Average Amy

Gran Torino was a gran disappointment

2009-01-20T14:06:00.007-07:00

I watched Gran Torino with friends this weekend. Clint Eastwood poses a double threat as both director and lead character Walt Kowalski, an aging, ailing, recently widowed, racist Korean war vet unhappy about what he sees as a decline in his neighborhood. His closest and most recent thorn is a Hmong family, the Lors, who have moved in next door. Walt, who doesn't like his own children or grandchildren, begins feeling a end-of-his-life-I-want-to-do-something-that-matters fatherly sense of responsibility for the two Lor children, Thao (Bee Vang) and Sue (Ahney Her) after Thao tries to steal Walt's prized, mint condition 1972 Ford Gran Torino as a gang initiation.
At the outset of what would turn out to be the most wicked case of flu or food poisoning I've ever experienced, I watched the strangely jittery screening with a growing sense of nausea akin to carsickness. Because my four film mates were so moved by the movie, I am willing to put my lack of luster down to illness. And it did have one bright spot. Eastwood’s acting is brilliant. Arms sinewy from years of hard work, chinos worn high, a TV tray of empty PBR cans near his porch perch and an old dog named Daisy at his side, the audience may have found Walt so amusing, his epithetic outbursts humorous because they have or had a Walt in their own families. They were no longer the ones sitting around a dinner table, cringing when their Walt tossed out terms like “zipper head” and “gook” while asking for another serving of mashed potatoes. It was happening to someone else in a make-believe world, that distance allowing them a relieved release from political correctness. Maybe I was just too sick, or the recollection of the Walts in my own family too fresh, but I just couldn’t find the funny.
Beyond that reappearing obstacle, the acting outside of Eastwood’s left something to be desired and some of the scenes were just too damn long. Sue invites Walt over for a large family dinner and while the older women fawning over him and his obvious enjoyment of their food was amusing, a scene in which Sue takes him to the basement where the teens are all hanging out seemed endless. Walt is not cool, he’s old. And though Sue has grown fond of him, I was hard pressed to believe her friends would take to him quickly if at all. Both Her and Vang show promise as actors, but in many of the scenes, their lines were blocky and stilted due in no part to their characters’ initial discomfort around Walt.
Walt’s willingness to fall on his sword for these strangers after mere weeks or days of knowing them in spite of what it would do to his children and grandchildren was also a difficult pill for me to swallow. But my film folks reminded me that Walt’s family were a bunch of selfish brats. Fine, but it just seemed manipulative to me. It was meant to jerk tears and more than one person in the audience was sniffling at the end of the movie.
Admittedly, I didn’t feel well and maybe didn’t allow myself to be pulled fully into that realm where my disbelief is completely suspended and I surrender to the fantasy that 90 minutes at the movies offers. And because of that, I’m willing to drop another 10 spot to try again or at least put Gran Torino on my Netflix queue when it comes out on DVD. Eastwood is just that damn good.

Something About Death Cab for Cutie

2008-11-23T17:49:00.004-07:00

When Seattle-based label Barsuk signed Death Cab for Cutie, both entities were young, fresh, innovative, original and exciting. In the 10 years since DCfC's debut release, Something About Airplanes, both band and business have aged, but in graceful ways exclusive to a fortunate few. Something About Airplanes was an important album for band, label and fans for sure, but also in that it was instrumental in giving voice to a sound that would become so identifiable with the Pacific Northwest.

Tomorrow, a limited deluxe edition reissue of Something About Airplanes will be available nationally. The reissue of Something is neither a maudlin nostalgic grasp at glory long gone nor is it just some cleverly timed holiday gimmick. With the inclusion of a "recently unearthed recording of the band's first ever Seattle show" at the Crocodile Cafe (supporting another essential Seattle band, Harvey Danger) new artwork and an essay by HD's Sean Nelson, the album is a comprehensive introduction for those not familiar with DCfC and a beautiful blue reminder of how it felt to hear them for the first time.

For more info, visit Barsuk online.

Even crackheads vote

2008-11-04T11:50:00.004-07:00

I received an e-mail a few weeks back from Jason Bugg, a freelance writer from a small town in North Carolina asking if I'd be interested in running a piece he'd written on a band coming through Boise. When I declined, he e-mailed back, saying thanks and, in closing, mentioned that he was on his way to drive people to the polls. As caught up in the many facets of the current elections as anyone else, I asked him to elucidate. Here's the reply he sent me (I'm still laughing):

"I live in this incredibly rural town and I volunteered for the Obama campaign to drive the elderly people, those with DUI's and the meth addled to the polls today.
Seriously. I had a meth addict in the car earlier. It was weird. The lady was going on about voting for Obama because she hated Palin. It was strange. Then she made me let her out of the car at a different place. She asked me to wait for her for five minutes and then give her a ride home. I didn't want to, but the perverse part of me talked the sensible part of me into doing it. She came back into the car and I asked her if she had anything in the car that might get me into trouble and she said no. I pressed a few more times and she told me that she did in fact use in the house I waited out in front of.

What do you say to that? I just looked at her and said, "Right on," and drove her home.

This is what happens when you live in a town of only 6,000 people."

Read the full story at jasonbugg.blogspot.com.

Big Boise Bouquet (of Beer)

2008-10-29T13:51:00.005-06:00

After months of renovations, the Bouquet in downtown Boise has finally reopened. Through the years, I've seen some of my favorite bands/musicians ever on that stage and I was starting to worry I might not have the chance to add any more Bouquet-based musical memories. The new owner said they'll hold a big grand opening in the near future but I'm just happy to hear the doors of one of my favorite downtown watering holes/venues are open again.

Liquid Laughter in Boise

2008-10-29T12:40:00.007-06:00

As a big fan of stand-up comedy, I was more than a little bummed to see the BoDo-located Boise Funny Bone Comedy Club close up shop last year. I'm terribly disappointed to see, nearly a year later, we still don't have a place in town dedicated to that particular art form (Or do we? More on this later).

Several bars and restaurants in the valley have stepped up to fill the humor hole at least a little by offering the occasional stand-up night. New BoDo bar, Liquid (which inhabits the ex-Funny Bone building), joins the list of places furnishing some funny for free. On Sunday nights at 7 p.m., Liquid Laugh Track will feature both local and national acts for no cover charge (no word on a drink minimum). And if you hear a big donkey guffaw coming from the back of the room, come say hi to me.

For more information, visit LiquidBoise.com.

"Sarah Silverman" second season re-starts soon

2008-09-25T11:24:00.012-06:00

The first season of the Sarah Silverman Program was possibly an introduction for many to Silverman. A thin, youngish woman, Silverman (played by Silverman) displays the worldliness of a 9-year-old, the narcissism of Paris Hilton and the mouth of a sailor. Season two of the Comedy Central series continues Wednesday, Oct. 8 with two premieres: "High, It's Sarah" in which Sarah tries marijuana for the first time and discovers that pot highs can lead to deep lows--and the kidnapping of a captain of industry (played by guest star Garry Marshall); and in the second premiere, "The Mongolian Beef," Sarah learns that a longtime family prejudice against Mongolians may be short-sighted.

Brian Posehn and Steve Agee--who play Brian and Steve, respectively--are back as Sarah's "big, gay, orange neighbors," Laura Silverman (played by Laura Silverman) returns as Sarah's sweet, long-suffering sibling who is often responsible for bailing her sister out when Sarah's right/wrong switch is in the OFF position.
If Strangers With Candy and It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia had a baby and it was adopted by the kids of South Park, the result might be The Sarah Silverman Program.

Atkins out (of breath from laughing)

(The second season of "The Sarah Silverman Program." continues on Comedy Central Wed., Oct. 8 and Thurs., Oct. 9; season two, volume one is available on DVD Tues., Oct. 14.)

Wet and Wild: Liquid opens in BoDo

2008-09-18T16:20:00.011-06:00

A press release just floated down the cyber river and splashed into the Boise Weekly reservoir of new information.
Liquid, a refreshing new night club/music venue has a soft opening on Sept. 22, with a grand opening celebration later in October.
Cover charge—when they have one—is an odd but inexpensive 75 cents which is apparently thrown into a 12-foot water fountain inside the doors. According to the release, the change will be collected each month and donated to charity.
Currently, the music schedule includes the following:
Sept. 26 and 27, Jeremiah James Gang, 9 p.m., FREE.

Tuesdays, Frim Fram Fellas, 9 p.m.-midnight, FREE.
Wednesdays, Ned Evett Band, 9 p.m.-midnight; DJ midnight-2 a.m., 75 cent cover. (photo by Frances Delapena)

On Thursdays the lineup will change, but on Oct. 2, Rebecca Scott Band, 9 p.m., FREE; Oct. 9, Steve Fulton and Shon Sanders, 9 p.m., FREE.
Friday, Oct. 3, The Soulcats, 9 p.m.-midnight; DJ midnight-2 a.m., 75 cent cover.
Saturday, Oct. 4, Polyphonic Pomegranate, 9 p.m.-midnight; DJ midnight-2 a.m., 75 cent cover.
As more details trickle in, we'll keep you updated.

Liquid, 405 S. Eighth St. (in the old Funny Bone), liquidboise.com, myspace.com/liquidboise.

In-ear microphones go in the jack marked "mic."

2008-09-10T21:17:00.006-06:00

I stopped by Radio Shack tonight to buy an Olympus in-ear microphone. I bought this same mic several months ago, but it has become so popular among my peers that three of us were trying to figure out who got to use it when we all had a 10am interview on Monday. It's a terrific little device that fits snugly in your ear, causing no interference with a phone handset. It makes for talking with even the most verbose interviewee a comfortable experience. But one issue with the nifty little mic is that it garners an unsafe a sense of comfort in conducting an interivew. I find I take fewer notes now, relying on a recording I can refer to later. And, it doesn't work at all if plugged into the earphone jack of a recorder instead of the mic one.
A couple of years ago, I interviewed comedian Auggie Smith. Auggie and I chatted about his family, his politics, his views on the Statue of Liberty and his feelings on Bed, Bath and Beyond. The mic picked up my voice ambiently, but there was no Auggie on the recording...just 40 minutes of me saying, "So, do you have any siblings?" followed by silence, followed by me chortling. "Who are some of your favorite comedians on the circuit right now?" Silence. "Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!" When it came time to transcribe the interview, I was mortified. I had no recording and I had taken few notes and had no recording to fall back on.
Fortunately, most of the interview stuck with me (he is a very, very funny man) and with plenty of paraphrasing and narrative, I was able to write a piece that showed the comedian in a truthful light. When I met him later, I abashedly told him the story. He said if I had just called him back, he would gladly have done the interview again. Who knew?

Quietly rioting for Ra Ra Riot

2008-08-21T22:05:00.001-06:00

On Aug. 18, Syracuse, New York-based Ra Ra Riot released their debut LP, The Rhumb Line, on Barsuk. Any album with a bunchy little bass line followed a scant few measures later by plucky violin (strings can be so damn effective), some backing "oooh-oooh-ooohs," marching snare and a voice like Wesley Miles'--high and straining but not strained--has my full attention. Ra Ra Riot, for as young a band as it is--they've only been together since 2006ish--has suffered some serious setbacks, including the death of drummer and band co-founder John Pike (who is credited with writing a large portion of the band's music) and Rhumb Line has a joyous melancholy to it.
Quick-paced "St. Peter's Day Festival" rocks a happy little beat; "Winter '05" brings it down a notch; "Dying Is Fine" borrows lyrics from e.e. cummings, which sets its mood; "Too Too Too Fast," one of the last tracks on the CD, is enchantingly different, nu wave keyboards in the place of the heretofore melodic strings. The Rhumb Line is a beaut and discovering it is like the chocolate at the bottom of a Drumstick: a sweet little surprise.

Gonzo journalism

2008-08-21T15:23:00.005-06:00

The BW editorial team is going en masse to watch an afternoon screening of Gonzo: The Life and Work of Dr. Hunter S. Thompson today. Our publisher watched it during the 2008 True West Cinema Festival and was so impressed, that she and our editor decided we should have a mandatory field trip to go see it. So we're off to get a snootful of inspiration.

Always and forever ... I love technology

2008-07-29T09:59:00.002-06:00

I love technology. My idea of a perfect vacation is two weeks in a fancy hotel in some metropolitan city—stateside or abroad—surfing the Web and watching TV and movies, stopping occasionally to shop, take in a museum and eat great local food, all of which requires technology working at it's electronic best.
Over the course of yesterday and today, here at the swank offices of BW, we lost Internet and e-mail access and our phone system went down. Fortunately the server we use to get the paper put together stayed strong, and everything is (mostly) up and running again. It was tough, though, and our increasingly heavy reliance on e-mail and Google was brightly illuminated by the light of the BSOD.

You can't teach an old dog new tricks ...

2008-07-10T10:59:00.003-06:00

... or a middle-aged editor new habits, apparently.
In my last post, I swore that I would post more regularly. And while it's been a mere nine days since my last missive as opposed the the month that passed between it and the one before, that's still too long a stretch. I even have a tickler on my e-calendar that pops up several times a week to remind me to blog. I either hit snooze over and over or dismiss it all together. Someone once told me that instead of fighting my propensity to procrastinate, I should embrace it and find ways to work with that particular failing. I put off thinking about it for awhile, but maybe she's right.

Blogging up for lost time

2008-06-30T14:24:00.006-06:00

I've added a reminder to my Entourage calendar to remind me to blog on a regular basis. And, my editor made mention in her 6/25 issue of Note that Boise Weekly, like most other media outlets, does indeed have blogs and bloggers. What better inspiration to maintain a regular blog than to know that there's the potential for 35,000 people to click on the BW Blogs page and wonder why I haven't posted a new one in a month. Granted, I don't really expect 35,000 people to read my blog. But even if just three people click away from the site due to my lack of participation, it's incentive enough.

Quick update: Our 7/2 issue includes our Annual Coldest Beer feature. It's extra special this year because it's a big one at 70+ pages and it's bound like a magazine. We've got other great stories in the upcoming issue as well: we look at an artist who deals with his mental illness, in part, with his art; a handful of First Thursday wine events; Boise Community Radio; vocal coaches; a 2C restaurant review; and much more.
And any time you read a blog post, or a story online, please feel free to leave comments, good or bad.

Der went da judge

2008-06-19T16:09:00.003-06:00

A couple of weekends ago, I held sway at two quite different events. I was one of three judges responsible for choosing the 2008 Queer Idol as part of the Pride events and I was one of three judges responsible for choosing which father played the part of Hannah Montana/Miley Cyrus well enough to win two tickets to see the teen diva in concert in Provo. The HM contest was put on by 103.3 KISS FM and emceed by my pal Hooker—with help from Chadillac and Lucky Tha DJ—the station's drive-time DJ. What was so fun for me is that Hooker played the Simon to my Paula for the Queer Idol judging as well. Along with Pride organizer Kris Jenkins playing Randy, we spent Thursday night at Hannah's for the preliminaries and Saturday evening for the finals, watching some of Boise's best belt their little hearts out and dashing their little dreams. Hooker's Simon was spot on, Kris' clearly channeled the big dawg producer and my Paula elicited a few "Is she really that drunk?" comments from the crowd. Congrats to Jared Michael for winning Queer Idol '08 and the father/daughter team pictured below for winning the HM/MC competition.

A New Era of BW

2008-06-10T20:46:00.003-06:00

It's 9pm, and just a couple of hours ago, we sent the latest issue of Boise Weekly off to the press. This Monday and Tuesday were much like every other. They start early, end late and the long hours are filled with e-mail, phone calls, Google searches, thousands of words to write and thousands more to edit. But this issue was different. We have two new people in the office: Nathaniel Hoffman has taken on the role of news editor and Tara Morgan has joined the editorial team as staff writer. On Monday, Elaine, our Calendar Guru, returned from a 10-day Mexican honeymoon; Deanna took over as features editor and will now wrangle the rec section; I will continue on my merry way as A&E editor (minus rec, of course) and Rachael Daigle sat in the captain's seat as our new editor. As all of the personnel changes were taking place, so were changes in the overall attitude of what we hope to accomplish and how we hope to do it.

This week's issue is one I proudly hold up against any other alt-weekly without reservation. Our feature on Pride was well-planned and well-written and, throughout the issue, the contributions of some regular writers and those of some relatively new ones--namely a piece on couch-surfing by Johanna Kirk and a film review by Jeremiah Wierenga--were top-notch. I'm honored to be in the company of such fine writers as Nathaniel and Tara, and to continue to work alongside Deanna and Elaine to take the paper to a level that, under Rachael's direction, we can easily attain. Proofing the pages today, I was proud to see my name in the masthead.

Atkins out (and looking forward to the future)

Small price to pay

2008-05-30T14:55:00.005-06:00

For a couple of weeks, I have driven past a new Mexican restaurant near my house. It's one of only a handful of Mexican restaurants in the greater Bench area and my mate and I were looking forward to trying it. Our first step inside should have been our last. The joint was empty except for two employees, one of whom was sweeping the entryway. Cheap prices and a huge selection of entrees contributed to my inability to trust my better judgement. It was the dinner hour and there was nary a patron in sight and though the employees clearly had the tools and the time, clean the place was not.
But I've walked into restaurants before in which all of the effort is put into creating delicious food and the decor is more of an afterthought. I like that the energy available is expended in that way. So, we decided to push through our initial concerns and order dinner.
I ordered the fajita trio--shrimp, chicken and beef--and my mate picked a five-rolled-taco plate. Both came with beans and rice and his came with a drink. $14 dollars and about four minutes later, we were handed a plastic bag with two heavy to-go boxes. In the car, my eyes started to water from the fishy smell coming from the bag. My mate, tearing up a bit himself, looked at me with the tiniest bit of fear in his eyes. Hungry, I ignored what I knew to be true, and though we passed two or three dumpsters that we could have easily pitched the food into without even leaving the safety of the car, we headed home with our bounty.
My man, already disappointed by his weak, odd-tasting fountain ice tea, pulled his box out of the bag and sat down to eat. I heard a gasp and what might have been a scream. With the same look on his face he gets when he accidentally comes across televised surgery while channel surfing, my mate held his box up for me to see. His "rolled tacos" looked suspiciously like store-bought taquitos and were covered in a runny, mint-green sauce that we guessed was meant to simulate guacamole.
And because the taquitos had to be the rolled tacos and we could identify the rice as rice, by process of elimination, the mushy periwinkle-colored mound in the corner of his box had to be the beans. He took a bite of a taco, and with a hint of a challenge in his voice (patronizing the restaurant had been my idea), suggested I do the same. Rather than take the look of revulsion on his face as a warning, I took a bite. I didn't know something could be dry and spongy at the same time.
Though the tide-pool smell emanating from my box was growing stronger, I ignored the outraged voice in my head screaming, "No, no, no!" and opened it. Opposite a pile of dry, orangey rice, sat a puddle of cheese under which was a small heap of those selfsame purple gray beans. While that would have been enough to put any semi-sane human off his or her feed, I made one more in a string of bad decisions. I forked some chicken, beef and--god help me--shrimp, and took a bite. Immediately traumatized, I don't remember, but I don't think I actually swallowed. Through the force behind projectile vomiting, I think the mouthful landed across the living room. I do remember throwing my box on top of my husband's in the garbage can, begging him to take the trash out of the house, and shoving a cookie, a couple of green olives, a spoonful of some French's mustard and a handful of stale croutons in my mouth to kill the taste. Days later, the house still smelled like a fishing boat and now when I hear the word "shrimp," I throw up in my mouth a little.
Atkins out (of Pepto Bismol).

One song at a time

2008-05-27T19:00:00.007-06:00

The amount of music readily available is, at the very least, daunting but I don't think that's an excuse for not exploring new acts and sounds, even if it's only once in awhile and even if it's just one new song.
To be able to converse about music at all, it's important maybe not to choose new bands to add to your regularly-listen-to repertoire, but to at least acknowledge they exist. And to recognize that a lot of them are adding something valuable to the music canon.

While at work, my go-to music choice is 3wk Internet radio. They offer three listening choices: classic rock, '80s and '90s rock, and indie rock. I usually click the indie rock choice. I hear bands I already know and dig, like Built to Spill or Modest Mouse. More importantly, I am introduced to music that's new to me. Most recently, I found Kate Nash whose song "Dickhead" is such a cool groove, the Long Blondes who dropped a trippy, misleading intro into their track "Century," and the Black Keys' crazy, scary, Appalachian "Psychotic Girl."
I still have my regular favorites and I'll still click on 3wk most days, but I hope I never find the end of new music.
Atkins out (but never of stuff to listen to).

In search of my inner bitch

2008-05-14T09:56:00.009-06:00

For the last couple of weeks, longtime BW columnist Bill Cope has been discoursing on a newly turned-over leaf. He has decided to try and become a Mr. Nice Guy. He writes that he's at the dawn of the Nice Bill Era . I'm happy for him. I really am. It would stand to reason that nice people have it easier. The problem is, people who are too nice are treated like shit (way too nice and they may try and send you to a class for special people). But nobody likes a mean person. People who are too mean are also, well, treated like shit. Find that fine line between pushover and pushy and the world is your big, stupid oyster. I thought I was walking that line as perfectly as a leopard-print-leotard-wearing Cirque Du Soleil performer on a tightrope. Apparently, though, I've been wandering around in a Mary-Kay-Cadillac-pink fog through a meadow watching unicorns munch on daffodils.
I was told recently, by more than one person, that I'm too nice. I had this impression of myself as kind of a bitch. Apparently, I was the only one with that impression. Well, no more. I'll endeavor to be tough. Crusty. Rotten. Nasty. More like the old Cope. Maybe I'll ask him where to start on my path to peevish. But not right now. I just sneezed and I think some cotton candy came out.
Atkins out (to kick ass and take names).

Oh, and I made that frowny face. Don't like it? Too bad. I don't care. Because that's the kind of person I am. Or at least the kind of person I'm trying to be.

Living in a Material World

2008-05-01T11:24:00.005-06:00

Madonna has a new album out. Hard Candy is quintessential Madge which is funny because the only thing about Madonna that's consistent is her inconsistency. At an age when we begin to expect rock stars to retire, the queen of reinvention managed to release a CD more befitting a 20-something's Jay-Z produced hip-hop chart topper (Timbaland and Justin Timberlake both provide cameos on "4 Minutes").
As cool and timeless as they may be, it's tough to watch say, Mick Jagger strut his stuff or see Angus Young in his kneesocks and parochial-school uniform and not make some joke about broken hips. But at 50, Madonna—who, on the album cover, sits slightly dressed and spread-eagle—manages to avoid looking either creepy or sad. Say what you will about Madonna, but whether due to diet, exercise, a happy home life or her recently adopted faith, the woman looks damn good.
I am facing a milestone birthday this year. I think I may turn to the Material Girl for inspiration much like I did two decades ago ... listening to "Lucky Star" wearing spandex shorts, fingerless gloves, an oversized bow in my hair, and 40 or 50 rubber bracelets on my wrists, I felt like I could do just about anything.
Atkins out (and almost at the "Borderline").

Leaving Las Vegas

2008-04-01T12:13:00.008-06:00

That's not an exactly apt title. I left Las Vegas last Tuesday after a four-day vacation. Currently, I want to move to Sin City, but I think that's mostly due to the fact that I've NEVER had a real vacation (going somewhere just for the sake of going) and would probably feel the same way about Fond du Lac, Wisc. had I spent a couple of glorious days there instead (but only if they had a never-ending night life).
I didn't do all the things I had planned to do while in Las Vegas but got to do plenty I hadn't even thought of. The hotel we stayed at was beautiful, but housed a casino, two Starbucks and a buffet so was still tawdry enough to satisfy my desire to have a whiskey tango Vegas vacation. My travelmates and I spent Easter Sunday hanging out by the pool, seeing the city's longest running burlesque review at the Riviera and then drinking a giant dry-ice cooled cocktail at the Voodoo Lounge high atop the Rio. I'd like to do that every holiday, but I'll settle for just trying to recreate the experience each Easter.
Atkins out (of cash).

Since when are there 10 days between Monday and Wednesday?

2008-02-20T20:18:00.008-07:00

Already, this has been a long week. I'm putting finishing touches on the last issue of Idaho Arts Quarterly for which I will serve as editor. The summer issue will be heralded with the roll out of a new and improved edition and I'm excited to see how it looks. Long-time IAQ and BW contributor Katy Dang will sit in the captain's seat as the new IAQ editor bringing a wealth of new ideas to the table. I will continue in my role as BW A&E editor and will assist Katy in any way that I can in her new endeavor.
I caught Philadelphia punk band the A.K.A.'s at the Venue on Monday. They played a few tunes off their upcoming new release Everybody Make Some Noise! and plenty songs off their last Fueled By Ramen release. It was such a fun show and after interviewing lead singer Mike Ski, it was great to meet him in person. He's adorable and has a great sense of humor as well as a terrific stage presence.
Last night, I saw the Drive-By Truckers for the first time (the blurry photo is of them). They played the Big Easy, a venue that offers big sound in a relatively intimate setting. The show looked sold out and although I heard someone who works there say it wasn't anywhere close, I can't imagine what it would have looked like if it had been. Too many more bodies, and we would have had to take turns rocking out in shifts. The DBTs are an amazing band and though they have clear influences from the likes of Tom Petty, they have turned those influences into a sound oftheir own. It was a very cool show and I'm glad to now be a member of the group of people who've seen them (though most of them have known how utterly groovy the band is all along).
Atkins out (of energy).

OPP (Other People's iPods)

2008-02-19T13:10:00.004-07:00

People who know me, know I'm a big fan (and regular purchaser) of high-tech gadgets and are usually surprised to discover I don't own an iPod. Not even an "old-school" one. Never have.
I have purchased several mp3 players, though. I bought one when they first came out (16MB capacity) for an outrageous price. The most biggest one I own (20GB) is a refurbished iRiver I bought from Woot.com (that's about the size of a pack of smokes but weighs as much as a carton). I also have one that works with a Lexar jump drive and a tiny Sandisk (2GB). I also own about 20 sets of headphones, but that's another issue.
I've stayed the course against the iPod. It's nothing personal, I just didn't want to be a bandwagon-jumper-onner. But as cooler, smaller, prettier versions have continued to roll out, accompanied by an endless stream of add-ons and accessories, and more people I know are walking around sporting green, pink and silver iPods small enough to slide into a Trident package AND that can hold several episodes of Flight of the Conchords, I'm wearing down. I have an expensive vacation coming up, so a major purchase (which the iPod I want would be as far as I'm concerned)is not an option right way. But, the vacation is in Las Vegas where I'm betting a few visiting gamblers have had to pawn their precious pods. I blogged earlier this month about how I want to see more of Vegas than pawnshops and wedding chapels, but if it means I get to see a couple married by an Elvis and can pick up an iPod on the cheap, I'm willing to check out the grittier side of Sin City.

Atkins out. Resistance is futile.

I didn't know PBR made tall boys

2008-02-06T22:07:00.002-07:00

I just spent the last couple of hours with Boise punk-n-roll band Manville, a group of five guys who get together to play not because they feel it in their souls but because they're five guys who just like to get together and play. And drink beer. Brian, Jason, Matt, Mike and Nick crack lame jokes and make fun of bands that take "their craft" too seriously. Squeezed into Manville's 3'x3' cinderblock practice space, I was treated to five or six songs that, if I hadn't been there in a professional capacity, would have had me whipping my hair around and pumping my fists like a 19-year-old boy. And they don't turn the volume down for rehearsals.
Check for a BW Noise feature on these crude dudes in about two weeks.
Atkins out.

(The blurry camera phone photo is a loose representation of Matt and Jason.)

More than pawnshops and wedding chapels

2008-02-05T21:27:00.001-07:00

Six of us are planning a vacation together. We were originally going to spend a few days lounging on the beaches of Mazatlan, but the plans for the free condo and plane tickets fell through (bummer, no?), so we've regrouped and are leaning toward a trip to Las Vegas. I've never been and though I am fully aware that the Veags of 2008 in no way resembles the Vegas of the '50s, in my mind, it's still a romantic place.
While on this trip we will probably graze at an all-you-can-eat buffet, play penny slots and drink house vodka, but I like to imagine visiting the Vegas of long ago.
My group would dress for dinner--the women in silk dresses and pearls, the men in sharkskin suits. We would dine on steak and lobster at the Golden Gate and then catch a show at the Copacabana. We would sit at a front row table, whispering to each other over our martinis about how great Dino looks and how Frank is at the top of his game. We would move to the casino, sitting at a $20 minimum blackjack table sipping Glenfiddich until our heads and our eyes were heavy, we would meander back to our hotel rooms, where we'd pull the daylight curtains closed and sleep until the last possible minute when we would have to pack quickly so we could catch a plane back home.
Atkins out (of dreamland and back to reality).

The Sounds of Silence

2008-01-30T22:13:00.000-07:00

Several of my colleagues are off to an AAN (Association of Alternative Newspapers) conference in San Francisco tomorrow. As with all of the AAN conferences, this one is sure to be chock full of information they'll bring back to help us in our ever-present mission to make our publication the best it can be. Our editor is out of town as well, though not on business...he's vacationing in Puerto Rico. As is hopefully the result of any vacation, he's sure to come back relaxed and re-energized. It's going to be quiet around the BW world headquarters tomorrow which is fine, but I tend to thrive in chaos. I like the sound of phones ringing, copy machines copying, people yelling, and all the beeps and buzzes of computers. Tomorrow and Friday, I guess I could figure out how to be productive in the silence. But I'll probably pop a CD into my computer, put in my headphones and turn the music up really loud.

Atkins out