Nathan Jx

0

Universe of Walls

Do you see what Nathan Jx sees?

By Gretchen Giles

THE COOL, dim elegance of the Sonoma State University Library Art Gallery is hardly the place to conduct an argument. Yet there they were, a couple looking at photographs while hissing in genteel undertones.

“They look like paintings,” insisted One. “No they don’t,” corrected Two. “They look like photographs.”

“But they’re painterly,” pressed One. “No they’re not,” returned Two with an infuriating calm. “They’re photographs of painting.”

Two may have a point, but One will never admit to it. Perhaps the colorful images wrought by emerging artist Nathan Jx equal Three: Photographs that look like paintings but nonetheless are generally photographs of paint. Thick, gloppy, gorgeous, industrial paint. Just the way painters like paint. Paint for paint’s sake. Paint to pant for.

Showing through Aug. 20 inside SSU’s new Jean and Charles Schulz Information Center, “Turn the Corner: Recent Works of Nathan Jx” means to reveal the surprise encounter available with everyday things should one take the time to view them–actual seeing, the real stuff.

But Jx has hardly stumbled, shutter wildly clicking, upon his careful compositions of color and texture. While he’s certainly found his surfaces on warehouse walls, at San Francisco street corners, through pipe-snaked alleyways, and while traveling through down-at-the-heels Texas, his camera avidly seeks to order them in a way some might term “painterly”–and they’d be damned right about it, too.

Indeed, while Jx claims punk illustrator Raymond Pettibone, original icon Jasper Johns, and Irish playwright Samuel Beckett as artistic mentors, he may in fact be seated in class facing Dada photographer Brassaï and Catalan painter Antonio Tàpies. Brassaï wandered Paris shooting structural graffiti, espousing a “universe of the walls,” depicting what he termed a “poor art” that could be appropriated by anyone. Tàpies, intrigued by Brassaï’s images of thick, impasto-y paint, in turn sought to create the stubbled vibrancy of the wall on his canvases as a signifier of modern life, a subject that engrosses him yet.

In even unconsciously wedding these two, Jx ignites a sharp desire to touch, brush up against, lean and slump and slide on the smoothly rough surfaces he’s captured on film. “Tex Mess” is particularly lascivious this way, an all-patterned shot of a pebbled wall next to a tiled slice next to a bubbled slab of school-bus yellow next to a gray streak next to a bluey brown strip of who-knows-what. “Gun,” too, is well-chewy, showing a Brahms candy pastiche of cherry and brown-striped paint with a pistachio-colored pipe lying along an ordinary wall. Some idle hand or chance scrape has etched a little figure into the Brahms section, giving this small piece of some unknown building an accidental lyricism that Jx is alert enough to capture.

Unlike abstract paintings, which often hurl the taunt of “Untitled” from their label, photographs compel one to decipher images. “Town and Country” is wonderfully maddening in its refusal of knowledge. Could it be rust or blood that pocks that whale’s belly, that abandoned surfboard, that beat-up canoe?

Itch, desire, and argument are salved by the remainder of the exhibited works. They’re pretty, they’re decorative, they’d be as absolutely handsome as can be in a boardroom or dining room, remarked upon once and then, to Jx’s probable dismay, possibly not again seen.

‘Turn the Corner: Recent Works by Nathan Jx’ continues through Aug. 20 at the University Library Art Gallery, Jean and Charles Schulz Information Center, Sonoma State University, 1801 E. Cotati Ave., Rohnert Park. Hours are Monday-Friday, 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. Admission is free. 707/664-4200.

From the June 28-July 4, 2001 issue of the Northern California Bohemian.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Spins

0

Stars and Strikes

A parade of new Americana CDs

By Greg Cahill

Lucinda Williams Essence (Lost Highway)

HER LAST ALBUM, Car Wheels on a Gravel Road, was a huge critical success. This much-anticipated follow-up takes a slight detour. Just as stark and plaintive as on its predecessor, the songs on Essence are even more somber in their post-Dylan good-love-gone-bad reflections. Simple, raw, passionate tales of longing that live up to the billing in the opening track “Lonely Girls” and its refrain “sweet, sad, songs.” On the last few tracks, Williams shows that she can still rock, though even then, as with “Get Right with God,” the songs have a redemptive quality.

Various Artists Avalon Blues: A Tribute to the Music of Mississippi John Hurt (Vanguard)

THE ROSTER on this homage to the late Mississippi blues singer–known for his precise fingerpicking and restrained vocals–reads like a Who’s Who of American Roots Music: Taj Mahal, Lucinda Williams, Dave Alvin (in a duet with Peter Case), Steve Earle (who puts the grit back into “Candy Man”), Ben Harper, Alvin Youngblood Hart, Chris Smither, Bruce Cockburn (OK, he’s Canadian), Gillian Welch, John Hiatt (with a heartfelt solo acoustic version of “Satisfied”), Geoff Muldaur, Bill Morrisey, Victoria Williams (who contributes a weird, cackling rendition of “Since I’ve Laid My Burden Down”)and even the chameleon Beck work their way through 15 tracks that are a fitting tribute to one of the most underappreciated performers of the ’60s folk-blues revival.

Various Artists Songcatcher (Vanguard)

DIRECTOR Maggie Greenwald’s captivating film about murder, incest, and musicology is one of the sleeper hits of the summer. The extraordinary soundtrack is a celebration of the film’s Appalachian subjects, featuring an all-star lineup of country, bluegrass, and alt-country women. Emmylou Harris, Julie Miller, Roseanne Cash, Iris Dement, Allison Moorer, Maria McKee, Gillian Welch, Deana Carter, and Hazel Dickens’ haunting collaboration with David Patrick Kelly and Bobby McMillon on the mesmerizing “Conversation with Death”–this is hillbilly heaven. A perfect companion for the O Brother, Where Art Thou? (Lost Highway) soundtrack.

Various Artists A Nod to Bob: An Artists’ Tribute to Bob Dylan on His Sixtieth Birthday (Red House)

BOB DYLAN is one of the most idiosyncratic singer/songwriters of our era. Over the past 40-plus years, his songs have been covered by everyone from Joan Baez and Dream Syndicate to Eric Clapton and Elvis Presley. He often puts so much vitriol or resignation into his emotionally raw recordings that cover versions can seem almost ludicrous. Perhaps that’s why one of the best tracks on this uneven collection is Suzy and Maggie Roche’s whimsical take on the obscure “Clothes Line Saga,” from the crudely recorded Basement Tapes. Elsewhere, you’re stuck with Cliff Eberhardt stripping “I Want You” of all the gut-wrenching pathos that Dylan infused in the song. Still, there are some fine tracks here, including performances by longtime Dylan pal Ramblin’ Jack Elliot (now a West Marin resident), Rosalie Sorrels, Guy Davis, and Spider John Koerner (with Dave Ray). Greg Brown’s boozy spin on “Pledging My Time” makes you suspect that Brown was bred for this project, which appears on his own Red House label.

Spin du Jour

No city dances to a funkier beat than New Orleans, and no band ever captured the joyous verve of the Crescent City better than the Meters. Kickback (Sundazed) is the lost Meters album that never was, an ebullient collection of choice rarities from the band’s mid-’70s Fire on the Bayou/Trick Bag period, including previously unissued nuggets (such as a cover of the Stones’ “Honky Tonk Woman”) and newly unearthed alternate versions. Available on CD or a glorious audiophile, 180-gram vinyl LP pressing.

From the June 28-July 4, 2001 issue of the Northern California Bohemian.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Kenneth Cleaver

Consumer Correspondent

Gap Inc. One Harrison St. San Francisco, CA 94105

Dear Gap Inc.:

I understand that the Gap is named after the infamous “generation gap” that plagued our great nation in the turbulent ’60s. With the advent of baby gap and Gapkids it appears that the Gap Inc. is taking the proper steps to prevent future generational schisms.

As a young man in my 20s, it would be of tremendous psychological comfort to know that the Gap will not forget me, or my marketing demographic, when I slip into my golden years. That is why I propose Granny Gap! Don’t get me wrong, the store will not just be for those golden girls; Granny Gap’s brother store will be either Grand Olde Gap or Gappity Gramps! I haven’t yet decided, but when I do you’ll be the first to know.

One of the central problems associated with aging is the loss of our masculine/feminine edge. Our seniors have been drowning in a sea of asexual androgyny for years. Where is it written that old is unhip? Why must the fashion world forsake this generation to identity-plagued youth markets? Have your researchers investigated the fashion implications of the Viagra Revolution? I didn’t think so.

Since the Gap Inc. has been in the forefront of unambiguous gender guidelines and stratification, it should also be pioneering into the conservation of markets. Just as we as a culture are preserving our natural resources and feeling really bad about colonialism, so too should we salvage the senior citizen from the indignities of discount retail chains. For not only are broader markets more sustaining and profitable, but this revolutionary market crusade has the potential to truly bridge that famous gap. I would not recommend changing your name to The Bridge. Let’s work together on this. Long live Granny Gap.

Your friend, Kenneth Cleaver

Mr. Kenneth Cleaver 33 Upland Road South Bedford, NY 10506

Dear Mr. Cleaver:

Thank you for your letter. It’s good to hear that you’re already campaigning for your own enhanced senior citizenship. We do feel we’ve done a pretty good job outfitting customers of all ages and, of course, we’ll do our best to be responsive to changing tastes and trends in this continually competitive and challenging business. Your encouragement is appreciated and we hope you’ll continue to enjoy shopping with us for years to come.

Sincerely, Christie Allair, Corporate Communications

From the June 28-July 4, 2001 issue of the Northern California Bohemian.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

‘A.I.: Artificial Intelligence’

Robot Oedipus

‘A.I.’ is Spielberg at his most conflicted

By

IF ANY OF THIS summer’s blockbusters deserves Freudian analysis, A.I.: Artificial Intelligence is it. Made as a kind of joint project between Steven Spielberg and the now deceased Stanley Kubrick, the film is as much Oedipus 2050 as a robot Pinocchio.

The film opens in an upper-class home of the near future. Aspects of Kubrick’s design stick out at odd angles in this flick. In these first moments, Kubrick would have brought out the ice in these scenes of IKEA über alles, of Scandinavian blonde wood everywhere. Spielberg just seems to think it’s swank.

All that depressing birch surrounds the sexless marriage of an overworked robot-company executive (Sam Robards) and a grieving mother named Monica (Francis O’Connor). Since her son is in deep freeze, awaiting the cure for a virus, she’s allowed to beta-test the latest generation “meca”–a boy cyborg named David (Haley Joel Osment) that has the ability to love and respond to love.

When Monica’s natural kid, Martin (Jake Thomas), is thawed out, the biological boy’s sibling rivalry poisons the relationship between robot and mother. Monica abandons David in the woods, and he heads off to find “The Blue Fairy” from Pinocchio, in hopes of becoming a real boy.

Shortly, David and his talking teddy bear–a grave toy voiced by Jack Angel–are caught by human hunters. Antique robots are rounded up for demolition derby-style public destruction by a slouch-hatted showman (Brendan Gleeson, A.I.‘s Stromboli). The burning “alive” of a sweet-faced nanny robot in this scene demonstrates that A.I. is absolutely not for young children. (So does an earlier scene where the angelic face of Haley Joel Osment melts right on camera.)

When David escapes this Roman orgy, he leaves with the fugitive sex-bot Gigolo Joe, played by Jude Law. Law is the picture’s much-needed wit and irony–otherwise, A.I. is as serious as church.

The cyborg lover is the film’s Lampwick, but he’s a courtly rogue. A.I.’s best moment has him seducing a sad girl (an unbilled Beverly D’Angelo, I believe), who still carries the bruises her human boyfriend gave her. Joe knows a little dance, a little Shakespeare; he’s programmed with an MP3 of Dick Powell singing “I Only Have Eyes for You.” While it’s not easy to upstage a phenomenal kid actor like Osment, Law does it.

Unfortunately he’s yo-yoed out of the picture after a too-short scene at Rouge City, the Pleasure Island/sex-resort. This town is only a pit stop before David is led off to his final destination–the drowned city of Manhattan, inundated by the melted ice caps.

The stickiness of the plot–and it would be even stickier if it weren’t for Osment–is amplified by John Williams’ music. (“Use this syrup before the expiration date of 2020,” a friend wisecracked.)

In patches, A.I. has more mood than Spielberg’s evinced in years. When he’s obsessively retelling the Disney fairy tales, when he’s compulsively memorializing the Holocaust, the director is passionate with horror. Here, the ending scenes are so awash with filial love that it’s impossible to weep, or even to cringe.

You can’t call it schmaltz; it’s too heartfelt. I feel as if I’ve underestimated the man’s agony. A.I. is Spielberg fingering the wounds of a childhood that will, I guess, never heal.

From the June 28-July 4, 2001 issue of the Northern California Bohemian.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Contaminated Wells

Not well treated: Lorraine Dickey is one of dozens of Santa Rosa residents who say the county is grabbing the mineral and water rights.

Down the Drain

Santa Rosans boiling mad over loss of water rights

By Maria Brosnan Liebel

FOR 44 YEARS, Lorraine Dickey’s family relied on a well for clean drinking water and to irrigate her quarter acre of land on West College Avenue in Santa Rosa. Now she’s looking at spending hundreds of dollars monthly for city water because she learned late last year that her well was contaminated with tetrachloroethene, or PCE, from a dry-cleaning plant. “If I have to pay for city water for landscaping, I’ll have to go back to work,” says Dickey, 63, a retired office manager and one of dozens affected by the contamination.

Owing to a move that could have a far-reaching impact throughout the county, county officials say, Dickey and other area residents may lose their wells forever in exchange for the costs of receiving city water, even if the ground water can be cleaned and deemed safe again years from now and despite a filtration system.

State water quality officials are negotiating with the county as they warn against forcing residents to give up their water rights. Susan Warner, North Coast Regional Water Quality Control Board chief of cleanup and special investigations, said residents should be able to use the filtered water for irrigation. And she is concerned that neighbors will resist testing if they fear losing their wells permanently.

“It’s a chilling factor,” says Warner.

Twenty-eight homes of about 130 in the area of West College Avenue and Clover Drive have tested positive for PCE, which local health experts say is a possible carcinogen and has caused liver and kidney damage in animals at high dosages. The contamination is believed to be caused by dry-cleaning businesses that operated in the area over many years.

State regulators have determined 5 parts per billion of PCE is unsafe; wells in the area have tested as high as 576 ppb. Dickey’s is at 1.65 ppb.

The Santa Rosa City Council and the Sonoma County Board of Supervisors this month each committed $500,000 to install water mains so that the residents can connect to the public water system. However, Sonoma County Department of Health Services officials, citing current county policy, say wells testing above the maximum contamination level must be destroyed as a condition of connection. A recommendation to destroy the wells would be made for those showing contamination below 5 ppb, such as Dickey’s well.

Health Services Director Mark Kostielney claims the policy is necessary to prevent cross-contamination between private and public water supplies. He says double back-flow devices used to control the flow of contaminated well water can fail and pose a threat.

“It is, in fact, real that contamination can occur,” he says.

But Warner agrees with residents that cross-contamination is unlikely if the house plumbing is completely severed from the well and inspected annually. If any of the wells are determined to be actually spreading PCE, the water quality board has the authority to shut them down, she says.

TO THOSE living in the unincorporated island of west Santa Rosa, one of the poorest and least represented parts of the city, the wells symbolize their freedom and home ownership. Like the aquifers they draw from, water rights is an issue that “goes deeper than the surface,” says Clover Drive resident Jenny Shipp.

“Everybody has been living, loving, and trusting the water we’ve been drinking,” Shipp says. But everything changed last fall when they learned of the contamination. “Everybody was in a panic.”

As a result, residents are livid about how they are being treated by local officials. They say authorities knew about this contamination for years and didn’t tell them about the risks. Now, in addition to extra water costs, they are being expected to give up their rights without compensation before state water regulators conclude an investigation into the cause and cleanup options.

“We were here first,” says Dickey. “The city grew around us, and the city contaminated us.”

The Water Quality Control Board first detected PCE in wells north of West College Avenue in 1991, and then again in 1995. While the county health department and nearby residents were told of the contamination, those living south of the avenue were not notified because they were not believed to be at risk at the time, says Warner. However, public notices were published in local newspapers pursuant to Proposition 65, she adds.

Then in November 1999, a former gas station site south of West College tested positive for PCE at 37.3 ppb. Again, the health department was notified and a legal notice was published warning of the contamination and the need for further testing by state water quality experts.

But individual owners were not notified by county health officials, says Kostielney.

“You don’t make any kind of determination of notification of anybody until you determine the results [of lab work,]” he says.

A month later, in December 1999, state water quality officials went door to door to warn residents. Yet wells weren’t tested until August 2000, after funding was obtained. Filtration systems were installed on 14 wells. But they were considered a temporary fix until the city could provide water to the area.

Bob Harder, Santa Rosa deputy director of utilities, says there is money available to connect those residences having contaminated wells to the water system at an estimated cost ranging between $6,000 and $10,000 each. But those with clean wells must pay the connection costs.

THE NEIGHBORS SAY they shouldn’t have to pay the costs of obtaining safe water. State and federal legislators are seeking $2.5 million to assist with the connections, but any funding would go to reimburse the city and county first.

Dickey and her neighbors with contaminated wells have already lost their mineral rights, meaning they can never redrill. She is willing to take up the city’s offer and connect to the water system, without financial help, for domestic use rather than risk future condemnation. But she also wants to keep her filtered well water for irrigation for now.

“Once you lose it, you can’t get it back,” says Dickey.

Sharon Marchetti, a water technical specialist with St. Joseph Health System, says county officials are redefining the current policy for these residents. She says, and Warner confirms, that the county is allowing other contaminated wells to be used with filtration systems.

“No other county in the state is taking such extreme measures in terms of individual water rights,” says Marchetti.

Meanwhile, the state’s investigation continues. Water quality inspectors have identified the former Sonoma French Cleaners, at 946 West College Ave., as one source and are investigating two other businesses, Warner says. The city’s sewer system is also being inspected for possibly spreading the contamination.

And, as for legal recourse, residents aren’t likely to get their day in court–Claudette Gibbs, operator of Sonoma French Cleaners from 1984 to 1993, filed for bankruptcy last summer.

From the June 28-July 4, 2001 issue of the Northern California Bohemian.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Judy Van der Veer, Ursula K. Le Guin

Ursula K. Le Guin revives classic novel

By Patrick Sullivan

URSULA K. Le Guin is the undisputed grande dame of American fantasy and science fiction. Over some five decades of writing, she’s published more than 80 short stories and 16 novels, including the Nebula Award-winning The Left Hand of Darkness and the National Book Award-winning Wizard of Earthsea series, which surely ranks with Tolkien’s work among the best-loved classics of fantasy literature.

So what the hell is the nation’s premier chronicler of alternate universes doing championing a novel like November Grass, a coming-of-age story set in Southern California farm country and sporting nary a single alien, wizard, or dragon? And why is Judy Van der Veer’s novel, first published in 1941 and long out of print, now being republished by Heyday Books, a press known for nonfiction explorations of California history?

Both questions have simple answers. November Grass (Heyday; $13.95) is very, very good–the kind of hidden literary treasure that makes a reader wonder how many other gems the publishing industry has buried under its mucky pile of bestsellers. And the book’s author, who spent most of her life on a ranch in San Diego County, provides a vivid, authentic glimpse of a slice of California history now forgotten by all but a few.

In a foreword to the new edition, Le Guin explains that she stumbled across a secondhand copy of November Grass years ago. Le Guin, who has a passion for offbeat projects, quickly recognized the book’s virtues. Moved to buy the battered paperback by the painting of hills on the cover, she was hooked by “a prose so direct, plain, pure, and strong that it slowed me down to savor it like the taste of honey or a fine liqueur, a completely unaffected language perfectly fitted to its subjects.”

A young woman stands at the center of November Grass. We quickly discover that she is strong, quiet, and sensitive. But chapters go by before we find out her age (she’s 23). We never learn her name. Working on her parents’ farm, “the girl”–as she’s referred to throughout–herds cows, rides horses, and reflects deeply on life, love, death, and the elemental beauty of the land.

Because of its simple style, because of its young main character, and especially because of the girl’s intimate relationship with animals, a casual reader might at first mistake November Grass for a children’s book–a mistake often made about some of Le Guin’s own work.

But Van der Veer’s novel is actually a subtle, mature study of life’s beauties and cruelties, glories and mysteries. In setting and style, it’s a bit reminiscent of Steinbeck–but without the brutal axe stroke of a work like The Red Pony. Instead, the book brings its main character slowly but surely to grips with the fundamental questions of existence.

November Grass is composed of deceptively low-key episodes. The girl falls passionately in love with the magical sounds of a piano. She sees a tree magically transformed by shadow and sunlight. She rescues a cow and her calf from the banks of a river during a wild rainstorm. She encounters the eccentrics California has always been known for, including John of the Wilderness, a man who lives in the hills with a herd of goats as his only companions.

And, almost without the reader noticing, she falls for a boy with brown eyes, red hair, and the elegant hands of a sculptor.

It all adds up to a simple classic. For making November Grass available to another generation, Le Guin deserves our thanks. At 71, the Oregon author may not have another Nebula winner in her. But this act of literary resurrection would be a superb crowning accomplishment.

From the June 28-July 4, 2001 issue of the Northern California Bohemian.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Simon Says

0

Making of a band: Mike Johnston, Zac Diebels, Michael Arrieta, and Matt Franks

All the Rage

Simon Says say it louder, faster

By Greg Cahill

ON RECORD, Simon Says are raw, pissed-off, and ornery–one of the youngest and angriest of the angst-ridden rage-rock bands burning up the charts. Onstage–where success is measured by audience participation in stage diving, crowd surfing, and slam dancing–this Sacramento outfit has a reputation for high-energy shows that can leave even the most jaded reviewer in awe. On the phone, calling from a hotel room in Chicago, Simon Says guitarist Zac Diebels is the antithesis of those images–soft-spoken, polite, earnest, and absorbed in the band’s journeyman approach to the music business.

Ya gotta love him.

“We’re never really intimidated [by the business],” the 21-year-old Diebels explains. “This isn’t a competitive band–I mean, this isn’t a race, this is music–but we are excited to show you what we’ve got.”

Now promoting their new album Shut Your Breath (Hollywood), Simon Says swing into the Phoenix Theatre in Petaluma on June 29, during the West Coast leg of the Short End of the Stick Tour, a cheap concert series that is following the massive Ozzfest around the country and playing in nightclubs and small theaters to hard-rock fans who can’t afford $75 stadium seats.

It’s the kind of grassroots, meat-and-potatoes approach that has served this band so well. A couple of years ago, shortly after getting signed to a major label and when bandmembers were barely 18, Simon Says launched an intensive and unusual high school tour that found bandmembers raging in lunchrooms, two shows a day, 12 shows a week. “It was pretty brutal,” says Diebels, “but it was well worth it because we sold a lot of records and let kids know who we are.”

Since then, the road has become a second home. Most recently, the band has built an audience through relentless national and European touring with hard-rock heavyweights Limp Bizkit, Filter, Staind, the Rollins Band, and Type O Negative.

“Touring is our bread and butter,” Diebels says. “If it weren’t for touring, I don’t think our band would gain any ground really. We’ve gotten some radio, but we don’t bank on that kind of stuff–we come from a more old-school mentality that touring is where you develop your hardcore fan base among kids who will stick with you throughout your career, not just from one song on the radio. “When we’re touring, I feel like this is what I was meant to do.”

Once in the studio, the originally punkish band developed a heavier sound, owing in part to producer Mark Needham of Cake. And the band got heard, even among the then-rising din of rage-rock acts. In 1999, the song “Ship Jumper,” from their major-label debut Jump Start, was included on the Varsity Blues soundtrack. A second song, “Slider,” made it to MTVs new artists’ rotation. And a third, “Life Jacket,” surged up the Billboard rock chart. Oddly, the music video for that last tune–a personal account of their experiences in the music biz that exemplifies the band’s dark, in-your-face themes–landed on the Disney Channel, sandwiched between pop princess Britney Spears and boy band 98 Degrees.

Disney owns the band’s Hollywood Records label.

After the release of that album, the All Music Guide hailed Simon Says as “a very young American success story”–sort of a rage-rock Horatio Alger tale.

These days, the band has returned to its angrier roots. “We just went into the studio, threw our hand down, and said, ‘Let’s see where the chips fall,’ ” Diebels says. “It came out heavier because, in our hearts, we’re just naturally a lot heavier band.”

Simon Says perform Friday, June 29, at 8 p.m. at the Phoenix Theatre, 201 Washington St., Petaluma. Also on the bill are Link 80, Darwin’s Waiting Room, and Un Loco. Tickets are $5. 707/763-0225.

From the June 28-July 4, 2001 issue of the Northern California Bohemian.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

‘The Girl in the Sneakers’

Run, Tadai, Run

Iranian teen sprints for freedom in ‘The Girl in the Sneakers’

By

WATCHING the new wave of Iranian films, I’m usually overcome with a sense of nostalgia, which is strange because I’ve never been to Iran. But it all began to make sense after I watched the latest import, The Girl in the Sneakers.

There’s an evening shot of a traffic artery congested with cars. Suddenly it occurred to me: the heavy smog, the dismal light, the shoddy offices, and the crowded traffic of Tehran all mirrored a particularly ugly stretch of Los Angeles’s Wilshire Boulevard that I used to ride the bus through in 1973.

The depressed nostalgia got harder to shake, thanks to Iraj Panahi’s music (Francis Lai- style electric piano) and the opening scenes of a boy and a girl walking in a city park discussing Carlos Castaneda. The boy is temporarily fascinated with the idea of being able to fly away like Castaneda’s sorcerer, Don Juan; he tells his teasing, bratty girlfriend, Tadai (Pegah Ahangarani), that he’s ready to leave Iran and see the world–with her by his side, of course.

This gentle scene is busted up by the police. They suspect that the teens might have been having unlawful carnal knowledge. As the law requires, the cops haul Tadai away to have a pelvic exam (off screen) to make sure her virginity is intact. She’s still a hymen-bearer, so the cops let her off with a warning. And her parents give her a good yelling at.

Director Rassul Sadr Ameli saves the scene from melodrama by putting the camera in the next room, where we overhear the argument along with Tadai’s little brother, who is restlessly watching TV and trying to tune out the noise of his furious parents.

Planning a rebellion, Tadai cuts school the next day and walks the streets trying to use a series of pay phones to call her boyfriend. The story of a city wanderer is the easiest and most successful way to make a neo-realist film. Tadai has adventures; she tangles with an amusingly surly waiter at a hotel restaurant–Basil Fawlty’s Farsi cousin–and entertains herself telling lies to some old ladies on the bus.

At night, when single girls on the street are all considered whores, Tadai becomes a fugitive, hooking up with a tribeswoman (Kurdish?). She takes Tadai back to her camp, a post-apocalyptic dump-side squat alive with predatory men.

The Girl in the Sneakers is very compelling, but it has two flaws. The first is that Ahangarani is an uneven actress, occasionally coy and forced in the role. The second is that director Ameli sometimes plays this story both ways. He officially describes his film as concerning “the subjective preoccupations of a number of the young people in our society.”

This cautious language befits a director working through five different levels of Iranian film censorship. But would it have mitigated things if Tadai’s parents had been more kind to the girl after the state pulled down her pants?

This film could comfort some watchers who think that the problem is that Tadai, with her affection for the Backstreet Boys, should have been guided into submission more tactfully by her parents. Some also could be comforted that The Girl in the Sneakers is a warning to youth of the evil gypsy tribesmen waiting to help themselves to unescorted young girls.

Still, the closing shot at the end of Tadai’s run is a moment rich with implicit protest, encouraging the free to cherish their freedom and encouraging the enslaved to fight for their lives–a strong message in an increasingly moderate nation trying to shake off the shackles of fundamentalist rule.

‘The Girl in the Sneakers’ opens Friday, June 29, at the Rafael Film Center, 1118 Fourth St., San Rafael. For details, see , or call 415/454-1222.

From the June 28-July 4, 2001 issue of the Northern California Bohemian.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Open Mic

0

Of Boats & Bay Fill

By Julia Gilden

AT A HASTILY CONVENED MEETING last Friday, Assemblyman Joe Nation heard from Sausalito’s floating community regarding his bill to clamshell “derelict” vessels. With 24 hours’ notice, 80 residents from boats, floating homes, and local land-based dwellings packed the Bay Model’s main meeting room to explain basic waterfront facts to the environmental assemblyman.

AB107 would amend an existing state law to control derelict vessel removal. But the new version extends the definition of derelict to include illegally moored and unauthorized vessels. In addition, Nation’s bill would raise the value of “derelict” boats from the existing $300 to $2,000, as determined by unknown persons, charge the owner for the boat’s destruction, and impose a fine, thus creating a new category in the state’s Criminal Code.

According to Richardson Bay Regional Authority administrator Bill Price, harbormasters up and down the state were consulted about the bill’s language, but he acknowledged that vessel owners were left out of the loop. While the bill’s instigator, Tiburon Mayor Andrew Thompson, stressed that the intent of the bill was to clean up beached hulks, the consensus among those attending was that the new law, as written, would give officials global authority to demolish floating communities.

The Bay Conservation and Development Commission’s claim that boats are “bay fill” has put pleasure craft owners, marina managers, and vessel dwellers at war for over 30 years with a state agency whose mandate is to protect the San Francisco Bay’s ecology and to prevent developers from encroaching into tidal areas. Since there are few, if any, “legally moored” or “authorized” vessels throughout the bay, AB107 would provide an enforcing mechanism for the BCDC’s efforts to remove boats at will. But according to the authors of the McAteer-Petris Act, which established the BCDC in 1965, vessels were never intended to be defined as “bay fill.”

Nation says it was a coincidence that his bill’s language matched the BCDC’s new proposal to remove 90 unauthorized vessels anchored or moored in Richardson Bay within a year. But as Waldo Point Floating Homes Association representative Suki Sennett points out, since Waldo Point has not had its permits renewed since 1992, all of Waldo Point’s floating homes could be defined at “unauthorized vessels.” Permit renewal is tied to certain improvements and trade-offs concerning a small co-op of floating homes existing since Sausalito’s heyday of creative houseboats.

Relying on a legacy of waterfront property interests and political deals, both Nation and the BCDC seem uninterested in working with existing federal laws regulating vessel use and navigation, including anchoring. As one boat owner quipped, “When I sail to Mexico, does my boat become ocean fill?”

Julia Gilden is a journalist and photographer who resides anchored out in Sausalito.

From the June 21-27, 2001 issue of the Northern California Bohemian.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Russian River Blues Festival

0

Living her dream: Four-time W.C. Handy Blues Award nominee Deborah Coleman will perform June 24 at the Russian River Blues Festival.

Blue Steel

Deborah Coleman spearheads wave of young female artists

By Greg Cahill

I’VE ENVISIONED myself as a live performer since I was a little girl, since I first saw the Monkees on TV,” says mid-30ish blues phenomenon Deborah Coleman with a laugh. “Blame it on the Monkees–and they didn’t even play their own instruments.”

As a singer, songwriter, and guitarist extraordinaire, the super-talented Coleman has become the poster girl for the new blues woman–a role that brings her June 24 to the sixth annual Russian River Blues Festival’s daylong program spotlighting women making a splash in the traditionally male-dominated genre. Along with such relative newcomers as Shemekia Copeland–the awesome gut-bucket blues singer and daughter of the late blues legend Johnny Copeland–Boston blues belter Susan Tedeschi; guitarists Sue Foley and Debbie Davis; and keyboardist Dona Oxford, Coleman is in the forefront of a wave of young women making their mark on the blues.

USA Today hailed her as “a fiery guitarist . . . who makes the spine tingle with her unbridled raw energy” and noted that Coleman is “one of blues music’s most exciting young players.”

Nominated this year for the fourth time for a W.C. Handy Award, Coleman has a red-hot new album, Livin’ on Love (Blind Pig) that is garnering rave reviews. Produced by Jim Gaines–known for his work with Santana, Stevie Ray Vaughan, and Huey Lewis & the News–the album showcases Coleman’s considerable songwriting talent.

“That’s one of my gifts, and I like to do it,” she says modestly, during a phone call from her home in Virginia, “so I figured I should squeeze a couple of months out of the year to work on songs.”

The effort has paid off. But the real buzz about Coleman these days is her kick-ass guitar playing onstage, which has drawn favorable comparisons to Vaughan’s. “Oh, well, that’s one of my favorite things to do, playing live,” she explains. “I get in the zone, if you will, and who knows how long it will last. It gives me chance to cut loose, whereas I wouldn’t normally on a record.

“I love it.”

HER INTRODUCTION to the blues guitar came via a circuitous route, not through the great Delta bluesmen but rather from ’60s rock icons. At age 15, Coleman began performing with a series of rock and R&B bands. She started out as a bass player but, after hearing Jimi Hendrix, switched to lead guitar.

“Back then, the formats of the radio stations were more diverse,” she recalls. “I remember hearing Joe Cocker, James Brown, Ray Charles, and the Beatles on the same station.”

As her interest in guitar grew, she began listening to British rock groups such as the Yardbirds, Cream, and Led Zeppelin, and followed the roots of their music back to the blues. “Jeff Beck was one of my favorites,” she says.

“I didn’t find out until later that they were doing blues tunes, and I went to find the original artists.”

She hit pay dirt at age 21 while attending a concert that featured Howlin’ Wolf, Muddy Waters, and John Lee Hooker all on the same bill. “I will never forget that show! At the time I was still doin’ rock, but I said, ‘Damn! That is cool, y’know!’ ”

As for the newfound interest in the ladies of the blues, Coleman says it’s about time the blues community–and especially blues promoters–loosened up and began appreciating female performers. “Everyone will get to see these women doing their own brand of the blues or, in my case, blues roots-rock. We’ve had our little affairs with the rock, country, and jazz worlds, so why not the blues?” she asks.

“I mean, you can probably count on one hand the number of women who have made a name as blues guitarists. But it’s finally happening in the blues world. Even in the early 20th century, only Memphis Minnie gained a reputation as female guitar player, and she never got the recognition she deserved. Now here we are 80 years later and I’m just glad to be in a position where I’m allowed to be seen more. So I’m just grateful for that.

“Who knew?

“I just wanted to play guitar, write songs, and make records.

“It’s working and it’s great. It’s beautiful.”

Festival Schedule

The sixth annual Russian River Blues Festival is awash with talent. On Saturday, June 23, the two-day festival kicks off with “Blues Is a Woman,” featuring Etta James & the Roots Band, Shemekia Copeland (triple winner at this year’s prestigious W.C. Handy Blues Awards), Deborah Coleman, Rosie Ledet & the Zydeco Playboys, and Lady Bianca. On Sunday, June 24, the men get their due with an impressive program featuring Keb’ Mo’ (above), guitarist Lucky Petersen, Clarence “Gatemouth” Brown, Roomful of Blues, the Persuasions, and Sy Klopps. The concerts, beginning at 11 a.m. each day and emceed by deejay Bill Bowker, will be held at Johnson’s Beach in Guerneville. Advance tickets are $40 each day or $75 for a two-day pass; tickets at the gate are $45 each day or $85 for a two-day pass. 510/655-9471.

From the June 21-27, 2001 issue of the Northern California Bohemian.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Nathan Jx

Universe of Walls Do you see what Nathan Jx sees? By Gretchen Giles THE COOL, dim elegance of the Sonoma State University Library Art Gallery is hardly the place to conduct an argument. Yet there they were, a couple looking at photographs while hissing in genteel undertones. ...

Spins

Stars and Strikes A parade of new Americana CDs By Greg Cahill Lucinda Williams Essence (Lost Highway) HER LAST ALBUM, Car Wheels on a Gravel Road, was a huge critical success. This much-anticipated follow-up takes a slight detour. Just as stark and plaintive as on its predecessor, the...

Kenneth Cleaver

Consumer Correspondent Gap Inc. One Harrison St. San Francisco, CA 94105 Dear Gap Inc.: I understand that the Gap is named after the infamous "generation gap" that plagued our great nation in the turbulent '60s. With the advent of baby gap and Gapkids it appears...

‘A.I.: Artificial Intelligence’

Robot Oedipus 'A.I.' is Spielberg at his most conflicted By IF ANY OF THIS summer's blockbusters deserves Freudian analysis, A.I.: Artificial Intelligence is it. Made as a kind of joint project between Steven Spielberg and the now deceased Stanley Kubrick, the film is as much Oedipus 2050 as a robot Pinocchio....

Contaminated Wells

Not well treated: Lorraine Dickey is one of dozens of Santa Rosa residents who say the county is grabbing the mineral and water rights. Down the Drain Santa Rosans boiling mad over loss of water rights By Maria Brosnan Liebel FOR 44 YEARS, Lorraine Dickey's family...

Judy Van der Veer, Ursula K. Le Guin

Ursula K. Le Guin revives classic novel By Patrick Sullivan URSULA K. Le Guin is the undisputed grande dame of American fantasy and science fiction. Over some five decades of writing, she's published more than 80 short stories and 16 novels, including the Nebula Award-winning The Left Hand of Darkness and the National...

Simon Says

Making of a band: Mike Johnston, Zac Diebels, Michael Arrieta, and Matt Franks All the Rage Simon Says say it louder, faster By Greg Cahill ON RECORD, Simon Says are raw, pissed-off, and ornery--one of the youngest and angriest of the angst-ridden rage-rock bands burning up the charts....

‘The Girl in the Sneakers’

Run, Tadai, Run Iranian teen sprints for freedom in 'The Girl in the Sneakers' By WATCHING the new wave of Iranian films, I'm usually overcome with a sense of nostalgia, which is strange because I've never been to Iran. But it all began to make sense after I watched the latest...

Open Mic

Of Boats & Bay Fill By Julia Gilden AT A HASTILY CONVENED MEETING last Friday, Assemblyman Joe Nation heard from Sausalito's floating community regarding his bill to clamshell "derelict" vessels. With 24 hours' notice, 80 residents from boats, floating homes, and local land-based dwellings packed the Bay Model's main meeting room to explain...

Russian River Blues Festival

Living her dream: Four-time W.C. Handy Blues Award nominee Deborah Coleman will perform June 24 at the Russian River Blues Festival. Blue Steel Deborah Coleman spearheads wave of young female artists By Greg Cahill "I'VE ENVISIONED myself as a live performer since I was a little...
11,084FansLike
4,606FollowersFollow
6,928FollowersFollow