so popular right now. i suppose some of the appeal of superhero tales is that you can imagine yourself with that kind of power. but i also think that, in the fifth year of a war that has gone from being supported by nearly everyone to being suspected by almost all of us ... where we exist in a black-and-white world full of grey areas ... such stories are bound to be appealing. these days, not insignificantly, a lot of them feature heroes who struggle with their own morality and motives, or simply have their own (possibly questionable) codes -- although others are more clearly drawn. still, they all offer the classic good-vs.-evil, where good is guaranteed to eventually win, even if it has to get bashed around and crack open some heads in the process. there's also the more escapist, romantic stuff like twilight, but even the supernatural love jazz has its conflicts and battles, its triumphs over adversity and trouble. they all provide an escape while tapping into the zeitgeist desire for a better world, since things in this one are so hard and bleak. plus, frankly, the stories have resolutions, and real life doesn't. even in the really dark stuff, like battlestar galactica, there's a sense of moving toward something and reaching it, whatever might happen. in real life, things get bogged down and drag on and don't seem to change much (except maybe to get worse, while still not being resolved). it's enough to make anyone wanna dress up like a vegas stormtrooper, fer shur.

the happening

went to the san diego comic-con yesterday -- just for the first day of the weekend-long event. a couple of weeks ago, i saw there were going to be panels on doctor who and torchwood. this is bbc america's first foray to the con; as TW is its most successful show ever, it makes sense that the net would want a presence there. anyway, i bought a ticket for thursday, and later mimi managed to snag one too -- the event sold out not long after we bought 'em. i rented a car for the drive, and we went down there on wednesday night. we made it to the con ctr in time to pick up our badges in advance that evening (OMG the line), then met up with a couple of artist pals of hers from new york city, who generously let us crash at their hotel.

i haven't been to a con since the late '80s. i knew it had gotten a lot bigger, but the scale of it was a fully overwhelming, sensory-overloaded, trance-inducing, at times alarming (due to sheer crush of humanity, mainly) but usually delightful experience. we got into the con ctr around 10:30 on thursday morning, secured coffee, and sat in on the virgin comics panel featuring stan lee and grant morrison -- mainly b/c it was in the same ballroom that the DW/TW panels were in right afterward, and we wanted to make sure we got seats. stan lee is a self-aggrandizing old coot -- yeah, yeah, and a comics legend, blah blah blah -- but grant morrison was game, not to mention charming in his suit.

various fan were dressed as characters from the two shows, including several tenth doctors. at one point a whole parade of different doctors walked by -- one, three, four, six, and ten. what a groovy sight. later on, mimi and i spotted the fan in the above photo (by mimi) dressed perfectly like ten -- brown pinstripes, patterned tie, pale dress shirt, cream-colored converse, camel coat ... not to mention spiky hair. and when we asked to take his picture, he busted out the sonic screwdriver and struck a pose -- so awes!

i had decided to embark on this whole endeavor b/c i wanted to hear DW reimaginer/head writer/producer russell t. davies talk. but he wasn't on the panel. (he apparently had to stay behind and write the rest of TW S3.) i knew this going in b/c i had inside info. but i thought it was weird that, although it was known at least a week ago (and maybe more) that he wouldn't be there, the official con website schedule was never updated to show this.

anyway, so, it turned out ok, b/c the DW panel DID feature writer steven moffat (who's penned such brill eps as "blink," "the empty child"/"the doctor dances," "the girl in the fireplace," and "silence in the library"/"forest of the dead"), who will be taking over show-running for the 2010 season, and executive producer julie gardner, who is also a bigwig at BBC TV and BBC wales. both were great, and i ended up almost glad that RTD wasn't there, b/c it put the spotlight on moffat (a scot, like DW star david tennant and, actually, grant morrison). he and julie had a sort of running bit about some apparent troubles he'd had getting into the country for the con. he joked at one point that he thought the doctor's sending his "clingy girlfriend" to another dimension with his clone was a clever way to get rid of her. (hmm, i sense they're done with billie piper, then?) and he generally took on the fans with good humor but wasn't afraid to poke fun at some ideas and comments -- even while flatly rejecting any overtures for the slightest detail of what he has planned for the show.

they showed a montage of clips from who eps moffat wrote (but -- boo! -- not from the eccleston two-fer "the empty child"/"the doctor dances" ... i hope it wasn't b/c someone decided, "whatever. that doctor is sooo four seasons ago.") and, later, we got the full trailer for the '08 christmas special (featuring cybermen, bleah, but still looking like it's gonna be cool) -- the only piece of preview footage shown (they got nothing else to show ... i mean, the sarah jane adventures weren't part of it, although there is a brief trailer for SJA S2 now.) it has a seemingly sinister female in it, and i taunted mimi that it might be the rani at last.

the panelists had a brief chat session before taking questions from the audience. most of these were of the "how do you come up with your ideas?" and, "will we be seeing more of _____ [river song, the doctor's daughter, etc.] in S5?" (not telling.) and, will all the episodes be as scary as "blink," "silence in the library"/"forest of the dead," etc.? (maybe.) his answer about whether or not river song recognized "the essence" of the doctor or the actual tennant doctor was interesting: he said that she had met the tennant doctor but "that's not the only doctor she's met." hmm. so she met tennant's doctor, and then he regenerated at some point? maybe? would be a clever way to keep his options open, i suppose.

one person referenced "time crash" and asked if moffat would consider writing a longer story featuring some of the other actors who've played the doctor. he said he thought such a thing could be dispatched in 8 minutes (a la "time crash") and added that the story would have to be worth more than the novelty of two different versions of the same man meeting. (backstory: there have apparently been rumors, or wishful thinking, or something, about a "three doctors" with paul mcgann, christopher eccleston, and david tennant.) yeah? well, i've got an idea! they all somehow get dragged back to the time war and end up saving gallifrey. b/c frankly, all this last-of-the-time-lords stuff has run its course. bring back the time lords, so the doctor can have someone messing with HIS life once in a while! plus, it would be a great story for those three, b/c it seems likely that mcgann's doctor went through the time war, eccleston's is the regeneration from whatever happened to him in it, and tennant is the still-processing-it-all doctor.

someone else brought up SJA and the spoiler about another old who supporting character coming back on that show (click the link if you want to know), and asked if there were plans to bring back anyone else. moffat rather aggressively stated that the show is really for the new crop of 8-year-olds who come to it every year, and not about nostalgia. this may be an insight into how he will want to shape the show -- although i don't think he meant that there's no value in tapping into the show's history or the longtime cultural love affair with it. RTD has certainly been forward-looking with who, but part of the appeal for him was definitely, and specifically, nostalgic. and he played to that sentiment for viewers too: bringing back all the old villains, and some old friends, and even an earlier version of the doctor. by contrast, moffat's nostalgia for the series seems more rooted in the effect the show had on him as a kid, the lasting impression it left -- mostly the scary-creepy impression.

indeed, moffat's take on the whoniverse seems to be that, as mimi later summed it up, "everything is canon, and nothing is canon." which makes for exciting possibilities. the only thing i want never to happen, ever, is for the doctor's true name to be revealed. other than that, go for it.

the TW panel was a much different animal, mainly due to the presence of john "captain jack" barrowman. as they say in the old school, he's a pistol! he came charging out, leaped up on his chair, and waved his arms in the air like he just didn't care. his short black polo shirt rode up, exposing his white belt (!) and white belly, and he pretended like he was going to moon us, but didn't. and that was just the entrance. here he is below (second from left) in this close-up from my one half-decent shot of the panel, grinning mischievously:



julie gardner stayed on for the TW panel (more photos from it in this report from the con), and they were joined by gareth david-lloyd (who plays torchwood righthand man/jack's lover ianto jones) wearing a black portishead t-shirt, and naoko mori (who played toshiko sato, until her character was killed off this season). it was a rollicking good time, although the clip reel they showed from S2 ended with tosh's death scene, which was truly devastational. the lights came up, and barrowman was wiping his eyes, gareth had his head in his hands, and everyone in the crowd was like, "bummer!" JB commented that it was hard to watch that scene, and indeed they had had a hard time shooting it, b/c they weren't just losing a character from the show but a family member (i've read this sentiment before in interviews). but he praised naoko's acting -- she actually seemed like the least shook up by seeing the scene again, which was interesting. or maybe she's just better at covering her emotions.

anyway, the fan Q&A included the cringeworthy moment when one guy said he finally got to get on his knees for captain jack -- OMG, no he diiiidn't!! and the totes charming part where someone noted that JB had earlier mentioned appearing in miss saigon with naoko, so now could they please sing some of their duet "sun and moon"? ahaha! they actually did "the last night of the world," somewhat haltingly in terms of remembering the lyrics at first, but naoko sang purely, and by the end JB got on track, and it was rather lovely, actually, with a sweet melancholy to it.

gardner said that the next TW series (which is only five eps long) will be all one big story, and that really bad things will happen. OMG, they killed off half the team last season -- how much worse can it GET? and -- can't wait to find out!

i was really struck by how much all of these people seemed truly enthusiastic and happy in their jobs. it's not surprising, of course -- both shows are great, and really popular in the UK. some of the joy comes from being successful, but also, i think, especially for the people who grew up loving who (like moffat and barrowman), it's the bliss of getting to be a part of something that meant so much to them. even as a viewer, that's one of the charms of the modern whoniverse for me -- seeing this show i used to love as a kid brought back to even more exceptional and brilliant life. also, the camaraderie among the three TW actors felt genuine, although frankly i can imagine that dealing with barrowman's over-the-top personality all day, every day might be wearing after a while.

this concludes the panels portion of my comic-con report. there's more to say about the carnival that was the trade show (and the stuff i bought), but i'll save it for the next post.

tattoo you

wow, it's already wednesday, and i haven't even blogged the weekend yet. it was the long-awaited epic adventure of going to santa barbara with coiledsoul and the visiting maniac known as kassie. their goal: to get tattoos by pat fish. my goal: to watch them bleed.

sadly, i didn't get to see ANY blood. pat fish is too good to allow that sort of thing.

we drove up saturday morning in the beast, which performed quite well. it was damn hot too -- perhaps the hottest weekend of the year so far, even in SB.

first stop was la super rica, a little before noon.



that was an excellent time to arrive, as the line was remarkably short. but the people in front of us were longtime customers who decided it would be good to chat up the order guy and tell him they were celebrating a birthday AND an anniversary, and yakkety yak yak yak. more people kept arriving behind us, and these yuppies just kept jawing away. CS was giving 'em the hairy eyeball, but they took their sweet time.

at last we got to order, and soon enough had our tacos, etc. it was a magnificent feast of pork, beef, chorizo and delicious cheesiness. and guacamole! CS the texan pronounced it all good. and it was.

then we went to check into the motel 6 -- the ORIGINAL motel 6, mind you: nothing but the best for our chick road trip -- but the room wasn't ready yet. so we trundled off to find the tattoo place. after circling the block once or twice, we located it and parked about a mile away. the tattoo people were delayed, so we nipped into the cafe next door for beers (CS & K) and a mimosa (moi). it was hot but quite pleasant in the shade of the cafe patio, watching the cars go by on state street.

the tattoo joint opened, and thus began the rather long and slightly chaotic process of selecting designs, signing forms, planning schedules, etc. it was a laidback kinda place, which i suppose is good for a tattoo parlor. one wouldn't want to be rushed. but i had quite a lot of time to study the interior while my friends made their arrangements. the high ceilings were decorated with taxidermied birds and chinese fish kites, framed posters of tattooed people and a row of women with their backs airbrushed with stuff like the pink floyd dark side of the moon album cover. and way up top on one wall was a poster of some standing stones in moonlight that sorta looked like the ones on the isle of lewis, but i think they were probably irish ones.

on the walls to left and right were black metal racks, like the kind used to display posters, showing myriad design possibilities and also some of PF's work. chinese symbols in black ink on white background decorated the fronts of the counter, and a very neat, detailed chart of them was tacked on the wall to the left. it included such surprising entries as "diarrhea" -- not sure why you'd want that tattooed on yourself, but whatev. i was sorta taken with the one for "beast," but not so much that i'd actually get it put on me.

CS and i checked into the motel while K sorted out her tatt plans. we got a nice l'il room on the second floor, just big enough to swing a cat in. the a/c felt good to our heat-baked skin. after cooling off, we returned to pick up K and hang back at the motel for a while. the beach called to K, so off she went, and CS joined her, while i pounded out some work for the endless website job.

then ... crisis! K came back from the beach and quickly realized she'd lost her bracelets -- with all these charms on them that are very meaningful and irreplaceable. she went back and searched the sand, but nada. then CS got this gleam in her eye and said she was gonna go look. i had a good feeling about it, or maybe it was just hope, but i said nothing b/c i was still slamming away on website copy.

i was fixing myself up for the return trip to town when CS returned -- triumphant! she'd found the bracelets, right where our girl had left them. (see, all that army training DID come in handy.) there was much rejoicing, and CS was pronounced the hero of the day.

K's tattoo appointment was at 6, but there was a long delay for her to get her lotus (picture at the top of this post). we had planned to go to a bar afterward to celebrate, but saturday night in a college town was in full swing, so instead we opted to have CS and me make a run to trader joe's for some wine and snacks (to supplement the ones CS brought in her cooler). then we picked up our freshly inked girl and -- after watching the how-to-care-for-your-tatt video and CS making plans for hers the next day -- headed back to the motel.

then it was just drinking, eating, talking, and watching TV till we all passed out ... by 2 a.m. K and i listened to the new breeders album on my laptop and also an assortment of tracks by an artist named cory branan, which K had sent me a while ago but i'd managed not to check out.

sunday was another hot one. but we got it together, checked out, and went down to stearns wharf for brunch on the deck of some rustic touristy joint. we watched the sailboats and kayakers and cabin cruisers and pelicans pass by in the bay. my mimosa was xlnt, and i had seafood crepes with crab and shrimp -- mmm. the ladies shared an enormous pile of fried seafood that looked delicious. after that we strolled around and checked out the long line of tents along the main drag, selling art, jewelry, bags, pottery, clothing, windchimes, plant holders, garden decorations that looked vaguely gallifreyan, and just about anything else you could imagine.

we stopped to look at arlington west on the sand by the entrance to the pier -- the local war memorial for all the u.s. military dead in iraq/afghanistan. 4,000+ crosses -- mostly crosses. also jewish stars and muslim crescents. it was a sobering sight.



it was frickin' hot -- did i mention? presently we hopped into the beast and trundled back down the wooden planks of the pier to state street and the waiting tattoo parlor. after ms. CS got situated, K and i wandered off to do some shopping. at the territory ahead outlet store, i found a shirt for 00soul -- a nice kinda greenish-brownish silk number -- and one for me -- a very time-lordy item in a lightweight blueish-purple cotton with ruffles and strips of velvet on the front. very jon pertwee. then we went across the street to a trendy t-shirt/tchotchke joint, where K got a cowgirl-decorated tote bag for CS and i snagged a couple of tiny new york dolls buttons.

then it was nearly 4, and still frakkin' hot. so i made the executive decision to go to the james joyce and start drinking, figuring CS could catch us up after her tatt. the place was much mellower than it had been when we'd passed by the night before. tiger woods was golfing up on the silent big-screen TV. i had a lovely tanq&tonic. presently CS showed up, and we passed a couple of hours yakking, laughing, and drinking. then the celtic band showed up. we heard a couple of numbers, but it was time to head back to l.a. -- the sun was going down. we nipped into the hot dog shop down the street for chili dogs, then climbed into the beast. got gas -- and curel (unscented!) for the tatt ladies -- and we were on our way home.

where the river shannon flows

saturday was 00soul's birthday, so off we went to la super rica (pictured above) for the wonderful tacos he loves. it was worth the blisteringly hot, nearly three-hour drive to santa barbara (usually about 90 minutes away). the beast performed magnificently, pushed to the very limits (or doubtless past) of its engineering capabilities. at one point somewhere around thousand oaks i was afraid we'd have to abort the mission -- traffic was crawling, temp was around 100, and the heat gauge was millimeters from hitting the danger zone. i had visions of a blown radiator and us stranded in the withering furnace of hell-adjacent. but then i got the bright idea to travel in the nice, long, wide-open merging lanes at my right whenever possible, and quickly the engine cooled to a more acceptable risk level.

it was cooler by the sea near ventura, and we had no further overheating fears. (but still lots of traffic.) santa barbara, too, was much more human-friendly -- in the upper 70s or low 80s.

the tacos were fabulous as always, and then we made our annual stop at the james joyce, where 00soul picked 28 songs for the jukebox, drank much whisky and guinness, and was goodnaturedly accosted by a drunk guy named tim, who nearly guessed his age but missed by two years. a gaggle of regulars and curious passersby mingled amiably, as college football played silently on the single flat-screen TV.

full of tacos, and mellowing from my first tanq&tonic, i stared out the open front window at the people and the traffic, including the occasional, gorgeous vintage car rumbling by. like a lot of people, i don't usually mark just how stressed-out i've felt in a situation until it's over. but the combination of delicious tacos, cooler climes, and a sparkling GT on a lazy saturday afternoon finally soothed me enough to ponder the journey's ordeal ... and decide it was worth it.

while 00soul was at the jukebox, i'd watched a wizened little old man walk outside to smoke, cane on his arm. 00soul was still picking songs a while later, when bartender patrick paused mick jagger in mid-syllable, clanged the bell, and announced that this selfsame elderly gentleman was going to "sing 'the river shannon.'" (meaning "where the river shannon flows.")

everyone stopped talking and turned toward where the thin-but-sure sound came from along the bar. he sang the whole thing, evoking images of a far green land touched by magic, a love worth waiting for, a promise wistfully hoped to be kept -- and a time long past where all of this still lived. it was kind of magical, too, how the whole place got quiet, even the noise from outside receding before this powerful memory captured in an old man's reedy voice. then he stopped singing, everyone clapped and cheered, and "gimme shelter" rattled onward.

worth it, indeed. happy birthday, baby.

what i did for love

i flew to las vegas. i stayed in the underwhelming new york new york hotel. and i spent $130-some to see cirque du soleil's LOVE on monday at the mirage.

it was worth it.

i met up with my old friend doug, who was in vegas for a work conference. we walked to caesar's palace to have dinner at this place called joe's, and just happened to pass the bellagio as the big fountain show was about to go off. so we stopped to watch the waterworks, done to a cheesy rendition of the song "one," from a chorus line. i surprised myself -- and highly amused doug -- by remembering all the words from when i sang it in chorus in junior high.

when the maitre'd at joe's seated us, doug pointed out a waiter and said that man had been his waiter two years before. to which the maitre'd replied, "and he'll be your waiter tonight!" jeff from minneapolis, who even remembered doug, accurately describing where he and his pals had been sitting. (they were drunk and obnoxious, so perhaps the memory was more indelible than most.)

on the way out, doug spotted tim robbins at a nearby table. he claimed the movie star was checking me out, but i highly doubt that. i cannot even say myself that it was tim robbins, as all i saw was the back of his head.

then we dashed to the mirage and found our seats. they were pretty great, although i'm not sure there'd be a bad one. the stage is set up "in the round," but the performance space was actually square-ish -- or, really, since every inch from floor to rafters was used at times, cube-like. the stage was like a living part of the performance, seemingly in constant motion like the dancers: parts of the floor dropping away into black oblivion, other parts sliding open, the recesses at times yielding up performers and pieces of set like gazebos, bandstands, etc.

LOVE is fairly abstract, in that there isn't really a "story." the action shifts according to a cultural/historical timeline that roughly follows the evolution of the beatles' music (give or take). the evening began with a tableau that evoked england during WWII, with children in their beds seeming to represent the young beatles amid a stage teeming with characters and activity. one could say they spotted mr. kite, father mckenzie, eleanor rigby, maybe even billy shears, among others.

the music was all beatles, artfully sliced and diced such that at times the bass line from one song would play under a completely different tune, sound effects were nicked from certain records to create ambient noise, etc. so not all of the numbers were tied to just one specific tune. but sometimes, as with "something" and "while my guitar gently weeps," the song was left to play as it is. the former featured a shirtless male dancer on the floor, and four female dancers in white, attached to wires, and they did this sort of aerial/ground ballet, a rotating pas de deux. he ran toward each woman flying on her wire, mostly out of reach but briefly making contact before always, always being pulled away from him again. it looked cool and was very poignant. for "guitar," two enormous puppets made from panels of wispy fabric danced from the rafters. other things happened on the stage, but what stayed in my mind was those puppets, so ghostly and graceful, swaying and sometimes appearing swelled to bursting with the emotion of george harrison's guitar playing. it was lovely but also very sad. "with every mistake, we must surely be learning" hit me particularly hard.

but a lot of the show was just fun and delightful, that classic cirque combination of humor and pathos. i am not sure it was deep, but it made me think for a long, long time afterward. in fact, the images and sounds are still in my mind. at one point i imagined george and john having a good giggle about it in rock 'n' roll heaven:

"have you seen this, then?"

"ooo, yes, quite ridiculous. i never miss a show! my favorite part is when all the people go into the gift shop afterward and buy $10 refrigerator magnets."

"cool, right? want another bong hit?"

the 90 minutes went by in a blip. and i mean, the time just flew. so much happened in each scene you couldn't really focus on every single movement or bit of business. the emotional intensity of the show came partly from the beatles' music, as well as from the often incredible displays of physical prowess and poetry. songs so timeless and enduring, and familiar, yet at once ancient and fresh. (no matter what aimee mann says.) the genius of LOVE is that it lets you feel whatever emotion comes to you, so there's something very personal about it. as strong and as vivid as the impressions i got were, i'm sure others in the audience felt different things, equally strong and vivid. the visual presentation didn't lock the songs to one interpretation, like a video does. instead it only enhanced the infinite possibilities the beatles represented ... and which they themselves explored.

cowboy

this fine-looking fellow is cowboy. he's not from hollywood -- he's from lebec. but he's clearly got star quality, showing me his profile just before i snapped this photo outside rocky's roadhouse in that little grapevine town. how very oscar-night of him.

but i'm getting ahead of myself.

i met cowboy on sunday, day three of the epic celebration that was coiledsoul's 35th birthday. the party began on friday, about as far away from lebec (at least conceptually) as one can get: in the bowels of the higgins building in downtown l.a. contained therein is the edison, an underground wonderland of a nightclub. you enter through historic harlem place alley, near second and main, and descend a long, long staircase to the bottom of what feels like a ship's hull (impression gleaned from being inside the depths of the queen mary during all tomorrow's parties a few years back).

the sprawling space pretty much embodies the definition of "cavernous," and it would make a fabulous hunting ground for any nosferatu (which is what i was thinking as i prowled the place in my full-length leather spike jacket and shockingly low-cut black bustier). but the set-up is surprisingly cozy. every nook and cranny is filled with comfy seating and soft lighting, perfect for intimate groups to gather and enjoy meeting, conversing, and imbibing -- conversation is totally possible here, which is a nice switch from the loud clubs of hollywood where discussions are usually limited to "huh?" and "what?" and vague smiles of semi-comprehension. also unlike hollywood, it only cost me three bucks to park, two blocks away. there's no cover charge, so the drink prices, while quite on par with the hollywood hotspots, seemed more reasonable. (or less outrageous?) plus they were twice as big and much stronger. the security guards were plentiful but friendly. even the "dancing girls" were classier than the usual bruise-splattered suicide-girls types seen all too often in the hollywood fleshtanks. (nevertheless, some asshat tossed a crumpled-up bill on the stage as they performed their first number; it was swiftly removed and returned to him by a friendly-but-firm security staffer.)

i got fairly drunk but not as trashed as i could have, as i was saving myself for the main event: a saturday road trip to bakersfield for dinner and a show at the crystal palace. this would be the country-music castle that the late buck owens built, and where his buckaroos keep the flame of bakersfield twang alive. last weekend, for this occasion, i even purchased a fine pair of gorgeous deerskin cowboy boots from the used boot shack known as kowboyz on beverly. making the journey were CS, me, and another friend ... let's call her hard driver. as she was our chauffeur, and boy does she like to drive fast.

we set out in mid-afternoon and made good time on unclogged freeways. checked in after a surprisingly long wait, but the best western crystal palace was loaded with soccer-playing preadolescents and other large groups -- all seemingly checking in at once.

soon enough we pointed our boots in the direction of the palace, right next door. the place is sort of like a cross between frontierland and the house of blues, a themed restaurant/performance space designed with the trappings of an old western town and, naturally, filled with buck owens memorabilia. including giant iron statues of folks like willie nelson, bob wills, elvis presley, and (duh) buck owens. not to mention an awesome great big cadillac poised above the bar. with a saddle mounted in between the seats, steer horns, and even a rifle on the trunk (pointed, confusingly, toward the driver's seat, which didn't seem right...). giant video screens beam out classic images of buck and the band. the large, multileveled room is dominated by the stage and dancefloor, and ringed by a series of glass cases containing photos, costumes, instruments, documents, and other buck stuff. my favorite things were buck's red/white/blue striped fender guitar, the last one personally made by leo fender before he died, and his cowboy-boot golf cleats.

the food seemed overpriced, which was not unexpected, but my filet mignon was delicious. a perfect medium rare. we split onion rings for an appetizer, and CS had the chicken-fried steak (served with sausage gravy, boo). HD had a steak sandwich. we didn't drink to excess -- the kids were feeling the effects of friday night even more than i was. service was a little inconsistent, but what the hell? we weren't in a huge hurry.

the buckaroos went on a little after 7:30, kicking things off with the bellamy brothers' "redneck girl," which brought instant squeals of delight from the birthday girl. "i love this song!" she sparkled, brandishing her shotglass with glee. they proceeded to reel through an array of popular country songs from various eras, many of them tunes you might've heard on pop radio (like the sappy "the most beautiful girl" by charlie rich or chuck berry's classic "roll over beethoven"). the female singer/MC encouraged folks to bring up notes with announcements of whatever special occasions patrons might be celebrating, so's she could share them with the crowd. somewhere between the 82nd birthdays, 40th wedding anniversaries, soccer-tournament-bound visiting teams, and local senior citizens centers, she proclaimed "happy 35th birthday to jenn, who came all the way from texas... ." well, i wrote on the note "she's from texas!" as a sort of honorarium (you know, like "PhD" or something?), but the singer took it different, which was fine, and sorta funny.

the best part was watching the dancers. couples who'd been together so long they were like extensions of each other, not even needing to look where the other was as they sashayed and two-stepped effortlessy as one. a wizened little old man who was spry beyond belief, squiring half the ladies in the room around the floor with elegant gusto. a big ol' good ol' boy in a giant cowboy hat and silver-tipped boots, who must've weighed 250 but had the grace of a ballerina. a tall, thin young man with two different girl partners, each one with her own style -- one more reserved and fluid, the other all full-bore arm-waving energy. at different points the whole floor seemed to shift spontaneously into the electric slide. it was a blast just to look; with all that talent out there, i didn't dare ask CS to teach me any steps.

we stayed for most of the music but split a little while before the show ended. our plan was to go back to the room, regroup, and then head out to one of the local honky-tonks for some more music and fun. but upon returning we decided a slumber party might be better. so we laid in supplies at the mini-mart next door and channel-surfed until we found the perfect backdrop movie: from dusk till dawn. thus we got our yearned-for bar fight, george clooney, and salma hayek undulating sexily with a giant albino snake. and really, how ya gonna see somethin' like that in bakersfield?

well ... as it turns out ... a similar entertainment might have been available at the "teaser pleaser," the strip bar a couple doors down that we passed on our way to check out the boot barn the next morning. but probably not.

sunday bargain shopping completed, HD pointed the honda homeward. but we had one more pit stop in store, at the aforementioned rocky's roadhouse in lebec. headed toward the flying j truckstop off the 5, HD immediately detoured, beeline-like, for this homey joint. "let's go in and have a beer!" enthused our girl. (what the hey, it was at least half-past noon.) a family restaurant on one side, pool hall/pub on the other, it was already welcoming NASCAR fans on the bar side of the action. the lady bartender greeted us real friendly, and soon we were drinking beer (tequila for me) for lunch, plus noshing on amazing chili fries (a gooey mess of steaming cheesy goodness for under four bucks!) and a hamburger. CS got pallsy with the resident mutts: our red-bandanna'd scrapper cowboy, and the mellow, lion-like canine who answered to the name of rocky. (hmm. guess it was his place.)

but family and household obligations beckoned, and soon we were back on the road. HD put the pedal to the metal, and we hurtled back to el-lay at breakneck speed. "go faster!" she demanded whenever the car in front of her slowed to 85 or so. impatient, she shifted lanes at will for optimum velocity. the car swayed with the forces of gravity and the wind. i swung with it in the back, a big grin on my face as i watched the landscape go lurching by.

let there be rock

standing in the middle of the wiltern last wednesday night, engulfed in the maximum rock'n'soul inferno that is the motherfuckin' bellrays, i felt cleansed. bathed in the white-hot fury of their old-school spontaneous-rawk-explosion-style approach -- hallelujah! in true mc5 fashion, the music can go from driving funk-flecked rock to punk-powered intensity to freeform jazz that nearly falls apart before your very ears ... but always manages to make it back from the brink. main songwriter/guitarist tony fate, bassist bob vennum, and drummer craig waters shifted gears expertly -- and loudly, but never even approached drowning out lead singer lisa kekaula. a force of nature in a skimpy black halter dress and sparkly high wedge sandals, she belted out "tell the lie" and "pay the cobra" and other numbers from their new have a little faith -- which demonstrates their ever-widening musical vocabulary while reliably tearing it up -- along with detroit-soaked classics like "sister disaster" and "have a little faith in me." she prowled the stage like an impatient tigress, her massive afro towering over her head like the 13th wonder of the world. and she took us to church, kids, demanding that we enjoy ourselves -- for our sake. "it's not for us," she exhorted time after time, sweeping her arm to indicate all they had laid at our feet -- the band, the energy, the music. "it's for you ... help us help you let loose ... etc etc."

after a while, few resisted. she called, we responded -- it was as simple as that. ooo mah soul. i was renewed.

all of that was, to some, mere prelude to the main rockin' event, the first-ever u.s. show by australian punk legends radio birdman. in fact i was mainly along for that ride, as 00soul was reviewing the show for citybeat (out thursday). our pal kim cooper was really psyched, as were many other true believers and interested observers. while recognizing the significance, i didn't have as much invested in the show. but it is always cool to see a veteran band as vital as RB still is. the original, older members seemed leather-tough -- not hard or mean, but well-worn yet still standing up. sadly, for one unfamiliar with most of the tunes, such as myself, the muddy sound and other tech problems made some details hard to discern. but it was enough to be there to hear it, and i left feeling fairly giddy under the power of the rock.

let there be music

this eventful week actually started the day before, on tuesday, when we attended the first of the foo fighters' three nights of "afoostic" (groan) shows at the pantages. i'll be reviewing that in CB this week as well. but suffice to say that FF fans are so nice and polite, and the vibe inside the pantages was mellow and generous despite the cramped conditions in the lobby due to the crunch of converging lines for merch, drinks, and snacks.

rare though this configuration of the foos was, rarer still was a much smaller and more fleeting event that occurred outside. for the first time ever, i had a conversation with danny shades. a well-known figure to those who frequent concerts, he's often seen somewhere near a venue. anyway, i walked past him on my way to meet 00soul outside the theater, and he spoke to me, as he does to most everyone who passes by. hey, a guy's gotta advertise somehow. i politely replied and he reflexively said, "well, have a good time tonight. not that you need me to tell you to have a good time; you'll probably have one anyway." the light had not yet changed, and so i turned and said, "well, it is work, ya know." he didn't seem to follow, of course; how would he know what i meant? he said yeah or something, then added that i looked familiar. i said i thought he knew my boyfriend; he didn't know the name, but i'm sure he'd know the face. then he said he'd like to know me, y'know, just as a person ... huh. for some reason i simply shook his hand and introduced myself. now, i said, you know me. and then i think i surprised him a little by saying, "you're danny, right? i know you." he said yes, and i said, "everybody knows you, when they need to, right?" and he answered, "yeah, that's right." and then the light changed, and i took my leave and crossed the street.

let there be lunch

friday was 00soul's birthday, so i drove him to santa barbara for tacos at la super-rica, as is the tradition for 12 years now. we ended up having one of the best times yet. the weather was lovely, our pace was very leisurely, we indulged ourselves shamelessly, and we had no drama (as in vehicular) whatsoever. i was a little nervous beforehand b/c butch hasn't been on a road trip since the incident. it would be the first test of the new radiator as well -- a serious one, what with temperatures in the valley reaching near 100 at midday. we debated taking the scenic route but decided on the 101 and took off around 12:30. we could not have had better luck on the road. it was hot indeed, especially through the west valley, but traffic was merely slow at points rather than at a standstill, and we soon passed through the valley's oven and into cooler ventura county.

along the coast just south of SB we encountered some thrilling tendrils of chilly fog, ghosts of precipitation threatening a bright blue sky, temporarily blotting out the sun, but fading quickly as we neared our destination. we parked outside the restaurant at about 2:30, pretty excellent time. i was starving! the line was not too terrible, although it took a long time for the food to be ready. well, we ordered a lot; i had more tacos than ever and stuffed myself -- had to surrender the last marinated pork taco to 00soul, but i did it gladly. he had his fill as well, and then we rambled over to state street and the james joyce pub. we spent a pleasant afternoon imbibing -- him, various irish whiskies, me, cazadores & tonics -- and chatting with the bartender, munching peanuts, talking amongst ourselves, and people-watching.

we got some coffee across the street later on, sat on a bench and drank it in the deepening twilight, watching people pass by and also a hummingbird siphon nectar from some kind of spiny bright red flower on a nearby tree.

then it was back to the beast. top down, jackets on, we departed around 8. the trip back went even more smoothly and probably could've been made in under 90 minutes, except for a brief slowdown due to a pair of accidents outside ventura -- there wasn't much traffic, but it all had to merge first right and then left, which created confusion as well as congestion. but really, how fucking amazing is it that we managed to avoid anything like horrible traffic on the friday of labor day weekend?

let there be peace

then last night it was off to the gibson for a dose of hip-hop soul. mary j. blige sold out the house. my report on that will be in tomorrow's l.a. times, but i don't think it's revealing too much to say that i'm still thinking about the show and wishing i had a little more time to really crystallize my thoughts. i've written a lot of mjb album reviews, and other things, and i always find myself really respecting her style. not just her musical craft, which is often innovative and usually up-to-date, but her genuine way of weaving herself into her songs.

over the years, the "queen of hip-hop soul" has gone from sexy street urchin to serene spiritual seeker -- simultaneously inspiring fans to examine/fix/change their own lives and rallying them to support her in her darkest and brightest moments. she has attained a measure of balance, but, as she reminded us many times during the show, it ain't easy to keep an even keel. at one point she went off on quite a tangent in that regard, telling us it's hard work to stay centered, but she'd rather suffer in the process of getting better than suffer and stay the same. her emotions seemed to overcome her, and she even shed tears.

were they real? does she do that every night? it's hard to say. it certainly felt genuine in the moment, and maybe that's all that matters. so many pop stars of all stripes -- bands, vocalists, rappers, singer-songwriters, from R&B to metal -- seem to get over on the slimmest of "connections" to their listeners. sure, fans are always gonna love the objects of their admiration unconditionally, but mjb inspires a near-evangelical loyalty ... and she seems to deserve it more than most. the tropes of her genre are ubiquitous -- even she loads her albums with guest stars, skits, etc., etc., and the show was full of sing-alongs, guest turns, pyrotechnics, etc. -- yet somehow the cliches never touch her. despite all of the trappings, she is as real in her own way as the bellrays or dave grohl (except with more costume changes ... and better clothes!) -- and that counts for a lot in these soul-deprived days.

across the universe

yesterday i journeyed to the wilds of yucaipa with the doc, the chief, and valley boy, on the occasion of a party marking the sale of the los angeles reader a decade ago. the party was at the home of the paper's former owner, james vowell, and his wife codette.

coincidentally, this event also marked the tenth anniversary of my escape from the alternative press, although it turned out to be only a temporary reprise.

in any event, we road-tripped in VB's trusty dadmobile, a roomy volvo that proved plenty comfy. (and you can also read his account of this odyssey -- but finish mine first!) we had all the accouterments a road trip requires: tunes, refreshments, and good company. once we arrived in yucaipa, which is very far away from los angeles, we wound our way up through lands of horses and subdivisions, following the signs with twin "Rs" -- one backward, for the wayback days of the reader when the logo was a backward R, and one forward, for its more modern incarnation in the '90s. the front of james and codette's palatial home was draped with a black banner bearing the reader R, so we had no trouble telling it from its similarly beige neighbors.

we knew from evite that most of the people who would be there were from before our time -- names that i had heard but never put a face to, despite having worked at the paper from fall 1987 to august 1996. but the first face we saw was a familiar, if unexpected, one -- someone i hadn't seen in years, and for a long time had hoped never to cross paths with again. ah, well. time does whittle away at the sands of old grudges (or some such similarly tortured metaphor), and it was actually almost good to see him. the dude had been through some very bad shit, but he seems happy, and i am genuinely glad for him.

anyway. we wound our way past racks of old issues that james had kept around for some reason, through the den with the texas-sized tv, past a lovely kitchen, and onto the back patio, where sat several unfamiliar people and a few familiar ones, plus various kids and dogs. introductions were made, drinks were poured, snacks were consumed, pool was played, and soon the party was rolling along. down below the backyard was another, more expansive backyard set up with a misting test (how coachella!), a badminton net (where some totally crazy folks were actually playing a game), and a pretty little gazebo. it was amazingly silent -- no ambient noise of traffic or other city sounds. just the neighbors on their own sides of the many walls, reveling in their own saturday afternoon fun.

we remained for several hours, through the feast of mexican food (mmmmmm), the obligatory cake, numerous beers for the lads, and nearly a whole bottle of cabernet for me. folks popped in and out ... i was happy to see teresa and judy, two former staffers i hadn't seen in ages, although they still live in town. i ended up chatting a long time with teresa, who remains one of the more impressive and committed human beings i've ever known. and judy, who must be in her 70s by now, still completely awes me with her boundless energy and thirst for experience (not to mention ability to chat your ear off!).

i did try to talk with different people, but the heat and the altitude (4,000 feet) and the alcohol at some point did end up rooting me to one spot, which was a very pleasant spot, but still. the sun set and turned the sky a pretty pinkish orange to violet. and then the stars came out and the evening became actually pleasant after the heat of the day. we would've liked to see the perseids, but they don't really get going 'til after midnight, and we couldn't stay that long.

i initially did not want to attend this party; i had not planned to go until the chief and valley boy talked me into it a few weeks ago. it is hard to explain why. the reader was a big part of my life for a long time, but it was a long time ago. as much as i can get caught up in thinking about the past, it's usually via some proustian accidental mechanism rather than a deliberate exercise in nostalgia. which this party, by definition, was. yet some of my closest friends and most favorite colleagues come from that era of my life. i have many fond memories but also some bad ones, some of which don't seem to have diminished much with time. and, although james did a good job of soft-pedaling the fact, the anniversary of the sale of the reader also meant, unfortunately, a commemoration of it no longer existing, as it was murdered by the new times. it's not like we all sat around feeling miserable or remembering bad things. but it was hard to share too much; i do not think another person there could really understand my experience of the reader, and how tightly the bad is wound with the good. it is singularly different from anyone else's, b/c i was there so long and through so many different changes. yet it gave me a lot of things i may not otherwise have had. when i arrived -- when the publication was in the toilet after having been poorly managed nearly into oblivion -- i was very young and very stupid, and all i knew was it was a job in journalism, which was all i wanted. i had a lot of freedom to write what i felt like, and i was just smart enough to know that was something i wasn't likely to get elsewhere. surprisingly, i do have that now, again, along with the weird-but-thrilling feeling of having an effect on things simply by putting my hands on them.

when the mysterious person known as james vowell "returned" to the reader -- i of course had no idea he'd been away, or even existed -- things began to change quickly. so quickly that, almost before i knew it, the offices had moved from the north hollywood dump i'd first known to much nicer digs on wilshire boulevard in the miracle mile, right at the dawn of that area becoming "media row," as james liked to call it. i am sure it helped that he lived right down the street from that office, but it was a much better location and helped us become a fixture in the city. it also prompted me to move from the valley to the city, a decision i have never regretted. when i stepped down from being managing editor and hired my replacement, valley boy, while staying on as arts editor, thus began the last era of the reader: in my opinion, the best of my time there. yeah, sure -- the geezers had the legacy of matt groening, steve erickson, richard meltzer, blahblahblahblahblah, but we had a great staff of aces and eccentrics, not to mention some amazing writers and columnists, an awesome production department, and good ad support thanks to associate publisher ron slack. we embraced our opportunity, made some missteps and had some bad patches, but we kicked ass anyway.

and what we had most was a sense of camaraderie and purpose. james was savvy about promoting the paper -- we were a part of the community, and we mattered. every week we made something, something that you could hold in your hands -- something we could see people all over the city holding in their hands. we worked hard. we dealt with a lot of frustrations. we learned a lot. and we enjoyed ourselves immensely. and i think that feeling of fun permeated the pages of the reader. we never could rival the weekly in size, but so many people told us they preferred our paper. they liked our spirit, our unpredictability, our basic weirdness.

citybeat carries part of that legacy. we work hard. we deal with a lot of frustrations. we learn a lot. and we often enjoy ourselves immensely. we are a part of the community. people still tell us they like our paper better than the weekly. and that is, as always, kind of cool.