July 13: Karilee Halo Shames In Conversation with Lynn Woolsey at Book Passage.

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Ladies, gather round. No, literally: women gather together this week to discuss empowerment and overcoming difficulties when author Karilee Halo Shames discusses her book, ‘Amazing Mentors: The REAL Hot Mama’s Path to Power’ with one of the contributors, former congresswoman Lynn Woolsey. In Shames’ compilation of mentors, she brings forth the life stories and lessons of 20 talented and wise women, ranging from politicians to therapists to businesswomen, such as Woolsey, U.S. Army general Clara Adams and world ambassador for peace Rama Vernon. In conversation with Woolsey, Shames makes key points on how and why women should become mentors to others. Absorb life experiences and knowledge on Saturday, July 13, at Book Passage. 51 Tamal Vista Blvd., Corte Madera. 1pm. Free. 415.927.0960.

July 14: Larry Vuckovich Tribute to Vince Guaraldi at Silo’s

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“Wah-wah wah-woh wah-wah.” This famous phrase uttered by schoolteacher Miss Othmar in the Charlie Brown TV series remained with fans even after the show was over—just like the bouncy jazz music by San Francisco pianist Vince Guaraldi. This week, Guaraldi’s former student pianist Larry Vuckovich, pays tribute to the late composer in the Larry Vuckovich Vince Guaraldi Tribute Ensemble. Guitarist Josh Workman, Latin percussionist John Santos, bassist Seward McCain and drummer Leon Joyce round out the group, which play Guaraldi’s original compositions, his duets with Brazilian guitarist Bola Sete, his pop hit “Cast Your Fate to the Wind” and selections from Peanuts. You won’t be sighing “Good grief” on Sunday, July 14, at Silo’s. 530 Main St., Napa. 4pm. $20—$40. 707.251.5833.

July 12-July 21: Napa Valley Festival del Sole at Castello di Amorosa

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Wine, wine and more wine (clink, clink). If you were hoping for some other beverage, then you must not be from Napa. The eighth annual Napa Valley Festival del Sole is where the words “swirl,” “sip” and “spit” are all too common (clink, clink), a 10-day event with a hundred wineries and over 60 events to enjoy. Beyond the pour, classical and television stars take the stage during the festival’s many concerts and events, including violinist Sarah Chang and pianist Andrew von Oeyen, Russian-born cellist Nina Kotova (clink, clink), vocalist Audra McDonald, The View’s Star Jones, mezzo-soprano Frederica von Stade and others. Take in the classical music and beautiful scenery starting Friday, July 12, at Castello di Amorosa (it’s a castle!) and continuing through July 21 at various venues in the valley. For full details, see www.festivaldelsole.org.

Empty Bottle

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In its first year, Coachella, the hugely popular music festival, lost roughly $800,000.

After bouncing checks, struggling to make good on salaries to employees and begging for patience from unpaid headliners like Rage Against the Machine, Tool and Beck, Coachella’s promotion company Goldenvoice eventually settled its debts by agreeing to be sold to sports and entertainment behemoth AEG.

Such a fate may be the best hope for the debt-ridden BottleRock music festival, which after a smooth, successful first-year event still owes over $2 million to caterers, stagehands, security and others, according to a series of recent reports.

But festival cofounder Bob Vogt insists the debts are caused by an ongoing dispute with Napa Valley restaurateur Cindy Pawlcyn and her company CP Cooks, which managed BottleRock’s food and drink sales and, according to Vogt, has not provided proper accounting for concessions.

Because of the ongoing dispute with CP Cooks, BottleRock has received “zero” from food and drink sales, Vogt says. “Nothing. And any statements to the contrary are false. We’ve received zero.”

Reached by phone this week, Vogt estimates that CP Cooks owes the festival enough money to pay all outstanding debts. “We didn’t lose much our first year. We got stiffed by food and beverage,” he says. “If we had received revenue from that, which is the second-largest thing from any festival after box office, everybody would have been paid and our charities would have been paid.”

A representative for CP Cooks told the Napa Valley Register last week that a detailed accounting of food and drink sales was provided to Vogt after the festival, but Vogt disputed it. He added that BottleRock owes money to CP Cooks—not the other way around.

While that dispute is worked out by lawyers, numerous employees and organizations are waiting on paychecks.

In mid-June, the union representing BottleRock’s stagehands, International Alliance of Theatrical Stage Employees Local 16, filed a grievance for $630,000 in unpaid wages to 142 stagehands that worked the festival, according to a report in the Press Democrat. That kicked off continuing revelations of more debt, reported in the Napa Valley Register and the concert industry site Pollstar, owed to Bauer’s Intelligent Transportation ($524,239), NES West security ($217,000), Landmark event staffing ($166,000), the city of Napa ($106,730) and the Napa Valley Expo itself ($310,938).

When asked this week if any of the debts have been paid, Vogt says, “Very little, unfortunately. The laborers are at the top. I’m very close to taking care of that, and that’s the thing that hurts the most—the guys that worked there. It’s painful all around.”

Vogt also says that BottleRock is currently looking at a selection of equity partners interested in investing in the festival, which will help settle the debts. “We have choices, and we’re very close,” Vogt says, clarifying that the investors are not bigger concert-promotion companies looking to buy the festival.

On June 30, Up & Under Catering in Point Richmond became the latest to come forward about money owed, posting a now-viral letter on its Facebook page addressed to BottleRock bands, asking that they help spread the word and put pressure on festival organizers to make good on the $190,000 owed for backstage meals.

The next day, Jane’s Addiction’s Dave Navarro did just that, tweeting “What’s the latest with Up & Under Payment??? Can we move this along?”

Reached by phone this week, Up & Under co-owner Nathan Trivers was rather blunt when asked if he’d been paid. “Hell no,” Trivers says. “Shit, they still fuckin’ owe me the money. I worked my ass off.”

Trivers says he hasn’t spoken with Vogt since posting his letter, but says Vogt sent him “a couple text messages” expressing dismay that Trivers made the issue public.

“The bottom line is that they created this,” Trivers says. “All I did was feed 8,500 people. All I did was work hard.”

Music festivals are no strangers to debt—organizers for both Reggae Rising and the Harmony Festival in recent years have owed outstanding payments—but the $2 million owed by BottleRock reaches first-year Coachella levels, when adjusted for the high inflation of the concert industry in the past 14 years.

Vogt says that BottleRock paid all the artists who performed at the festival—over 60 big-name headliners like the Black Keys, Jane’s Addiction, Flaming Lips, Ben Harper, Macklemore, Jackson Browne, Primus and many others. This follows standard practices in the music industry for bands to be paid immediately after their show, or, in many cases, before the band even takes the stage.

In the meantime, Vogt says he’s “100 percent serious” about paying everybody.

“We didn’t do this frivolously or undercapitalized or any of the misunderstandings that people have,” Vogt says. “We knew exactly where the revenue would come from. We just didn’t get it.”

Out of the Limelight

The glorious 20 Feet from Stardom is the surprise of the summer. It audits some 60 years of the very best pop music through an unexplored angle: the backup singers who remained unknown while chilling spines around the world.

The singers here—Claudia Lennear, Merry Clayton, Darlene Love and the almost tangibly warm Lisa Fischer—are most frequently heard giving a dose of soul to white headliners (à la Lou Reed in “Walk on the Wild Side” handing it off to “the colored girls [who] sing doot, do doot, do doot . . .”) When Sinatra wanted to sound like Ray Charles on “That’s Life,” he needed the kind of sound the Raylettes provided; when British rockers like Jimmy Page and Joe Cocker wanted to emulate Mississippians, they needed the same talents that accompanied Ike and Tina Turner.

20 Feet from Stardom begins with a heart-stopping clip from Talking Heads’ Stop Making Sense—with interviewee Lynn Mabry performing “Slippery People,” calming the jitters in David Byrne’s voice with a wave of faith and hope—and travels through decades of rock and pop music.

Positively exhilarating is the scene where Clayton revisits a certain recording studio. The way Clayton tells the story of “Gimme Shelter,” it’s clear people have been leaning in to hear it for decades: Clayton was pregnant, her hair in curlers under a scarf, when she was called down for a Rolling Stones session in the middle of the night. Soon, she warmed up and wailed: “Rape! Murder! It’s just a shot away. . . .” (After leaving the studio, Clayton lost her baby in a miscarriage, and popular legend tends to link the sad event to the emotional power of her performance.)

Director Morgan Neville has made documentaries on everyone from Burt Bacharach to Iggy and the Stooges, and the rapport with his subjects is unimpeachable. Mick Jagger, Bruce Springsteen and Sting are interviewed not as stars but as fans, collaborators and industry insiders baffled by the algebra of success.

Talent is not enough, 20 Feet from Stardom says, and self-promoting force is not enough. These singers never made it as solo artists; and the current studio technology that can make any schlub a singer can also make any schlub a backup singer. If this profession has more past than present, these women are jewels who finally get a setting.

In a roundabout way, the movie also answers the question: Why, when a song comes on the radio, do we sing the chorus instead of the lead? Because it’s the people’s part of the song.

’20 Feet from Stardom’ is playing at Summerfield Cinemas in Santa Rosa.

Benessere Vineyards

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Nobody visits Napa and says, “Honey, doesn’t this look just like Bordeaux?” Not unless they’re looking at the grapevines with an ampelographer’s eye. Up close, it’s very much like Bordeaux indeed. Here, where the free vintners of the West can grow any grape their heart fancies, unbound by continental traditions and proscriptions, it’s Cabernet Sauvignon followed by Cab, Cab, Cab, Cab—Merlot—Cab, Cab and more Cab.

Hey, why stir the pot? The era of experimentation is over. If you don’t know the story about the guy who banked on Napa Valley Beaujolais Nouveau, lost his shirt and was sent packing back to Chicago, his name might ring a bell: Charles Shaw.

Enter Chicagoans John and Ellen Benish, who had recently enjoyed a tour of Italy. Simply loved it. When they came to St. Helena, they said—wait for it—isn’t this just like Tuscany? In 1994, they purchased the former estate of—see it coming?—Charles Shaw, and instead of the same-old, actually planted the grapes that thrive in Tuscany, Campania and Umbria.

“Sangiovese is a very tough varietal to make,” says winemaker Leo Martinez (pictured), who was promoted after sticking with Benessere for 12 years. Fortunately, he’s got a “spice rack” of nine clones to work with, oak fermenters and an all-gas system that moves wine gently from barrels. To make sure he gets it right, he lives onsite during crush to babysit fermentations, taking their temperatures at 2:30am.

The bright, cherry-vanilla lollipop of a 2009 Estate Sangiovese ($32) makes it look easy. The 2011 Carneros Pinot Grigio ($22) sparkles with green-apple glitter; the 2008 Estate Sagrantino ($75) is supple and rare; the pretty, perfumed 2010 Aglianico ($40), a glimpse of what the Romans enjoyed as the legendary falernum, and the 2009 Sorridente ($50) and 2008 Phenomenon ($50) are plush, grippy super-Tuscan-style blends.

More fun than your average Napa Zin, the floral 2009 “Black Glass” Estate Zinfandel ($32) is wild raspberry patch in a glass, and the 2010 Holystone-Collins Old Vine Zinfandel ($35), from a neighbor’s vineyard where Benessere parks a red truck with their “Winery Here” sign, a jelly jar full of cherry, plum and raspberry—plus finesse.

Don’t look for the iconic gazebo from the “2-Buck” label. It’s gone. As for the Benishes, they jet in for a few weeks each year. Most of the year, it’s just a small, outgoing crew and their dedicated winemaker, left to make a spaghetti Western stand for serious Cal-Ital wine in the heart of Cab country.

Benessere Vineyards, 1010 Big Tree Road, St. Helena. Daily, 10am–5pm. Tasting fee, $20. 707.963.5853.

The Pressure Cooker of the Road

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Only once in my life have I threatened to kill someone.

It started at the Launchpad, a dive bar in downtown Albuquerque, on a midsummer night’s eve. We’d ended up there after almost a month of playing shows across the U.S., with a band that I’ll call “the Record Tree,” to protect the innocent. Four weeks in, the six of us had reached varying levels of hatred for each other brought on by life on the road. Three weeks of highs and lows. Drinking warm beer as the sun came up over the Mississippi River in Baton Rouge; fireflies and Bright Eyes on the porch of a rickety Omaha farmhouse; Digital Underground–powered dance parties as the van sped down an East Coast highway.

But it wasn’t all fun and games. One of my band mates—let’s call her “Polly”—decided to quit smoking weed somewhere around Boston. Polly needed weed. Without the green stuff, her OCD tendencies fully flowered. There were near-constant references to her boyfriend back home. Every five minutes it would be, “God, I miss Wayne” or “I wonder what Wayne is doing right now?” or “Have I told you how rad Wayne is?” Yes, yes and yes! I’m fine with people trying to get healthy, but seriously, there’s a reason why some people need a marijuana prescription—and without her drug of choice, well, let’s just say the van felt smaller and smaller every day.

Before the tour, Polly and I had been good friends. I was her biggest defender, until about Texas, when all of us in the van began to harbor a secret desire for her to disappear into an oil field, never to be seen again.

By the time we got to Albuquerque, on the heels of a bust of a show in Denton, we were tired, overheated and sick from subsisting on beer, whiskey, cigarettes and Burger King. Our plan was to get on the road immediately after the sparsely attended show and head toward the Grand Canyon, and then Las Vegas, where we were scheduled to play the following night.

One of the few people who came out to see us at the Launchpad was a friendly fellow named Rodney. He invited us out to drink beer and listen to records after our show. Everyone was down—except for Polly and the bass player Gina, who had formed an alliance, which involved doing their makeup together in the dark light of the bar, and from what I remember, braiding each other’s hair. Suddenly the best of friends, they put up a fuss about going to Rodney’s, but in an act of democracy, they were voted down 4–2.

About an hour into our impromptu party, Polly ran into the house (she and Gina had stayed in the van in protest), freaked out by a shady character hanging out nearby. She insisted that we leave right then. We gathered ourselves up and said goodbye to Rodney, promising to look him up next time we came to New Mexico. As Gina sat in the driver’s seat, and as I sat in the passenger seat with everyone else piled into the back, Polly started haranguing us before the keys even went into the ignition.

“I can’t believe you let us sit out here for that long,” she sneered. “That was fucked up. What’s wrong with you?” Everyone sat silently, taking her abuse. Everyone, except me, because sometimes I don’t know when to keep my mouth zipped. As soon as I said something back, Polly turned her wrath on me.

“Leilani, you are so selfish,” Polly said, fixing me with her intense, slightly popped out eyes. “You’ve been the most selfish person this whole tour. You only think of yourself.”

“Polly, be quiet please,” I said, anger building.

Polly’s little head popped up and down from behind the loft seat, like a cranky little bird, pecking away. At this point, I swear I saw red. The pressure cooker exploded. “Be quiet, be quiet, I’m telling you right now!” I spat out, but she wouldn’t stop, and before I could curb the impulse to injure I flung off my seatbelt and lunged towards Polly’s pointy white face.

“If you don’t shut up, I’m going to kill you!” I roared like the lion in winter. I bolted toward Polly, hands reaching for her neck. Two of my band mates had to hold me back like the beast I’d become.

Polly’s mouth clapped shut. She fell silent. I screamed at Gina to stop the van, and as it slowed, I jumped out and ran down that dark Albuquerque street, trying to get as far away from the van as possible. The roadie and the singer chased me down, finding me in the fetal position on the sidewalk, blubbering, with a broken tree branch in my hand. Not my finest moment.

Dear reader, as you might imagine, the story ends badly. Polly got on her phone, while I unfurled myself and booked the next flight to San Diego. We had to cancel Vegas. We drove Polly to the airport, me in the passenger seat, she in the loft, the Gaza Strip between us. Gina refused to speak to me for the rest of the trip. I spent that long drive down the I-40 weeping as Cat Power’s Moon Pix played over the stereo.

The next day, we stopped at the Grand Canyon, where the drummer bought me a bubblegum ice cream that I ate while staring glumly at the abyss below. Polly and I didn’t speak for months, despite the fact that she lived in the house behind me, and spent the rest of the summer telling people that she didn’t feel safe in my presence.

And I was never asked to go on tour again.

Letters to the Editor: July 10, 2013

We Get Letters

I was in Kinko’s by Peet’s on Fourth Street and I had my big black leather purse on the engineer draftsman table right to the front street window and I took only a few feet to the cash register and back again and my African Colombian medical marijuana was stolen out of my purse of front flap window residue.

Humboldt County—JFK.

Humble of the Bible.

Still yet and all.

Santa Rosa

Striker’s Vision Exploited

I am one of those old folks who remembers The Lone Ranger (“Masked Man(ure),” July 3). I was hoping that, based on the interest in mythology apparent in movies like Avatar, The Matrix and others in recent years, much would be made of the death of John Reid and his resurrection as the Lone Ranger, his silver (magical) bullets, his spirit horse (named Silver, just in case we didn’t notice that the horse was white) and his companion, Tonto.

Tonto (“fool”) was not an insult by the way. The wise fool has a very long history in mythologies around the world. The fool has a difficult time functioning socially due to a lack of cultural understanding. But his lack of investment in cultural assumptions allows him to see things that more culturally invested individuals can’t see. The classic example is the child in “The Emperor’s New Clothes.” The fool is usually seen as being closer to nature than the average person—a child, a country bumpkin or, in this case, a Native American.

It is very clear from the old radio and television programs that creator Fran Striker knew exactly what he was doing when he put all this together. Seeing the trailers for this latest movie was very disappointing. Reading the reviews, including yours, is even worse. I’m afraid to go see a movie that appears to have been made by someone who has no clue about his subject. What a shame.

Via online

They Can’t All Be ‘Benny & Joon’

Good review (“Masked Man(ure),” July 3). Sad to see Depp condemned to repeat his early brilliance as a blockbuster-enabling sleepwalker.

Via online

Solomon on Snowden

It’s hard for me to understand the thinking of Americans like Edward Snowden and Norman Solomon (“Surveillance State,” June 12). Every open society on earth must secure its existence in the face of continuous attacks from those that favor closed societies and reject civil rights such as freedom of speech, freedom of worship, freedom to vote—all the rights that make us a parliamentary democracy. Autocratic regimes of left and right—Stalin, Hitler, Mao, Castro, and the current crop of radical Islamist regimes—hate democracy. By shooting reporters and beheading young girls who seek education, the Taliban displays the hatred that enemies of open societies feel for democracy.

How does the leader of a democracy judge just how much surveillance is necessary to secure our existence? We chose Obama to make that judgment.

If he errs, I hope it’s on the side of caution. I don’t want to see us successfully overthrown by those who would like to see all the world’s countries become closed societies.

Ironically, the places Snowden seeks for asylum have little use for freedom of speech. If they do not shoot or imprison him, it will be for his propaganda value. He and Solomon expect a purity of behavior from our government that they will never find in such closed societies as Ecuador or Russia or China.

Friday Harbor, Wash.

Write to us at le*****@******an.com.

Top Tickets

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The premise is a little unbelievable: free concerts of big-name bands in a mini amphitheater at a world-class brewery. What’s the catch?

There isn’t one, says Laura Muckenhoupt, music specialist at Lagunitas. Last month saw Les Claypool’s Duo de Twang playing a benefit for a fisherman at Lagunitas, and upcoming shows include the Sierra Leone Refugee All Stars, Charlie Musselwhite, Vintage Trouble (pictured) and others.

No, there’s no catch, but we warn you: getting in isn’t always easy. The 325-seat amphitheater fills up so quickly that tickets are required, even for free shows. Lagunitas announces the dates only after the bands themselves do, and tickets are available through the bands’ own websites. All concerts are on Mondays or Tuesdays—unusual nights to see live music, which Muckenhoupt chalks up to Lagunitas not wanting to compete with other local venues. But still, you’ve gotta be quick and in-the-know for a shot at tickets.

A free Del McCoury Band concert in a mini-Greek Theater while drinking normal-priced Lagunitas beers? Yeah, it’s worth it. The Lagunitas Summer Concert Series features a Noise Pop show on Monday, July 29, and the Wheeler Brothers on Tuesday, Aug. 20. Free. See Lagunitas.com for (slightly more) details. 1280 N. McDowell Blvd., Petaluma. 707.778.8776.&

North Bay Noise

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Note: We get CDs aplenty sent to us here at the ‘Bohemian,’ which usually find their way into these pages throughout the year. This week, while no means a comprehensive coverage of every single local album we’ve received of late, we pull a sampling of the more recent ones that have shown up in our mailbox.

Boo Radley’s House, ‘Eye to I’

Presented in seven “chapters,” Eye to I is a progressively minded metal saga. If Queensryche had made Operation: Mindcrime in 2013 instead of 1988, it still wouldn’t approach the ambitions contained here. With an average length of around eight minutes, each chapter vacillates between calm and storm, giving vocalist Bart Tramer a workout in expressive range over the band’s lock-tight riffs and effects-laden atmosphere. Behind the boards for the recording is legendary engineer and producer Billy Anderson (Neurosis, Sleep, Melvins), so this ain’t no Garageband mp3—the mix is as strong as Atticus Finch’s courtroom resolve. The final chapter, “Enter the House of I,” is 15 minutes of all-over-the-place adventure featuring some of the most dizzying work ever laid down by guitarist Eddie Rogers; it closes a record that’s weirdly perfect for Sunday morning.—G.M.

Poor Man’s Whiskey, ‘Like a River: A Tribute to Kate Wolf’

Banjos and fiddles and bluegrass, oh my! In paying tribute to revered singer-songwriter Kate Wolf, Poor Man’s Whiskey deliver a good ole’ fusion of Southern rock and bluegrass sounds. The fast-paced toe-tapping fun drives tracks like “Eyes of a Painter” and “Picture Puzzle,” where keeping up with the quick lyrics and faster rhythms can be a challenge. Slowing it down a bit, “Like a River” and “Here in California” offer beautiful arrangements and soft melodies—Wolf’s stock in trade. But mostly, Like a River is quirky, funny and perfectly bluegrass. In “Everybody’s Looking for the Same Thing,” there’s such an abundance of instruments (I swear I heard a kazoo) that absorbing all the sounds and weird noises and yelling is a little overwhelming. All in all, Like a River is worth a listen, and an interesting detour from the band who made playing Dark Side of the Moon in a bluegrass style cool.—A.H.

Secret Cat, ‘Numeral’

Anyone lucky enough to have witnessed a rare live performance by Aardvark Ruins—every noisy, branch-waving, spazzcore second of it—should shed any expectations of the band’s other iteration as Secret Cat. Numeral, a seven-song album released in March 2013, is much more about the tightly wound, three-minute pop song than chaos and burbles. Forgive me this ’90s moment, but Secret Cat sounds like a meeting between Mr. Bungle and Ween in the parking lot of a decrepit drive-in theater while Plan 9 from Outer Space plays on a lone, blurry screen and Weezer sells hot dogs at the snack stand. “The Return” is particularly catchy, with a bit of a ’60s space flair laid over a galloping drum beat. Secret Cat went straight-up old-school and released Numeral on cassette (and CD); each one is hand-painted, just like halcyon days of yore, and includes a download of the album.—L.C.

Midnight Sun Massive, ‘Who’s Feeling Irie?’

Less accustomed to the recording studio than the live stage, local reggae veterans Midnight Sun Massive nonetheless offer a serviceable facsimile of their crowd-rocking shows on this sunny, breezy, 12-track album, mastered by Blair Hardman at Zone Recording. Beholden to no strict style, the band swerves fluidly between roots reggae, dancehall, rocksteady and ragamuffin rhythms with doses of hip-hop (“Summer Girl,” “U.N.I.T.Y.”), Caribbean (“Amor Amável”) and ’80s pop (“Coming Through”). With liner-note dedications to both Johnny Otis and Adam Yauch, the record also includes the band’s cover of Marvin Gaye’s “What’s Goin’ On,” which replaces the original’s deliquescent arrangement with upstrokes, cabasa and synthesizers. Who’s feeling irie? I’m guessing Midnight Sun Massive, that’s who.—G.M.

Midnight Sun Massive, ‘Live’

Reggae is best experienced live, in the moment, possibly under a fragrant cloud of good vibrations. All that this entails (you’re on your own with the fragrant cloud) can be found on Midnight Sun Massive’s new album, Live. The 10-song collection of live recordings is a response to fans, says the band, who have been seeking a way to take home that irie feeling from the hardworking band’s performances. Recent originals make up most of the album, which includes a few medleys. Covers of “Rivers of Babylon” and “What’s Goin’ On” are rough in spots, as the liner notes point out, but “like most love affairs,” the band says, it’s “always worth it.”—N.G.

J.Kendall, ‘Moving Forward’

On Moving Forward, J.Kendall aims to transcend genres by blending electro soul, R&B and club sounds. Soulful, smooth rhythms take the spotlight on the Oakland-born singer’s new album in songs like “What I Want” and “Cloud Ride.” Others, like “J.Kendall,” conjure a hypnotic spell with his calming voice. A female singer enters the picture on “Seconds Minutes,” allowing for a soothing combination of differing tones. When Kendall sticks to R&B, he nails it, and at times sounds a bit John Legend–esque. When he steps into the realm of hip-hop, things just get weird: “All Night Long” breaks out the Auto-Tune, and “Oh!” (featuring N8 the Gr8) shows J.Kendall trying too hard to produce a “club” song. But for the most part, J.Kendall has got it together with some soothing tunes. Sequence your player right, and you won’t be disappointed.—A.H.

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Dan Imhoff, ‘Agraria’

Most know Dan Imhoff for his work as an author and environmental advocate, writing on issues of biodiversity, farm bills and industrial animal factories. What people might not know is that Imhoff is a lifelong musician, performing both solo and with his band Cahoots. In 2010, after producing a 450-page critique of factory farming, he took a sabbatical to the Berklee College of Music in Boston and took classes in ear training and composition. Agraria features songs written during this musical sojourn. The album is the perfect soundtrack for a summer on a Sonoma County farm, complete with fiddle-fueled songs for a Friday-night barn dance, as well as pensive tunes made for sunset-watching in an apple orchard. The album features lap steel guitar and backing vocals from Landpaths executive director Craig Anderson, pedal steel from local whiz Josh Yenne, fiddle from the Brothers Comatose’s Philip Brezina and many others. Produced at Prairie Sun studios, Agraria offers a glimpse of how to successfully channel political passion into art.—L.C.

Dave Haskell Group, ‘Pivot Point’

Pivot Point, the latest album by jazz guitarist Dave Haskell, is a little strange at first, like a hotel shower. The lack of repetition in rhythm and melody is uncustomary, but after a few minutes, one’s mindset undergoes a complete shift, and the music feels totally normal—like it’s been this way all along. The instrumental numbers are inspired, in particular “For Barack,” but it’s up to the listener to interpret the meaning. Piano, keyboards, bass and drums round out the sound, with guests accompanying the four core members on some tracks. Haskell’s shredding is as delicate as it is powerful, and he also invites guitarist Robben Ford to add his flavor on a couple tracks for a sound more like a duet than a duel.—N.G.

The Ruminators, ‘Call Me Out of Your Mind’

If Warren Zevon had moved to Athens, Ga., in 1985, he’d have made an album like this: smart, emotional and propelled by energy without relying on distorted guitars. Not to say Call Me Out of Your Mind is fast, either—”Something’s Wrong with My Baby” is a beautiful ballad sung by Jennifer Goudeau—but the songs, penned and sung half the time by frontman Greg Scherer, contain that bubbling-just-under-the-surface substance that’s made the band a Sonoma County favorite since forming in 1989. Recorded by the Last Record Store’s Doug Jayne with guitarist and longtime local engineer Allen Sudduth, and mastered at Prairie Sun, the sonic quality is sharp enough to capture every swampy organ and bass lick in the near-psychedelic “Too Soon to Say” (with tasteful organ by Ron Stinnett) and the classic sound of a hard guitar pick-hitting roundwound strings at the beginning of “Drifting in the Wind” and the title track.—G.M.

Spends Quality, ‘Time Peace’

CFO Recordings rose out of the popular Sonicbloom hip-hop collective with the vision of label exec and founding member Spencer Williams, who also MCs under the moniker Spends Quality. On Time Peace, one of a trifecta of albums released by CFO in 2013, Williams raps over smooth, summertime beats produced by Mr. Tay. Keeping with Sonicbloom’s positive hip-hop vibe, this album is the perfect soundtrack for barbecues and lounging by the Russian River, all friends, smiles and good intentions. Maybe it’s all that Sonoma County sunshine, but Spends Quality avoids the gritty subject matter of most rap albums in favor of a celebration of love and life. “I ain’t flamboyant, I might blend in” Williams raps on “‘Til the Songs Done,” but he’s wrong: this is one of the stand-out releases in the North Bay for 2013.—L.C.

Spends Quality, ‘Flight Music’

Spends Quality, the bearded, earnest-looking rapper behind CFO Recordings, is a happy guy. Flight Music is full of good vibes and counted blessings and even the one track that explores darker material, “Sad Day,” circles a line about positive thinking. His bio touts stages shared with Blackalicious and Lyrics Born, and the comparisons fit—this is a guy who probably doesn’t use the term “conscious” to mean “alive and breathing.” Still, like the rappers he emulates, SQ plays with enough wonky sounds and rhymes to subvert his own wide-eyed sincerity—there are tinny cruising beats reminiscent of Snoop’s L.A. (before he, too, became conscious) and cheesy sax strains that are pure Oakland all-night buffet. In his own words, “Spends Quality mixes soulfulness with intellect in a golden pimp cup.”—R.D.

John Courage and the Great Plains, ‘Gems’

Looking like a Georgia O’ Keeffe painting gone glam, the crystal-encrusted cow’s skull on the cover of Gems is a fitting symbol for a band in transition. On songs like “Feel Like the Only,” the three-piece—featuring John Courage (John Palmer) on guitar and vocals, Francesco Catania on bass and Dan Ford on drums—have left behind dark country music for a bass-driven rock sound that’s more Roxy Music than Lucinda Williams. “It’s Different” takes this new direction all the way to the bank with a deep, winding sax solo that can only be described as “smooth” (or, if you want to go by the band’s Facebook genre, “sad disco”). Gems, give or take a couple of inconsistent moments, only solidifies the group’s standing as one of the North Bay’s biggest talents.—L.C.

Che Prasad, ‘Shiva Me Timbers’

Don’t be misguided by this album’s cover art, which makes the thing look like a yoga class soundtrack or a DJ Cheb i Sabbah CD. Che Prasad is a San Anselmo–based songwriter and singer in the Americana tradition, evidenced by the opening track “Early Checkout,” a story about dusty parking lots, cheap hotels and life on the road. (“Another Show” continues this type of folklore.) The cover’s four-armed Shiva figure and quasi-Hindi script font likely nod to “Shadows from the East”—the album’s sitar-heavy centerpiece about Prasad’s American mother and Indian father—which contains an unexpected mid-song rap. Prasad’s got an off-kilter sense of humor, that’s for sure, and evokes John Prine’s goofier moments from time to time. He’s also able to alter his voice (see the straight-up Tom Waits impersonation of “Take Me to Confession”) and play just about any instrument.—G.M.

July 13: Karilee Halo Shames In Conversation with Lynn Woolsey at Book Passage.

Ladies, gather round. No, literally: women gather together this week to discuss empowerment and overcoming difficulties when author Karilee Halo Shames discusses her book, ‘Amazing Mentors: The REAL Hot Mama’s Path to Power’ with one of the contributors, former congresswoman Lynn Woolsey. In Shames’ compilation of mentors, she brings forth the life stories and lessons of 20 talented and...

July 14: Larry Vuckovich Tribute to Vince Guaraldi at Silo’s

“Wah-wah wah-woh wah-wah.” This famous phrase uttered by schoolteacher Miss Othmar in the Charlie Brown TV series remained with fans even after the show was over—just like the bouncy jazz music by San Francisco pianist Vince Guaraldi. This week, Guaraldi’s former student pianist Larry Vuckovich, pays tribute to the late composer in the Larry Vuckovich Vince Guaraldi Tribute Ensemble....

July 12-July 21: Napa Valley Festival del Sole at Castello di Amorosa

Wine, wine and more wine (clink, clink). If you were hoping for some other beverage, then you must not be from Napa. The eighth annual Napa Valley Festival del Sole is where the words “swirl,” “sip” and “spit” are all too common (clink, clink), a 10-day event with a hundred wineries and over 60 events to enjoy. Beyond the...

Empty Bottle

In its first year, Coachella, the hugely popular music festival, lost roughly $800,000. After bouncing checks, struggling to make good on salaries to employees and begging for patience from unpaid headliners like Rage Against the Machine, Tool and Beck, Coachella's promotion company Goldenvoice eventually settled its debts by agreeing to be sold to sports and entertainment behemoth AEG. Such a fate...

Out of the Limelight

The glorious 20 Feet from Stardom is the surprise of the summer. It audits some 60 years of the very best pop music through an unexplored angle: the backup singers who remained unknown while chilling spines around the world. The singers here—Claudia Lennear, Merry Clayton, Darlene Love and the almost tangibly warm Lisa Fischer—are most frequently heard giving a dose...

Benessere Vineyards

Nobody visits Napa and says, "Honey, doesn't this look just like Bordeaux?" Not unless they're looking at the grapevines with an ampelographer's eye. Up close, it's very much like Bordeaux indeed. Here, where the free vintners of the West can grow any grape their heart fancies, unbound by continental traditions and proscriptions, it's Cabernet Sauvignon followed by Cab, Cab,...

The Pressure Cooker of the Road

Only once in my life have I threatened to kill someone. It started at the Launchpad, a dive bar in downtown Albuquerque, on a midsummer night's eve. We'd ended up there after almost a month of playing shows across the U.S., with a band that I'll call "the Record Tree," to protect the innocent. Four weeks in, the six of...

Letters to the Editor: July 10, 2013

We Get Letters I was in Kinko's by Peet's on Fourth Street and I had my big black leather purse on the engineer draftsman table right to the front street window and I took only a few feet to the cash register and back again and my African Colombian medical marijuana was stolen out of my purse of front flap...

Top Tickets

The premise is a little unbelievable: free concerts of big-name bands in a mini amphitheater at a world-class brewery. What's the catch? There isn't one, says Laura Muckenhoupt, music specialist at Lagunitas. Last month saw Les Claypool's Duo de Twang playing a benefit for a fisherman at Lagunitas, and upcoming shows include the Sierra Leone Refugee All Stars, Charlie Musselwhite,...

North Bay Noise

Note: We get CDs aplenty sent to us here at the 'Bohemian,' which usually find their way into these pages throughout the year. This week, while no means a comprehensive coverage of every single local album we've received of late, we pull a sampling of the more recent ones that have shown up in our mailbox. Boo Radley's House, 'Eye...
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