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Posted by Peter S. Scholtes at April 30, 2007 10:52 AM | Comments (1)
Andy Friedman & the Other Failures / 331 Club / April 28, 2007

Like spurs on boots, or bacon in beans, Andy Friedman and Minneapolis just belong together. It all started a few years ago when Friedman quit his job at the New Yorker (he was an illustrator), packed his bags, and drove straight here to meet Spider John Koerner, the legendary West Banker and something of a musical godfather to the young Brooklyner. The two played together that night at the Open Book; it was Friedman's first time on stage. Now he just can't stay away. This time around, he brought some of his friends from New York's western-revival scene, the Two-Man Gentleman Band and the Defibulators.

We rolled into the 331 just in time to miss the Gentleman Band, which was a bummer. If their merch table was any indication, they were rootin'-tootin'.

The Defibulators looked right at home on that little 331 stage. Sporting dual washboards, some wicked old-timey tunes, and a Paul Bunyan-looking dude just blazing on the fiddle, they whipped the place into a plaid-and-denim frenzy.
Afterward, they remained on stage, subbing for Andy Friedman's regular Other Failures.

Friedman's lyrics tend toward a sort of hobo fatalism, which suits his troubadour styling. You need a keen sense of your own mortality to play these timeless old-time songs. "I don't want to die like Andy Kaufman," he says at one point. "I understand why Van Gogh took off his ear. I understand why William Blake went mad." The highlight tonight came when he channeled his inner Woody Guthrie on "Talking Blues, from Brooklyn to Minneapolis." During one of the song's extended spoken-word verses, Friedman yelled at a woman in front of the stage to keep dancing while he described his favorite gravestone inscription:
"I was what you are.
"I am what you will b-b-b-b-b-b-b-be!"

"Are y'all ready for a waltz?" Friedman shouts, before breaking into "Guys Like Me Don't Get Grants." It's a beer-cups-in-the-air tune bemoaning the lack of funding for visual artists. Not exactly the kind of stuff Woody would have sung about, but Friedman's an illustrator by trade, so at least his scruffy howls are real.
The crowd, by the way, was definitely ready for a waltz.

"Spider John Koerner changed my life one night in Minneapolis," Andy tells me after he climbs off the tiny stage. "I was watching him at the 400 Bar, and everyone was talking. I couldn't believe it. Then [400 Bar owner] Tom Sullivan says, 'Are you crazy? Spider John's a roadhouse bluesman! He doesn't give a shit if people are talking while he plays. He wants people to talk!' Seriously, that changed my life."
Andy didn't change anyone's life tonight, but the place did get a little rowdy, no one was quiet while he played, and we more or less had a hell of a time. Didn't we?

Yes, we did.
Posted by Chuck Terhark at April 30, 2007 9:50 AM | Comments (0)
Posted by Peter S. Scholtes at April 27, 2007 8:20 PM | Comments (0)
Posted by Peter S. Scholtes at April 27, 2007 7:17 PM | Comments (0)
If this is your weekend with your kids, why not catch a few of the best offerings for the under-ages set from the International Film Fest? The following movies screen at the Oak Street Cinema as part of the Childish Film Festival. All ages: Flights of Fancy, a collection of 7 animated shorts from the US and Sweden, Saturday at 11. For ages 7 and up: Spoon, a Dutch movie about a boy who hides out in a department store after his parents disappear in a hot air balloon, Saturday at 2:30. For teenagers: Boy Called Twist, a South African re-telling of Dickens classic Oliver Twist, Sunday at 11.
Posted by Sarah Askari at April 27, 2007 3:11 PM | Comments (0)
JoAnna James CD Release Party / Varsity Theater / April 26, 2007
Text by Mary O'Regan | Photos by Daniel Corrigan

JoAnna James and Chris Koza really like each other. So much, in fact, that they had an unofficial love-off at the release party for James' new EP "Back of my Mind."
"She's one of the most remarkable people I've ever met," Koza gushed as James took the stage to provide harmony for a song. "We're lucky to have her in the Twin Cities."

James one-upped his praise during her introduction for Koza (above) on back-up vocals. "He's one of my favorite songwriters of all time," she said, including him in the ranks of artists like Bob Dylan and Lucinda Williams, who are listed as influences on James' MySpace page.

Overtones of her folk singer forefathers were resonant as James crooned into the microphone, seducing the audience with her smooth alto. She wore brown cowboy boots and a silky flowered sundress that kept getting caught on her guitar strap, flashing a bit of bra. "I'm so sorry," James laughed. "At least you know I wear one."
James kept the mood light-hearted, occasionally slowing down to play an acoustic tune. "Close your eyes, dear," she sang as the audience swayed under twinkling disco balls, "while I try to disappear."

A few songs later, James grabbed her harmonica and switched to an electric guitar. She recalled a recent rehearsal in which she was zapped in the face by a poorly wired microphone. "The shit got shocked out of me." She grinned and motioned to her band. "They gave me a five minute cry time."
Clearly, fame hasn't hardened the young alt-country rocker. Halfway through her set, she made a surprising announcement, something that she couldn't have learned in her hometown of St. Paul: "I used to like the tortured cowboys, but now I only like cowboys in underwear [...] it's all whitey tighties for me from now on."

Text by Mary O'Regan | Photos by Daniel Corrigan
Posted by Corey Anderson at April 27, 2007 9:38 AM | Comments (1)
Ted Leo and the Pharmacists / First Avenue / April 25, 2007
Text by Mary O'Regan | Photos by Daniel Corrigan

Wednesday night concerts at First Avenue are always a little lackluster: The audience is tired from having worked all day, and by 11:30, people start trickling out halfway through the main act. Last night's Ted Leo and the Pharmacists show was no exception. The band gave it their all—cursing, crowd-surfing, busting guitar picks—but the crowd of bearded dudes and pixie-cut girls barely raised their PBRs, shifting from one foot to the other like rock 'n' roll zombies.
Love of Diagrams opened the show and made little effort to jazz up the sleepy crowd. The trio of Aussie alt-rockers displayed stellar drumming and wailing guitars, but subpar vocals. To make matters worse, each member remained cemented to the stage the entire time, like a secret trapdoor might open if they moved three feet.

What Love of Diagrams lacked in stage presence, Ted Leo and the Pharmacists made up for in energy and antics. Leo, a Jeremy Piven doppelgänger in tight jeans and a red armband, jumped around the stage, pumping his fists and headbanging like an indie rock star turned death metal god.
"I love you!" someone screamed from the audience.

"You don't even know me, so you can't love me. You can't love me until you respect me," Leo responded. "That's no philosophy, that's funk!" He launched into "Where Have All the Rude Boys Gone?" a track from their 2004 album.
Around the 10th song, Leo jumped into the crowd and successfully surfed on a bed of hands for ten seconds. The front row fans pushed him back onstage, his button-up shirt drenched with sweat. "Fucking give it up for James," he growled, pointing to the lead guitarist.

Perhaps James was asleep at the switch, because a few songs later, a prerecorded backing track started playing in between tunes. "Never mind the tape delay," Leo laughed. "I'm sorry it's such a fucking disaster up here."
At just past midnight, hundreds of fans stuck around for the finale, nearly two hours after the Pharmacists took stage. Leo clutched the microphone and motioned for the audience to sing along: "I never gave up / I crawled in the mud / but I never gave up."
And on a Wednesday night with tired mornings soon to follow, neither did we.
Text by Mary O'Regan | Photos by Daniel Corrigan
Posted by Corey Anderson at April 26, 2007 9:17 AM | Comments (2)
Sinister with a quickness: the Arctic Monkeys released their new album "Favourite Worst Nightmare" today. I wouldn't normally pair English punks who use pop hooks to cast dark spells over the dance floor with a cadre of booty-popping hip-hop dancers, but the match works well in the video for their single, "Brianstorm." (I know that looks like a typo but it's not "Brainstorm," I swear.)
Posted by Sarah Askari at April 24, 2007 2:58 PM | Comments (0)

Posted by Corey Anderson at April 23, 2007 10:22 AM | Comments (0)
More details at the Afternoon website.
Posted by Chuck Terhark at April 20, 2007 5:04 PM | Comments (1)
It looks like the Noisettes are not gracing our Twin Cities with a tour date as they travel 'round the US in support of their new album, What's the Time, Mr. Wolf? To understand why this is so regrettable, watch English/Zimbabwaen frontwoman Shingai Shoniwa bat her neon-pink eyelashes and howl through stripped-down rocker "Don't Give Up."
Posted by Sarah Askari at April 20, 2007 9:45 AM | Comments (1)

Circuit bending is the art of creating new sounds and effects by manipulating the innards of low-voltage gadgets such as children's toys and cheap synthesizers. On its way from Los Angeles to New York City, the Bent Festival makes a pit stop this weekend in Minneapolis to celebrate this quirky art; events include live performances and demonstrations, art installations, and workshops for beginners as well as advanced enthusiasts. City Pages took a moment to chat with circuit-bending enthusiasts Bianca Pettis and Jacob Aaron Roske, who together make up the local sound art group Beatrix*JAR.
City Pages: So how did you get into circuit bending?
Jacob: I learned from Ryan Olcott [of 12 Rods and Mystery Palace] one Sunday afternoon about four years ago. I was instantly hooked because you don't have to have any technical skills or even know what you are doing. Circuit bending allows you to have an amazing sonic experience housing new sounds in an old machine with an on/off switch.
Bianca: I learned from JAR about three years ago. I really feel drawn to bending because it's so unique and I love the quality of the sounds that bending produces and the randomness and indeterminate nature of those sounds.
CP: So what's the learning curve for circuit benders?
BP: There is no curve at all. Anyone can bend—new, young or old!
JAR: You just have to have an open mind and be willing to explore the machine sonically.
BP: You also need to know how to solder—but that's really simple.

CP: Any tips for beginners?
BP: Keep an open mind is essential when you are bending.
JAR: And an open ear!
BP: People should also bring a sense of play.
JAR: Every machine has a different sonic pallet inside of it—different sounds that exist within it.
BP: We like to tell people they are sonic explorers during our workshops.
JAR: People should be willing to take apart their machines without feeling like they are going to break them.
BP: We always suggest that people start bending with second hand toys, they are inexpensive and they have already been discarded—and you can have your first bending experience on them and then move on to bending something of more value.
JAR: Like a more expensive drum machine or keyboard.
CP: Is there anything you keep an eye out for when raiding an old basement for toys, or checking out garage sales?
BP: We are big fans of Casio keyboards.
JAR: We like the SK series a lot and when we perform as Beatrix*JAR I play the Casio MT-540.
BP: We also look for kids drum machines and quirky kids toys that have a lot of sound initially. Machines from the 80's are the best.
JAR: They usually have more sounds to bend.

CP: Any unusual places you'd recommend when looking for materials to experiment with?
JAR: We like to go to church rummage sales, estate sales, garage sales, and thrift stores.
BP: For bending materials we go to Ax Man Surplus and we order switches online. We don't go anywhere to unusual, I know there are other benders out there who go to more extremes to find machines than we do.
CP:What's the strangest thing you've used to create a sound?
JAR: I induce and manipulate AM radio frequencies with a disposable flash camera. I charge the camera in close proximity to the radio and it creates an electronic cat purr/sonic explosion mixed with the AM signal.
BP: The Musical Animal Playground! It makes different animal sounds like a cat and frog, and with the bends triggered it sounds amazing! JAR bent it about two years ago and I used its samples for one of our songs, "Oral Fixation."

CP: What inspires you when you're doing this? It sounds like play.
JAR: I am inspired by discarded and unwanted sounds, and feel really fortunate to re-present them in an original way. There is a real surplus of discarded machines and sound-making devices.
BP: I'm inspired by having a nonmusical childhood. I was turned off as a kid trying to learn music—the guitar, the keyboard. My music lessons never really sunk in, so I settled on being a music connoisseur. It's really cool now to be an adult and to see technology advance in such a way that people like me can make music. I can work from an emotional and intuitive place as a sound artist as opposed to a technical place that a musician might be in.
JAR: We're also inspired by the sameness of music. We feel really inspired to color outside of that box. We want to create something original and inspire others to think in this way.
CP: Would you say that the Twin Cities is a big town for circuit bending? Are there any local events/locations that are hot spots? Would you say that the phenomena (as well as the festival) has grown since you started?
BP: This is the fourth year of the festival. It's very cool that it's traveling around this year. It will be in New York, Minneapolis and Los Angeles.
JAR: But there are bigger cities with more interconnected benders.
BP: I think that's why we started doing circuit bending workshops and that is why we are so excited about the festival. We feel compelled to inspire new benders and new sound artists so there will be even more interesting music in the world.
JAR: I think the phenomenon grows every minute.
BP: Let's hope it bends the radio airwaves—and the way we listen to music.
$24 for a three-day pass. For info, visit www.bentfestival.org.
Posted by Jessica Armbruster at April 19, 2007 1:45 PM | Comments (0)
Brother and Sister are looking for anyone interested in skateboarding to star in the video for "I'm Gonna Do Something Awesome with My Life." Listen to the track at their MySpace page, and then kick-push-coast your way down to the MIA this Saturday, April 21. Full details after the jump.
From Michael Gaughan:
This Saturday, April 21st, we are filming for the BROTHER AND SISTER "I'm Gonna Do Something Awesome with my Life" music video! We are looking for skaters, skateboard enthusiests, punks, people who like skateboarding, etc... We are looking for a multicultural group of people. Please forward this email to anyone you know who wants to be in our video!We are going out to White Bear Lake. We are leaving Minneapolis @ 1:30 pm and want to be there 2:00 pm. We will film from 2:00 pm-5:30 pm.
We will meet @ the corner of 24th Street and Stevens ave South (right in front of the MIA) to car pool out to the Skate park in White Bear Lake. The Address of the Skatepark is...
Ryan Worthley
1961 Birch Lake Ave
White Bear Lake MN 55110Bring Wild clothes, skateboards and FUN!!!!!!!!
Posted by Chuck Terhark at April 19, 2007 1:19 PM | Comments (0)
For me, and maybe you, "Boring," the new video by the Pierces, offers that rare chance to experience the entire cycle of superficial fandom in three minutes, from attraction to backlash, lingered afterward with the suspicion that the joke is only funny because it contains truth, and the ultimate judgement that the song title is truth in advertising. For the backlash side (where I am already), these model-lookin' New York sisters have gotten entirely undeserved adoring writeups in the Village Voice (I'm pretty sure the lyric is "bear your child," not "bury your child") and Spin, while "Lights On" (from their MySpace page) rips off Billy Joel's "It's Still Rock and Roll to Me" worse than TLC's "Waterfalls." On the attraction side (I remember way back when), the concept- and humor-driven cheap-ass video reminds me of MTV's early-'80s heyday. Sure to be the song that either makes or ruins them, or rules for three days before resurfacing in 20 years.
Posted by Peter S. Scholtes at April 17, 2007 11:01 AM | Comments (5)
Posted by Peter S. Scholtes at April 16, 2007 11:21 PM | Comments (2)

The pilot was shot in Vancouver, British Columbia, but the story was originally to take place in Los Angeles. Just how did that become Minneapolis? We've got a theory: A.M.P.E.D. is the creation of Fox 21, a division of Twentieth Century Fox, that focuses on keeping production costs down. Vancouver is an inexpensive place to shoot TV shows and movies, but it doesn't look much like Los Angeles. Of course, it doesn't look a whole lot like Minneapolis, either. Except, maybe, a genetically mutated Minneapolis?
Spike TV spokeswoman Jenni Runyan declined to comment, or to say whether in fact Spike picked up the show. "We don't comment on pilots," she says. Maybe the skyline was the least of the problems with A.M.P.E.D.
Posted by Beth Hawkins at April 16, 2007 12:32 PM | Comments (0)
In the latest high-culture appropriation of hip hop (remember MTV's Carmen?), North Hennepin Community College Theatre Ensemble is putting on a rap version of The Bacchae, an old-school Greek tragedy written by ancient MC Euripides, who rocked the Dionysia and sonned the competition circa 406 B.C. In the play, young god Dionysus gets mad at his royal fam for denying his propers as a deity—Moms was Zeus's trick. But Dionysus gets his get-back: According to the NHCC press release, "Young, arrogant King Pentheus returns home to find the women of his kingdom gone wild with seemingly reckless religious rituals of the mysterious god Dionysus," whose magic "is both intoxicating and dangerous."
Working from the C.K. Williams translation, director Janice Marie Wolf says she got the idea for a hip-hop Bacchae when she first heard the music. "The choruses were originally done in a rhythmic way in Ancient Greek, so there was always a rhythm to it," she says. "This semester, when I heard my students rapping, I handed them this and said, 'Could you rap this?' And that was it." The show opens Friday, April 20; call 763.424.0788 or visit www.nhcc.edu for more information.
Posted by Peter S. Scholtes at April 16, 2007 9:07 AM | Comments (0)
"The Tin Star Sisters look like a song-and-dance trapeze act. From the '40s. In the catskills."
Needless to say, they've been missed. Which is why we're thrilled to hear that they're returning to their old stomping grounds (or is it tapping grounds?) for one more go of it tonight, this time with a CD in hand. The show starts at 9 p.m., and like every concert at this squash-colored corner bar, it's free.
Posted by Chuck Terhark at April 12, 2007 2:22 PM | Comments (0)

Posted by Corey Anderson at April 12, 2007 9:25 AM | Comments (2)

Posted by Corey Anderson at April 11, 2007 10:03 AM | Comments (0)
Dosh performs with Andrew Bird on The Late Show with David Letterman tonight.
Posted by Peter S. Scholtes at April 10, 2007 8:45 PM | Comments (0)
Posted by Peter S. Scholtes at April 10, 2007 7:21 PM | Comments (1)
With less than two weeks to go before the start of Minnesota Film Arts' latest Minneapolis-St. Paul International Film Festival (April 19 to April 29 at five area theaters), travel arrangements are firming up for filmmakers, celebrities, and other invited guests.
Danny Glover, coproducer of Mali master Abderrahmane Sissako's anti-globalization drama Bamako, is expected to be at the Riverview Theater on opening night to introduce the screening.
"We have a hotel room for him," says M-SPIFF publicist Vince Muzik. "We do think he'll be here."
Muzik has also confirmed the appearance of Texas-based documentarian Erik McCowan, whose film Ruby's Town, receiving its world premiere at the fest, profiles the annual turkey race between competing birds from Cuero, Texas, and our own Worthington, Minnesota.
Has Muzik made arrangements for Paycheck, the Worthington turkey, who is also "expected" to attend?
"I don't know about the turkey," says Muzik. "We're not paying for his travel fare. He'll have to get here himself."
Posted by Rob Nelson at April 10, 2007 9:00 AM | Comments (1)
New Yorker music critic Sasha Frere-Jones writes about Prince this week: "It doesn't matter that the artist, who is forty-eight, has released only a handful of decent recordings in the past fifteen years. He is perhaps the greatest living performer in the pop tradition. The fact that, as he says during his live shows, 'my friends all look different--I look just the same' simply enhances the impression that he is our Dorian Gray, if Gray had been raised by Cher and James Brown." SFJ's blog is still going strong as well.
Posted by Peter S. Scholtes at April 9, 2007 3:16 PM | Comments (0)
Posted by Peter S. Scholtes at April 9, 2007 12:11 PM | Comments (0)

"Al combined his gifts for arcane computer knowledge, brilliant command of the language, kitchen expertise, and—as Uncle Al, the weekly columnist—self-deprecating humor to enrich readers beyond what most of us realize," Mayor Rybak's proclamation said.
Kudos to Uncle Al.
Posted by Corey Anderson at April 9, 2007 10:04 AM | Comments (0)
Posted by Peter S. Scholtes at April 5, 2007 4:39 PM | Comments (0)
Posted by Peter S. Scholtes at April 5, 2007 12:47 PM | Comments (3)
M*A*S*H star Mike Farrell recounts tales from Hollywood, Rwanda, and death row in a new memoir
Farrell's book touches on his difficult early life in West Hollywood with his St. Paul-born parents, his stint in the Marines, a life-changing self-help program, numerous acting and producing anecdotes, and his work with organizations such as Human Rights Watch and CONCERN/America. City Pages spoke to Farrell by phone during the Ann Arbor stop on his book tour.
City Pages: You state in the book that following your tour in the Marines, you still lacked direction. But were there lessons you learned in the service that you've integrated into your life as an activist?
Mike Farrell: Well, you learn a lot in the service, and in the Marine Corps they imbed you with a lot of the lore of the Corps. But I think the primary lesson I learned was the dehumanization process people have to go through in order to do what you need to be able to do. I saw a black and white world that I found troubling. When I was stationed in Okinawa, I was told not to go into certain villages because there were Communists there. And it was to protect us, but it was also a biased way of looking at things, [which] I didn't appreciate.
One of the things I learned in the service was how to take care of yourself and there was a certain value to that. The rest of it was a little too much regimentation for me.
CP: Regarding the therapy-oriented self-help program "The House" in which you participated following your stint in the Marines, it seems like the love, respect, and attention you sought for yourself are also the needs of those whose causes you champion. Can you talk about how your experiences at The House?
MK: The lessons I learned there remain writ large. They've been engraved in my soul. Some of the lessons had not only to do with what they taught me about every human being wanting love, respect, and attention, and the problems people get into when they don't get that in their lives--it was the people from whom I was learning them. People who my father would have dismissed as detritus, just tossed away.
It's the issue of some people being beyond caring about because they have somehow crossed the line into unacceptable behavior, and that somehow that makes them less than human.
At the base of it all was the continued insistence that there is value here, whereas that was not the concern in the Marines, where they break you down to make you respond to a command. On some levels the dynamic was the same but the process, ultimately, was very different.
CP: In your travels around the world, it sounds like the trip to Rwanda was the most gut-wrenching.
MK: The Rwandan trip terrified me from a lot of perspectives... It was at once the most horrible experience I've ever had, and one of the most reaffirming experiences I've ever had, because of the fact that so many people survived [the 1994 civil war genocide] and so many of the survivors were able to, and willing to, reach out and, if not forgive--although some of them forgave--make the determination that they had to bridge the gap, and find a way to make their society come together and work again. But the experience itself, walking through the church in Ntarama was something that I will never forget. Seeing the bones of the people in the yard, and seeing the body parts carpeting the dirt floor of the chapel, it's like descending into hell. You just think nothing could be any worse than this.
I was so shaken by it that they got us back into this wagon that they were driving us around in, and when we got down the road from the church I said I've got to get out. I had to walk around, and breathe, and allow myself to experience what I've just seen. I did, and realized I was the only white man around in this village of people who didn't speak my language and were certainly curious about me, and soon gathered around me. Not all of them were happy about my being there.
At that point, it was not how can I help, but can I help? Is there any help? Is there any hope? How can we move beyond this? Seeing the physical evidence of what happened was so devastating that I couldn't sleep. I couldn't comprehend it, and it takes awhile to allow that to settle in, to allow yourself to revisit those images and re-connect, if you can, with the people that you met. I talked to everybody that I found there, black and white, people who were there to help and people who were there that experienced it, just to get a sense of How are you able to be sane and alive, and how can you smile after that? And yet they could and that, ultimately, gives me the greatest hope.
CP: Was there a particular incident during your travels where you felt you weren't going to get out of it alive?
MK: The death squads in El Salvador were horrifying. We knew from the bodies on the side of the road and the body dumps, that [getting killed] was a real possibility, although there was always this sense that having an American passport in your back pocket is, many times, a bridge to safety. On the other hand, there are those who simply don't recognize or honor that bridge, and I know too many people who have died as result of having assumed that they were safe when they weren't.
In Somalia, walking through these clinics--they were like mangers, bamboo structures where children were dying of starvation--because I had a white face, children would look up at me, or their mothers would look at me, and say, "Doctor, doctor, can you help?"
So, there are times when you just feel so bloody hopeless and helpless, and other times, as in Honduras, where there was a woman who said, "All of us have jobs to do, and perhaps your job is to be here and witness this, and go back and tell the American people about it."
CP: In writing about your work to abolish the death penalty, you introduce us to inmate Joe Giarratano, who, in 1979, woke up from a blackout to find his roommates murdered, and was sentenced to death following a quick trial. Do you have an update on his progress?
MK: It's an awful story. Joe is living, breathing proof that this system must be ended, and that it goes beyond the death penalty. It's the political calculation that goes along with all this stuff. Joe remains in prison, they've moved him from one "super-max" to a slightly less-intense "super-max," but it's the same thing. The treatment he's receiving now is largely because of his having survived death row. [Then-Virginia Governor Douglas Wilder had commuted Giarratano's sentence to life.] And that's, to me, one of those things that is inexcusable: these politicians and people in the system that are abusing their power. People who use their power over others are people I hold in contempt, and I want to be able to struggle with every time I get the chance.
CP: Do you think a Democratic Congress will make any difference in furthering your causes, or will it be more of the same?
MK: On some levels it's going to be more of the same. But I think on the fundamental level of the Iraq War, and some other real issues, I think it's going to be a different story. And part of that is because the Bush Administration and the neo-cons have driven us so far to the right that I think people now have begun to understand the danger of a one-party Neanderthal system, and what kind of damage it can do, not only to the people in this country, but to the image of the country abroad.
So, I'm hopeful. I try not to be cynical, I try to be optimistic. I think there is significant leadership available to the Democratic Party, if they have the courage to grab onto it.
CP: One M*A*S*H question: In the final scene of the final episode, was that actually you tearing down the hill on the motorcycle like a maniac, or was that a stunt driver?
MK: They wouldn't let me do it! I said Come on! You know I can do this and they said All you have to do is break your leg and then we are in serious trouble. I rode it up [to the helicopter pad], but they wouldn't let me ride it down. And when they shot that, if you watch it closely, the back wheel started to come loose, and that guy almost lost it. The director looked at me and said Ah huh. The M*A*S*H experience was a wonderful one for me, one I'll never forget, and will always cherish.
Mike Farrell will be reading from his new book on Thursday, April 5, 8:00 p.m., at Central Presbyterian Church, 500 Cedar St. in St. Paul, and Friday, April 6, 7:30 p.m., at Magers and Quinn Booksellers, 3038 Hennepin Ave. S. in Minneapolis. Both events are free.
Posted by Corey Anderson at April 4, 2007 2:58 PM | Comments (2)

CP: Did you have any bands in mind while writing the novel?
JL: There were loads I was thinking of, the bands that I loved that were a little less famous in the world than they were in my mind. Some went on to have little careers and others kind of vanished without a trace—the Feelies, the DBs, Big Dipper. I was also trying to evoke the feeling of bands that not only have gender-mixed lineups, but also have a history of romantic entanglements within the band, like Fleetwood Mac and the White Stripes. There's something very mysterious and evocative about bands like that.
CP: What's the strangest job you ever took to make ends meet?
JL: Some of the small bookshops I worked in were pretty eccentric. There was one I worked in that was a used bookstore and puppet theater. There were all these shelves that would convert into seating and they would suddenly erect a little stage and put on puppet shows for kids.
CP: If there was a real complaint line, what would you call in to talk about?
JL: Oh, I've got no complaints. I am a happy camper. I guess airport food is as bad as it ever was.
CP: "The complainer" writes bumper-sticker slogans for a living. Is there a saying that you subscribe to?
JL: I am very fond of one of Carl's that was actually made up by one of my friends: "All thinking is wishful."
Jonathan Lethem reads Monday April 2 at the University of Minnesota Bookstore. Free. 7:00 p.m. 300 Washington Ave SE (Coffman Memorial Union), Minneapolis; 612.625.6000
Posted by Jessica Armbruster at April 2, 2007 5:18 PM | Comments (0)
Posted by Corey Anderson at April 2, 2007 4:45 PM | Comments (0)

Photo by Mike Etoll
"Today we spilled about four gallons of blood," says Minnesota horror filmmaker Jon Springer ("Living Dead Girl") of The Hagstone Demon, currently shooting in the Powderhorn Park neighborhood of Minneapolis. "We stained the painted concrete in the building, splashed some on the walls. I just got my ass reamed out for half an hour by the landlord."
Most of Springer's film, his eighth to date, takes place in a brownstone apartment building whose caretaker (played by American Movie's legendary horror auteur Mark Borchardt) is being "dragged to hell" by a distaff demon in a suicide's body (Nadine Gross). Next week the director will move cast and crew to a secret East Bank location, where they'll stage an authentic Black Mass scene.
Sounding exhausted from four long days of shooting, Springer still can't help giggling over the phone as he describes the movie. But, like all of this devout Catholic's spiritually themed cinema, The Hagstone Demon is dead serious, too. "The caretaker is a man who participated in the failed ritual of a Satanic cult—so he's literally haunted by the demons of his past," says the director. "Because it's a story about Satanism, the style of the film seems honest. It's a bloody movie, and it's graphic."
Bloody and graphic? Like sexually graphic?
"Um, yeah."
Is Springer praying sufficiently?
"I'm purging stuff," he says. "And certainly the film relates to my own beliefs. Mainly I want to portray Satanism as it is—not a Hollywood version, but the way it exists in the modern world. I haven't seen too many filmmakers tackle that without falling into clichés."
Another potential hazard is budgetary catastrophe, which Springer knows not first-hand, thank God, but through repeated viewings of Lost in La Mancha, the documentary about Terry Gilliam's almost supernatural failure to film Don Quixote. "Even on a big-budget film, things can go wrong—and we're on a low budget with no backup funds," Springer says. "There's that clause in the contract called force majeure, like in La Mancha. God always has the last word."
Posted by Rob Nelson at April 2, 2007 8:52 AM | Comments (2)