Manic Street Preachers

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Glamour Pusses: The glam-punk legend of the Manic Street Preachers lives on.

Holy Relic

Manic Street Preachers’ hard-rock sermon

By Greg Cahill

There’s an old adage that goes something like this: If you have to choose between the truth and the legend, go with the legend. The Manic Street Preachers, who crawled out of a Welsh working-class town with plenty of defiant spit and fire to become the darlings of the British rock press in the early ’90s, left behind lots of interesting music and one helluva legend. And that’s the simple truth.

Now Sony/Legacy has released a deluxe 10th anniversary edition of the band’s 1994 album, The Holy Bible, a three-CD set that should take that legend to a new level. The lavish reissue features a digitally remastered version of the original album with four live bonus tracks; the previously unreleased U.S. mix of that original material, plus five bonus tracks (including two demos) and three radio session tracks; and a DVD containing six U.K. TV performances, four U.K. festival performances, two full-length music videos and a new 30-minute interview with the remaining band members discussing The Holy Bible.

The press used to liken the Manic Street Preachers to the Sex Pistols and the Clash, and the band did display lots of fiery energy. You could hear it on their 1992 debut album, Generation Terrorists (the Manics said at the time that any band with integrity should release just one album and then break up). But the band was a long way from the stripped-down hardcore punk of the Pistols or the Clash. In fact, there’s a strong glammed-up Queen influence to The Holy Bible, and occasionally shades of a big-hair Ian Gillian thing creeps into the songs.

The All Music Guide even compares the Manic Street Preachers to Nirvana, Oasis and Pearl Jam, but these songs exhibit none of the self-conscious ’90s sonic wash that marked those modern-rock bands. Instrumentally, the band is more Rush than Radiohead.

The appeal of the Manic Street Preachers at the time of the album’s initial release was that the band had nothing in common with the navel-gazing tripsters lighting up the Manchester scene, the Beatlesque pop of Oasis or just about anyone else in the U.K. To hear them now is to appreciate just how handily the Manic Street Preachers recycled the music they heard growing up and parlayed it into a unique sound while managing to build a legend that still looms large.

Most of that legend centers around the self-destructive antics of rhythm guitarist and songwriter Richey Edwards, an anorexic, depressed alcoholic capable of shock tactics worthy of ill-fated Sex Pistols bassist Sid Vicious (which may help explain the constant references to the Pistols in the British press). In 1991, during an interview with the British rock magazine NME, and after the interviewer questioned the band’s authenticity, Edwards carved “4 REAL” into his forearm with a razor blade.

But the band’s subsequent claim to fame was its 1992 Top 10 hit single “Theme from M*A*S*H (Suicide Is Painless),” which was backed by a cover of the Fatima Mansions’ “Everything I Do (I Do It for You).” The follow-up, “Little Baby Nothing,” featured a guest vocal by former teen porn star Traci Lords, backed with “Suicide Alley.” Then came the 12-inch dance single “From Despair to Where” backed with “Spectators of Suicide.”

Do you spot a trend?

In 1994, Edwards and his penchant for self-mutilation made headlines again when, at a Bangkok concert, he slashed his chest onstage with knives provided by a fan. So it’s no surprise that The Holy Bible is a troubling manifesto filled with stark and bleak lyrics. What is surprising, and not always immediately apparent beneath its hard-rock veneer, is just how incredibly intelligent the lyrics are. Such songs as “Of Walking Abortion” and “She Is Suffering” lay bare society’s shallow obsession with beauty and power, wealth and fame.

And the Manic Street Preachers never hesitated to tell fans to think for themselves.

“Do not listen to a word I say,” Edwards sings in the easy rocking “This Is Yesterday,” “just listen to what I keep silent.”

In the end, Edwards practiced what he preached: in 1995, just weeks after the release of The Holy Bible, he stepped out of a London hotel room and disappeared forever. The police found his empty car parked on a nearby bridge, a favorite suicide spot. His record company cancelled plans to release the album in the United States.

A decade later, the legend lives.

From the March 16-22, 2005 issue of the North Bay Bohemian.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Burst.com

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Photograph by Rory McNamara

Giant Slayer: Burst.com CEO Richard Lang, seen here in the darker moments before Microsoft made a $60 million settlement with his firm.

Paradigm Lost, Paradigm Found

Santa Rosa streaming media company Burst.com battles the Microsoft octopus and comes out on top

By R. V. Scheide

Microsoft wants to be in your face–everybody’s face. Capturing more than 90 percent of the desktop operating system market with Windows is evidently not enough. Founder, chairman of the board and chief software architect Bill Gates–whose own net worth, if all things hold equal, will exceed $1 trillion by 2019, according to some calculations–appears to settle for nothing less than total domination of the technology sector. Windows is the octopus that Microsoft executives use to “embrace, extend and extinguish” all other technological life forms that get in its way.

When Netscape debuted the first Web browser available to the public in 1994, that octopus was caught napping. Once awakened, however, Microsoft quickly moved to smother its nascent competitor, extending its Explorer browser into the Windows operating system and seizing the Internet space as its own.

And when Progressive Networks (now known as RealNetworks) launched the first digital media player in 1996, Microsoft once again slithered onto the scene, its far-ranging tentacles embracing, extending and slowly attempting to extinguish Real and other perceived threats in the streaming-media space. The release of Corona in December 2001, the software juggernaut’s “third generation streaming media platform,” might have put the last, deadly squeeze on the competition.

However, there was one slight hang-up. As the details of Corona (later renamed Window Media Series 9) were revealed in the coming weeks, they sounded all too familiar to Richard Lang, CEO and founder of Burst.com, a streaming media company. That’s because Lang and his colleagues had spent the better part of the previous two years sharing their streaming media technology with Microsoft in order to persuade it to license Burst’s software. Microsoft signed a nondisclosure agreement not to reveal any of Burst’s trade secrets, but after 18 months of meetings, it abruptly broke off licensing negotiations.

Then, Lang claims, it hijacked Burst’s technology.

“All of the new and distinguishing features that define Corona are Burst technology,” Lang alleges from his company’s small but tidy downtown Santa Rosa office. Here, he and Burst’s two remaining employees have waited as their lawsuit charging Microsoft with antitrust violations, breach of contract, restraint of trade and patent infringement grinds through federal court. Like the moray eel, the natural enemy of the octopus, Burst took a bite and refused to let go. Last week, its tenacity paid off.

Faced with a pretrial hearing to determine whether it had purposely destroyed e-mails relating to not only the Burst case, but to litigations stretching back to 1994, Microsoft agreed on Thursday, March 10, to license Burst’s patents for a one-time fee of $60 million.

For Lang, 51, a compact, wiry man with streaks of white in his close-cropped dark hair and the focused intensity of a Formula One driver, it’s been one heck of a ride. Since 1987, he’s been perfecting and patenting his own distinct streaming-media system–even way back then, he was calling it a “new paradigm”–and now his company’s hard work is about to pay off. The exact details of the settlement remain to be worked out, but Lang can’t help but feel vindicated.

“The reality is, it’s just a rounding error to them,” he says. “We’re like a plumber that comes to your house to fix your pipes. All we want is to get paid.”

Pipe Dreams

When used in a technical or scientific setting, the word “paradigm” refers to the accepted theoretical framework of a given process. For example, back in the 1970s, almost all telephones plugged into the wall. With the advent of cell phones came a new paradigm.

To understand what Richard Lang means when he talks about a new paradigm in digital audio and video delivery, plumbing provides as apt an analogy as any. It’s common nowadays to refer to one’s connection to the Internet as a “pipe.” Data flows like water from Internet providers to clients through this pipe. The bigger the opening in the pipe, the more data can move through it.

But back in the 1980s, when Lang first conceived of his new paradigm, the Internet as it is known today was still mostly a pipe dream. Lang worked in the world of videotape, where he co-patented the first dual-deck video cassette player in 1983. Four years later, he met Lisa Walters, his future wife, and they went into the video production and distribution business. They originally planned to set up kiosks to sell children’s and documentary videos in bookstores across the country, but quickly ran into a problem: no one was very interested in providing precious floor space to hawk somebody else’s product.

By the late 1980s, Lang says it had become clear that advances in digital technology would soon render magnetic videotape obsolete anyway. While no one at the time was certain exactly how digital video would be distributed, broadcasting was the dominant paradigm. The idea most people were exploring, Lang says, “was to extend TV over the Internet.” But he had a different idea.”I wasn’t thinking of playing it over a network like a TV show,” he says. “Because I came from the world of VCRs and video cassettes, I wanted to deliver the video over the network like a package, and I devised the apparatus and the method to do that.”

Lang, who calls himself an “inventrepreneur,” is a classic ideas man. He has a communications degree and a foreign-language minor, but doesn’t know a lick of computer code. “You don’t have to know code to be able to implement ideas,” he says. Instead, he utilized the expertise of two groups, software engineers and patent attorneys, to develop his concept.

In the old broadcast paradigm, digitized video and audio files flow through the Internet pipe in “real time” in much the same way that television and radio are coded, transmitted over airwaves, and then decoded by a radio or a television receiver. For example, a 30-minute video clip “streams” from a special server through the pipe for 30 minutes, attempting to keep a small storage space on the desktop known as the “buffer” filled so the end user can simultaneously view the video on his or her media player in real time.

However, computer networks are not as reliable as airwaves. Excess network activity, inherently large video and audio files, or both in tandem can clog the pipe. Such interference typically occurs at peak usage times, but to a great degree, the amount of space available in the pipe continually fluctuates, which in the “real time streaming” paradigm, ends up starving the buffer of content. This leads to the herky-jerky quality evidenced in the first digital songs and videos made publicly available via the Internet and still visible today for those who lack a high-speed cable Internet connection–a so-called fat pipe–or a delivery technology that incorporates Burst’s innovation.

Max Headroom

In Lang’s new paradigm, time is turned upside down and inside out to address the problem. By eschewing the old broadcast strategy of streaming in real time, Lang’s software engineers asserted that files could be sent through the pipe “faster than real time,” a phrase Lang trademarked in 1991. Using this method, a 30-minute video can be “burst” (as opposed to “streamed”) through the pipe in a matter of seconds, either all at once or in chunks, where, taking advantage of the ever-increasing storage capacity of modern PCs or set-top boxes, it is stored to begin playback.

Robert X. Cringley, a noted computer consultant, technology writer and host of the PBS miniseries Electric Money, explains that such high speeds are possible because Burst’s software searches “for headroom in the pipe, trying to keep the pipe full 100 percent of the time.” Unlike streaming digital media, the file isn’t downloaded in chronological order–the sequence in which it is viewed or listened to. Instead, it’s downloaded according to the size of the data bits (a romance scene, Cringley suggests, might be smaller than, say, an action scene) and the amount of available headroom in the pipe. “Bursting sends different parts ahead of time. It takes a lot less time.”

Once a large enough portion of the file is loaded in the client’s media player, Burst’s technology takes advantage of the increased computing power of modern PCs, and begins playing the video in real time, drawing on the program stored locally on the PC or set-top box instead of continually sapping the network. Because the entire chunk is downloaded in a fraction of the time it takes to watch it, bandwidth–the amount of room available in the pipe–is conserved and the clip is isolated from such nuisances as clogged networks and slow connection speeds. The viewer experiences a smoother, broadcast-quality experience.This is an admittedly gross simplification of a process for which Burst, beginning in 1990 under the name of Explore Technology, has received nine U.S. patents and 25 international patents. There are some in the video-streaming industry–most notably Microsoft–who question whether Burst has developed any independent innovations at all. But way back in 1990, there seems to be no question that Lang’s company had a major innovation on their hands.

Achtung, Baby

A chance meeting in 1989 with the Irish rockers U2 led to a $2 million investment in Explore Technology by the band. In these early days, Lang’s company devised and built its own hardware, the instant video transceiver and receiver, to demonstrate its instant video technology. The devices were the buzz of the 1991 Winter Consumer Electronics Show in Las Vegas. “[T]he technology has the capacity to revolutionize the transmission and reception of programming for broadcast and cable operators,” the Christian Science Monitor excitedly reported.

For the first half of the 1990s, Explore Technology focused on developing patents and technology and attempting to convince the industry, through conventions and trade shows, that its new paradigm was the way to go. In 1992 it changed its name to IVT (Instant Video Technologies). “We spent much of the 1990s beating people over the head with it,” Lang says. Then in 1996, the debut of RealNetworks’ (then known as Progressive Networks) Real Player signaled that the paradigm shift had begun in earnest.

“For us, that was the alarm bell,” Lang says. RealNetworks method of delivering audio and video wasn’t as sophisticated or efficient as Lang’s, but they had a product on the market, ready to go. His company shifted from its earlier plans to license and manufacture hardware and changed its name to Burst. “It was time to implement our technology as software.” Burst.com immediately began collecting a low-profile stable of high-profile clients and investors, such as SBC, AOL and excite@home. “By 2000 we were about to really take off,” Lang says. Burst had grown to 110 employees, with offices in the heart of San Francisco’s financial district. “SBC invested $5 million and signed an agreement to use Burstware in its DSL networks,” Land says. “Burst in every DSL home.”

Burst had only two major competitors, Real and Microsoft, headquartered just miles apart in Redmond, Wash. Although Apple had debuted a version of its QuickTime movie player as early as 1991, it wasn’t viewed as a direct threat because of Apple’s limited share of the operating-system market. Microsoft, however, with its monopoly of the operating-systems market (Windows was used on 96 percent of all PCs last year, according to the New York Times), could not be ignored.

“We knew that for our products to work properly, they had to interface with Microsoft,” Lang says. In 1999, hoping the software giant would license its technology, Burst entered into an agreement to share its trade secrets and technology with Microsoft. “We thought, ‘We’ll protect ourselves the best way we can.’ We got them to sign the special nondisclosure agreement.”

As it turned out, that wasn’t quite enough.

Streaming Snake Oil?

The tricky thing about paradigm shifts is that unless you were on what was called the “bleeding edge” in the 1990s, it’s difficult to detect when the old paradigm ended and the new one began. By the late ’90s, Burst as well as most of its competitors were using codecs–the mathematical algorithms programmers use to compress and decompress digital files–in their streaming-media products. But according to Burst’s patents, compression was just one component in a larger design of methods and apparatus that Burst had developed. Some in the streaming-media industry question the validity of Burst’s claim to the new paradigm.

Charles Wiltgen, a computer consultant and Apple’s QuickTime “evangelist” during the 1990s, called Burst’s claim to the new paradigm “streaming snake oil” in a scathing column in 2002. Responding to an article in Salon.com documenting Burst’s lawsuit against Microsoft, Wiltgen wrote, “While I was Apple’s QuickTime Evangelist, I was a magnet for all kinds of folks who claimed to have miraculous codecs and other holy-grail technologies. Burst.com claimed to have a revolutionary way of delivering streaming content. Lossless. Faster than real time. Well, golly. You can deliver content losslessly and faster than real time via HTTP and FTP, too. Only Burst.com did this with a magical, proprietary protocol that required a magical, proprietary server that they would be happy to sell to you.”

Wiltgen, responding by e-mail, says he still stands by the comment. However, Robert X. Cringley disagrees with this assessment of Burst’s product.

“In 1991 their technology was innovative,” he says. “It wasn’t just an idea, it was an implementation. Now it’s commonly done because their patents are being infringed upon. Both Apple and Real are looking at Burst’s Microsoft suit very closely.”

At any rate, Lang says it’s common for people in the industry to not understand Burst’s innovations, in large part because the distinctions were not obvious, a key element of patentability. That was certainly his company’s experience during its initial meetings with Microsoft.

“At our first meeting in 1999, they scoffed at what we had,” he says. “They didn’t understand it. They had just invested hundreds of millions in edge-caching technology, primarily designed for static web pages. They said, ‘Give us more proof.'”

Burst engineers met with members of the Windows Media team seven times over the following 18 months, both at Microsoft’s Redmond campus and at various trade shows. A Burst-enabled version of Windows Media Player was created, and when tested by an independent lab routinely used by Microsoft, proved to be highly more efficient than the standard media player, Lang says. For the Windows Media team, the light was beginning to flicker on–but Microsoft still wanted more information.

“We had secret trials going on, and we put them in touch with our customers and our large potential customers, like SBC,” Lang says. “That we even had such large potential customers was a trade secret. We put Microsoft in touch with them and they went out and talked to them.”

As the meetings with Microsoft were taking place, Lang was also working hard preparing for Burst.com’s public launch: a June 2000, video-on-demand Webcast of U2’s PopMart concert tour from Las Vegas, the first of its kind. Burst was now at full strength with 110 employees, and Lang spent $1.5 million building a hosting network and promoting the concert. Then disaster struck.

“Three weeks before the launch date, Microsoft announces a new version of its player,” Lang recalls. “And guess what? There is only one existing software that doesn’t work on it: Burstware. They broke our player, right before its public launch. They pretended to help us, but the problem was never fixed.”

Windows users–which is to say the vast majority of PC owners–eagerly downloaded the new player, only to discover they couldn’t watch the concert. Burst.com’s downward spiral had begun.

“All of a sudden, our customers stopped talking to us,” Lang says. “They just walked away. Our investment banker just walked away. I’d go home to Lisa and say we’d just lost another customer.”

“There must be something you’re missing,” his wife told him. Lang would not discover the full extent of just what he was missing until the discovery process of its lawsuit against Microsoft was completed in 2004.

Meanwhile, in January 2001, Microsoft offered Burst.com “up to $1 million” to license Burstware, a paltry sum, considering the time and money Lang’s company had invested in the project. Lang made a counteroffer. Microsoft turned it down and broke off communications. By March, Burst had been downsized to just five employees. By the end of the year, they were down to two. The coup de grâce came in December, 2001, when Microsoft publicly released Corona with, Lang alleges, many of the same features of Burstware.

Burst.com hit rock bottom.

Embrace, Extend, Extinguish

When Lang first approached Microsoft about Corona’s similarities to Burstware, he says the company informed him that it hadn’t “taken anything that was secret.”

“Once the paradigm shifts, then it’s obvious to everybody,” Lang explains, a dozen or so neatly framed patents hanging on the office wall behind him. “Then everybody goes, ‘Why should you get the money? It’s obvious.’ That ignores 10 years of work we had influencing the shift.”

After numerous calls from members of the streaming-media industry, journalists and others who noted Corona’s similarities to Burstware, Lang decided to file suit. Two San Francisco law firms agreed to take the case on contingency: Hosie, Frost, Large & McArthur, which has extensive experience in antitrust and unfair trade practice; and Carr-Ferrell, with expertise in intellectual-property litigation. The suit, filed in June 2002, contends that Microsoft wrongfully stole Burst’s technology and used its Windows operating system–legally declared a monopoly by federal judge Thomas Penfield Jackson in 1999, a decision upheld upon appeal–to “embrace, extend and extinguish” Burst.

“‘Embrace, extend, extinguish’ is a phrase key Microsoft executives use repeatedly to do their business,” says Spencer Hosie, Burst’s lead attorney on the case. In industry parlance, Microsoft’s practices have come to be known as “Netscaping,” in reference to the Mountain View company that released the first publicly available Web browser in 1994 and subsequently came under concerted Microsoft attack. AOL/Time-Warner, now Netscape’s parent corporation, was eventually awarded $750 million in damages when Microsoft settled out of court last year.

As Burst’s attorneys learned during the discovery phase of the lawsuit, there are interesting parallels between the Burst and Netscape cases. Netscape had completely blindsided Microsoft, which had failed to anticipate the advent of the Internet, with its browser. Microsoft, perceiving the browser as a potential threat to its operating-system monopoly, proceeded to enthusiastically embrace, extend and extinguish Netscape. Likewise, documents obtained by Burst’s attorneys revealed that in 1997 chairman Bill Gates was concerned that RealNetworks presented a similar threat to Microsoft’s dominance. RealNetworks, one Microsoft executive said, “is like Netscape. The only difference is we have a chance to start this battle earlier in the game.”

Under pressure from Microsoft, RealNetworks agreed not to compete directly on the fundamentals of streaming audio and video. In exchange, Microsoft agreed to support “RealNetworks as a value-added software provider.” Microsoft would own the streaming-media platform, which would be incorporated into its operating system. However, RealNetworks never honored the deal, one which potentially violates antitrust law.

“They took Microsoft’s money, then said ‘Fuck you’ as soon as the check cleared,” Hosie says. “Microsoft can’t sue Real for failing to honor an illegal agreement.” In December 2003, Real, facing financial difficulties like Burst, issued Microsoft another raspberry, suing the company for “predatory action over a period of years by abusing its monopoly power, resulting in substantial lost revenue and business for RealNetworks.”

Evidence uncovered in discovery seems to indicate Microsoft pursued a similar strategy with Burst. As Burst was imploding under the twin pressures of the dotcom bust and Microsoft’s alleged anticompetitive practices, an e-mail exchange between members of the Windows Media team reads, “Check out their stock price. Going, going . . .” Furthermore, Lang alleges, in its patent applications for Windows Media Series 9, “they essentially duplicated what our product did and what we showed them. The very same people we worked with are named as inventors.”

Evaporated E-mail

But potentially far more damaging to Microsoft is what Burst’s lawyers didn’t find in the thousands of documents dumped on them by the software juggernaut. Despite meeting with members of the Windows Media team seven times over 18 months, there were virtually no e-mails, internal or external, concerning the meetings. “Each time we had a meeting, there are gaps in Microsoft’s e-mail record,” Lang says. “After the very first meeting, they sent an announcement to the entire media division. Supposedly, not one reply to the document was received.”

What Burst’s attorneys discovered was that Microsoft has prohibited employees from saving e-mail for more than 30 days on its corporate servers since 1994. Even in situations where Microsoft was ordered to retain records related to ongoing litigation, it appears to have been very selective, for its own benefit, as to which employees it ordered to retain e-mails. In a pretrial motion filed last October, Burst alleged that by doing so, Microsoft has destroyed evidence not only in Burst’s case, but in many of the cases which have already been tried, including the Department of Justice case which resulted in Judge Jackson declaring Microsoft a monopoly.

In that case, the court repeatedly requested all documents pertaining to negotiations between RealNetworks and Microsoft, as well as communications between Intel and Microsoft regarding Intel’s Java media framework (JMF). No documents were ever received by the court, thanks, Burst alleges, to Microsoft’s e-mail retention policies. The Intel communications are important because Burst had originally designed its own media player to run on JMF, which works across different operating systems. Lang alleges that Microsoft coerced Intel into dropping JMF because the product was “giving great momentum” to Java programming language developer Sun Microsystems–perceived by Microsoft as yet another threat to its Windows monopoly. (Last year, Sun received a settlement from Microsoft estimated to be worth as much as $2 billion.) When Intel dropped JMF in 1997, it effectively killed Burst’s independent media player, leaving the company with little choice but to design a player plug-in for Microsoft’s Media Player.

In its spoliation motion, Burst requested that when the case goes to trial, the jury be instructed that the e-mails were intentionally destroyed by Microsoft with the assumption that the information destroyed would have hurt Microsoft and helped Burst.

On Thursday, March 10, Judge H. Frederick Motz was set to rule on the spoliation motion when Microsoft blinked.

Paradigm Found

When the octopus wraps its tentacles around the moray eel, the eel ties a knot in its tail and slides the knot up its body to break the creature’s grasp. By convincing Microsoft to license Burstware for a one-time fee of $60 million, that’s exactly what Burst.com has done.

“They’re still an octopus,” Hosie says. “But with one slightly smaller tentacle.”

Did the Octopus blink because of fear that once Microsoft’s e-mail retention polices were made public, a whole slew of new litigation might ensue? Not exactly, according to Microsoft spokeswoman Stacy Drake.

“We were very confident about prevailing in the case, but we wanted to resolve it without the risks of litigation,” she says. Still, Drake denies that there are “any similarities between Microsoft and Burst’s technology.”

That’s OK with Hosie.

“From our perspective, once Microsoft did the responsible thing and licensed my client’s technology, we really have inner peace with Microsoft,” he says. “They did the right thing.”

The proposed settlement caps off two years in which Microsoft has paid a total of more than $3 billion to settle cases with companies such as Sun Microsystems, Time Warner Inc. and Novell Inc.

“I think if you look at our efforts over the past two years, you’ll see a pattern,” Drake says. “We’re solving the conflicts of the past and moving forward, to develop new products for our customers in the future.”

Burst, meanwhile, moves on to another new paradigm. As Robert X. Cringley pointed out in his New Year’s prediction column for PBS.org, the streaming-media industry has been watching the case closely–particularly RealNetworks, Apple Computer and set-top box manufacturers like TiVo.

“The license from Burst’s perspective is powerful validation of the integrity of the Burst intellectual-property portfolio,” says Hosie. “Microsoft paid a one-time licensing fee of $60 million. That’s essentially Act I, Burst. Act II begins next week. Burst is going to enforce its intellectual property against a series of companies that are currently infringing on their patents.”

“They know who they are,” says Lang.

From the March 16-22, 2005 issue of the North Bay Bohemian.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Swirl n’ Spit

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Swirl n’ Spit
Tasting Room of the Week

V. Sattui Winery

By Heather Irwin

Lowdown: Think of Sattui as the Southwest Airlines of Napa wineries. There’s no first class, boarding feels a bit like a cattle call and you’ll probably end up next to some fat salesman from Iowa. But hey, it’s cheap and it gets you where you want to go. The difference? The food is better at Sattui. V. Sattui has long been the people’s winery. A family-run operation that dates from the turn of the century (the 19th century, that is), Sattui is a simple, homegrown sort of winery that churns out some pretty nice wines. More than anything else, Sattui is a beacon of Old World hospitality and charm in the sometimes exclusionary world of winetasting. Here you’ll get a healthy five to seven tastes, rather than the skimpy two or three we’ve been finding lately. Just don’t be surprised by the massive crowds. Like Southwest, people know a good deal when they see it.

Mouth value: Although Sattui has recently won accolades for some pretty stellar wines, historically its wines have been a simpler, more everyday sort that you might serve with Monday night dinner, rather than a Saturday night dinner party. And while the quality has improved, the wines remain very approachable for the most part. The ’02 Carneros Chardonnay ($26) has a nice light oak and bright fruit flavor. Even better is the off-dry Johannesburg Riesling ($16). We’re becoming big fans of Rieslings, which in this case lacked the sometimes sticky sweetness often identified with them and had a soft, wonderful, exotic quality that’s a perfect introduction for beginning wine drinkers and a nice departure for drinkers of big, hearty Cabs.

The Cabs, however, tend to be nice as well–big without beating you up. A favorite is the Carneros Cabernet, herbaceous with lots of dried fruit but without as many heavy tannins. A fun way to finish the tasting is with a sip of Sattui Madeira, a big fortified brandy-infused drink that’s thick with caramel flavors. Damn!

Don’t miss: Go hungry. Sattui is known for its deli, where you can purchase a large selection of meats, cheeses and other savories for your picnic lunch. For the cheaper among us, you can almost make a meal on the free mustards and samples strategically placed around the large tasting area. One heads up: there’s only one obvious ladies’ room, and it’s typically lined up out the door, so plan accordingly.

Spot: V. Sattui Winery, 1111 White Lane, St. Helena. 707.963.7774. Open 9am to 5pm, seven days a week. No tasting fee.

From the March 9-15, 2005 issue of the North Bay Bohemian.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Joe Strummer

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London Crawling: The Clash, and Joe Strummer (center) in particular, led the punk revolution.

Reasons to Rebel

Joe Strummer and the ethos of punk

By Karl Byrn

There are two opposing theories on the meaning of punk rock. One says punk rock has no meaning, that its impulse to negate comes from a rejection of heroes and icons, and that standards and ideals have no place in an aesthetic that wants to destroy what we have been told is good.

That’s the “failed theory” of punk. The other side of the coin says that punk is rebellion for a reason. That reason is revealed in Let Fury Have the Hour: The Punk Rock Politics of Joe Strummer (Nation Books; $15.95). This collection of essays and interviews, edited by activist, writer and filmmaker Antonio D’Ambrosio, is not a biography of the late frontman and songwriter of punk-rock greats the Clash (who died suddenly at age 50 in December of 2002), nor is it a history of the Clash or punk rock. Rather, it is an argument for Strummer as a leader of a genuine revolution, a change of standards in which personal integrity matters most.

While the book’s discussion of integrity can’t get away from the music and familiar story of the Clash, its overriding purpose is to point to Strummer as a long-term heroic figure. Only one of the four sections is centered on the Clash, with the other three drawing connections between Strummer’s post-Clash work and other great contemporary multicultural rebels. From early pieces on the band by notable critics like Lester Bangs and Greil Marcus, to recent reflections by radical contemporaries like Tim Robbins, Chuck D and Billy Bragg, Let Fury Have the Hour is consistent in its insistence that punk rock does matter. And when it does, Joe Strummer is there.

Strummer is there in the London punk scene of ’76-’77, when a pre-Thatcher fascism led to race riots that his band translated into keen pop challenges. He’s there when the British music scene needed a reminder of its working-class roots. He’s there when reggae and world music needed to reach an American audience via a rock tough guy. He’s there when hip-hop realized it needed a message. And he plays his last gig, a brief reunion with distanced Clash co-songwriter Mick Jones, as a benefit concert for a local firefighters union. Importantly, the book doesn’t demonize Jones, who is too often cast as the lite-pop McCartney in contrast to Strummer’s serious Lennon.

Strummer is even seen as silly. He tells interviewer Kristine McKenna that his favorite Clash song is “If Music Could Talk,” a frivolous piece of filler from the sprawling Sandinista! album that Strummer likes because “it shows we were willing to try stupid things.”

He also tells McKenna that the most widely held misconception about him is “that I’m some kind of political thinker.” Fair enough. But Strummer’s globe-trotting diplomat parents led him to love and respect the world. Lesser punks have taken rootlessness as a reason to hate life. But John Graham Mellor became Joe Strummer because he had rock ‘n’ roll idealism. In contrast to punk’s impulse for desecration, he loved not only the heroes of rock tradition, but also the quest for a renewed community that made rock matter in the first place.

From the depths of Marxist analysis to funny hip-hop fan rants, the pieces in Let Fury Have the Hour remind us that Strummer’s quest for community has a historical basis in radical music activism. For Strummer and musicians like Woody Guthrie, the MC5 and Victor Jara, tearing down the walls meant opening the doors to class unity. That quest for a democratic community coexists with punk’s essential and most enduring trait, the “do it yourself” ethic, a humanist standard that values honest individuality over mere upheaval. If punk destroys to demand change, the demand for change implicitly imagines a better world. Strummer and music’s best radicals have nudged us to commit ourselves to that greater change.

Saving the most obvious and convincing touch for the final essay, D’Ambrosio details Strummer’s near miss with icon Johnny Cash in the final months before both men’s deaths. Strummer, on a marginal comeback streak with solid world-rock records by his new band the Mescaleros, had submitted a couple of originals to Cash for his sessions with rock producer Rick Rubin. Johnny never got to the song “Long Shadow,” but Joe put it on his last disc, Streetcore.

This final chapter ties together some of punk’s loose ends: DIY, unfulfilled idealism and a rebel community. Let Fury Have the Hour steers us toward an understanding of punk as a positive force. Informed by revolution and global politics, Strummer, like icons before him, tore down walls to get to the standards he had set for himself.

From the March 9-15, 2005 issue of the North Bay Bohemian.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

News of the Food

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News of the Food

Quest for Perfection

By Gretchen Giles

Baristas here in the states don’t get no respect. In Italy, where the fine art of espresso making and drinking was born, a barista “commands the house,” says Flying Goat Coffee green bean buyer Phil Anacker. “He makes you a perfect drink while he tells you how beautiful you are.” But when baristas here compete, they aim to do their best Italian impersonation. The host of the 2005 Western Regional Barista Competition held last month at Roshambo Winery, Flying Goat saw one of its own place third in a field of some 20 competitors. Pele Aveau, who works at Flying Goat’s Santa Rosa cafe, deserves the sound of two hands clapping for making it to the top tier, considering that placing in a barista competition is about a thousand times more difficult than your average Joe might figure.

“They have 15 minutes to prepare four espressos, four cappuccinos and four versions of their signature drinks,” Anacker explains, “all the while being judged by two technical judges who are looking for how much milk and coffee they waste, movement techniques that might jar the pot and their cleanliness, all while wearing headsets. They’re supposed to be able to converse freely with an emcee who is asking them questions the entire time.”

Nightmare!

“I agree,” he chuckles. “There’s no way I could do it.”

While in an Italian state of mind, consider that the chances of ordering an excellent espresso in Italy, a drink that Anacker defines as a 1.5 ounce shot of coffee with a “dark brown mahogany crema that’s sweet and aromatic” has about a 95 percent success rate. Compare that to ordering an expensive cup of hot brown water here in the States, odds that he puts at 95 percent–the other way. “As a wholesaler, I run into the same problem consistently and that is that restaurants still consider coffee and espresso to be an afterthought,” Anacker says. “Our goal is to get restaurants, even some of the best in the area, to really pay attention to and put some time into training the staff–as much as they would in the bar or the kitchen.”

Isn’t it really the fault of the megachain-that-must-not-be-named-but-emanates-from-Seattle? “I’ll always take the opportunity to snipe,” Anacker laughs. “But I prefer to focus on the opportunity that they created for the rest of us. Starbucks did raise the bar 10 or 15 years ago in making people aware of espresso drinks. But now they’ve gone fully automated and the staff just pushes a button and it makes itself. It’s never going to be horrible,” he shrugs, “but it’s never going to be superlative.”

Have Pele pull you a perfect cup while congratulating her heartily at Flying Goat Coffee, 10 Fourth St., Santa Rosa. 707.575.1202.

From the March 9-15, 2005 issue of the North Bay Bohemian.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Roky Erickson

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True Original: Roky Erickson in happier times.

Roky Road

New CD set pays homage to legend

By Greg Cahill

I used to own Roky Erickson’s haunted TV set. Erickson, the father of psychedelic garage rock, was living in Novato at the time. His wife thought it would be good for Roky to have company. It seems he used to sit in his darkened bedroom, windows covered by blankets, watching that TV and convincing himself that he was an alien visited by demons.

Best known for his affiliation with the seminal psychedelic band the 13th Floor Elevators, whose 1966 garage-rock classic “You’re Gonna Miss Me” (which featured an electric jug) rose to No. 59 on the pop charts, Erickson formed a new band, Roky Erickson and Bleib Alien, in the late ’70s, even performing one stiflingly hot night at the cramped River City nightclub in Fairfax.

Years before, he’d spent a long hot summer in Hedgecroft Hospital in Houston, where doctors administered electroshock therapy. During his stay he would write poetry about God, the devil and the nature of love, poems that later fed his lyrics. By the time I began keeping him company, he’d just spent three and a half years in Rusk State Hospital for the Criminally Insane in Austin, Texas, after a marijuana bust for one joint. He was diagnosed as a schizophrenic and given mind-numbing meds. He’d come out a bit twisted.

Then I showed up with some exotic herbs.

High doses of THC might not have been the best thing for a guy known for legendary bouts with madness and mythic drug abuse. I don’t know if he really was a nut; he tried hard to freak me out during my visits, but I could see the humor, innocence and charm that lay deep within him. I looked forward to those visits, and we hit it off.

In 1979 he moved back to his Texas hometown, giving me his treasured old Sears color console TV. A few weeks later, Erickson was back in the hands of the cops. He reemerged in 1986 with the single “Don’t Slander Me/Starry Eyes” before fading away again. Seems he’d become obsessed with mail-order catalogs and had stolen a bunch of them from his neighbors. The U.S. Postal Inspector had him institutionalized again. He got sprung just a couple of weeks after the 1990 release of the all-star project Where the Pyramid Meets the Eye: A Tribute to Roky Erickson, which featured covers by REM, ZZ Top, the Butthole Surfers, Bongwater and the toast of the neo-psych contingent (Richard Lloyd of Television, Primal Scream, Thin White Rope and the Jesus and Mary Chain).

Erickson’s rocky road is again chronicled on a new two-CD collection, Roky Erickson: I Have Always Been Here Before (Shout! Factory), spanning 30 years, from the pre-Elevators band the Spades through 1995’s “I’m Gonna Free Her.” The strength of this consistently engaging material underscores the tragedy that Erickson’s insanity and run-ins with the law have overshadowed his standing as one of rock’s true originals. Just check out the remarkable swamp blues of 1985’s “Don’t Slander Me” or, better yet, the country-inflected “You Don’t Love Me Yet” to see how much of an influence Erickson had on Uncle Tupelo and other alt-country bands.

But it’s the psychedelic material that he’s best known for. After all, the Beatles were still months away from the groundbreaking psychedelia of their Revolver album, and more than a year away from Sgt. Pepper’s, and the Grateful Dead were just settling into the Haight-Ashbury district when “You’re Gonna Miss Me” was climbing the national charts.

The authorities certainly contributed to Erickson’s mental illness, but they never did break him. Songs like “Anthem (I Promise)” and “Warning (Social and Social-Political Injustices)” are powerful and defiant indictments of the repression Erickson endured while institutionalized.

These days, he’s reportedly holding his own. He goes out to dinner with friends once a week, collects a small Social Security stipend and proceeds from the Shout! Factory CDs are going toward a trust for his care. Meanwhile, his music is never far away. “You’re Gonna Miss Me” was the opening song to the film High Fidelity, introducing the audience to self-absorbed heart-broken record-store owner Rob Gordon.

As for that old television set, it wasn’t really haunted. But it did have the damnedest knack for ghosting and producing seemingly random audio tracks. The visuals of Walt Disney’s That Darn Cat, for instance, would mix with the audio to a creepy Vincent Price horror movie in a most surreal fashion that gives some insight into why Erickson may have thought he was communicating with demons from some dark abyss.

It’s reported that he still keeps several TVs and radios going simultaneously. Those collective voices might just be telling him something we need to know.

From the March 9-15, 2005 issue of the North Bay Bohemian.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

‘The Urban Picnic’

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Dejeuner Sur Le Bike: ‘The Urban Picnic’ counsels that eating out of doors should be a kick, not an ordeal.

Eat Out More Often

In the spring, every person’s fancy turns to picnics

By Gretchen Giles

What can be more charming than than a rural excursion to some tangled thicket, the very brambles and poison-ivy and possible copperhead snakes of which are points of unspeakable value to a picnic party because they are sensational and one cannot have them in the city without rushing into fabulous extra expense?
— “Advice to Picnic Parties,” Punchinello, 1870

Forget the calendar and look out the window. While it’s not officially due until March 21, spring–good, sweet, darling spring–has assuredly sprung. Last week’s torrential rains and moody skies are forgiven as wildflowers burst forth from all of that watery bounty. And while a young person’s fancy may turn to many things, picnics should surely figure largely among them.

While eating out of doors was no luxury to early man, we have presumably evolved in the ensuing centuries, meaning that bringing all of the burdens of the kitchen and dining room out of the kitchen and dining room and setting them up all over again in the wilds of nature is, well, a luxury.

Nineteenth-century picnics certainly were luxurious. Those Merchant-Ivory films have it right: send the servants out into the woods ahead of time, have them set up carpets, tables, linens, candles, flowers, ice buckets, gramaphones, damask-covered chairs and the makings of a seven-course meal, and we’ll be along after we’re done scouting rare butterflies.

Actually, the earliest picnics, according to John Burns’ and Elisabeth Caton’s new book, The Urban Picnic (Arsenal Pulp; $21.95), were more along the lines of a potluck. The organizing host would devise a menu and assign guests various dishes, which were to be prepared by one’s cook and delivered by servant.

A typical afternoon’s repast for some 20 hungry souls, as suggested by cookbook author Mrs. Beeton in her 1861 Book of Household Management, should include at least 10 pounds of beef ribs, four lobsters, four roast chickens, two cold cooked chickens, a small ham, a veal and ham pie, four loaves of bread and two pounds of biscuits, two pies, two jellies, a large salad, pounds of cheese, a dozen apples and pears each and an astounding etcetera. The men were to supply the beverages, so please add a case a piece of wine and beer, bottles of sparkling water and much fresh lemonade to the list.

All of this cavorting in nature was guaranteed to promote but one thing, and that’s where babies come from. Accordingly, strict rules about chaperones were duly enforced, and young people who dared the erotic thrill of the picnic were expected to invite a mother or married woman along to keep the pleasures tamped to a reasonable simmer.

Similarly, whilst bloated on lobster, beef ribs, chicken two ways, ham and veal pie, picnickers were expected to not give into the rural thrall of the land but to consider poetry and God as they went. In her 1896 manners book, etiquette mistress Maud C. Cooke chides that one should always “possess the power to find sermons in stones, books in the running brooks and good in everything.”

Fair enough. But we’re hungry.

Fortunately, Burns and Caton step far away from manners and seven-course meals in their Urban Picnic compilation, advising that a meal eaten outdoors, whether it be in park or bus station, seashore or freeway rest stop, should be easy to prepare, feature much excellent wine and be accompanied by great music. Offering menus that range from the classic grassy knoll spread to what to bring for picnicking at a music festival, while backpacking, lolling on blankets at an outdoor film festival, in honor of Shakespeare or even in the air-conditioned confines of a hotel room, the pair keep it simple, suggesting items that can be purchased already made, in the event that both the chef and servant have the day off.

Isn’t It Romantic?

Given the giddy nature of the season, it seems appropriate to plan the first picnic of the year in homage to love. Urban Picnic authors Burns and Caton suggest a sparkling wine but we specifically urge you to seek out and forcefully capture a bottle of Carol Shelton rosé (the 2003 is appropriately called “Rendevous”) to accompany a picnic of roasted pear and chevre phyllo pastries (roast peeled, halved buttered pears in a 350 degree oven for 30 minutes. Dice and place in prepared phyllo dough with goat cheese. Brush with butter and bake); artichokes in vinaigrette (cook fresh artichoke hearts until tender, mix with favorite viniagrette); chocolate-dipped strawberries (buy ’em!) and the alluringly named Duck Breast Rapido (recipe below). Musical suggestions include Phillip Glass piano pieces, and the lute music of Sylvius Weiss. And la di dah . . .

Breast of Duck Rapido

4 medium duck breasts
4 cloves of garlic, halved
salt and pepper to taste
2 tbsp. olive oil
4 tbsp. Dijon mustard
2 eggs, beaten
1 c. best-quality breadcrumbs

Preheat oven to 375. Make two small incisions on the skin side of each breast and insert garlic into the meat. Season with salt and pepper to taste. In a sauté pan over medium heat, warm oil until almost smoking and place breasts skin side down. Cook for four to five minutes per side, until browned all over. Remove from pan and drain on paper towels.

Brush duck thoroughly with mustard. Place beaten eggs and breadcrumbs in separate bowls and dip each breast first in egg, then in crumbs. Place breaded breasts skin-side down in glass baking dish and roast for 20 minutes. Let cool and pack for picnic!

–G.G.

From the March 9-15, 2005 issue of the North Bay Bohemian.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Cook It

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Cook It

Garlic and Wormwood

By Sara Bir

According to my dear friend Kelly, chicken adobo is the crown jewel of Philippine home-style cooking. Kelly’s parents emigrated to the United States from the Philippines in the 1950s. They were both doctors in the small, white-bread Ohio town where Kelly and I grew up. Despite several decades of acquaintance, Kelly and I never dined on chicken adobo together until I visited her in New York and we went to her favorite Philippine restaurant, Elvie’s Turo-Turo. “Turo-turo,” Kelly told me, loosely translates from Tagalog to “point-point,” and it refers to the restaurant’s buffet-style setup. Behind a spread of steam tables stood a man who plated up the goodies you pointed to. We tried kari-kari, an oxtail stew with the brilliant orange tint of annatto oil, and garlicky longaniza, sausages that are sweeter than their Spanish counterparts.

Nothing, however, could beat out chicken adobo in the garlic department. I was charmed by the dish’s unassuming nature (it’s basically braised chicken) but assertive piquancy. Upon returning home, I became determined to replicate it.Easier said than done. There’s a surprising dearth of cookbooks devoted to Philippine cuisine, and the recipes I located on the Internet varied wildly. The one constant was what I discovered to be the holy trinity of chicken adobo: garlic, vinegar and soy sauce. Even so, the hint of anise in the chicken adobo we had at Elvie’s charmed me, and a few pods of star anise seemed like a good way to infuse its flavor in my kitchen experiments. The dilemma: we had no star anise. We did, however, have a bottle of absinthe, a souvenir a friend had brought us back from a trip to Europe. I’m guessing absinthe is not a common Philippine household ingredient. But in my mashed-up adobo, it worked beautifully. I killed the whole bottle in flavoring subsequent preparations, calling Kelly often to report on my progress. “I think I have it now,” I told her. “It tastes like what I remember from Elvie’s.”

“Do your burps taste like garlic?” she asked. Yes, they did.

“Well, then, that’s it!”

May your burps taste like garlic, too.

Sacrilegious Chicken Adobo

You can purchase adobo mix in envelopes. Don’t.
1 whole 3- to 4-pound chicken, cut up
2 to 3 tbsp. vegetable oil
1 head garlic, chopped fine
1 medium onion, diced
1 two-inch piece of peeled fresh ginger, sliced into coins
1/3 c. white vinegar
1/3 c. soy sauce
2 tbsp. absinthe or 2 whole pods star anise
bay leaf

Heat a heavy skillet over medium-high. Add the oil and lightly brown the chicken pieces. (Ideally, this step should be done in two batches, but crowding the skillet won’t kill anyone, either.)

Dump the garlic, onion and ginger into the pan, and shuffle everything around. Add the vinegar, soy sauce and absinthe or star anise pods. Add enough water so that the chicken is immersed halfway in liquid. Add the bay leaf.

Reduce the heat and simmer gently until the sauce is reduced by at least one-third and the chicken is tender, about 20 to 30 minutes. Taste and adjust seasonings (you may need to add more soy sauce or vinegar–the flavor should be bright, but the tartness should not be harsh or overpowering).

Serve with white rice and cold bottles of San Miguel beer.

From the March 9-15, 2005 issue of the North Bay Bohemian.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Bohemia Now

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Bohemia Now

How the unconventional affect conventions

By Walljasper

John Reed, the definitive American bohemian of the 20th century, was described as a “romantic revolutionary” in the title of a definitive biography about his life. His fiery career as a writer and prophet of social transformation was sufficiently colorful that Warren Beatty made a Hollywood movie about his life in Greenwich Village during its nonconformist heyday before World War I. In both Reed’s life and Beatty’s great movie, bohemianism and radical politics were inalterably linked. Throughout most of the 20th century, in fact, it would be impossible to think of one without the other, no matter what the setting: Paris of the existentialists and ’68 rebels; London of Bloomsbury (as exemplified by Virginia Woolf, above) and punk rockers; San Francisco of the Beats and hippies.

But the word “revolution” isn’t likely to be found in the title of many bohemian memoirs and biographies of the 21st century. Politics in our era has been divorced from avant-garde lifestyles. That’s the message from two new books that ambitiously chronicle the cutting edge of American culture: Bohemian Manifesto: A Field Guide to Living on the Edge (Bulfinch; $19.95) by Laren Stover and Hip: The History (Ecco; $26.95) by John Leland, former editor of Details magazine and now a New York Times reporter.

It’s not surprising that Marxism, which so intrigued Reed and other Greenwich Village radicals of the 1910s, is missing from these modern accounts of life on the wild side. Once a staple of bohemian philosophy, socialism has been in retreat almost everywhere since the fall of the Berlin Wall. But social change of any sort–from environmentalism to helping the poor in the developing world–is scarce in these otherwise comprehensive books.

Stover subdivides bohemians into five categories (nouveau, gypsy, Beat, Zen and dandy) and credits the Zen crowd with at least some concern about animal rights and renewable energy. But that’s about it. Her glimpses into la vie bohéme today are entertaining, well-researched and surprisingly smart, but the book resembles a fashion magazine more than a sociological study. There are chapters devoted to clothes, cuisine, hygiene, pets, books, astrology, cars and even stationery–but none to activism or social causes.

Leland is more serious in his approach to hip, which is closely related but not synonymous with bohemianism. Bohemians are rebellious, artistic and usually middle-class in origin, while hipsters cover a wider range that includes working-class communities, the criminal underclass and pop culture in its rawest forms. He authoritatively tracks the hip sensibility all the way back to African slaves adapting to a strange and cruel life in the New World, and pays a lot of attention along the way to music, drugs and sex. This impressive book stands as a hidden history of the United States, celebrating the renegades and outcasts who embody the American dream just as fully as famous inventors, politicians and businessmen. Leland manages to be both thorough in his research and jazzy enough in his prose to do justice to the subject matter.

Politics and the whole business of making the world a better place comes across as distinctly “square” in Leland’s vision of hip and as a tad dull and not fabulous enough in Stover’s manual on becoming a bohemian. But that’s not always the case. The generation of 1968 in Europe and most anti­Vietnam War protesters in the United States were social as well as political rebels. So were the intellectuals and rock musicians who ignited the Velvet Revolution in Czechoslovakia and many of the millions worldwide who stood up against apartheid in South Africa.

The same holds true today. The sort of person who sees her mission in life as challenging the status quo is not likely to restrict herself to art, fashion and social trends. If prophetic ideas about global justice or ecological restoration arise some evening over espresso or absinthe, any bohemian hipster worth her salt is going to make a big noise telling the world about it. Leland and Stover show distinct blind spots toward the sharp political edge of so much contemporary art, theater, film, music and dance.

The Iraq war and last year’s American elections saw unprecedented numbers of artists and free thinkers around the world, many of whom previously ignored or disdained politics, call out for regime change in Washington, D.C. In fact, George Bush’s campaign made an issue of how John Kerry was the candidate of immoral un-American elements, including foreigners.

This, unfortunately, illustrates the limitations hipsters and bohemians face in trying to change the world–not just in conservative America, but everywhere. While their bold ideas and unconventional ways inspire some of us, much of the public is annoyed, aggravated or alienated by their fiercely nonconformist ways.

Bohemia is the place where trailblazers break new ground and plant the seeds of change, but the harvest is often done by someone else. For all their fine work in researching and mapping out the cultural cutting edge, Stover and Leland seem to have missed that crucial point about the dynamics of social change.

But curiously, Leland offers a poetic Walt Whitman quote, which he calls a “founding hipster manifesto,” that could also qualify as the guidelines to political engagement as practiced by John Reed and other bona fide bohemian radicals:

“This is what you shall do: Love the earth and sun and animals, despise riches, give alms to everyone that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote your income and labor to others, hate tyrants . . . re-examine all you have been told at school or church or in any book, dismiss whatever insults your own soul, and your very flesh shall be a great poem.”

From the March 9-15, 2005 issue of the North Bay Bohemian.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Open Mic

Open Mic

Priests and Punishment

By Hank Mattimore

Let’s be clear where I stand on the subject of priests sexually abusing kids. It’s not just “inappropriate” or even “unacceptable.” The sexual abuse of children, especially when done by a person in a position of trust, is abhorrent. It is a betrayal of trust of the worst kind. As a parent and now a grandparent, I am appalled that this kind of behavior was allowed to continue in the church I love.

All this has been said more eloquently than I have expressed it. Outrage at the behavior of abusive priests and silent bishops has been shouted from the housetops, and (finally) the cries of victims and parents and the Catholic in the pew are being heard. Bishops are no longer able to protect offending priests from legal sanctions. Structures have been set up in every parish in the country to make sure that this never happens again.

Kathleen McChesney, a former FBI official who in 2002 helped establish the Church’s Office of Child and Youth Protection, recently announced that only 22 new cases involving abuse of minors surfaced during 2004. One can argue that even one new case is too many, but given the fact that there are over 50,000 priests in this country serving over 100 million Catholics, it appears that the protections put in place by the bishops and their lay Catholic associates are starting to produce results.

The victims of child abuse who have come forward at great emotional cost to confront their abusers and relive their childhood trauma deserve our gratitude. If parishes and schools are safer places today, it is because these victims of abuse had the courage to tell their stories.

All that being said, let’s take a look at the multimillion dollar lawsuits that the child-abuse scandals have spawned. Nationally, the church has paid out approximately $180 million in damages resulting from child-abuse cases. Three dioceses have already declared bankruptcy, with more to follow. Our own Santa Rosa Diocese has expended over $7 million with several more cases pending. Bishop Daniel Walsh has already warned local parishioners that Santa Rosa may be the next diocese in bankruptcy court.

I have a problem with the fairness and effectiveness of punishing parishes for the sins of their priests. Who really suffers when a parish or school must close its doors because of the financial burden laid on it by one of these lawsuits? What kind of justice is served when the wrong people are being punished?

I would like to believe the victims of abuse when they say “it’s not about the money.” But when the Santa Rosa Diocese will have to cough up an estimated $1 million per each pending case, in addition to the $7 million already expended, what is it about? Do they think that the money will come from the bishop’s personal bank account? Hardly. Besides, Bishop Walsh was not even around at the time when the abusive behavior took place. I confess that I would be more inclined to understand the disclaimer “It’s not about the money” if the attorneys were working pro bono and the plaintiffs were offering to give the proceeds of their settlement to charity.

I also take exception to these lawsuits when the vast majority of them go back 30 or 40 years and in some cases (including one in Sonoma County) are being tried against priests who have been dead for several years. Doesn’t it strike anyone as macabre to be sending out a posse of accusers to string up a dead man? I might add that too often these long-ago cases are being tried on the evidence of a victim’s repressed memory, evidence that is of dubious validity in a court of law.

We seem to be so reluctant to let anyone (with the notable exception of Enron and other white-collar miscreants) get away with anything in our society. But this time we are punishing the wrong people. These multimillion dollar lawsuits do nothing to right the wrongs that have been done. They simply take our money and line the wallets of lawyers. The money in the diocesan coffers is our money. In spending it to cover the costs of litigation, we end up hurting the working stiff who puts his $10 in the collection basket, the folks who line up for food at St. Vincent de Paul’s kitchen, the woman who needs help with her kids. Who exactly are we punishing?

Harm has been done. Kids have been hurt. Agreed. But public apologies have been given and steps have been taken to make sure it never happens again. I think it’s time to move on, time to call off the dogs.


From the March 9-15, 2005 issue of the North Bay Bohemian.

© Maintained by .


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Bohemia NowHow the unconventional affect conventionsBy WalljasperJohn Reed, the definitive American bohemian of the 20th century, was described as a "romantic revolutionary" in the title of a definitive biography about his life. His fiery career as a writer and prophet of social transformation was sufficiently colorful that Warren Beatty made a Hollywood movie about his life in Greenwich Village...

Open Mic

Open MicPriests and PunishmentBy Hank MattimoreLet's be clear where I stand on the subject of priests sexually abusing kids. It's not just "inappropriate" or even "unacceptable." The sexual abuse of children, especially when done by a person in a position of trust, is abhorrent. It is a betrayal of trust of the worst kind. As a parent and now...
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