The first piece I saw, immediately next to the check-in tent outside the Fox Building was Miriam Cooper’s “Yolk #1″ (pictured left). This painting is gorgeous. I love the tension between its graphic and painterly qualities, its asymmetrical balance and somewhat creepy tone.

Inside the Fox Building, Annie Rochell’s “Look/Look Away” (pictured left) plays with the cliche of a painting’s eyes following a viewer in a clever way; two images, painted at 45 degree angles from another, show two views of the same boy from different perspectives. It’s weirdly captivating and I found myself pacing back and forth “watching” the painting “move”. It’s oil on canvas for the .GIF generation.

In the adjacent gallery, Justine Kablack serves Lisa Dillin-esque realness (or unrealness?) with a drop-ceiling light sculpture, flooring/astro turf piece, and painting of a sunset through venetian blinds. I’m hoping the similarities to Dillin’s locally well-publicized recent work are deliberate in some kind of meta-narrative of artificiality miming artificiality. (pictured right)

I was really happy to see some amazing sculptural work from the Ceramics Department, which back in my day as a MICA undergrad didn’t get a lot of action beyond the pottery wheel. Olivia Di Benigo’s architecturally-inspired pieces are gorgeous. I love work that has a minimalist aesthetic but subtly shows the artist’s hand in its craftsmanship. Di Benigo totally hits the nail on the head. These are beautiful and so evocative while still remaining the most “quiet” work in the gallery (pictured left).

Downstairs, Emilee Wooten’s figurative sculptures of corpulent women are flawlessly executed and so weirdly creepy. I found it really hard to make eye contact with them and then even harder to break their strangely confrontational gazes. I left the gallery feeling almost embarrassed and that’s an emotion I so rarely feel that I think this work will stick with me for a while. (pictured below)

On the second floor, printmaker Rei Lem’s “Construction” dominates the gallery with its fluorescent palette, large scale and chaotic surface. I really loved her work. So much neon artwork that borrows commercial visual language feels like it’s whisking low-brow culture off to the ivory tower to be sarcastically judged. Lem, on the other hand, seems to be stealing the aesthetic back; returning it to a less-precious, approachable place. Its like a really cute DIY valentine to city life with all its texture and overlapping advertisements, tags, and tiny comedic moments. I was really glad I came for Art Walk and got to meet the artist; her approachable, bubbly personality totally matches what I expected based on her work. She was even giving out free screen-printed posters to visitors! It’s definitely going on my wall! (pictured below)

Across the plaza in the Bunting Center, Jianna Lieberman and Aviva Paley, two graphic designers made these shirts… which I think are hilarious. Despite their patriotic overtones, however, they were oddly enough printed on t shirts made in Honduras.

Lastly, in that same gallery, I loved this painting by Donna Castello “Reflection/ Love Seat”.

STAY TUNED FOR PART II

Panda Bear – “The Preakness”

Well this one was pretty easy. The Animal Collective member’s song named for the race was released in 2011 as a mixtape with four different pairs of shoes designed by each member of the band (no, really). It seems as Noah Lennox is using the race as metaphor for people jockeying for position in their own endeavors. He implores the listener to ignore this: “Keep it up, keep it up, keep it up/ Till the day you’ve got what you want.”

Animal Collective – “The Purple Bottle”

Speaking of Animal Collective, it was Avey Tare who met a girl who got him: “freaked freaked freaked on Preakness/ I’ve never met a girl that/ Likes to drink with horses/ Knows her Chinese ballet.” Who knew the infield was so sophisticated?

Dan Deacon – “Baltihorse”

This song comes out of the gate as a dizzying swirl of percussion and electronics, slows near the backstretch, and surges forward toward the finish line. It’s as exhilarating as any song in Deacon’s repertoire.

Horse Lords – “Wildcat Strike”

How could we not include Horse Lords? Their name makes it sound like they maintain a private box with tinted windows at Pimlico, where they sit in a chair stroking a cat and counting their winnings. It’s hard to say just what this song is about, as there are no words, but “Wildcat Strike” would be a great name for a racehorse.

Ponytail – “Burning Saddles”

Here’s another example of a band name that sort of lends itself to this. And hey, the song title even works here! We’re not exactly sure who made this video at the zoo, but whatever. City Paper does not keep a jockey on retainer, so we’re not quite sure if the term “burning saddles” has any sort of meaning in that line of work. If it does, it can’t be good.

Rod Lee – “Hey Riders”

The opening refrain of “Hey riders! /Give ‘em some room” is what we imagine the winning jockey yells as he surges for the finish line.

Celebration – “Pony”

This is as sexualized as the local psych rock stalwarts get, with lead singer Katrina Ford pushing her voice to the ecstatic heights of Debbie Harry territory. Here’s a hint: riding a pony is metaphor for sex.

TT the Artist – “Pony”

TT the Artist employed said metaphor on this club track. As an added bonus, there are remixes by Cex, James Nasty, Murder Mark, Kilbourne, Baglady, and Rick Rab. That’s like scoring two trifectas.

Secret Mountains – “High Horse”

Singer Kelly Laughlin may be out of the mix now, and her powerful vocal on this track is a good reminder of why she’ll be missed. Of course, the title is probably a reference to the ol’ idiom “get off your high horse,” but we’ll take it.

Adventure – “Wild Wild Ride”

We also could have gone with “Iron Stallion” off Adventure’s 2008 self-titled album, but this song is aptly titled and would probably make for a great soundtrack while cruising around the track at Pimlico.

Oxes – “Horses Are OK”

One group of animals showing love to another. Isn’t that sweet? We’re not exactly sure why the person who uploaded this to YouTube felt the need to upgrade “OK” to “Good.” Either way, chances are if you’re a fan of horse racing you tend to agree.

Beach House – “Zebra”

Okay, okay. We are well aware there are no zebras being raced at the Preakness. But in the chorus, Victoria Legrand correctly identifies a zebra as an equid, part of the horse family: “Any way you run, you run before us/ Black and white horse arching among us.” And the imagery of beautiful horses galloping is the stuff horse racing buffs will talk about when you bring up euthanasia or ask where the fun is in seeing a little man whip an animal around a dirt oval.

David Eberhardt, 72,  was a member of the Baltimore Four, who poured blood on draft files in Baltimore to protest the Vietnam War in 1967. For that he spent 21 months in federal prison, mainly at Lewisburg, Pa. He is a poet with three books of poetry. He is retired from 33 years of  social work (directing Offender Aid and Restoration) at the Baltimore City Jail. For more information visit davideberhardt.webs.com

Reflections on Hit & Stay

By Dave Eberhardt

The documentary movie, Hit & Stay, directed by Joe Tropea and Skizz Cyzyk,  played at the Maryland Film Festival last week.

Six years in the making, the 100-minute documentary is about anti-draft board actions–spanning 1967 to 1973– to protest the Vietnam War. The film begins with the Baltimore Four (of which I was part) and progresses through the Catonsville Nine, Milwaukee 14, Chicago Eight actions and many other actions (there were approximately 120 in all).

The movie describes how these actions were organized and progressed  from the first–where four of us poured blood on draft files in 1967 in Baltimore and waited to be arrested (hence “hit and  stay”)– to what is perhaps best known action, the Catonsville Nine, where, 45 years ago today, nine individuals burned draft files with homemade napalm. Despite the title, the film also addresses actions where persons would not wait to be arrested (“stay”) but would instead disappear (“run”).

Participants appear in the film speaking frankly and often humorously about their roles in the plots and schemes to break into and pile up and destroy a myriad of draft files. The actions are always creative but, in some instances are ruined by informants or the FBI. Humor abounds, for example, as she “cases” a draft board building, Ms. Dougherty spends the night watching the progression of lights on and off in the wrong building. Tom Melville gets great laughter as he describes seminary and the priesthood as perfect training grounds for prison. Weatherperson Bill Ayers says he finds religion a “bummer,” but praises the many clergy involved in the draft actions. Jim Forest muses over the drill sergeant side of Phil Berrigan’s personality.

As the actions progressed, they became more and more secular and youthful. Jerry Elmer states that Phil Berrigan was suspicious of him at first because of his age.

Though it consists largely of talking heads and interviews, the film creates a gripping narrative arc, thanks to Tropea and Cyzyk. The participants seem to provide glue to hold the the narrative together and interspersed is commentary by such luminaries as historian Howard Zinn and scholar Noam Chomsky.

The “other side” of the picture, that is those opposed to these actions, is well represented by a prosecutor, a judge, retired FBI agents, draft clerks, and church goers.

As Daniel Berrigan leaves a church having given the morning sermon after he decided to go “underground” instead of reporting to jail, a member of the congregation comments, “Oh that’s what it’s about? He’s supposed to be in jail with his bother?” And another says, “Well, he’s entitled to his beliefs but I don’t share them.” Another says, “I think destroying draft cards is un-American”.

Given the youth of the directors, I fully expected an amateurish work and was pleasantly surprised by the over all professionalism–thus leading to hopes of some wide distribution or play on PBS or another more established venues (the hard part).

All of us participants learned a great deal about the other actions previously known only in fragmentary fashion. To have big appreciative audiences as well as friends present to watch the movie was very moving.

Sadly, a number of crucial actors, such as Tom Lewis, John Grady, Phil Berrigan, and others have passed on. Dan Berrigan’s 92 birthday fell on May 11, the date of the second showing of Hit and Stay.

To me, Jim Harney of the Milwaukee 14 and the “weather person” Laura Whitehorn give the most moving summaries and analyses of what we were trying to accomplish, what we meant and “were about,” and what needs to be done. Because of such statements as theirs, the message is a plain and clear one, making the movie as relevant now as it will be in the future of war-making America.

For the most part, the trails of these groups were railroad jobs–as they continue to be today in the case of the Plowshares group. Plowshares actions took off as the draft-board actions stopped, specifically targeting nuclear war. The same week  Hit and Stay premiered, three members of the Transform Now Plowshares group were found guilty of sabotage for  “interfering with or obstructing the national defense” and “depredation of government property” (we of the Baltimore Four  got the same charge in 1967) at the Oak Ridge nuclear facility, where they had poured the actual blood of  Baltimore Four and Plowshares member Tom Lewis, which had been preserved since his death, on the walls of a building containing enough enriched uranium to end life on the planet. They had hiked a mile to get there, going through four fences, the last three in “Kill Zones” where they could well have  been shot.  The three Tranform Now Plowshares activists, one 82 year old nun, Megan Rice, were treated as terrorists.

At the “Transform Now” courtroom in Knoxville, the jury and judge were as leaden and dead as their counterparts were in the trials portrayed in Hit & Stay; but hopefully this movie will reach out to “middle America”  and not  just those of us who are a minority of exiles in our own country.

The Reluctant Fundamentalist

Directed by Mira Nair

Opens at the Charles Theatre May 17

We know what the American Dream is, but what is the Pakistani Dream? This is the question Changez, the protagonist of The Reluctant Fundamentalist, asks himself as we see him transition from an up-and-coming Wall Street business analyst to what may be considered a radical when he returns to his native Pakistan.

The Reluctant Fundamentalist revolves around a conversation between American journalist Bobby Lincoln (Liev Schreiber) and Changez (Riz Ahmed), a Pakistani national working as a professor in a local university who is suspected of being part of a radical academic movement. The two discuss Changez’s journey from westernized businessman to principled traditionalist.

A series of flashbacks takes us through Changez’s early days in the United States as a new Princeton graduate who lands his first job at a prestigious New York City firm. His talents are immediately recognized by Jim Cross (Kiefer Sutherland), a powerful executive who specializes in helping businesses maximize profit, most commonly through finding redundancies and corporate downsizing. Under the tutelage of Cross, Changez is on the fast track to becoming the youngest partner in the history of the firm. He dates a beautiful woman (Kate Hudson). The American Dream seems well within his grasp.

Before it’s fully realized, however, the events of Sept. 11 change everything. The attacks serve as a catalyst in both Changez and his environment. The respected young analyst becomes a target for racial profiling and unwarranted suspicions as fear and jingoism set in. Changez reaches a boiling point when charged with eliminating the job of a culturally important Turkish publisher. Faced with the moral quandary that develops, he refuses to eliminate the man’s position, instead quitting the firm to return to Pakistan.

At this point, director Mira Nair makes something of a misstep. Changez’s return to Pakistan is abrupt, and the flashbacks jump immediately to his work in academia. We understand his motivations for returning to Pakistan and changing his career but are not given enough information to discern whether his experiences have caused him to shift his ideology completely or become radicalized. This is, of course, part of the intended mystery and suspense of the film, but it lacks finesse on the part of the filmmaker. The purposeful ambiguity of the film’s final act muddies what is an otherwise interesting examination of the cultural rift men like Changez have experienced in post-9/11 America.

This adaptation of Mohsin Hamid’s international bestseller is an engaging and thought-provoking film, and Nair exercises a particularly deft hand when tackling complex cultural issues, even if not quite as successfully as her prior work in Monsoon Wedding or Salaam Bombay! The breakthrough performance of Riz Ahmed and strong supporting roles from Schreiber and Sutherland keep the viewer engrossed in the subtleties of Changez’s shift from someone who loves America, to someone who fears it.

The certificate says that the organization is permitted to “use potion [sic] of premise ground floor will be used as an office for Station North Entertainment, Inc, a ninprofit [sic] organization with a 2 person staff and a visual arts gallery.”

Despite the humorous typos, we’re delighted that Station North and Annex will finally be able to move into the building at the corner of North Avenue and Charles St. Ben Stone, the director of Station North, said in January, as we walked through the then-under-construction space, that he hoped it could become a “welcome center” for the district.

Ratscape, which leans more toward the punk and metal side of things, is scheduled for July 19-21 and will once again be staged at Hour Haus. Bands confirmed so far include: Arbouretum, Slow Jerks, Lazlo Lee & The Motherless Children, Advlts, Raindeer, Hot God , Baklavaa, Rukut, and Ravagers. Organizers confirmed there would eventually be 40 bands over the festival’s three days.

Scapescape, a festival more akin to Whartscape (R.I.P.), is set for Aug. 30-Sept. 1 and will have three venues again this year, the parking lot next to The Metro Gallery, The Windup Space, and… the plaza near Man/Woman statue, which will be used for light projections at night. No bands are confirmed just yet.

We’ll keep you updated on lineup confirmations as we receive them.

Even since before Baltimore rapper StarrZ signed with Universal, he’d been hyping up Live Forever, Die Dope, his upcoming follow-up to last year’s Best Mixtape Ever, and its lead single, “Dope Trilla.” This month, the anthemic Feddy 2 Times-produced track was finally unveiled, in the form of an awesome video that only serves to highlight how massive the song sounds.

The Dope Trilla video, directed by Abeni Nazeer, depicts Baltimore with the kind of cinematic grit that is rarely done so well in local rap videos, with StarrZ rapping while chowing down on a chicken box or toting around a skateboard. And just when the song couldn’t get any crazier, the last minute is given over to an extended sample of the neighborhood shoutouts from the ‘90s Baltimore club classic “Handclap” by DJ Snoopy and Lil Mama (not the New York rapper that later came along performing under that name).

On the other hand, I argued that Gaia’s attempt to engage the community made Cunningham’s show appear hermetic, insular, and safe. Without revealing the details of our exchange, it is fair to say that Cunningham thought my treatment was harsh or unfair. I asked her to write a letter to the paper explaining the intentions behind the show–because, if the show was not, at least in part, an attack on Gaia, I could not understand why an artist as good as Cunningham would devote so much work, and her first solo show, to a take-down of Gauguin. (It is really hard to overstate how much I liked her previous work).

Cunningham didn’t write a letter explaining her intentions, but the art website Daily Serving did release a fascinating interview with her today, in which she comes across as articulate as she is talented. It is definitely worth reading. Among other things she says:

“One thing I was very conscious of doing was giving a specific voice to the internal authority figure that is generally present as a form of anxiety within my practice. The authoritarian voice in my head is an amalgam of various domineering and dismissive voices. I tried to imagine specifically that the voice of judgment was Gauguin himself, knowing him to be emotionally abusive and excited by humiliation, of women and of Van Gogh and others who loved him. Under the fantasy of his tutelage, the only response that I believed I could use to affirm my agency was to fall far short of his impenetrable genius as a painter, sculptor, and image producer. Consciously taking a submissive role in the production of my objects, I’d sort of hoped to incite some judgment of my effectiveness as an image-maker, forcing a critical voice maybe similar to what Gauguin or perhaps Georg Baselitz might use to degrade my work.”

I did mention the intentionally ineffective image of a ship, but my criticism was directed more towards what felt like the kind of over-intellectualization that graduate school can engender. And the  interview is so full of philosophical musings, referring to Rousseau, Deleuze (or at least his concept of the rhizome), and Lefebvre–but while such intellectualism doesn’t always make for great image-making, it does make for a fascinating conversation. And it definitely makes me want to see the show again.

Cunningham’s show, which is now, “informally titled” Tan Penis Island is up through May 25 at sophiajacob. Cunningham is also one of the six Sondheim finalists, so her work will be displayed in the Walters Museum this summer.

May 15
Thirty: 30 Creative Minds Under 30
6 P.M., Maryland Art Place, 8 Market Place, suite 100, (410) 962-8565, mdartplace.org, free.
Continuing its series highlighting the processes of young artists, Maryland Art Place hosts Charlotte Keniston, Rebecca Chan, and Ginerva Shay in a panel discussion.

May 16
David Lynch Inspired Art Show
7-9 P.M., The Windup Space, 12 W. North Ave., (410) 244-8855, thewindupspace.com, free.
Before Saturday’s David Lynchfest featuring bands and burlesque, swing by the Windup for an art show of artwork inspired by the quirky mind behind Blue Velvet and Twin Peaks.

May 17
Closing Reception: Blaster’s Baltimore Years
7-11 P.M., Current Space, 421 N. Howard St., (410) 343-9295, currentspace.com, free.
Enjoy a video performance of Corn and Smoke featuring Karl Ekdahl, Sarah Fask, Sarah Magida, Liz King, Laure Drogul, John Eaton, Patrick Riffe and others, new work by Dan Breen and John Eaton, and the work of a true original, Blaster Al Ackerman.

May 18
Red Emma’s Closing Party
6 P.M., Red Emma’s, 800 Saint Paul St., (410) 230-0450, redemmas.org.
Your favorite anarchist bookstore and mine is leaving its old location for a comfy new spot in the North Avenue Market. Celebrate with music, cheap books, and libations.

May 19
Art Outside
11 A.M.-4:30 P.M., Druid Hill Park, artoutsidemd.org, free.
Hey, come on out and enjoy ceramics, painting, drawing, sculpture, mixed-media, jewelry, and much more en plein air.

May 20
Dinner & Bikes
7 P.M., The Chicken Box, 1 W. North Ave., dinnerandbikesbaltimore.eventbrite.com, $5-$10.
Cyclists and cycle advocates can talk about how lame Baltimore’s infrastructure is over a vegan and gluten-free buffet cooked by Joshua Ploeg, hear Elly Blue give a presentation on transportation equity, and see an excerpt from Aftermass, a documentary on cycling activism in Portland. Bon apetit. (Disclosure: I live with Bikemore founder Chris Merriam)

May 21
Random Access Memories: Daft Punk record drop listening party with Mugzy and DJ Just K
9 P.M., The Metro Gallery, 1700 N. Charles St., (410) 244-0899, themetrogallery.net, free.
If you haven’t stolen the new Daft Punk album off the internet or streamed it legally via iTunes, now is your chance to stay up all night to get a first listen.

May 22
Spring Beer Cocktail Party
6-9 P.M., Heavy Seas Alehouse, 1300 Bank St., (410) 522-0850, heavyseasalehouse.com, $35.
Beer cocktails are just as they sound: beer with other kinds of booze in it. We like beer and we like booze, so we’re interested to see what Heavy Seas has whipped up.

Although the performances at Sweetlife were undoubtedly a huge hit, and the sporadic heavy rain and subsequent mud did little to put a damper on people’s willingness to raise their hands in their air as if they just didn’t care, I somehow doubt there was anything anyone could do to make a crowd of college kids dropping between $75 and $150 a ticket in Columbia, MD any better off.

Sweetlife’s organizers deserve praise for how accurately the festival’s performers general concern with doing pop the ‘right way’ reflected Sweetgreen’s own attempts to correct the traditional model of the fast food restaurant– and of the music festival for that matter. Sweetlife purchased carbon offsets, provided compost bins, and even put solar panels on the top of the main stage at Merriweather (although, in fairness, I couldn’t see the top of the pavilion to check for panels).

After parking, walking for twenty minutes in precisely the wrong direction, walking back to the appropriate entrance, cursing Merriweather’s signage/lack thereof, realizing this entrance wasn’t the right entrance either, we finally managed to miss the entirety of Lindsey Stirling’s set.  We were informed she wailed on the violin, but it was too late and all of my Charlie Daniels jokes went into the dustbin of history.

Solange (seen here during her set) followed with a set that relied heavily on her magnificent 2012 EP True.  Early on, the sound was plagued with bursts of feedback and mic issues for backing vocalists, which disturbed Solange’s smooth synth-laden R&B, but she was able persevere and by the time she got around to sleeper ‘hit’ “Losing You,” the crowd was more than ready to respond to her request that we go “apeshit.”

Solange’s choice to insert both Selena and Dirty Projectors covers to round out her set seemed to reveal the space she is trying to stake out for herself since leaving Geffen/Interscope in 2009.  She is still invested in pop music, but she seems to be embracing her independence as a chance to explore a more idiosyncratic take on R&B.  Like her recent tweets about sexism in pop which revolve around the idea of what is her’s in her music, these disparate covers inform Solange’s audience of who she is.

Taking some sort of precognitive inspiration from the day’s cardio-enthusiasts Passion Pit, we took a walk around the grounds.  From the lawn, Gary Clark Jr.’s Hendrix and Cream-esque guitar heroics sounded both competent and pleasing, but getting a National Bohemian beer for $5 was far more rewarding.  Looking on from the line for the men’s restroom, Columbus, Ohio’s twenty | one | pilots earned an enthusiastic reception on the festival’s second stage — however, their indietronica/raprock is decidedly not my thing.

Returning to the mainstage in time for Yeah Yeah Yeahs, I was struck by how the band must be the best live group from the early 2000s garage revival.  “Maps” demanded an earnest singalong and the crowd happily complied, “Zero” inspired some of the most vigorous dancing of the day, and even their latest album’s title track, “Mosquito,” received a warm reception.  Karen O remains a great tormentor in pop performance, brighter than anything else on the stage in her bile yellow sequins and knee high socks, she still utilizes sweetness and anger in unpredictable ways to captivate the audience. The tension between pop sweetness and malevolence all came to a head [hurr hurr] with “Heads Will Roll,” a truly excellent Yeah Yeah Yeahs concoction either about the Reign of Terror or doing a lot of E. Regardless, the garish sequins, the delicate imbalance between noise and melody, and the shifting moods throughout the band’s entire performance made for something that tried to embrace both the expectations of the festival and the band’s more incendiary early performances. However, I couldn’t tell if Karen O spat on anyone.

Retiring again to the line outside the men’s restroom, I was struck with how excited college bros in American flag basketball shorts were for Kendrick Lamar. Onstage Kendrick Lamar seemed primed to deliver. He paced back and forth across the stage sluicing  lyrics with aplomb. The laptop DJ accompaniment left little in the way of visual spectacle and although Lamar’s focused delivery left much of the audience captivated it did nothing to stave off our hunger, so we left to get some food.  His performance went well with falafel.

With the rain falling hard and our footwear caked in mud, we returned to the pavilion for Passion Pit.  They started with what seemed to be an attempt at approximating the beginning of U2’s “Where the Streets Have No Name.” It then turned into the sort of indie pop that causes a friend to inquire, “How is this band not fun.?” The Taco Bell inspired jazzercise of “Take A Walk” created such a furor in the crowd that it has certainly solidified its position as the lead off track for the future comp “Jock Jams for People Bad At Sports” coming out on Arts & Crafts in 2025.  It must be said that frontman Michael Angelakos’ work ethic on stage was impressive, and his effort to satisfy a crowd who seemed to adore his work was genuinely admirable.  It was almost as if through his effort, Angelakos’ hoped to justify the sins of his pop instincts and maximalist compositions.

Despite a return of the microphone problems that plagued the beginning of Solange’s set, Phoenix were by far the most impressive act of the festival. In an hour and a half they managed to seamlessly work in Daft Punk-styled instrumentals, lullabies, funk, disco, punk, pop, rock, and probably some classical quotations or whatever French thing I probably missed. Their set was appropriately heavy on their latest album Bankrupt! and 2009’s breakthrough Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix, with that album’s “1901” in contention for the most arduous reception of the evening.  Although Phoenix eschews the usual rockist reliance on narrative lyricism and “songwriting,” their imagery is often evocative of  a discomfort with the trappings of rock stardom and capitalist excess that you might find in more traditional rock-oriented groups. While Phoenix’s sonic avoidance of rock cliche didn’t prevent singer Thomas Mars from both crowd surfing and smashing his faulty microphone, it did mean that before Phoenix came on, the banner exhorting Sweetlife came down, and that their set featured the hilariously incongruous graphic of raining dollar bills, not to mention the implication of calling an album Bankrupt! in this economy.

The conflict implicit in Phoenix’s use of tension and release, and their current ambivalent pop stardom after nearly 15 years of producing music, leave Phoenix as the most compelling, and perhaps most flattering iteration of what Sweetlife is supposed to be about in the first place.  Is it possible to make a music festival so self-aware and self-correcting that it is not a burden?  Can artists check the forms they choose to work in enough to have it all the ways they desire, or are forms and systems things we’ve locked meaning into? In retrospect does it seem like Phoenix have spent 15 years perfecting a specific idea, or circling around what has become a popular “solution” for their conflicting impulses?  If we reject popular success as the value in a consumerist and industrial culture, where are we to find meaning in consumerist art after it is Green? Did I sit, stuck in a parking lot for 45 minutes after the festival with cars running all around me? Yes.

Pay attention, cultivate your negative capability, and subtle horror begins to dawn. The man (Thiago Martins) is a thief running the sweetest con ever—total mind control. The woman, Kris (Amy Seimetz), wakes up on the side of the road with no idea how her life was ruined. As she starts to put the pieces back together, she meets Jeff (Carruth), and suddenly Upstream Color is a love story. They are both damaged—he hints at a drug problem—but their woundedness seems to bring them closer together. And then she starts retelling his childhood memories as her own without realizing she’s doing it.

There is more, so much more. Thoreau’s Walden plays a key role. And then there’s an older man (Andrew Sensenig) who divides his time between manipulating field recordings into unearthly sounds and tending a herd of pigs implanted with the wriggling parasites he pulls out of hapless strangers. How the wide-swinging orbit of this character (dubbed “The Sampler” in the credits) intersects with the others’ is one of the areas where the complex tissue of connections holding Upstream Color together stretches thinnest.

After Primer, Carruth could have written his own ticket with a studio. Instead he spent private money to make a movie he wanted to make, his way—in addition to writing, directing, producing, shooting, editing, starring, and writing and performing the score, he’s distributing Upstream Color as well. And the result is polished, smart, and entertaining specifically because, unlike most movies, it pushes you to make connections yourself: some assembly required.

In a few of the handful of interviews Carruth has given about the film, he has stated that for him, it’s about identity and the loss of identity and how one copes with that. What the film gets at most for this viewer is connectivity, and the relations between man, woman, pig, worm, water, and earth—the awesome and terrible interrelation of the life cycle and the daily incorporation and casting out of the very atoms we all share in common. Whatever you get out of it, if you make it through once, you’re probably going to want to watch it again.

Through Friday, May 17, at the Charles Theatre. Also available on DVD.

The film centers on the divorce of a musical couple played by Ned Oldham and Kim Taylor (in a sort of reverse Kim Gordson/ Thurston Moore split). Porterfield and co-writer Amy Belk penned the characters with the actors–both  musicians in real life– in mind, so it was fitting that Porterfield took advantage of the premiere to give them a chance to perform. As Oldham and Taylor shared the stage to sing “Love Hurts,” in a tone reminiscent of Gram Parsons and Emmylou Harris, it gave the audience a chance to see them interact musically–in a way the almost telegraphically constructed film didn’t (Taylor’s character, in fact, seems disgusted with Oldham’s because he doesn’t write songs anymore).

For Oldham, the premiere was something of a homecoming. He used to live in Baltimore where he regularly performed with his former band  Anomoanon  in the early aughts. Anomoanon came together at the after-party for the first time since 2008.

In the film, there is also clip of a hirsute Oldham and Old Calf  that is supposed to be from the ’90s, but was actually recorded in 2007, which you can watch here. The film seems to be as in love with music as it is with Baltimore and the performances after the premiere were a perfect way for Porterfield to share that love.

At a QnA session following the second screening of his film Drinking Buddies at the Maryland Film Festival Friday, director Joe Swanberg likened his status as an independent filmmaker to that of a small-time brewer. It was an apt comparison, given that his comedy/drama hybrid is set largely in a brewery

If Swanberg was indeed a brewer, Drinking Buddies might be a Sierra Nevada Pale Ale: accessible enough to be consumed by those who eschew indie movies. Familiar faces like Office Space‘s Ron Livingston, House‘s Olivia Wilde, and SNL‘s Jason Sudeikis (whose role is one of the least comedic in the film) will draw in mainstream moviegoers, but cinematatographer Ben Richardson (Beasts of the Southern Wild) will appeal to Charles Theatre regulars. And the Magnolia Pictures-distributed movie—anticipated on VOD July 25 and in theaters Aug. 23 (a Baltimore run is still pending)—explores relatable dynamics at home and in the workplace with an artfulness that will win over both crowds.

Two boyfriend-girlfriend couples form the nucleus of the film: Kate (Wilde) and Chris (Livingston), and Luke (Jake Johnson) and Jill (Anna Kendrick). Perpetually hungover Kate and goofy, boisterous Luke work at the same craft brewery in Chicago, Kate schedules tastings and manages promotions, Luke brews. The two co-workers have a very affectionate relationship; they look forward to eating lunch together. Jill teaches and Chris produces music, but that’s not really important. Kate and Jill interact just fine—no tension or jealousy is expressed—and the couples enjoy each other’s company enough to go on a weekend trip to Michigan together. While there, the inter-couple interplay grows somewhat dicey. But it’s not there that the film’s core unfolds, thankfully, and the remaining tension and resolution (or lack thereof) that awaits plays out in a realistic fashion.

As refreshing and enjoyable as it is, one hopes that Drinking Buddies holds up as well as Sierra Nevada, and not Pete’s Wicked Ale.

Buvoli is a renowned and wide-ranging artist, whose sometimes whimsical animations, videos, sculptures, and paintings often deal with superheroes, flight, myth, and futurism–except that Buvoli’s hero is “Not-a-Superhero.”

“He is an internationally-acclaimed multimedia artist whose highly inventive and playful artistic practice models in the most poetic and spacious of ways represent the very values for which the program has stood for so many years,” Ray Allen, MICA’s vice president for academic affairs and provost, said in a statement.

Buvoli is also an accomplished art educator who has been teaching in various universities for more than a decade. He is not entirely new to Baltimore, having exhibited at Maryland Art Place in the show in New Wallworks in 2011.

Image: Around, Around, and Away: Not-a-Superhero and the Myth of New York (Part I),

City Paper: Rhyming has changed a lot since you started, and some of those changes were brought about by your own innovations — do you make any attempt to update your flows or your vocabulary to contemporary tastes when you write now, or do you still have the same basic approach you had in 1987?

Rakim: My concepts have evolved and because of that the rhymes flow where they need to, but I haven’t made a conscious decision to change my style.  From my first days on the mic, people have always tried to say “do it like this” or “this is what’s hot now” but I think if you’re always chasing after what’s the new best thing, you’re not being true to yourself as an artist so I stick with what I do.  I’m a hiphop fan, so I listen to everything and I’m a curious person, so I’m constantly seeking knowledge and there’s no doubt the genres direction, multiple directions, influence me and expand my thinking, but I don’t change the foundation.

CP: You’ve said your flows have been inspired by the melodies of your favorite jazz musicians — can you given an example of where one line might have those kinds of origins?

Rakim: I think it’s not one line, but the entire style that I try to emulate… it’s Coltrane when he breaks out into a solo… playing two notes at one time…and I play sax so I know that ain’t even possible but he does it.  So Ill try to take what’s impossible and flip it.  That might mean expanding 16 bars to 20 or crushing internal rhymes in where they’re not supposed to fit.  Just drawing inspiration from what my icons were doing with their art.

Rakim: It might sound a little funny coming from a dude who remixed James Brown and George Clinton to make his own music, but to be honest, I prefer when people stay original with they own projects and leave mine to me.  But I understand that its an homage or a show of respect.  50 once said his favorite rapper said check out “My Melody.”  Jay incorporated “Follow the Leader” and some other stuff.  Robin Thicke’s “Mr. Sexy” had my nieces dancing.  It’s a blessing to be where I am and to get that kind of love.

CP: Do you think that the mythic status you achieved with your early work has made it difficult to make an impact with new music?

Rakim: I try to live up to my own expectations and those are pretty high.  If I concentrate on elevating my lyrical content, that might in turn elevate all lyrical content or at least get cats thinking about it.  I’ve always been an underground rapper so my influence is more on the foundation of the culture.  If what I do can get a young artist to stop and think about what he’s rhyming, that’s bigger than a radio hit or a platinum plaque.  That’s impact with greater meaning.

Rakim: You can’t take anything from Eric when it comes to what we did.  There was a lot more to the music…and to the business…than what happened in one studio session or another. When we was coming up, Eric put a lot of people in the right place at the right time and there was an energy he brought that helped shaped the outcome. He doesn’t need defending.

Rakim: That’s always a tough one to answer cause I’m a fan first, nahmeen.  There’s a lot out there to love.  You got people like Fab and Jay repping NY hard from the podium.  People like Kanye, HitBoy, Pharrell, Ryan Leslie pushing production to new heights.  Artists like Brother Ali and Bishop Lamont keeping things close to the truth.  There’s a lot of good out there that elevates above the clutter.

Rakim: I’ve always believed that following trends, chasing after what’s hot instead of what’s inside you…that’s the biggest enemy of creativity, the biggest challenge to HipHop.  There’s artists that do what they do and sell millions of albums but that doesn’t mean everyone should try to do what they do.  When an artist stays original, stays true to their own vision, that stands out to me more than superstar status.

Rakim: I’ve done a few shows in B’More.  About a half dozen years ago there was one where it was snowing out…like blizzard snowing with a foot or more on the ground…Now ya see, I don’t fly so it’s me driving into town and we are crawling.  I don’t have time to go to the hotel or nothing, just get to the stage.  And I get up there and, blizzard conditions outside, me late and still, that crowd is packed in the room and the energy is through the roof. That’s that B’More love. Don’t worry, I’ll be on time next week – no snow forecasted.

Rakim: There’s two sides to the sword, nahmeen.  When I was coming up HipHop was a neighborhood thing and it was somewhat confined in both the expectations of what you were supposed to be rhyming and the access to resources to create quality music….and that’s coming from the first rapper to sign a million dollar record deal and help change the content of our rhymes.  Now, the genre is a global phenomenon and artists have access to the best production and instrumentation in the business.  I have some nostalgia for the street corner and park party days, but its a blessing to see this thing on an international level…and to have come along with it.

“She’s not on to me! It’s crazy!”

Comedian, pundit, author and outspoken feminist Lizz Winstead is musing on her apparent relationship with wild-eyed Republican Congresswoman Michelle Bachmann, with whom she has posted “selfies” on social media with alarming regularity. They share a home state (Minnesota), but they also share opposite sides of the political absurdity spectrum populating the evening news shows of late. “I’ve made lots of money making fun of her, and have been in the paper constantly, and I’m on TV making fun of her, and she doesn’t have a clue.”

A trailblazer in the relatively new world of political satire – Winstead is co-creator of Comedy Central’s The Daily Show and co-founder of the now-defunct Air America radio network – Winstead documented her history in an essay collection, Lizz Free or Die, last year in hardback. Now that the obligatory paperback version is hitting the shelves (with added material), Winstead, it seems, has even more to say. And, no, she won’t shut up.

It must have been hard to totally rewrite your book in paperback after having the luxury of trade cloth to leverage against the first time.
Lizz Winstead: Yes, you’re so right. Ding, ding, ding! OMG. You’re so honest. [Laughs] That is what one struggles with when one puts a paperback out. Have you ever tried to sign a check when it’s not on the table?

Seriously, was it easier for you to set out to write a “book of essays” rather than a memoir? Because honestly, Lizz, it’s a memoir.
It’s honestly sort of a memoir. But it’s only sort of a memoir, because I didn’t choose to focus in depth on one particular aspect of my life. … I decided to take a couple of different stories from certain parts of my life that had a specific purpose, for the most part, that just kind of showed something that got me going, propelled me, opened my eyes in some way, to get me there, to show me who the fuck I was and what I was doing.

Even when it’s not profoundly that, it’s more sort of cautionary tales of what happens when you take something on that you truly love, but you then have to learn how to do it, having already accepted the challenge. Which is kind of the way I seem to be living my life.

You also live your life as an outspoken woman. Where do you stand on Sheryl Sandberg’s book, Lean In, versus Anne-Marie Slaughter’s much-debated “Why Women Still Can’t Have It All” – the new, nuanced feminism of the elite?
Feminism of the elite has always been the feminism that’s talked about the most. I haven’t read Sheryl Sandberg’s book, so I don’t want to totally comment on it, but I think that privilege with power and feminism with power is very different from feminism when you don’t have the power that she has. And I think when you are struggling, and feeling desperate for survival, tips like “Ask for what you really deserve!” aren’t really sometimes the tips that you need.

You’ve been a woman in an industry that is dominated by men. There are some bits in your book where there is some loosely gender-based friction, but you’ve also formed some strong alliances and created careers for people like Jon Stewart. Have you ever felt a glass ceiling shatter, or do you feel like it’s a more vague progression than that for you?
At the beginning, there was this very weird notion, shockingly, that all women were sort of the same, and so all women comedians were the same. They would never just have two women on the show because two women have a great tone that would mesh together in a show, [because] if it was more than a one-woman show, it would be a freak show. It [would be] the “All Woman Show” or, I did an HBO show called Women of the Night. … They figure we just talk about our periods and stuff. Which, by the way, if we do talk about our periods, so what! Men can talk about getting laid all day long, but if women talk about things that women are about, somehow it was devalued because it was uninteresting to men.

I don’t get the sense in reading the book that in any of your major projects – The Daily Show, Air America Radio – that there was any real gender conflict, and you actually do try to remain positive about all of the experiences. You come off more as someone who always said what she thought and then owned it, consequences be damned.
I think what I did was – it slows up the process – but I just avoided places and people that I saw were sexist or placed women in certain positions, and sometimes those people owned chains of comedy clubs, and sometimes that meant, “Don’t go work there.” Then I ended up being offered jobs and being in charge of things that didn’t have anything to do with my gender – that had to do with me deciding to plow ahead in places that were more nurturing, rather than having to battle who I was.

You got to document some of the reaction to the hardcover release of the book as you were editing the paperback edition, including the response to the chapter about your own abortion. Some of that came from the left, which wanted you to tone it down.
You can’t run away from abortion. And if you are, you have to ask why you are. Because when you do, you demonize the majority of women who have had one and you make them feel shame. And even if you think you don’t, you do. I just feel so strongly that if you believe that it is indeed a medical procedure, why are you letting the morality police define it as something else? You are slut-shaming by proxy. It’s not a message that some people want to hear, but I feel like it’s important.

The outpouring that I got of people saying “I agree” was very heartening, because I feel like if you want women to come out of the shadows and talk about their experience and be the base of reproductive justice and abortion rights – if one in three women have had an abortion at some time in their lives, that isn’t always the rape, incest or life of the mother. Keep it a hot button until all the rights go away, and then it’s not even a button, and then it’s not even an issue, and women are just having unsafe abortions everywhere. Good plan!

(Photo: Billy Manes)

Porterfield’s two previous films, Hamilton and Putty Hill, were recently acquired by New York’s Museum of Modern Art. This month, he contributed a top ten list to Artforum magazine, where he showed hometown pride, writing about Co La’s new album and the Ravens’ Super Bowl victory.

I came to Rooms Fall Apart: A Serious Play, a descendent of the Copy Cat Theatre’s Rooms Plays, now put on by Socially Engaged Arts and Performance Projects (SEAPP) as part of the Transmodern festival (though it runs through this weekend), with a bunch of reasons for not liking this non-play, non-performance art piece, and most of them still hold true. I mean, it’s hard to discern a serious idea, and there’s no serious sense that anything serious is happening. And it calls itself a “serious play.” Is this really serious? Is it serious with quotation marks?

But then I realized that starting from either assumption would get me in deep water, so I just headed upstairs.* At the top of four floors, we were crammed into a small room where everyone had to sit on everyone else’s laps. There was a ghoul taking notes, and obviously trying to figure out what to do with everyone once they arrive in.

I looked around. I didn’t know anyone there, not even a competing theater critic. Doing this with nothing but strangers – and for the first time – made this more affecting.

I was picked with two other strangers by a transsexual stripper, and I was slowly urged to crawl through what seemed like a labyrinthine large intestine. Now the people in front of me – a female socialist and a queer socialist (at least this is how they identified themselves in another room) turned a corner and disappeared. I panicked, crawled down another length of large intestines, and found what looked like an exit, which I then realized was a window of said fourth floor. That exit was not an option. Then I found myself back where I had started, but realized that another group of four people was starting their own journey. I was in danger of blocking the large intestine. I was supposed to be heading through this with a critical eye, remember.

Luckily, I persevered, and somewhere ahead of me, found what looked like the shoes of the person I had started with. I didn’t grab them, but found myself released in what looked like a gigantic igloo/cave, with a light slowly let down, and strange voices on either side baiting me and encouraging me to turn the light on. I did, and two faces poked out of the pink wall, scribbled with bathroom graffiti.

I was of two minds. On the one hand, I approached this with skeptical nonchalance (you want serious criticism? I’ll give you criticism), but on the other hand, I didn’t want to muck things up, having already gotten lost in a large intestine. I saw myself as a participant in a rudely staged experience…and even as I went through 22 rooms, losing a sense of direction and even reason for being there, there was no question that, in the end, I was not only a point of interest, but the only thing that held this experience together.

In fact, as the emcee helpfully put it, I was the single dot at the center of the universe, through which subjectivity and objectivity – and the awareness of space – flow. I was being asked to navel gaze, even as I was being prodded, baited, encouraged, offended, humored, and entertained.  The somewhat detached observation point – amused, but never involved enough to really care – served as a nexus for this creative smorgasbord.

This strange comfort zone, once achieved, was an excellent starting point for the rest of the Transmodern festival. This was about process. The intestinal tract was the focus and not what we came out with at the end.

This was a serious experience. That’s all I can say. Again, “serious experience” seems like a phrase that means little by the time you forget what being serious feels like. So the only three pieces of advice I would give if you go this weekend are: Don’t do it if you’re a devout Catholic, over 300 pounds, or on a bad acid trip. But, to be honest, I can’t wait for the next Rooms Play.

*This post initially stated that the production was not handicap accessible. We regret the error.

On the other hand, Dariusz Skoraczewski (in the bottom photo) is the principle cellist for the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra. Sources tell City Paper that a position in the symphony that is equivalent of Skoraczewski’s earns upwards of $60,000 a year.

This raises the question: should the Baker awards work like the MacArthur Genius Grants, which clearly go to people who have already achieved great success and remuneration for their artistic work, or should they go to help those, like Parks, who have displayed a high level of talent and accomplishment, but with very little institutional support?

This year’s jury seems clearly divided on the question, and to be fair, they don’t really have to make a choice. The third winner, Jonathan Latiano, a large-scale sculptor and installation artist (the top photo is his work) with an MFA from MICA is somewhere between the two.

But let me make the case that the prize should not go to people like Skoraczewski, who are able to practice their art without the financial support of the Baker. First, there’s the matter of need. The city is full of talented artists and musicians who could desperately use the money in order to survive and create. If the award goes to someone like that, it not only rewards past work, but makes future work possible. Future work that may not have otherwise existed. Certainly, the award will help someone as talented as Skoraczewski create something impressive, but he has access to numerous other sources of support–so the payoff, for the Baker, is not as great. While Parks and Latiano express their gratitude in statements on the site (Latiano is especially graceful in his acknowledgment of the other artists in town),  Skoraczewski didn’t comment at all on the prize.

My purpose here is not to single out Skoraczewski. If there were a similar writing prize in town, I would equally argue that someone like me, who earns a salary for writing, is not as worthy a recipient as someone who receives no such support (for full disclosure: I did recently apply for a national Creative Capital grant for a book project and I have collaborated with Ruby Fulton who won one of the b grants). Baltimore-based grants like the Baker awards, in my opinion, should try to maximize their impact on the artistic community. As it is, we have no idea what the jury’s criteria is, since “The Mary Sawyers Baker selection process will be conducted by a private jury of national and international multidisciplinary experts who will consider all website nominations in selecting the Mary Sawyers Baker winners. Their process will remain private.”

It was in 2011 when Jeff Mangum, the lead singer of Neutral Milk Hotel who is considered something of a recluse, played two sold-out shows in the same space.

Tickets go on sale May 10 at noon through missiontix.com and at Red Emma’s Bookstore Cafe and Charmington’s Cafe.

The impasse revolves around two pieces that Cornish wanted to include in the show: a cross and a mosaic of the word “Jew.” James Abbott has not returned City Paper’s repeated calls or responded to emails, but in an email he wrote to Cornish, it is clear that the Evergreen Museum wanted a show that dealt directly and solely with the African American experience.

The Evergreen show, which was supposed to feature 11 panels in an outdoor installation, has a long history. Cornish first presented some of the work at Morgan State University in a show that coincided with the inauguration of Barack Obama in 2008. Cornish added a number of Jewish-themed works after he went to the home of collectors Ellen and Paul Saval to pick up some pieces for the show.

Cornish explained the situation to City Paper in 2011, when a subsequent show of the same work, In Each Other’s Shoes, opened at the Jewish Museum (where Cornish was the first African American to have a solo show): “During the few hours I was there [at the Saval house], I felt like I had gained two close friends, like they were kindred spirits. Ellen had cooked a meatloaf dinner, but I had to get back home to work on the Morgan show, so she packed it up as a sandwich. As I drove home, I took one bite of that sandwich and I knew I had to include the Jewish struggle in my show. We hadn’t even talked about anything Jewish, but just being in their presence let me know that the Jewish struggle was the same as our struggle.”

The experience changed the tenor of the show at Morgan State, which came to be titled Pre-Inaugural America: Jews and Blacks Ascending. For In Each Other’s Shoes, three years later, Cornish further expanded on the connections he saw between the Jewish and African American experiences, creating two-sided pieces like “Target/Shalom” on one side of which were photos of Martin Luther King and John and Robert Kennedy and on the other the word “Shalom.”

Cornish says that after arranging for the show at Evergreen, he spent three or four months cutting many of the pieces he created for those two exhibitions in half, eliminating all of the “Jewish” pieces but one, which he felt it was important to include.

When Abbott informed Cornish that the Evergreen Museum wished to exclude the mosaic that reads “Jew” or the cross, Cornish responded on May 3: “I disagree with your decision not to include the cross and Jew in the exhibit. Since this show is focused on the March on Washington 1963 please read these last words from the speech given by Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. on that day.”……..we will be able to speed up that day when all of God’s children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, ‘Free at last! Free at last! Thank God almighty we are free at last.’  Just from these last few words alone the cross and Jew are substantiated to be included in this exhibition.  I have literally ripped my show apart to give you what you requested, however on the matter of these two works I’m strongly requesting that they are included.”

Cornish went on to write, “if you still disagree with my decision I must request a face-to-face meeting with you and your immediate supervisor and those parties who funded the show.  If all parties agree on your decision then I will have no choice but to reluctantly agree with your decision.”

Abbott responded to an intermediary that night: “With the below understood, I regret that Evergreen is going to have to bow away from exhibiting Loring’s artwork. We do not want the artist to be unhappy, while at the same time we do not want to deviate from the initially discussed and agreed upon exhibition. We are sorry that this had to happen, but the Museum cannot accommodate Loring’s wish. Again, Evergreen Museum & Library will not be exhibiting Loring’s work.”

“I want the word ‘Jew’ in the show,” Cornish explained to City Paper yesterday, “because, there used to be signs that said ‘No Jews, no Negroes, and no dogs,’ all across America. And in the show, there is a huge piece that says the word ‘Negro’ in broken plates. And so to accompany that, there is a word that says ‘Jew’ because of those signs.”

Cornish went on to say that “The Jewish people have always been in my corner as a black person and very apropos for the show.”

(Photos: Top, Cornish with the image of the cross; lower, the word “Jew” at the center of the dispute.)

You can stream Dungeonesse here and Bruce Willen and William Cashion’s ambient noise group here. Happy listening.

When McCoury closed out the New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival Sunday, the five members of his band joined the seven members of the Preservation Hall Jazz Band for a delightful exercise in genre-bending. Bluegrass is a more modern music than traditional New Orleans jazz, but bluegrass’s immediate predecessor, old-time country, is very similar to Dixieland, and McCoury’s virtuoso players were able locate the beat and create the succinct, melodic solos that fit the collaboration.

The 12 musicians, all dressed in dark suits, white shirts and ties, crowded on to the small Fais Do Do stage in various combinations. Preservation’s Mark Braud, for example, sang a bawdy version of “Sugar Blues” and played a plunger trumpet solo, backed by McCoury’s bluegrass quintet. A few minutes later, when McCoury sang “You Don’t Have To Be a Baby To Cry,” Preservation’s Clint Maedgen took a tenor sax solo between Rob McCoury’s banjo solo and Ronnie McCoury’s mandolin solo.

The highlight came on “I’ll Fly Away,” a gospel number common to both traditions. Maedgen sang the first verse and Del McCoury the second; bluegrass fiddler Jason Carter and jazz clarinetist Charlie Gabriel engaged in a spirited duet. At the end, in true Dixieland fashion, everyone began soloing at once on the coda, the banjo and mandolin locked in with the trombone and tuba.

The Del McCoury Band plays every night at the Delfest in Cumberland, Maryland, May 23-26.

This week was all about Saturday Night. I think someone must have laced my Pabst with a hit of LSD at Transmodern fest ‘cuz after a KILLER night of performances by Dan Deacon, Ed Schrader’s Music Beat, Snails, and OCDJ, I ended up talking to animals like a wasted shaman and dancing with the (Bmore) stars!

The after party started when I was emailed a photo of a hand with an address written on it. Pretty original. So after staggering out of the madness that was Transmodern, we made our way to the address, which led to the apartment of Charlie Herrick, graphic designer and City Paper pal. It was quite a gathering, and this is where things got weird! Guests included a hammered patent clerk, comedian Charlotte Benito, and Amanda Asmus of the Current Gallery. When I sat down in front of the large screen TV looping the film Sex Galaxy, I was offered a hit from a hooka by a man in a rooster mask. As he sat smoking and thinking barnyard thoughts, a lady in a pig mask proudly offered me a tan-lined boob mug from some zany tourist stop in the Outer Banks.  Wow. Talk about a “Mamma Told Me Not to Come” moment.

A grinning Herrick tore open two cases of rum for the crowd with gusto, and in the corner a local architect bounced up and down on the in-house trampoline. Two Bohs in and I was ready to roll. I said goodbye to the ersatz Animal Farm with the exception of  the “rooster head” who ripped off the mask and became my companion for the rest of the night.

DJ Rooster, Bmore Club,  and “Parliamentary” ghosts.

I love a secret hideout. “Rooster” and I got word that there was a huge dance party happening in the purgatory between Hampden and Remington, which is becoming quite the hotbed of underground, invite only dance nights.

This hideout was lorded over by rapper GODDM and his crew. DDM watched the proceedings through a two-way mirror like a benevolent kingpin. On the other side of the glass, a huge hot room was filled with sweaty dancers. To say pretty much the entire Bmore hip hop/club scene was present is something of an understatement. Lets check off those boxes, shall we? Blaqstarr, check, TT The Artist, check. Murder Mark, check. Abdu Ali, check. DJ Gattus, check. Bounge, check. Jay Lawson of the Sneaks, check. The list goes on, but you get the picture.

Down the hall and past the table where a few fashionable ladies were “powdering their noses” from exquisite blue vials, we found the real party. A small group of DJs and producers gathered in a back room which our host told me was once a recording space used by freaky Parliament front man, George Clinton.

“Yes, George recorded and lived here for a minute in the late ’70s,” said DDM. “That man was mad for crack.” In the cramped room painted with a Clinton-like map of the galaxy and a Starship Enterprise, Bounge, AKA Rebecca Drumm, wowed the intimate crowd with her new track Speed Boy, recorded in her grandmother’s closet.

It’s round about 3:30 a.m. and I’m done for the morning. But “Rooster,” my companion, held the back room party down till 9 a.m.with tracks from Afrika Bambaataa and some deep cut disco. You, “Rooster” get the Night Owl award of the weekend.

Nightlife App of the week

SomaFM
Platforms: iPhone and Android

Price: $4.99

If you need a soundtrack for your night around town, SomaFM will find it for you. Unlike other “radio” type apps, Soma is programed and updated regularly by actual DJs who specialize in pretty much everything from deep chill to secret agent lounge music. It’s a little pricey, but totally worth it. It pays itself back as you let it run during your favorite cocktail party, commercial free.

The Love Parade, put on by Fluid Movement as part of the Transmodern Festival on Sunday should be the city’s biggest parade. It is the parade to celebrate Baltimore’s defining weirdness. Marching this year from the back lot of the Current Gallery up Franklin Street to Charles, down Charles to Center, turning on Howard and pausing under the Mayfair theater, which set the May Fair theme of this year’s event, the parade featured the Barrage Band—an Eastern European-inflected brass band— and the 901 Arts Drumline, in addition to people on stilts, in make up, crazy hats, and women wearing red and white striped dresses and yellow wigs who stopped traffic. (Photo by Noah Scialom)

This is the kind of thing that the mayor and the city should celebrate. If it is doing its job at all, the Bromo Seltzer Arts District should put everything behind this parade as a chance to bring together all races and all classes in a celebration of the diversity of the city’s arts.

The parade this year stretched about a block and a half at any one time and was made up of probably a couple hundred people. I am writing this as a participant journalist, as I was, admittedly, swept up by the parade. It was joyous to march through the city streets with fellow citizens, but I can only imagine what it would have felt like if there were 2,000 people. Imagine all of the city’s marching bands, artists, dirt bike riders, brass bands, and families, reclaiming dilapidated blocks of the city with celebration.

Baltimore used to host an annual Oriole parade, that, in the words of our own Jim Meyer, “once rivaled New Orleans’ Mardi Gras.” 

We could have a parade to rival Mardi Gras once again. And the Love Parade has been patiently laying the ground work for the last six years. (photos Baynard Woods)

City Paper spoke to Nathan while he was in Toronto for the festival (see our feature story in this Wednesday’s paper) and he explained that he came to Baltimore to study painting at MICA and started 12 O’Clock Boys, his first film, on a whim. Soon, he was obsessed and he was offered the award and a $3,000 cash prize for “his capacity to capture rare insight and recognizing strong characters in a complex maze of urban stories.”

After appearing at the South by Southwest Film Festival in March, 12 O’Clock Boys was picked up for North American distribution by Oscilloscope Laboratories, the company, co-founded by Beastie Boy Adam Yauch,  that released the Banksy-directed Exit Through the Gift Shop.

Don’t get me wrong; I believe a great funk band can be the artistic equal of any jazz group. But contrary to the condescending assumption of many jazz musicians, it isn’t easy to create a great funk band. And Payton’s skills don’t lie in that area.

His gifts lie in instrumental jazz, as he proved again when he joined the New Orleans all-star quartet of pianist David Torkanowsky, bassist George Porter Jr. and drummer Zigaboo Modeliste. The latter two musicians, of course, were one-half of the original Meters and constitute one of the greatest funk rhythm sections of all time. But they have made the leap across the funk/jazz divide more gracefully than Payton has in the opposite direction. Porter and Modeliste kept the band’s momentum tumbling ever forward without ever playing any four-bar phrase the same way twice. Torkanowsky, a founding member of the superb New Orleans jazz band Astral Project, did something similar.

But the best solos came from Payton, who alternated impressionistic romanticism with serrated edginess. Never adding an unnecessary note, he sculpted out improvisations that sounded like elegant compositions. On Harold Battiste’s “Marzique Dancing” and his own “Backward Step,” Payton turned moody modal excursions into thrilling explorations. But when the band finally did a vocal number, an R&B tune called “Be My Baby” (not the Ronettes’ song), they wisely left the singing to Porter.

The group broke up in 2004, but the three founding members (Malo, bassist/guitarist Robert Reynolds and drummer Paul Deakin) plus two members from 2004 (guitarist Eddie Perez and keyboardist Jerry Dale McFadden) reunited last fall and in January released In Time, their first studio album in nearly 10 years. For this new project, Malo wrote or co-wrote all 14 songs and allowed the Latin side of his music to emerge more naturally. The album has already gone top-10 on the country charts and top-40 on the pop charts.

When the Mavericks played the New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival Friday, the Latin and country sides of the music seemed better integrated than ever. The five Mavericks were joined on stage by trumpet, tenor sax, stand-up bass, and button accordion. When they played an old hit like 1994’s “There Goes My Heart,” the implied “Spanish Tinge” became more explicit with bouncy
horn riffs and Tex-Mex accordion.

When the band tackled a new song such as “All Over Again,” written by Malo and NRBQ’s Al Anderson, the integration seemed inevitable, for the push-and-pull beat from the guitars, horns, and accordion proved as essential to the number as the anguished hillbilly lyric, “You know I’m weak and I can’t tell you no; why do you want to hurt me all over again?”

Wearing a white, straw cowboy hat and a dark goatee while shaking a pair of maracas like he knew what he was doing, Malo embodies the contradictions of many immigrants who come from Latin American farms and who are naturally drawn to American country music but have trouble finding a place there. For one wonderful hour on a muddy racetrack infield in New Orleans, that
place seemed obvious.

Erstwhile City Paper contributor and Wham City Renaissance man Ed Schrader contributed the already classic-sounding “Radio Eyes” to Sub Pop’s anniversary compilation of up-and-coming bands. The video is reminiscent of the golden-age of ’80s MTV.

Ed Schrader’s Music Beat will play along with Dan Deacon and a slew of others Saturday May 4 at the Transmodern Festival.