Dear Avril

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July 18-24, 2007

Dear Avril, I bet your summer seems pretty craptastic, what with that old band the Rubinoos saying your hit “Girlfriend” stole from their 1979 song “I Wanna Be Your Boyfriend.” And then some Internet gossip columnist claims that the opening part to “I Don’t Have to Try” is a blatant copy of potty-mouthed, hairy-armpitted trash rapper Peaches’ song “I’m the Kinda.”

But don’t worry, chica–I got your back! Even if you did rip off the Rubinoos, you only ripped off the best five seconds of their best song, the part with the call-and-response “Hey! You! I wanna be your [boy-or-girl]-friend.” Like anyone still cared about the Rubinoos before this whole lawsuit came up, anyway. Those guys should be glad you ripped them off! And as far as Peaches goes, there are only so many 808 beats to go around. LOL!!

I’ve read your lyrics, and I believe that you did write them, because they could be a lot better. Like “I’m the one, I’m the one who’s got the prance / I’m the one, I’m the one who wears the pants,” from “I Don’t Have To Try.” Lame! Avril, if you wanna come off all badass, you can’t use words like “prance.”

You’ve got a good voice for teen pop and you have real spunk. But this whole brattiness-masquerading-as-girl-empowerment ruse just isn’t cutting it. And I have just the solution: Rip off more songs. The even cooler news is that they’re all by girls! Girls like you, but better.

All along you’ve had a mall-punk thing going on. How about some real punk, with a squealing teenage vocal about S&M? Then check out the X-Ray Spex’s 1978 rave-up “Oh Bondage, Up Yours!” The song functions on two levels–there’s that whole symbolic bondage of society, see–and we all know you’re into rebellion.

I noticed from the thank yous in the liner notes to your last album that you like to drink. But you never write songs about it. Hello, wasted opportunity! Everyone knows the best songs are about drinking. The Ohio band Scrawl are even less known than the Rubinoos, which is a shame, because no one sang about bad relationships and partying gone afoul with more poignancy and emotional bite than Scrawl.

Cue up the drunk-driving threat “Drunken Fool” for a crash course in (or reminder of, as it were) how dumb we can act when wasted. And pay attention to Marcy May’s crunchy guitar playing and lovably flawed singing. It might be only a matter of months before you get arrested for drunk driving anyway, so you might as well capitalize on the situation.

In the video to “Girlfriend,” you push around a nerd girl, which is all fine and good, but maybe it’s time for you to take the next step. Enter Loretta Lynn’s 1968 firecracker “Fist City,” in which Ms. Lynn threatens a trashy competitor for her man’s affections: “You better close your face and stay outta my way / If you don’t wanna go to fist city.” And in the video, you could actually beat up the nerd girl. I’d pay to see that.

When you’re not bossing your boyfriends around, they’re all shitty and cheating on you. Billie Holiday sang about both subjects with a sad-hearted authority. Listen to “Don’t Explain” for a model of a co-dependent love song (“Hush now, don’t explain / Just say you’ll remain / I’m glad you’re back, don’t explain”).

And speaking of bossing around boys, lend an ear to the Yeastie Girlz’ timeless cunnilingus anthem “You Suck.” Also venturing into the territory of girl bands that don’t shy away from singing the word “clit” is L7, who were sort of like a metal version of you, but with better dye jobs.

Your ballads need some work. They’re all sappy and clichéd and stuff. Look to the entire Rhino box set One Kiss Can Lead to Another: Girl Group Sounds for some bar-none delivery of sexual and emotional longing delivered with a heavy cloak of harmonies and knockoff “wall of sound” production. Like the Chiffons’ “Nobody Knows What’s Goin’ On (In My Mind But Me),” a powerful testament of misunderstood young love with a shooter of fuck-you. It’s mildly psychedelic and totally spellbinding, with a whirling arrangement of harp glissades and gauzy cocoons of echo. Might be a nice break from the dance-pop.

Your fan,
Sara

P.S.–George Harrison (he was one of the Beatles, another old group) got sued for plagiarizing the Chiffons’ biggest hit, “He’s So Fine,” in his own “My Sweet Lord.” Harrison lost the case, but he eventually wound up owning the rights to both songs. So let that be a lesson to you, though I’m not sure what the lesson is. Getting sued blows? Everything’s already been done, so what’s the point of creating anything in the first place? Well, whatever. LYLAS!


Boom and Busts

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July 18-24, 2007

‘The sound you are hearing is not a technical problem,” says underappreciated composer Jon (DC Dennis), addressing the members of the audience with amped-up anxiety as he explains the mysterious time-bomb sound that is tick-tick-ticking in the background. While there certainly were a few small technical problems on opening night of Summer Repertory Theatre’s Tick, Tick . . . Boom!, the conspicuous sound effect merely signifies Jon’s sense of impending doom as he nears his 30th birthday. The boom, metaphorically speaking, is the sound of the first-rate cast exploding onto the stage with passion and commitment, as if they have no idea they are all much better and stronger than the weak, underdeveloped material they are performing.

TTB is the autobiographical story of Larson’s own existential crisis as a not-yet-famous composer struggling with life and art; at the time he wrote this show, he was still five years away from the opening of the phenomenally popular Rent, and as is pointed out at the end of the show, he was never able to enjoy his success, as he died of an aneurysm the day before the show opened on Broadway.

Unfortunately, as written, TTB is pretty thin stuff, narrowly focused and annoyingly narcissistic. This is not a musical so much as it is a loosely connected showcase of Jonathon Larson songs. Some of those songs advance the story (what little there is of it), while several seem to have been dropped into the show primarily because it needed the padding. As it is, even with all the pleasant but pointless filler songs in place, the show runs a quick 90 minutes, staged without an intermission by director Johanna Pinzler.

There is certainly nothing wrong with plotless shows; on the contrary, SRT has done wonders this season with the Studs Terkel musical Working, and that show, inspired by Terkel’s oral histories, is little more than a series of interviews set to music. But what Working has that TTB doesn’t is a compelling core idea. Compared to the achingly real, battle-scarred pain expressed by Working‘s noble parade of waitresses, construction workers, policemen, housewives and factory drones, there is little to get worked up over in watching the overwrought angst of a smart, talented guy with a girlfriend who loves him and a family who supports him, moaning and groaning because he’s about to turn the big three-oh without having yet had a show run on Broadway.

That’s a crisis? Join the club, buddy.

In spite of these faults and in spite of the fact that TTB is not a great musical, I have to admit that I enjoyed this production solely because of the energy and passion of the cast and the tunefulness of Larson’s otherwise lyrically weak songs. As Jon, Dennis sings beautifully, plays the piano well and convincingly captures the uncertainty of the character, who after years of struggle with no measurable success, is still waiting tables and dodging the pressures of friends, family and lovers to grow up and stop dreaming.

As his sexy dancer girlfriend, Susan, Julie Marie Lewis is sensational, with a voice that knocks the stuffing out of most American Idol contestants. Like Jon, Susan is also an artist, but is willing to find ways to keep dancing while pursuing her dreams of a home and a family away from the manic-depressive environs of Broadway. Lewis, alternately tough and tender, nails the part, and especially shines in the post-curtain-call performance of Rent‘s “Seasons of Love.”

The rest of the cast is also fine. Nathan C. Crocker plays Jon’s upwardly mobile gay friend Michael, and you can tell from his first moments that he is carrying a major secret. Anastasia Gillaspie and Christopher Tocco, quick-changing through an assortment of characters, are frequently funny and vocally strong. The onstage band, directed by conductor Mark Nichols, are spot-on and high-energy throughout the show.

There certainly is drama to be drawn from the lives of artists struggling to make a mark in a world that keeps demanding they set aside their dreams in exchange for a regular paycheck, and at times, Tick, Tick . . . Boom! ventures into the general neighborhood of such drama. The reason to see the show, however, is not for the play itself, but for the performances. Think of it as a rock concert with a lost-in-the-’90s theme, and you may have a good time and leave the theater humming a pleasant tune. Sometimes, that’s enough.

Molière’s Learned Ladies, directed with grace and visual flair by Makaela Pollock, is a pleasant trifle about a French bourgeois household in which the woman of the house, Philaminte (an excellent Kate Thomsen), has turned the parlor into a university, bringing in the famous if foolish writer Trissotin (Haas Regen) to educate her daughters, Armande (Denice Burbach) and Henriette (Samantha Kaliswa Brewster). As one visitor comments, “Thinking is all this household thinks about!” and each of the daughters has responded differently to her rigorous intellectual training. Armande has embraced a life of the mind and, despite her beauty and attractiveness to numerous suitors, has pledged to pursue only platonic love. Henriette, however, has chosen to forswear further development of her mind, and has fallen in love with Armande’s former suitor, Clitandre (Chris Shea), who wants to marry her.

Meanwhile, Philaminte’s sister Belise (delightfully played by Erin Michelle Washington) is basically nuts, convinced that all men love her despite all evidence to the contrary, and Philaminte’s husband, Chrysale (Scott Raker), is desperately holding on to the illusion that he is the head of the household. Having agreed to let Henriette marry Clitandre, Chrysale must now convince Philaminte, who is set on marrying Henriette to the dowry-hungry Trissotin.

A special note should be made about the costumes, by Robyn Spencer-Crompton, who has designed a colorful lace confectionary of ruffles and cleavage-baring corsets that is as pleasing to see as Molière’s cleverly satirical language is to hear.

Told entirely in verse, The Learned Ladies takes place in Taming of the Shrew territory, with plenty of discussion of women’s proper place in the home. The best line is uttered by Martine (Madeline Harris), the kitchen maid, who exclaims, “The cock, not the hen, should be the one to crow,” with the double-entendre blatantly illustrated. The cast are superb, handling all the rhymes with natural ease, playing the comedy broadly but still revealing the real humans hurting or hoping beneath the well-constructed silliness.

‘Tick, Tick . . . Boom!’ runs through Aug. 9. July 19-21 and 31 and Aug. 1, 7 and 9 at 8pm; July 22 and 29 at 7:30pm; also, July 22, 29 and Aug. 1 at 2pm. Burbank Auditorium, SRJC, 1501 Mendocino Ave., Santa Rosa. $8-$20. ‘The Learned Ladies’ runs through Aug. 7. July 19-21 and 31, Aug. 1 and 7 at 8pm; July 22 and 29 at 7:30pm; also July 22, 29 and Aug. 1 at 2pm. $8-$15. Newman Auditorium, Santa Rosa Junior College, 1501 Mendocino Ave., Santa Rosa. 707.527.4343.


Museums and gallery notes.

Reviews of new book releases.

Reviews and previews of new plays, operas and symphony performances.

Reviews and previews of new dance performances and events.

Open Mic

July 18-24, 2007

More people vote for American Idol than cast ballots in the last U.S. presidential election. And now we’re facing a mind-numbing battalion of pontificating candidates standing behind podiums in their sincere navy suits and red power ties. More than 15 months of campaign activities, commercials and mud-slinging mailers sprawl ominously in front of us like a psychotic nightmare.

Other countries impose strict limits on campaign lengths and tactics. Japanese candidates are allowed one campaign car, a small amount of posters and other printed materials, and a limited number of government-financed commercials or television appearances for a campaign lasting only 12 days. In Canada, the longest national election campaign was 74 days in 1926; the 2006 campaign was 55 days.

But that would never fly in the United States. For one thing, too much money is generated by the three-ring circus that is our presidential election process. Endless speculation about candidates jockeying for position and reports on rampant rumors easily fill empty airtime for news shows, providing employment for long-winded pundits. And a lot of people and corporations make big bucks from slick television commercials and glossy bulk-mail materials. They’re not going to give up that golden goose–unless they’re given an equally lucrative substitute.

It should be considered cruel and inhumane to hold televised presidential debates more than a year before the election and expect anyone except political junkies and masochists to pay attention–particularly since our collective attention span seems to be getting shorter and shorter.

So let’s go with the flow, follow the trend and turn the presidential campaign into a reality TV show.

This is the only logical answer. Americans love to watch, root for and jeer the competitors on American Idol, Survivor or any of the other multitude of shows that show real people doing really stupid things. So let’s give the people what they want. Gather all the hopeful candidates in one location. Let the cameras run 24/7 and then condense hours of action (or inaction) into an entertaining one-hour presentation.

A lot more people will watch than ever tune into the staged debates. And we’ll learn so much more.

What does each candidate look like in the morning? Late at night? Hung over? Who hits the booze too hard, and who can’t go a few weeks without sneaking bimbos into the would-be president’s crib? Do the Bible-thumping conservatives actually read the Good Book and pray, or is that all window dressing?

We’ll get a lot more accurate answers from the 24/7 all-seeing cameras than we ever did from meticulously organized debates.

Let’s take a page from Fear Factor and see who gags at eating a bit of raw crow. Follow the America’s Next Top Model format and put the candidates through their fashion paces, finding out who has what it takes to always look good under pressure. Use the Apprentice approach to determine which potential president can raise the most money–and watch exactly how they do it, instead of letting such deals be made privately. Set up team projects to see if they can work well with others. Offer immunity challenges, and find out just how tenacious they really are.

It would be a lot more fun and informative to watch Presidential Survivor instead of the traditional staged debates, and a lot less time-consuming than having to read in-depth articles or listen to charges and countercharges, rumors and counter-rumors on the news programs.

Being a participant in this reality show couldn’t be any worse than the current situation where candidates’ lives are thrust under a spotlight and if no flaws are found, then opponents manufacture some.

We could still have an election. The show would simply weed out potential candidates, leaving us with two, three or even four to choose from at the ballot box. This might make alternative political parties more viable, giving us more choices. And everything could be timed so there’s only a certain amount of campaigning time left between the final episode and election day.

There would still be television commercials, but they would be aimed at touting the program, not supporting or bashing a particular candidate. Think of all the embarrassing moments and humorous gaffes that could be captured by the cameras and flashed onscreen over and over as teasers for an upcoming episode.

Plus, think how much corporations would pay for commercial airtime during the show. We’d all watch; the advertisers would pay the bills. It would be true campaign-finance reform.

Presidential Survivor could well be a uniquely American election solution. It’s exactly what we deserve.

The Byrne Report returns Aug. 1.


News of the Food

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July 18-24, 2007

Highlighting the plight of our ocean’s resources in the most delicious way, the Slow Food Russian River chapter holds its second annual Sustainable Seafood Salon and Feast on Sunday, July 29, in Bodega Bay. Mixing education with pleasure, the day includes an afternoon panel on the state of sustainable fisheries from the perspectives of an ecologist, chef, biologist, Native American tradition, business and even the kitchen. Speakers include Davis prof Susan L. Williams, Monterey Bay Aquarium’s Sheila Bowman, Native American author Jacquelyn Ross, oyster farmer Kevin Lunny, Bon Appetit chef Joe McGarry, Barndiva owner Jil Hales and Brock Dolman of the OAEC. Far be it for the stomach to go untended: panel attendees will enjoy sustainable seafood and wine pairings. The panel is followed at 6pm by a special feast at the nearby locavore kingdom of the Seaweed Cafe.

Panel, at the UC Davis Bodega Marine Lab, 2099 Westside Road, Bodega Bay, from 1pm to 4:30pm; $10. Feast, at the Seaweed Cafe, 1580 East Shore Drive, Bodega Bay, at 6pm; $125 ($50 is tax deductible). For details and tickets, go to www.slowfoodrr.org or call 707.824.8448.

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.

Such Problems

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music & nightlife |

By Gabe Meline

Cavorting among the perfectly coiffed and expensively dressed elite in the Napa Valley is not something I generally make a habit of, though with another year of attracting world-class talent to its credit, the Festival Del Sole may make a pearl-twirling debutante of me yet. Last year, it was lyric soprano Renee Fleming who inspired the winding, precipitous Trinity Road drive into Yountville, and though she called in sick at the last minute, Fleming’s fill-in, Christine Brewer, appeared ably up for the task. Strauss’ Don Juan was an extra bonus, but the real treat of the evening was cellist (and Festival Del Sole artistic director) Nina Kotova, undertaking Dvorák’s Cello Concerto with all the fire and determination of a daredevil matador–in a stunning red dress, I should add. (When you go to gala affairs, you take note of things like stunning red dresses.)

It’s Festival Del Sole time again, and red dresses both stunning and otherwise will flock to the breathtaking Lincoln Theater for the likes of flutist extraordinaire James Galway; conductor (and son of Sophia Loren) Carlo Ponti Jr.; and PBS staple Joshua Bell. (In an endearing experiment, Bell played on the streets of Washington, D.C., earlier this year. A 45-minute performance at a subway station yielded $32.17 in change, dumped into the violin case of his $4 million Stradivarius.) But as for me, I’ve got my Napa Valley chips on Jean-Yves Thibaudet.

An openly gay French pianist who commissions his concert attire from post-punk designer Vivienne Westwood, Thibaudet is noted mostly for his recordings of impressionist composers such as Debussy and Ravel; it’s no surprise, then, that he has also dabbled in the work of jazz pianist Bill Evans and completed an exhaustive five-CD set of underperformed Erik Satie compositions. His latest recording, Aria–Opera Without Words, transcribes some of his personal favorite arias and overtures for the piano. “I don’t have a voice, and I will never sing, because I am not a singer,” Thibaudet has remarked, “but it was really the love of the human voice and the opera repertoire that made me do the project.”

Opera has been transformed into a variety of muted (and mutated) forms, and robbing it of its libretto is risky business. Luckily for us, Thibaudet’s love of the human voice translates not only into a fine recording, but also into what will surely be a lovely night out for Napa’s finest with the Versace gown, the Vuitton heels and the lingering hint of caviar on the breath.

Jean-Yves Thibaudet performs on Friday, July 20, at the Lincoln Theater, 100 California Drive, Yountville. Tickets $45-$125. For more info and full schedule, visit www.festivaldelsole.com.




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Letters to the Editor

July 18-24, 2007

Disaster district

(“Hitting the Funding Vein,” July 11) quite rightly notes that syringe-exchange programs (SEPs) are gaining wider support in the fight against HIV/AIDS.

But Hahn’s characterization of SEP spending in the District of Columbia missed an essential point. Hahn wrote that “Washington, D.C., may relax its longtime ban on public money for exchange programs.” In fact, the ban on spending locally raised tax dollars on SEPs in the District was imposed by Congress in 1998 over the continuing objections of the city’s elected leaders.

Certain members in the House of Representatives attached the spending ban to a D.C. appropriations bill, guaranteeing that the city with the highest HIV/AIDS rates in the country couldn’t use its own local funds on one proven strategy for fighting the spread of the disease.

This tragic result occurred because D.C.’s nearly 600,000 residents have no vote in the House or the Senate. Instead, representatives elected by people who have never set foot in the nation’s capital have oversight of the city’s budget. Congress can even veto any legislation passed by the D.C. Council addressing purely local D.C. matters.

Fortunately, the tide is turning in the district, both in the battle against HIV/AIDS and on democracy in general. House legislation that would repeal the congressionally imposed SEP spending ban passed June 28. A bill to give District residents one vote in the House of Representatives also cleared the House this summer and is now being considered by the Senate.

Walter Smith, executive director, DC Appleseed Center, Washington, D.C.

Do they sell their sausages?

Avid reader here. I don’t know the name of the author of (“Music, Mayhem and Meat” by Amanda Yskamp, June 6), but I felt it was outstanding and worth some feedback.

Man! If every article were as articulate, interesting and entertaining as that Cat article, I’d read more articles and not remain a book addict. Seriously, I’m not related to the author, I’m just a simple and thoroughly impressed subscriber wondering why she isn’t writing for Rolling Stone?

Also, would love to read more about that band Stiff Dead Cat, because those are the people-oriented articles that bohemians love to read about. And what interesting fellas! (By the way–I’m not related to any of them, either.)

Do they sell their sausages?

Wendi Tibbets, San Jose

Latest model in bamboozle

The article by Stett Holbrook (July 11) has overextended its stay. The belief in Bigfoot has the same credibility as the existence of “compassionate conservatism.” Both are totally unreal and, as your article explained about Bigfoot, very lucrative–the latest model in bamboozle. So why is the Bigfoot phenomenon greeted within the realm of plausibility? The answer is the mainstream media. The article’s title itself is self-explanatory. There’s money to be made in publishing and in films. The very idea of Tom Biscardi’s organization pursuing Bigfoot is self-explanatory; it’s his nationwide cottage industry.

But regardless of the players in the game and the layers of deception, one demand has not been made, a demand that true Americans make when confronting dilemmas and mysteries: “I’m from Missouri. Show me!” After thousands of years of Bigfoot sightings, not one of its toes has been found, let alone a live one captured and exhibited in public. It took six years for Americans to get over with compassionate conservatism; it’s time for the rest of us to get over with Bigfoot.

Armando Gomez, Santa Rosa

Some Coffee Pots Were Dropped

Nothing new about Bigfoot. Not a new species, either. Nor are they animals like Biscardi claims. Nor are there only 3,500. They are highly intelligent, interdimensional people that number in the millions in the U.S. alone. Benevolent, cautious, curious, polite, easily frightened spirit people who are eager to make new friends. They were studied at UC Berkeley by Stephen Hawking and others during his sabbatical there in ’74-’75. Two were held in captivity at Lawrence Livermore National Lab in the ’60s. Both escaped by outwitting their captors, by changing dimensions in their holding cell, thus leaving them to believe that they had escaped. When the janitor came into clean up, the creatures glided right by him in another dimension and were then loose in the facility for several weeks. Nobody was hurt. Some coffee pots were dropped. Both eventually left the building.

George Plaut, San Jose


The Write Stuff

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music & nightlife |

Just call him ‘Mac’:Hiatt credits the computer with changing his songwriting craft.

By Bruce Robinson

Who says an aging dog can’t learn new tricks? After writing hundreds of songs, crafting 17 albums, enduring decades of touring and hearing countless covers of his compositions (including two separate tribute anthologies), John Hiatt, at 55, has embraced a new process for his songwriting.

“About four months ago, I stopped writing by hand on yellow legal pads,” he explains by phone from his new home studio at a ranch outside Nashville. “I got glasses and I started writing on a word processor. It’s amazing.

“I resisted the change for so damn long,” he mutters, half to himself. “I had cheap reading glasses, but I was always losing ’em, so half the time I couldn’t see. And when I was writing on the legal pads, I couldn’t read my own damn handwriting. It was so bad. And then I would make changes, scribble and cross shit out, and by the end of the process, I couldn’t even read what I’d written half the damn time. So, I got a little 12-inch Mac and I just started writing on the word program in the Mac, and the songs started coming.

“It’s revolutionized my songwriting.”

That’s a remarkable statement coming from a man whose first commercially successful song, “Sure As I’m Sittin’ Here,” was carried into the Top 20 by Three Dog Night back in 1974. Over the intervening years, his songs have been recorded by, among others, a host of such notable songwriters as Willie Nelson, Rodney Crowell, Nick Lowe, Roseanne Cash and the artist formerly known as Bobby Zimmerman.

“There’s been a lot of nice versions of my tunes, and I’m always flattered,” Hiatt says. “Some stand out. I was certainly honored to have Willie Nelson cut a song. Emmylou Harris did a real nice version of ‘Icy Blue Heart.’ Bonnie Raitt, of course. Buddy Guy did ‘Feels Like Rain.’ I was real flattered by that. B. B. King and Eric Clapton doing ‘Riding with the King’ was quite a thrill. There’s been a bunch that really tickled me.”

But asked if he has his own favorites from the extensive Hiatt catalogue, he immediately replies, “Oh, no. I like ’em all for one level or another.”

Hiatt began writing at the ripe old age of 11, shortly after getting his first guitar, and never stopped. Even so, he finds his own creative process somewhat mysterious. “I get surprised a lot by what gets written, because I hardly ever know what the hell is going on in the process,” he chuckles. “It’s strange how it works. I get surprised and delighted, and that’s what keeps me coming back.”

Now, with a new batch of material emerging, “I’m gonna be starting a record in a couple of weeks–or whatever they call ’em these days,” he says. “Gonna do some recording, let’s put it that way.”

That process, too, will be different this time. “I’ve been collecting gear for years and I finally set it up in what used to be my office/race car shop, so I’m going to be recording out at the farm here,” he says. “There’s not going to be any producers involved, or even any engineers. We’re just kinda winging it.”

But first there’s a series of summer concerts to perform, a modest solo acoustic tour co-billed with singer-songwriter Shawn Colvin that stops off at Santa Rosa’s Wells Fargo Center on July 27. “We just did some shows last year and had a great time, so we’re gonna do it again,” Hiatt explains. He waits a beat. “We’re single-handedly bringing back folk music.”

But Hiatt knows the itch to rock out will return, too, and he’s been playing his songs both ways since his teens. “I’ve been doing it back and forth, between solo and the band, for so long I really don’t make the distinction between the two,” he reflects. “The difference, I guess, is that playing solo, my repertoire expands. When you have a band out, you pretty much can only play what they know. The nice thing about coming out solo is that I can play a lot more stuff, different stuff every night, and I know all my songs. At least if I brush up on them, I do.

“The trade off is, you don’t have the interplay with the other musicians. But then, I get all the spotlight, so it’s not so bad.”

John Hiatt joins Shawn Colvin on Friday, July 27, at the Wells Fargo Center. 50 Mark West Springs Road, Santa Rosa. $35–$60. 8pm. 707.546.3600.




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Euro Vision

July 18-24, 2007

Toward the end, after he’d become a national joke, Errol Flynn commented that he’d wanted people to take him seriously, even if he’d never given them a reason to do so. Sienna Miller’s Katya in the new film Interview has the same problem. As star of Killer Body IV and TV’s City Girls, Katya doesn’t need a last name and is better known for her liaisons and her boob-reduction surgery than for her acting.

The Interview of this indie-film’s title is Katya’s long, up-close and personal session with dour and hard-drinking Newsworld magazine journalist Pierre Peders (a dick by any other name–and twice in this case). The film’s director, Steve Buscemi, plays him, with glasses on and with a gruff, cut-the-crap-sister take on his evening with the famous lady.

The interview begins in a restaurant but soon moves to Katya’s apartment after the starlet accidentally injures the journalist. Internal and external scarring, and a taste for too much bourbon, complicates the game between hunter and quarry inside Katya’s vast loft. Meanwhile, her cell phone keeps whimpering all night long–literally, since she put a whining puppy’s voice on her ring tone.

There’s something interesting going on here, and it’s the bigger background, not what they’re discussing. Pierre is a bitter ex-foreign correspondent busted down to the celebrity beat; from one angle, he’s a casualty of the trend away from hard news and toward fluff. But the specifics of this particular dance don’t have much believability to them; the unscrupulousness is too thick even for celebrity journalism. (They have lawyers and they have handlers, so where’s the photographer?)

We’re supposed to accept his lack of professionalism and his refusal to have tried to find out a little something about her before the interview begins. But one’s sympathy goes to Katya and stays there: she’s an imposed-upon hostess. Once you’re in your own home, being bothered by a guest, can’t you tell any lie about yourself that you please?

In a really equilateral movie, the balance between these two–the glamorous non-actress and the bruised, angry hack–would seem just about even. It tries to stay even with a matched set of lines: “I don’t fuck celebrities.” “I don’t fuck nobodies.” Interview insists that in every relationship–even in every interview–there’s a winner and a loser. I won’t argue the point, even though the journalists I care about work very hard to be symbiotes instead of parasites.

Maybe I’m focusing too hard on the specifics of this battle of wills, and that it’s supposed to be about all men and all women. Even so, this contest is too one-sided for continued interest. It’s clear where the chips will fall. And Interview also makes clear the division between a movie and what is essentially a filmed play. Compared to the limitless scope of a film, we know the action in Interview can’t leave, that the two characters have to stay until they kill each other, fall sobbing into each other’s arms or get naked. And wouldn’t you know it, Buscemi is the one who ends up baring his chest.

Buscemi shows his class as actor, his “funny-looking” man’s dignity, his comedy within drama. He is among the best we have, and it’s his presence that redeems this remake of a film by the martyred Dutch director Theo van Gogh. Known as the “Triple Theo,” a triptych of American remakes of van Gogh’s films is underway, Interview being the first, a project the director planned to undertake before his assassination in 2004.

Miller, whose fault Factory Girl wasn’t, is rising fast; she’s easy on the eyes with her tattooed shoulders and a surfer-girl, grown-out-blonde dye job. She has too much firepower for the role of Katya. No one would ever confuse an actor of Miller’s quality with a slasher-movie flooze.

‘Interview’ opens on Friday, July 20, at the Century CineArts at Sequoia, 24 Throckmorton Ave., Mill Valley. 415.388.4862.


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What Women Want

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July 18-24, 2007


Since the 1980s, the wine industry has become an increasingly bright and hospitable place for a woman to make a living, and on June 23 in downtown San Francisco, hundreds of women and even several men gathered at the Four Seasons Hotel to celebrate the promising future of women and wine.

Hosted by Women for WineSense, a national 12-chapter organization founded in 1990, the event took the name of “Wines Women Want,” and for a man, it was a good place to spend the day. Women swarmed. They tasted wine, congratulated one another on various achievements, gossiped and exchanged rumors like there wasn’t a fellow in the house.

In fact, I feel it’s my duty to warn the captains of the industry that these women are plotting big things for the future. Among several morning seminars was a panel discussion in which five women moguls in various fields told personal success stories and advised the mostly female audience on political ploys and tactics for power-grabbing. Jacki Covello, a young face of success who in 10 years ascended from sweet young naiveté to a tier of power as a high-ranking New York City wine sales professional, bravely flaunted her philosophy of kissing ass when mingling with crowds of wine biz leaders.

“It’s all about networking,” she said. “Say hi to everyone you can, get their cards, send thank you notes–and make sure they know who you are.”

Out in the lobby, I warily traded business cards with a handful of the women. Oh sure, they smiled and firmly shook my hand, and several audaciously stated that it was “nice” to meet me–the words of cunning politicians if I ever heard them.

Dr. Ann Noble, a sensory scientist and flavor chemist at UC Davis, hosted another morning seminar. For an hour she tutored us in the art of mentally connecting wine aromas and flavors to our vocabulary. In the course of the session, I was nearly devastated to learn that the illustrious wine aroma wheel was not invented by a man, but by Noble herself, who engineered this handy circle of descriptors in 1990.

An awards ceremony followed, at which four women received distinction as rising stars in the wine industry. Petaluma author, journalist and television host Leslie Sbrocco took the Northern California honor. Author of Wine for Women, Sbrocco joked that she had tentative plans for a new book. “I’d like to write one called Men Who Whine, but I don’t have time to write a book that large.”

Carol Meredith, a retired professor of viticulture and enology at UC Davis, won the Lifetime Achievement Award. Among other things, Meredith has helped to discover the origins of Zinfandel and other grape varietals. And then there was Margrit Mondavi, that truly charming and vivacious bundle of energy. She was inducted into the Women for WineSense Hall of Fame, and allies of the Mondavi family took to the podium and spoke gracious words while Mondavi received it all with smiles, jokes and theatrical body postures before the kind compliments at last reduced the matriarch to tears.

Lunchtime arrived, and we made for the grand ballroom and found four food stations and scores of winetasting tables. The featured wineries had all received medals at the first ever National Women’s Wine Competition in March. I focused on a series of sweet fruit wines from Adams Point Winery in Berkeley. These were women’s wines–or so you’d think–but as I daintily sipped my mango dessert wine, women to the left, right and center filled up on big Zins and Cabs, and piled their plates high with intimidating portions of beef. They bantered conspiratorially, exchanged cards and discussed market trends. They ate more meat and poured still more wine and went out to the balcony to gnaw on cigars. I trembled. I’ve never seen so many women, all of them smiling so easily as they plotted their routes of attack into the 21st century and deeper into the world of wine and men.

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News Briefs

July 18-24, 2007

Making news

Covering a Napa County brush fire on Wednesday, July 11, turned out to be anything but routine for ABC 7 news reporter Wayne Freedman and photographer Craig Southern. Their television station has filed an official citizen’s complaint against two Napa County Sheriff’s deputies who confiscated Southern’s TV camera, broke Freedman’s cell phone when he tried to use it to videotape their actions, and handcuffed both men and detained them in the back of a squad car for 15 minutes. No charges were filed, and Freedman and Southern were released after Napa County Sheriff’s Capt. Gene Lyerla arrived on the scene.

Southern began filming as soon as they arrived at the fire, meaning that the station has a recording of the initial encounter, says ABC 7 news director Kevin Keeshan. “It was 43 seconds from the time our reporter and photographer got out of their vehicle to the time one of the deputies starts trying to wrestle Craig’s camera away from him.”

With a few exceptions, state law allows the media access to disaster scenes. Keeshan says that when emergency personnel think a news crew shouldn’t be in a certain area, usually there’s a discussion about what is or isn’t allowed. In this case, Keeshan says, that never happened. In less than 60 seconds the deputies went from “code green to code red,” he asserts. “While there may be disagreements about where we should and should not go, never have our employees been handcuffed and put in the back of squad car.” He adds emphatically, “We had a legal right to be where we were.”

In his blog, Freedman acknowledges that after the deputy slapped the cell phone out of his hand, surprise prompted Freedman to call the deputy by “an unflattering description” and later he added “a few more choice words.”

Napa County sheriff Doug Koford and Napa County risk manager Kerry Whitney met with Keeshan and the station’s manager on Friday, July 13. Also present was Napa County Sheriff’s Department captain John Robertson, who says that after the July 11 incident, county personal were sent a memo outlining the specific state law governing media access and asking employees to report any unprofessional behavior by media representatives. An internal investigation of the incident is underway and should be completed within 21 days, Robertson says. He adds that the Napa County Sheriff’s Department has always had extremely good relationships with all media sources–local, Bay Area and nationwide. “We depend on the media to assist us in all kinds of public safety matters.”


Dear Avril

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Boom and Busts

July 18-24, 2007 'The sound you are hearing is not a technical problem," says underappreciated composer Jon (DC Dennis), addressing the members of the audience with amped-up anxiety as he explains the mysterious time-bomb sound that is tick-tick-ticking in the background. While there certainly were a few small technical problems on opening night of Summer Repertory Theatre's Tick, Tick ....

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July 18-24, 2007 More people vote for American Idol than cast ballots in the last U.S. presidential election. And now we're facing a mind-numbing battalion of pontificating candidates standing behind podiums in their sincere navy suits and red power ties. More than 15 months of campaign activities, commercials and mud-slinging mailers sprawl ominously in front of us like a psychotic...

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July 18-24, 2007 Toward the end, after he'd become a national joke, Errol Flynn commented that he'd wanted people to take him seriously, even if he'd never given them a reason to do so. Sienna Miller's Katya in the new film Interview has the same problem. As star of Killer Body IV and TV's City Girls, Katya doesn't need a...

What Women Want

July 18-24, 2007Since the 1980s, the wine industry has become an increasingly bright and hospitable place for a woman to make a living, and on June 23 in downtown San Francisco, hundreds of women and even several men gathered at the Four Seasons Hotel to celebrate the promising future of women and wine.Hosted by Women for WineSense, a national...

News Briefs

July 18-24, 2007 Making newsCovering a Napa County brush fire on Wednesday, July 11, turned out to be anything but routine for ABC 7 news reporter Wayne Freedman and photographer Craig Southern. Their television station has filed an official citizen's complaint against two Napa County Sheriff's deputies who confiscated Southern's TV camera, broke Freedman's cell phone when he tried to...
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