Letters to the Editor

12.12.07

Prince Praise

I beg to differ regarding your article on Prince (“Nothing Compares 2 Sue,” Dec. 5). Yes, he’s eccentric, but aren’t all geniuses and artists a bit left of center? You never mentioned his sheer perfection of music in any form or how he has reinvented himself over the last 26 years. I defend Prince and all of his idiosyncrasies. He’s always been amazing in his live performances. I don’t want to know his political or religious beliefs. I think this article perpetuates the “weird” Prince you would like us to believe in.

Karyn Lobley

Santa Rosa

Guided by Folly

Mr. President: The concept of a prolonged war with another nation seems ill-fated. The financial outlook of this war appears to be guided by folly.

Dante Negrete

Rohnert Park

Thinks we’re a Resto Trade Mag

I was impressed to see this type of article (“Fork Votes” by Dan Imhoff, Nov. 21). Not only was it politically astute, it was geared toward environmental and local farmer awareness. Even greater, it stressed the benefit of people contacting senators to address the issues.

That the restaurant industry is moving in this direction is a positive thing. If only the grocers’ association be equally concerned with something other than their profit bottom line. The only reason that industry is getting into the organic act is the great deal of money to be made (the same reason as corporate America). Of course, they will try to weaken the standards as has already happened, defeating the whole purpose of the organic alternative.

Due to rising consumer awareness of the dangers of mainstream American food (which corporate America and the grocers’ association have been pushing on us for years) and the burgeoning organic market, one would think these jackals would get the message: Informed Americans understand the difference between safe, quality food and typical supermarket fare.

It’s nice to know some in the restaurant world realize that serving quality food and listening to consumer preferences really does pay off. Everyone wins—and isn’t that nice for a change?

Robbin Rogers

Smithville, Ohio

Two-fer: Memory & Self-promo

I recently read your follow-up article on forgotten or lost tapes from local bands (“Dolby Days,” Nov. 21). I was the first lead vocalist for Insanity Puppets, and was also a member of local bands Transmission and Test Monkey, as well as doing vocals for a techno project known as Universal Black, which is the creation of keyboardist/composer Serene Voltage.

All of the above bands were local Santa Rosa&–based bands, spanning almost 10 years (1985&–1993). Some of us still keep in touch, but I do not have any copies of old demos, T-shirts, pictures or even video of live performances. There are people somewhere with these old recordings and pictures, along with bootleg tapes and fliers. I was never the type to hang on to such items, and so they have been lost over the years.

It was a real pleasure to read about the “old days” when we had all those good times. If you would like to know more about these bands or the “real” history of the Insanity Puppets (Guthrie and Adolfo were not original members), I could tell you an accurate account on how the band started and who were the original members as well as the creators of the first songs. Keep a lookout for my first CD on the indie label Lost City Records, locally produced. Name of project? Steamfitter.

Dan Schram

Santa Rosa

Come on up!

Great story (“Homeward Bound,” Nov. 28). It’s important to hear positive things people are doing in response to the fallout of the Iraq War. Veteran’s Village seems like something our political leaders would have pioneered many years ago if their leadership was truly in line with the needs of returning soldiers. What a great story. And VeteransVillage.org is a great website. Very poignant. May many Santas land on the rooftop of Veteran’s Village.

Every time I read the Bohemian I start thinking I should move North!

Johanna Harman

Mill Valley


See No Evil

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12.22.07

O n March 12, 2006, five American soldiers gang-raped and murdered a 14-year-old Iraqi girl named Abeer Qasim Hamza near the occupied town of al-Mahmudiyah, south of Baghdad. After the rape, the troops butchered Abeer, her parents and her baby sister. A soldier who witnessed the atrocity belatedly ratted the platoon out to military authorities, who prosecuted.

Thus was al-Mahmudiyah added to the growing list of places where thousands of American soldiers have committed unspeakable acts in Iraq, including Haditha, Abu Ghraib and Fallujah. (Atrocities in Afghanistan are a related matter). The war on Iraq is the modern Holocaust. Since 1991, about 2.5 million Iraqis (10 percent of the population) have died as a result of incessant bombing, ground wars, blockades and military occupation.

Under the leadership of G. H. W. Bush, Bill Clinton and G. W. Bush, the American public has turned a blind eye to this holocaust while energy and weapons-manufacturing corporations and military contractors, such as Halliburton, Blackwater, URS and Perini, have thrived on pain.

Finally, after six years of complicity with the war regime, some in Hollywood have found the guts to challenge our Eichmannesque culture by making a handful of antiwar films, ranging from Robert Redford’s Lions and Lambs to Paul Haggis’ In the Valley of Elah to writer-director Brian De Palma’s cinéma vérité about the al-Mahmudiyah bloodbath, Redacted.

Produced by billionaire-libertarian Mark Cuban’s Magnolia Pictures, the movie was shot in Jordan. Realistically acted, the story is revealed by hand-held video cameras wielded by self-obsessed soldiers, fixed security cameras and web cams. When it was released in November, the deranged demagogue Bill O’Reilly ranted against it on Fox television, claiming that freedom of speech does not extend to criticizing American troops.

To date, only 28 movie theaters in the country have shown the astonishingly apropos Redacted, which puts the blame for al-Mahmudiyah not on a few renegade soldiers, but where it belongs: on the American people.

Be assured, it is not the violence of certain scenes that repels people from seeing Redacted; American filmgoers relish vicarious participation in murder and rape. No, movie audiences shun Redacted because they instinctively realize that a decent person cannot see this film and remain a political ostrich.

I interviewed Izzy Diaz, who plays a pivotal role in Redacted . There was no official, celebrity-spotlighted opening of the movie in Los Angeles, he said, but he attended the first showing of it. “Out of 13 people in the theater, I knew eight of them.”

He explains: “People are not yet ready to hold a mirror up to themselves.”

The Rialto Cinemas Lakeside in Santa Rosa and the Opera Plaza in San Francisco are the only two theaters in Northern California that have had the courage to show Redacted . I saw it at the Rialto with three other souls. I did not go there to be entertained. I went because it is my duty as a human being to witness the story of these crimes that were committed by my countrymen in my name. Seeing the movie was an excruciating experience, but it reaffirmed my commitment to do everything I can to help end America’s global war against humanity. It is not true that we are powerless to act against the cruel and savvy criminals who run this country, but it is true that claiming powerlessness makes it easier to stand in line at Whole Foods.

The Rialto’s proprietor, Ky Boyd, did his part: he brought Redacted to the screen and earned all of $400 in three days. Where were you, Sonoma County? You rushed to see Fahrenheit 911 , which allowed cackling viewers to blame Bush, but not themselves, for incompetence in Iraq. But you avoided Redacted , which teaches us that we are responsible for the carnage. Bush-Cheney-Rice and Congress are only as monstrous as we allow them to be. We nourish them with our silence, with the self-fulfilling mantra “There is nothing I can do.” (Say it a million times a day and it will still not be true!)

To paraphrase a question posed by one of the arrested soldiers in Redacted , “We bomb and kill these people, so why can’t we rape and kill them?” Indeed, what is the difference between bombing and raping? Netflix this film now, and discover if you can figure out that difference while continuing to live your really important life. Listen for the best line in the film, delivered by the soldier with a late-blooming conscience: “I watched it happen and did nothing to stop it.”

Be warned: If Americans continue to do nothing, then we will deserve whatever payback comes our way, be it plague, bomb, flood, the Mormons or even another Clinton.


Wine Tasting Room of the Week

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I t’s amusing to imagine what Quixote’s organically farmed vineyards would look like if Friedensreich Hundertwasser had had a go at them. The architect might have demanded that no two of the same varietal be planted side by side. Mismatched trellis styles would spiral across the vineyard, grapes would spill over the roof and straight rows would be forbidden!

Fortunately for the vineyard manager, the Austrian iconoclast designed the winery building, which is now the sole mecca for Hundertwasser fans in the United States. In these pages, we’ve covered Quixote in advance of its long-anticipated public opening (June 22 and Nov. 23, 2005), then explored the architecture (June 13, 2007), and now we come to drink the wine.

Former Stag’s Leap Winery owner Carl Doumani was looking for something different for his new project. When he happened upon Hundertwasser, he inherited a legacy. Hundertwasser (1928–2000) rejected the “dictatorial” hard edges of modernism. He abhorred the straight line, the flat surface and uniformity, and sought to reconnect humanity with natural forms. The warmth with which people react to his buildings suggests that he achieved more than postmodern gimmickry. There is a sense of dignity to the colorful little castle that grows out of the landscape beneath the Stag’s Leap palisades, commensurate with the architect’s humanistic aspirations. That is carried over into the appointment-only tasting at Quixote Winery, a leisurely experience worth the admission.

Behind me, autumn sunlight streams through windows framed by voluptuous glazed columns. General manager Lew Price sits at the head of a large plank conference table and introduces each wine as the group seems ready. Three separate parties strike up easy conversation mostly, of course, about the architecture. Everybody has a Hundertwasser story. A young lawyer from San Francisco had always wondered about the poster of Hundertwasser that she’d grown up with courtesy of her father, also in attendance. I once answered an ad for a ride share in Vienna. The driver told me to meet him at the corner of such-and-such streets. When I looked up across the street, there was the famous Hundertwasser housing project, all turrets and splashes of tile, and trees growing willy-nilly.

The wine? Yes, well the initial citrus zest of the 2001 Quixote Cabernet Sauvignon ($60) is followed by silky tannins in harmony with lush plum fruit. The 2002 Quixote Petite Syrah ($80) is also uncommonly soft and complex, dark with plum and dense as fruit leather. The 2004 Quixote Petite Syrah ($60) represents an anomaly vintage, Price says, but it got my attention for its rich flavors of black cherry, black licorice, cool earth and fruitcake and prominent tannin. The 2004 Panza Claret ($40) is lighter bodied, with a bright nose of plum and Bing cherries.

Besides the labels and the screw-cap enclosures, there’s nothing particularly offbeat here. Quixote and Panza (the “value” label named for the literary sidekick) wines are all about warmth, texture and seamless integration. Would the proper Hundertwasser response be to smash the bottle? That’s what he did to a shipment of tiles he deemed “too perfect.” I think I’d rather admire the wine’s people-friendly, organic, rounded shape in the mid-palate a little while longer.

Quixote Winery, 6126 Silverado Trail, Napa. Visits by appointment only; $25 per person. 707.944.2659.



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Clean House

12.22.07

R ecently, a reader told me of her semi-successful attempt to build a green home. Unaware of exactly what it meant to “build green,” she trusted that her contractor, who assured her that he was a “green” builder, would know how best to proceed. Unfortunately, mistakes regarding heating choices, positioning of the house and building materials led to her new home, beautiful though it may be, being colder, draftier and less efficient than she had hoped. Only after the construction was complete did she learn what components could have been put into effect in order to have made her dream home a green home.

“How,” she asked me, “are you supposed to make sure you’re getting a green builder when anyone can say they’re ‘green’?”

Never having built my own home, I didn’t know the answer, so I decided to ask around. Word of mouth led me to Birdseye Builders, a contracting company run by Joseph Hicks and Jeremy Allen. Birdseye is “Build It Green” certified, and promises environmentally conscious building practices from design to efficiency to disposal. Even their work trucks are fueled by biodiesel. I contacted Jeremy Allen, and he agreed to meet with me and answer some of my questions regarding what it really means to build green.

Allen and I meet at Peter Lowell’s, the wine bar located in the new sustainable town home complex that has recently opened on Sebastopol’s Florence Avenue. This seems an appropriate meeting place, and we are able to stroll about the complex and check out some of the environmentally friendly perks, like dual-flush toilets and an ingenious water-recycling system. Allen says that he has worked on tract developments before and warns that they are generally not “conscious” places, with profound waste and reckless use of materials being the norm. With the inevitability of development in mind (after all, we do need places to live), Allen sees these housing blocs as a step in the right direction, as well as a brave move on the part of the developer. “Once you say you’re going green, you’re putting your ass on the line, and everyone is watching.”

Allen was alerted to green-building certification while visiting the Sonoma County Permit and Resource Department, where he came across a display for Build It Green, a California nonprofit that promotes sustainable building practices and offers classes and certification for builders. In order to keep up his certification, Allen must take a certain number of classes per year, extra work he doesn’t mind as the courses keep him on-task and aware of new resources and advancements in green building materials. Allen believes it is vital that when he says he is a green builder he is keeping resource efficiency in mind, as well as making it clear to his customers that he isn’t, he laughs, “building something that people can eat at the end.”

The word “green” is so overused that it’s beginning to lose some of its meaning. This is not a new concept, Allen insists. The native people of this country were green, which meant living in harmony with the natural environment, not dominating the landscape the way we do now. There are so many factors to consider when building green, and there is no getting away from the fact that what we build will have impact. Even within the environmentally conscious world, there are compromises that must be made. Some potentially “green” materials, such as concrete, have to be mined, and concrete contains fly ash, which comes from scraping chimneys at coal plants. Florescent lights, while touted for their energy efficiency, contain mercury and are toxic to dispose of.

I ask Allen what he would recommend for those who are not able to build themselves an entirely green abode. He recommends first reading Natural Remodeling for the Not-So-Green House by Carol Venolia. He cautions that it is important to remember that re-using is the best option; recycling, a last resort. We all like to give ourselves a big pat on the back for recycling, but the fact is, most of us have no idea what happens to our recyclables once we toss them in the bin or, in the case of the remodel, a huge dumpster.

As I wave goodbye to Allen, I feel fairly exempt. After all, what does a renter care about such responsibilities? Then he ruins my glow by giving me the same morsel of advice my mother has been giving me my entire life: “Oh, and don’t forget to turn down the heat and put on a jacket.”

I know he’s right, but I don’t have to like it.

To find out more about Birdseye Builders go to www.birdseyebuilders.net. For more information on Build it Green go to [ http://www.builditgreen.org ]www.builditgreen.org.


Legend and Lore

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12.12.07

T hrough the wild forests and coastal plains of western Sonoma County on Aug. 3, 1877, a Wells Fargo stagecoach traveled cautiously along the beaten trail between Point Arena and Duncans Mills. After a rigorous 13-hour journey, the coach and its seven passengers eagerly anticipated their arrival into Duncans Mills. As the coach bumped and jarred along the redwood forest trail snaking close to the Russian River, a bandit with a flour sack covering his head burst out from behind a rock and pointed his shotgun directly at the coach driver.

“Stop!” The bandit yelled as he adjusted the makeshift mask covering his face, revealing only intense blue eyes underneath the dull and faded flour sack. The driver, tired and unarmed, obeyed the outlaw and brought the stagecoach to a sudden stop. “Please, throw down the box,” the bandit politely but firmly commanded, keeping his shotgun pointed at the coach driver.

After giving the mailbag and the Wells Fargo box to the blue-eyed bandit, the coach started back down the forest path as the bandit courteously tipped his hat to the passengers inside. Within minutes, the outlaw disappeared into the towering redwood forest. When the authorities arrived hours later, they found only a poem:

“I’ve labored long and hard for bread,For honor and for riches,But on my corns too long you’ve tredYou fine-haired sons of bitches.” —Black Bart, the PO8

A few days after the holdup, Charles E. Bolton, well-dressed and impeccably mannered, strolled along the hilly, cosmopolitan boulevards of San Francisco. An avid theatergoer and a frequent guest of San Francisco’s most prestigious homes and restaurants, Bolton lived the good life hobnobbing among San Francisco’s elite, befriending business magnates and high-level city and police officials.

Known as a successful mining engineer, Bolton would frequently leave the city and head off toward the wilderness to conduct “business.” Only later would San Francisco’s high society find out that, rather than mining, Bolton (whose real name was Charles E. Boles) lived a double life robbing Wells Fargo stagecoaches all across Northern California under the alias Black Bart.

Until he was finally captured in 1883, Black Bart, “the gentleman bandit,” had robbed 28 Wells Fargo stagecoaches using only an unloaded shotgun. And while accomplishing his record number of holdups, the most by a single person in Wild West history, he did so without robbing the passengers or killing anyone, a feat he was outspokenly proud of even as he entered the walls of San Quentin.

Yet Black Bart was only one of many who succumbed to a life of crime along California’s fresh frontier trails. Author and historian William B. Secrest explains: “For some people, depending on your psychological makeup, it wouldn’t take much to push you into a life of crime, especially in a frontier area with a lot of open spaces. You get the idea that you can do something and get away with it, so you try it once or twice. After three or four times, you get the feeling that you’ll never be caught.” That’s probably when Bart started to become overconfident. “By the time he held up four or five stagecoaches, Black Bart probably developed a smart-alecky attitude. That’s when he left that poem.”

Perhaps Black Bart deserved such an ego boost with such a stunning record. “When you stick up 28 stagecoaches and don’t get caught, you’re pretty doggone good,” Secrest says. “And I don’t know of any other stagecoach robber in the West that did that.”

What also differentiates Black Bart from other early California outlaws was his unorthodox decision not to use a horse or work with accomplices. This lone bandit was able to elude authorities for so long in part because investigating detectives could not believe that one man could travel such vast distances in so little time. Instead of looking for a single person, they questioned outlaw gangs believing that two or more bandits must have been involved.

Yes, the urbane bowler-hat-sporting Charles Bolton who ambled about the streets of San Francisco was also a longtime miner and Civil War veteran who had, over the years, become a marathoner of the forest and fields, hiking through unsettled wilderness at amazing speed, regularly covering 20 miles of roiling land a day. When traveling through more settled and populated areas, Bart dressed and acted like a gentleman, allowing him to move inconspicuously along Northern California’s growing transportation network of railroads and ferries.

After serving four years of a six-year sentence in San Quentin, his time was reduced for good behavior, and Black Bart mysteriously disappeared. While he was not documented in public records thereafter, traces of him can still be found in Sonoma County today.

Near the site where he left his poem, the Blue Heron Restaurant in Duncans Mills commemorates Bart with an inscribed bronze plaque. The plaque, which was created in 1989, immortalizes Bart’s poem and gives some information about the outlaw “poet.” Although he was no Robert Frost, his rhyming poem often gets a chuckle from regulars and out-of-towners alike.

Yet Black Bart’s most controversial remembrance seems to have been left in Cloverdale—in the form of a festival. After running each spring for 15 years, the Black Bart Festival was changed to the Boulevard of the Arts Festival last May to create a fresh, arts-oriented event meant to draw in new elements of Cloverdale’s growing community.

Instead, the festival transformation formed a rift in the town over Black Bart’s questionable reputation and place in the community. Cloverdale resident Susan Nurse says, “In Cloverdale, Black Bart’s a political hot potato. There is a myth that he was a Robin Hood—he took from the rich but he gave to the poor. That’s simply not the case. We have other things more positive in Cloverdale’s past that we could be focusing on, and we’re not.”

And she poses a compelling question. “By celebrating an outlaw like Black Bart, are we somehow admiring this get-rich-quick, easy kind of lifestyle?”

Bonnie Asien, executive director of the Cloverdale Historical Society, seems to disagree. “I don’t think anyone would hold Black Bart up as an example to show, ‘This is how you beat the system,'” she says. “The original celebration was just about family fun. A good old-fashioned street party with a cow-chip toss, bathtub races and a square-dance party.”

Asien stresses that it’s more about the era. “Cloverdale did start out as a stagecoach stop, and it does have a Western heritage. It’s about celebrating that.”

While it’s unclear whether Black Bart would have approved of associating his name with tossing dried circles of cow manure, it is evident that the controversy is not about Black Bart the man, but rather the legend. Dorothy Marder, a museum docent for the Cloverdale Historical Society, says, “He took on the persona of the novella character ‘Black Bart,’ so with his image, more of it is legend than reality. For most people, it’s almost as if he wasn’t a real person. They’re not thinking about the real Black Bart during the festival.”

Marder shakes her head, “Every once in while people try to get rid of Black Bart, but he always comes back. It’s happened many times, but he always comes back.”

Right before his disappearance, Black Bart strolled out of the gates of San Quentin and was immediately surrounded by reporters asking if he would return to a life of crime. He replied with a staunch “No.” When a local Chronicle reporter asked him if he would continue to write poetry, he retorted, “Young man, didn’t you just hear me say I would commit no more crimes?”

It seems that Black Bart had the last laugh.

“Here I lay me down to sleep
To wait the coming morrow,
Perhaps success, perhaps defeat,
And everlasting sorrow.
Let come what will I’ll try it on,
My condition can’t be worse;
And if there’s money in that box
‘Tis munny in my purse.”

—Black Bart, the PO8


This Man Feels You

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music & nightlife |

By Gabe Meline

I f bodily audio absorption were a college course, the classroom could host a perfect guest lecture in the flesh-curdling guitar solos of Southern California musician Nels Cline. In a pleasant reminder that music is made up of actual sound waves floating through the air and hitting our bodies, every time I’ve ever seen Nels Cline, I’ve felt him, too. Afterwards, throbbing vibrations linger in the head more than actual notes, and a subtle disorientation testifies that I have, in fact, experienced what’s been called “the world’s most dangerous guitarist.”

The last time I saw Cline was in San Francisco as the opening act for one of his heroes, the late jazz pianist Andrew Hill. Cline’s incredibly avant-garde ensemble paid tribute to the compositions penned by the evening’s headliner, but the melodies were almost unrecognizable; the chirping horns, billowing accordion, schizophrenic percussion and Cline’s own roaring electric guitar created a beast of their own. Hill himself stood watching from the wings, surely touched and dumbfounded in equal measure.

Most people know Cline as the hired hand in Wilco, a vastly popular band that scored big in an act of renewal by offering him the very large shoes of second guitarist. With Wilco, Cline’s solos dazzle in a well-arranged fashion; he stomps on the overdrive pedal, shatters Jeff Tweedy’s sweet pop tunes into disarray, circles their remains five times over and pieces them back together again. It’s a neat trick, but it’s kind of like embroidering a Black Flag logo on an Old Navy sweatshirt, and so far, Tweedy has yet to offer Cline a tough enough fabric with which to truly interweave his talents.

Which might help to explain, in part, why Cline has remained involved in so many experimental side projects. One constant and exciting standby is the Nels Cline Singers, a vocal-less trio with longtime cohorts Scott Amendola on drums and Devin Hoff on bass. Prolific and adventuresome, the group relies more on jazz interplay than physical attack; after mixing their most recent disc, Draw Breath , they used the extra studio time to spontaneously record an entire album dedicated to the Los Angeles session guitarist Howard Roberts.

The Nels Cline Singers share a bill with Charlie Hunter on Tuesday, Dec. 18, at the Mystic Theatre. 21 Petaluma Blvd. N., Petaluma. 8pm. $20. 707.765.2121.




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Totally Amped

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12.22.07

T alking tone with guitarists is a lot like talking flavor with wine connoisseurs. Physical terms like “round,” “warm” and “meaty” become audio concepts and excited sentences with flamboyant hand gestures take over the discussion. It’s nature’s ultimate sonic conundrum: tone is the most important element of a guitarist’s sound, yet it’s also the most elusive, and just as serious winemakers crave the perfect crop, serious guitarists spend years searching for the perfect tone.

For many guitar gods, including John Mayer and Carlos Santana, that search has ended at a small shop in Rohnert Park: K&M Analog Designs, the makers of Two-Rock tube amplifiers.

Two-Rock amplifiers are making waves in the modern world through largely old-school methods. Every amplifier is built from scratch in the company’s shop. Hand-tested components are assembled via hand-wired point-to-point soldering, and the finished product undergoes rigorous testing before final approval. “We’re a very 1923 Ford Motors kind of company,” laughs co-owner Bill Krinard.

Krinard and his partner, Joe Mloganoski, both in their 50s, first met in the late 1980s. Mloganoski was doing TV and VCR repair in Point Reyes, and Krinard worked on amplifiers and guitars at Zone Audio in Cotati. Mloganoski, a musician, struck up a friendship with Krinard. They’d talk shop, find vacuum tubes for each other and eventually they started to discuss modifying amplifiers. “And that’s when it got interesting,” Mloganoski says.

At the time, offshore mass-production was widespread in the guitar amp industry. Printed circuit boards and automated assembly were the norm, and Mloganoski and Krinard agreed it was a shame. “That does nothing for the way an amplifier sounds,” stresses Mloganoski. “It makes it very sterile, it makes it very generic; it makes it very inorganic, really. The best stuff out there is hand-built stuff from the ’60s, and we really wanted to duplicate that.”

With just $600 in cash and “no idea what the hell we were doing,” Krinard and Mloganoski drew a cardboard paper-doll template, paid a Petaluma metal shop to craft an aluminum chassis and built 10 early amplifiers out of spare parts in Krinard’s garage, near the town of Two Rock, in 1999. One of them found its way to Carlos Santana, who loved the amp so much that he immediately took it out on tour for his megaselling Supernatural album. The Two-Rock horse was out of the gate at top speed, and with Krinard as the technical-minded wizard and Mloganoski as the business-minded musician, K&M bolted headlong into production.

More high-profile endorsements soon followed. After coming across some Two-Rock amps at New York dealer, John Mayer contacted K&M directly; the Grammy-wining guitarist sent them his credit card number and began buying everything the company produced. “We’ve got a really great relationship with John,” Mloganoski beams. “He’s a really great guy, really down to earth, and he loves our stuff.”

With Mayer’s support, Krinard put together a John Mayer Signature amplifier, using the guitarist’s style and his prior feedback as his design guide. Mayer stopped by the Rohnert Park shop earlier this year to test-drive the amp (there’s a clip of the visit on YouTube), and after a few tiny adjustments at the shop, Mayer was floored. “We changed parts here and there while he played it,” Mloganoski says, “and when we were done he was like, ‘Oh my God, this is it! ‘”

K&M made just 25 of the amps; priced at $8,500, they sold out in two months. Mayer’s endorsement boosted the company’s visibility, and K&M went from a $600,000 company to a million-dollar company in one year. “Our artist agreement with John is very simple: unlike other companies, we’ve never given away our amps. He’s happy to buy them,” says Mloganoski.

“We give John the ultimate support we give all our customers,” Mloganoski continues, “which is no matter what, we take care of your stuff.” When Mayer’s in the Bay Area on tour, Krinard services and re-tubes not just his Two-Rock amps but all of Mayer’s other gear as well. “He’s got a bunch of Dumble [amps] that are really rare and expensive,” says Mloganoski, “and we’re the only guys he trusts with those.”

K&M’s production seems incredibly modest: with three employees, the Rohnert Park shop currently builds just 300 amplifiers a year. The complete process actually begins next door, where a cabinet shop crafts wooden enclosures from Baltic birch plywood and then hand-glues the amplifier’s outer covering using a huge green glue-coating machine. “It’s the same model that’s been in use since 1936,” says Chad Mangrum, proudly, “but it works great.”

For the actual innards of the amplifier, it’s off to the assembly room, where hundreds of boxes filled with raw materials line the walls. The three employees sit at workstations, soldering tube sockets, switches, front panel controls and transistors together with carefully stripped and twisted wire. Poised over the chassis, they meticulously arrange a collage of components while medical tubing attached to the soldering irons sucks away the fumes. It’s a far cry from the mass-produced wave soldering used in most mainstream amp production.

Mloganoski pulls a handmade preamp subassembly off the wall. In a tactic of secrecy, most of its components are concealed on the bottom of the circuit board, instead of the top, to derail potential clones. Websites have popped up discussing how to copy Two-Rock’s sound, and preserving the “secret formula” is key in the small handmade amplifier world. “Everybody wants to be Two-Rock, so we hide all this stuff underneath,” Mloganoski says. “You have to take the whole amp apart to find out what’s in there.”

Whereas most electronic devices come directly off an assembly line and into a box for shipping, Two-Rock amps get thoroughly tested before release. Once the amp is assembled, it’s plugged in and left on for 48 hours on a shelf in Krinard’s “mad scientist” room; a tangle of tools, wires, and old-time electronic measuring devices. Krinard gives each amp a thorough technical checkout, and Mloganoski plugs in and plays each amp, both before and after it’s inserted into its wooden cabinet, listening carefully for the almighty tone, a concept that Mloganoski calls “highly subjective.”

“Not everybody hears everything the same way,” he says. “There are so many variations, you can’t say there’s the Tone. But the reality is that there’s always going to be a set of people who are either cursed or blessed with better hearing than everybody else, and they’re really going to be able to hear the differences. And they’re going to want to find this thing that’s in their head, sonically.

“There are a lot of people who probably can’t appreciate really fine wines if they don’t have the palate for it,” he adds. “To them, that $20 bottle of Merlot tastes every bit as good as that $50 bottle, but these other people are going, ‘How can you drink that crap?'”

“It turns out,” adds Krinard, “that it’s not only how it sounds, but how does it feel ? That’s a huge part of it.”

Two-Rock amps range in price from $3,000 and up. A complete inventory is online at www.two-rock.com. K&M can be contacted at 707.584.TONE.

Sweet Sounds

Frank Hayhurst of Zone Music has seen decades of guitar-tone growth in the North Bay. “Just like Silicon Valley is leading the world in computers,” he declares, “we’ve got more tone up here than anywhere else on the planet!” If you’ve already got a guitar but are looking for the next level of sound, here’re a few of the local products that can sweeten, fatten, thicken and hard-boil your tone.

Crucial Audio Creators of the Echo-Nugget, a vacuum tube analog delay system that’s gotten kudos from musicians far and wide. Based in Santa Rosa, Crucial Audio is soon to unveil its similarly space-age sounding Time Warp device. 707.522.0101. www.crucialaudio.com.

MESA/Boogie World-renowned manufacturers of bass and guitar amps, with nearly 500 artist endorsements ranging from Prince to Metallica. The North Bay’s most famous amp maker, MESA/Boogie has been based in Petaluma since its inception in 1970. 707.778.6565. www.mesaboogie.com.

EMG Pickups Widely revered pickups made in Santa Rosa and used by Les Claypool, Nickelback, Metallica and David Gilmour, among many others. In business since 1974, EMG specializes in both active and passive pickups. 707.525.9941. www.emginc.com.

Voodoo Lab Creators of “scary good tone” with cool-sounding pedals ranging from the “Wahzoo” to the “Microvibe.” The Santa Rosa&–based company also makes power boxes, controls and preamps for a roster of artists over 150 strong. 707.545.0600. www.voodoolab.com.

ToneCandy Handcrafted overdrive, boost and distortion pedals made in Santa Rosa and built with a “Fat-4” knob for maximum versatility. Don’t be fooled by the unassuming size; these small red boxes work wonders. [ http://www.tonecandy.com ]www.tonecandy.com.


Fast, Filling and Fabulous

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12.22.07

P izza. ‘Za. PEET-suh.

Whatever you call it, the word elicits a Pavlovian response, as few other foods so universally do. It’s fast, filling and fabulous. So what better time to celebrate the beauty of pizza than the hectic holidays, when time is at such a premium and our bellies need filling with something seriously joy-inspiring?

Here are a few of the North Bay’s finest pies, perfect for snacking on during breaks from gift shopping or for taking home to a feast with family in front of the holly-bedecked fireplace. Good will to all, and pizza on earth.

Rosso Pizzeria & Wine Bar

It’s 5:45 on a Friday night, and the crowd clamoring to get into Rosso chokes out the door, into the strip mall parking lot of Creekside Center in downtown Santa Rosa. Reservations are only taken for parties of six or more; the hostess barely has time to look up from scribbling in her book of waiting guest names to cheerfully chant, over and over, “It’ll be an hour and 15.”

It’s a wild turnout for the small (legal occupancy just 89 bodies) shop that opened this summer under the direction of former Tra Vigne chef John Franchetti. And it’s like this all the time.

What’s got the mobs so worked up? Absolutely, it’s for the pizza, spun lavosh-thin and fed into a fire-breathing brick oven until it emerges bubbly and spotted black like the surface of the moon. Franchetti opts for meager but meticulous toppings, maximizing results by providing only a bit of embellishment and letting the ingredients do the work (he favors Point Reyes blue cheese, Crescent Moon basil, McEvoy Ranch EVOO and house-ground meatballs of Pozzi Farm veal and Bailey & Long pork). No pie escapes a generous, sharp jolt of shaved garlic.

The Funghi ($12.50) is rustic grace, sprinkling Carpati Farm shiitake and crimini mushrooms, Taleggio and fontina cheese, shaved artichokes and fresh thyme. And while I’ve heard mixed reactions on the Goomba ($12), as “clumsy” or “strange,” I love it. Yes, sparse handfuls of skinny spaghetti and cubes of firm, herby meatballs do belong on a gourmet pie.

“It looks like there’s an empty spot there, down at the end of the bar,” a man says brightly, as I push past him on my way outside after dinner. “Shall we try?”His companion peeks at the crush, and shrinks back against the wall. “You go,” she replies. “It looks too dangerous.”

He disappears into the throng, and she calls loudly, “Save me a piece!”

Rosso Pizzeria & Wine Bar, 53 Montgomery Drive (in the Creekside Center), Santa Rosa. 707.544.3221.

Pizza Antica

Anyone out there who grew up eating Chef Boyardee pizza from a box kit, raise your hand. Mine’s up, and I’m not ashamed. The stuff wasn’t half-bad for a kid in the early 1970s, mainly because the crust could be finished so thin it was nearly transparent.

Such is the crust at Pizza Antica. Well, not Boyardee (Antica uses homemade Roman-style dough that proofs for nearly three days before its enters the gaping yaw of a glass-fronted, red-glowing oven), but the result is impossibly thin bread that’s so fragile it shatters like a cracker. The bottom is the tiniest bit chewy under the toppings; the edges puff into huge bubbles that collapse on the teeth with a puff of yeasty tang.

It’s true that at first glance, I’m not sold on Antica—it feels very much like the chain that it is—but at first bite, my tune changes. The ingredients, if not boutique, are excellent, with local salutes like the Mt. Tam triple cream cheese that glistens as the base of a mild and marvelous Bartlett pear and sweet garlic combo ($10.95, small).

Toppings are generous enough to be filling; there’s lots of that lace-thin pear on the glossy Mt. Tam pizza, plus plenty of doily-sliced heirloom potatoes, caramelized onion and spritzes of earthy white truffle oil on another pie ($10.50). Intensely fennel-perfumed sausage, portobello and roasted onion cover one crust edge to edge ($10.95). And one particularly interesting recipe brings a woodsy flurry of bitterish grilled radicchio, dollops of local goat cheese, dry curls of pancetta and a bright green slick of pesto ($10.50).

Grab a table close enough to the exposition kitchen, and you can watch the chefs at work, subduing each knot of dough with an enormous rolling pin until it’s flat, flatter, flattest.

Pizza Antica, 800 Redwood Hwy., Mill Valley. 415.383.0600.

Pie Chart

Sonoma

Brick’s Tiny chic place with a great array of smart salads and an endless list of pizza variations. 16 Kentucky St., Petaluma (in the Lanmart Building). 707.766.8162.

I Love New York Pie Big, foldable, addictive slices the way they serve ’em on the East Coast. Sit-down, takeout and delivery. 65 Brookwood Ave., Santa Rosa, 707.526.9743.

La Vera Pizza Takeout available as well as pizza by the slice. 629 Fourth St., Santa Rosa. 707.575.1113.

Mary’s Pizza Shack Eat in, take out or receive delivery on the steaming pie from this well-loved local chain, carpeting all of Sonoma County, with one store each in Marin and Napa: 121 San Marin Drive, Novato, 415.897.6266; and 3085 Jefferson St., Napa, 707.257.3300. Too many Sonoma locations to note. www.maryspizzashack.com.

Mombo’s Pizza The crust is thin and the toppings eclectic. Delivery. 1800 Mendocino Ave., Santa Rosa. 707.528.FAST; and 560 Hwy. 116 N., Sebastopol (in the Fiesta Market center). 707.823.7492.

Old Chicago Pizza Deep dish from the windy city. Eat in or take out. 41 Petaluma Blvd. N., Petaluma. 707.763.3897.

Pinky’s Pizza Parlor This was a staple growing up. 321 Petaluma Blvd. S., Petaluma, 707.763.2510; 345 Third St., San Rafael, 415.453.3582.

The Red Grape New Haven&–style thin-crust pizzas. 529 First St. W., Sonoma. 707.996.4103.

Sal’s Bistro A nice neighborhood spot. 919 Lakeville Ave., Petaluma. 707.765.5900.

Marin

Amici’s East Coast Pizzeria Online and telephone ordering, plus they’ll even deliver home-style chicken soup. 1242 Fourth St., San Rafael. 415.455.9777.

Dario’s Pizza Restaurant Look for such as the Thursday “family” night special that wraps one large three-topping pizza, a salad and a six-pack of soda into a $21.99 price. 2829 Bridgeway Ave., Sausalito. 415.332.6636.

Ghiringhelli’s Calzones, special salads, hot hero sandwiches as well as an extensive list of pies. Delivery. 45 Broadway Blvd., Fairfax. 415.453.7472.

Lo Coco’s Pizzeria Offers partially baked pies, needing just five minutes or so in your oven. 638 San Anselmo Ave., San Anselmo, 415.453.1238; 631 Del Ganado Road, San Rafael, 415.472.3323.

Mulberry Street Pizzeria Winner of the Food Network’s “Pizza Battle.” Dine in or take out. 101 Smith Ranch Road, San Rafael. 415.472.7272.

Red Boy Pizza A Marin mini-chain, Red Boy pizza is hard-wired into the DNA of some Boho-ites. Several locations; yes, delivery. www.redboypizza.com.

Small Shed Flatbreads Innovative slate of cracker-thin pizzas, or “flatbreads.” Dough rolls available as takeout, as are “take-‘n’-bake” pies. 17 Madrona St., Mill Valley. 415.383.4200.

Napa

Fazerrati’s Pizza Great pie, cool brews, the game’s always on. Super place for post&–Little League. 1517 W. Imola Ave., Napa. 707.255.1188.

La Prima Pizza Everything from fish ‘n’ chips to steak sannys to a full slate of pizzas. Three locations: 1010 Adams St., St Helena, 707.963.7909; 1923 Lake St., Calistoga, 707.942.8070; 3070 Jefferson St., Napa, 707.253.7909.

Pizza Azzurro Run by a former Tra Vigne and Lark Creek Inn alum, the pizza is simple and thin, and ranks as some of the best in the North Bay. 1400 Second St., Napa. 707.255.5552.

Tuscany Firewood-fired pizzeria, Tuscan-style atmosphere. 1005 First St., Napa. 707.258.1000.

Quick dining snapshots by Bohemian staffers.

Winery news and reviews.

Food-related comings and goings, openings and closings, and other essays for those who love the kitchen and what it produces.

Recipes for food that you can actually make.

News Briefs

12.22.07

God Scrapped

After standing for 13 years behind a Petaluma building, a 12-foot-high sculpture by Swedish artist Carl Milles recently became unexpectedly mobile. Purchased for $21,000 in 1984, and now possibly worth more than $100,000, the piece is an authorized replica of Milles’ The Rainbow, depicting God standing on a rainbow, hanging stars in the sky. A few weeks ago, officials at Bibbero Systems Inc. discovered the sculpture was missing and offered a $10,000 reward. That prompted a call from a local landscaper designer, who says she bought the “scrap metal” for $200 at the Sebastopol flea market. “The base is a little bent where they pried it off and one star is bent on the God-figure’s elbow,” but repairs are possible says Bibbero vice president Don Buckley. Once the sculpture is refurbished, it will be installed in either the Sonoma or Tahoe home of company president Mike Buckley.

Guns be my Wife

Repeatedly quoting lyrics from Ian Hunter’s song “The Outsider” (“Death be my mistress, guns be my wife”), Jarvis Peay opens the November episode of his Napa Public Access TV program with images of guns, followed by video of three Napa police officers’ homes, giving the exact street address for each. City officials objected, and a Napa judge granted a temporary restraining order preventing Peay from going near the officers or publicizing the addresses. Peay couldn’t be reached for comment. Napa Public Access TV station manager Dan Monez, who is also a former Napa police chief whose own home was once featured on Peay’s program (but without the street address), says he couldn’t prohibit Peay from airing the episode showing the three officers’ homes. “I’m not allowed to exercise prior restraint,” Monez explains. “We’re a First Amendment venue.”

Mission Memories

The names of 28 Coast Miwok children baptized at Mission San Rafael Archangel on Dec. 14, 1817, will be read aloud in their native tongue at a celebration of the mission’s 190th anniversary. A mass will include the Lord’s Prayer recited in the Miwok language. This will be the first time that the Miwok have been leading participants in an official program on this mission site. “It’s so magical,” says Theresa Brunner McDonald, curator of the mission museum. “It brings alive a sense of our living history.” She adds, “The Coast Miwok were here already [when the mission fathers arrived]; this is their home.” The celebration begins at 4pm, Saturday, Dec. 15, St. Raphael’s Church, 104 Fifth Ave., San Rafael. For more details, call 415.454.8141.


Marvell’s Moves On

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12.22.07

I t was a rain-puddley morning last week at Marvell’s Cafe, where owners Don and Marvell Cox had just received a 30-day eviction notice after 16 years of serving up no-frills roadside grub to Santa Rosa’s working class. Regulars at the iconic restaurant, which earned a special mention in the Bohemian’s Best Of issue earlier this year, were outraged at the landlord’s proposed 280 percent rent increase, a burden that the restaurant’s historically low prices ($3.45 for a hamburger, $4.25 for a BLT) cannot bear. Opinions from the regulars, as ever, were slung over eggs and hash.

“What are they thinking?” exclaimed Ron, a truck driver with a salt-and-pepper beard. Ron said he discovered Marvell’s after searching high and low for “the little shacks, sometimes leaning or run-down, that say ‘Cafe.’ It’s always the best food,” he said. “It’s nice to see an egg being cracked onto a grill instead of being poured out of a carton. I hate that!”

Willie, a retired auto mechanic with a wiry beard and a black leather golf hat who’s been coming here for seven years, nodded in agreement. “I’ll tell you this about Marvell’s food, it’s consistent and good,” he said. “Meat and potatoes, bacon and eggs. It’s always wholesome, something to eat.”

Marvell, who’s been in the restaurant business ever since working at Santa Rosa’s Sunnyside Farms as a 17-year-old in the early 1950s, is looking for another location; she damns the idea of retiring to a life of yard work and sewing. “I don’t wanna get old!” she said, taking a break from the crossword puzzle. “It’s boring! We had three days off over Thanksgiving and we were bored to tears!”

From the back room, Don brought out a copy of Marvell’s cookbook. Twenty-eight of her hard-working recipes call for tuna; many others use basic staples like cream of mushroom soup, ketchup, American cheese and macaroni. “Each recipe serves four or five,” states the intro, “six if the children are small.” One of her personal favorites, tamale pie casserole, is larger and feeds 10 (“Or three truck drivers!” laughed Ron). Even if you can’t eat at her counter, you can still taste Marvell’s food.

Marvell’s Tamale Pie Casserole

1 pound hamburger

1 large chopped onion

1 c. yellow cornmeal

1 #2 can creamed corn

1 #2 1/2 can tomatoes

1 can pitted olives

1 c. milk

3 eggs, well beaten

1 tsp. Grandma’s Spanish pepper

2 tbsp. chili powder

salt and pepper to taste

Brown hamburger and onions. Add all other ingredients. Mix well. Bake at 350 for 1 1/2 to 2 hours.

Marvell’s Cafe is located on Barham Avenue, between Santa Rosa Avenue and Petaluma Hill Road, next to an auto shop and a dive bar. Its last day in business is Dec. 21.

Quick dining snapshots by Bohemian staffers.

Winery news and reviews.

Food-related comings and goings, openings and closings, and other essays for those who love the kitchen and what it produces.

Recipes for food that you can actually make.

Letters to the Editor

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Fast, Filling and Fabulous

12.22.07P izza. 'Za. PEET-suh.Whatever you call it, the word elicits a Pavlovian response, as few other foods so universally do. It's fast, filling and fabulous. So what better time to celebrate the beauty of pizza than the hectic holidays, when time is at such a premium and our bellies need filling with something seriously joy-inspiring?Here are a few of...

News Briefs

12.22.07 God ScrappedAfter standing for 13 years behind a Petaluma building, a 12-foot-high sculpture by Swedish artist Carl Milles recently became unexpectedly mobile. Purchased for $21,000 in 1984, and now possibly worth more than $100,000, the piece is an authorized replica of Milles' The Rainbow, depicting God standing on a rainbow, hanging stars in the sky. A few weeks ago,...

Marvell’s Moves On

12.22.07I t was a rain-puddley morning last week at Marvell's Cafe, where owners Don and Marvell Cox had just received a 30-day eviction notice after 16 years of serving up no-frills roadside grub to Santa Rosa's working class. Regulars at the iconic restaurant, which earned a special mention in the Bohemian's Best Of issue earlier this year, were...
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