Month: November 2003

Categories
Book Features Books

Hide and Seek

On the night of November 19th, Rev. John Sewell was doing his best to be fair and square, honest but understanding — the third Wednesday in a row he’d had to be before an audience inside the sanctuary of St. John’s Episcopal Church at Central and Greer. The crowd wasn’t the packed house of the previous two weeks. Still, it was a good showing, there to see some slides, hear Sewell answer them some questions:

Question: “Do you think Jesus had a wife and child?” Answer: “Being married is not a sin. But a child? Would she be a half-God or quarter-God? I don’t know.”

Q: “What do you think of the Catholic organization known as Opus Dei?” A: “I don’t think there are many things in life improved by secrecy.”

Q: “Has the Divine Feminine been suppressed by the church?” A: “Probably. The church has a lot to answer for — the way women have been treated. There’s no question.”

Q: “What if the novel is true?” A: “What difference would it make? Humanity has always hungered for redemption, some sense of what it means to be human. What’s important is that God in Christ has revealed the nature of God, shown us what being authentically human looks like.”

Q: “How has the Catholic Church responded to the novel?” A: “I don’t think they’ve paid attention to it one way or another.”

That’s twice now — “the novel.” The one that’s been at the top of bestseller lists for the past 34 weeks. The one about Mary Magdalene, the Holy Grail, the Vatican, the Knights Templar, the Priory of Sion, Leonardo Da Vinci, and Opus Dei, with some chase scenes, some narrow escapes, some bloodshed, some high-tech gadgetry, some mysticism, and some tricky problem-solving thrown in. The novel on the mind of everybody that night at St. John’s.

So, last week I read it: Dan Brown’s suspense thriller The Da Vinci Code (Doubleday). And I’m not getting into the religion of it. I don’t have the space or the faith. But believe what you will: that Jesus and Mary Magdalene maybe got married in a match made in heaven; that Mary Magdalene maybe got the shaft because church fathers couldn’t grant such power to a woman; that Mary Magdalene maybe is herself the Holy Grail of Western myth and symbol; that the Roman Catholic Church maybe knows it but doesn’t want you knowing it; and that the Vatican is and ever has been a pack of con men bent on hiding the truth to suit themselves and line their pockets, no maybe about it, judging from the response to this book.

Leave it, all of it. Let’s focus on Dan Brown, a writer who can write: “Everyone in the reception area gaped in wonderment at the half-naked albino offering forth a bleeding clergyman.” (“Wonderment”? How about horror?) Who can have a police captain “let out a guttural roar of rage” as he “heaved a bar of soap out into the turgid waters of the Seine.” (Turgid’s right.) Who can label a priest in Spain “a missionary.” (A case of coal to Newcastle?) Who can refer in passing to the “hundreds of lucrative Vatican commissions” undertaken by Leonard Da Vinci. (Hundreds? Where are they? Art historians would love to see them.) Who can needlessly let us in on the latest in fancy safe-deposit boxes: “[T]he [Depository Bank of Zurich] had expanded its services in recent years to offer anonymous computer source code escrow services and faceless digitized backup.” Who can write in French so basic even a numbskull can understand it. (“Capitaine, un agent du Départment de Cryptographie est arrivé.”) Who can put us in mind of his characters’ deepest thoughts: “The Vatican has gone mad.” (Author’s emphasis.) Who can write in the best Nancy Drew tradition: a cliff-hanger seemingly every other scene and literally every five pages. And who writes, publisher to protagonist: “You’re a Harvard historian, for God’s sake, not a pop schlockmeister looking for a quick buck.” (But maybe Dan Brown [Phillips Exeter; Amherst] is.)

“My friends, this library is a base camp for Grail seekers,” says a research librarian to the hero and heroine near the end of The Da Vinci Code. “I wish I had a shilling for every time I’d run searches for the Rose, Mary Magdalene, Sangreal, Merovingian, Priory of Sion, et cetera, et cetera. Everyone loves a conspiracy. … I need more information.”

So did that audience at St. John’s. So they should see Elaine Pagels’ newest book, Beyond Belief: The Secret Gospel of Thomas. She’s a Harvard historian for real.

E-mail: gill@memphisflyer.com

Categories
Film Features Film/TV

The Truth

Heard the one about the lonely dwarf, the grieving artist, and the happy-go-lucky coffee vendor? Probably not a very promising joke set-up, unless it was for a joke on The Simpsons or South Park about “indie” movies.

The Station Agent — a modest debut film from writer-director Thomas McCarthy whose acting credits include Meet the Parents, The Guru, and lots of network television — is that movie. It stars a cast of actors familiar from lots of other American independent films (Parker Posey was booked, apparently). It was a big hit at the Sundance Film Festival. Its “quirky” scenario takes a Jules & Jim-type triangle and plays it out with Fellini-esque outsiders. Visually, it’s sort of dull and very basic.

In other words, it’s exactly the kind of American movie that tends to get overrated by people desperate to see recognizable humans on the big screen instead of toy advertisements. If you’re at all cynical about post-Pulp Fiction, post-Sundance, American independent film (and there’s plenty of reason to be), it’s just the sort of film you might dread. And yet it works.

The film stars Peter Dinklage as Fin McBride, a dwarf who works at the Golden Spike, a Hoboken model-train shop, until the owner dies of a heart attack. Fin learns that his friend and fellow train enthusiast has left him a piece of land in rural New Jersey — an abandoned one-room shack that once served as a train station.

Fin goes to examine his inheritance and moves in, no explanation given. It’s also a mystery why a coffee vendor decides to park his truck next to the out-of-service station every day instead of somewhere with foot traffic, but apparently McCarthy can’t think of a better way to have Fin meet Joe (Bobby Cannavale), a boisterous young Cuban-American commuting from Manhattan to tend the truck for his ailing father. The triangle is completed by Olivia (Patricia Clarkson), a skittish artist on the run from a wealthy husband and family tragedy back in Princeton, who accidentally runs Fin off the road on her way to pick up her morning coffee from Joe.

These are three lost souls of a sort. Fin has come to live in solitude, studiously avoiding human contact. The film doesn’t make a big deal out of it, but it suggests that a life of being gawked at in convenience stores and harassed by inconsiderate passersby (“Hey, where’s Snow White?” one teenager yells) has hardened Fin to most of the world. He just wants to study trains, walk the tracks, and be left alone.

Olivia is mourning the sudden death of a young son and avoiding her insistent ex-husband, who may be getting on with his life a bit too easily. And gregarious Joe is just lonely working his pop’s coffee stand and desperate for company. The film even adds a couple of more lonely souls on the margins. There’s Dawson’s Creek‘s Michelle Williams as a comely young librarian who’s been knocked up by a local macho creep and seeks sympathy from Fin. And best of all is Raven Goodwin (the adopted daughter in last year’s Lovely & Amazing and a startlingly self-possessed young actress) as a curious young girl who befriends Fin. (“What grade are you in?” she innocently asks.)

The Station Agent is simply about how these unlikely people come together in unlikely ways and form a friendship that eventually allows the kind of comfortable silence the film rather abruptly ends with. It’s not heavily plot-driven, and, truthfully, McCarthy doesn’t seem to know quite what to do with these characters once he’s sketched them and brought them together. But, with no particular place to go, he at least has the good sense to get out of the way and let his actors work.

Dinklage, who made a memorable appearance in the quintessential ’90s indie Living in Oblivion and a brief turn recently in Elf, appears in almost every scene and carries the movie with aplomb, conveying so much intelligence and mystery as reticent, brooding Fin that his physical stature begins to seem beside the point. Clarkson, an increasingly ubiquitous figure in left-of-center American movies (see also Pieces of April, All the Real Girls, and Far From Heaven), gives a typically sharp performance. And veteran TV actor Cannavale makes an immensely likable goof, as gung-ho in pursuit of companionship as Fin is for solitude. He calls his new friend “dude” and dives into Fin’s passion for trains with an honest zeal that wins both Fin and the audience over.

To say that The Station Agent is about real people whom you’ll enjoy spending time with is an indie cliche that’s rarely true. But here’s an exception.

E-mail: herrington@memphisflyer.com

Categories
Politics Politics Beat Blog

POLITICS

HITTING HOME

More or less off the radar screen, the District 89 state House race goes on to determine a successor to council member-elect Carol Chumney.

Since no Republican filed to compete in the February 10th special election, the winner in effect will be determined by the two entrants in the December 16th Democratic primary, either consultant Jeff Sullivan or activist Beverly Robison Marrero.

State Senator Steve Cohen, Marrero’s key backer, has been vocal on the subject that only his candidate currently lives inside the district. Candidate Sullivan and wife Maura Black Sullivan, director of planning for Shelby County schools, have meanwhile rented a house on Graham St. within the official confines of District 89. Maura Sullivan, who is expecting the couple’s first child on or about Election Day, says the couple’s current household on Reese St. was within District 89 until a re-drawing of legislative lines in recent years. “But we’re preparing to move,” she says, adding somewhat wearily, “I’ve got a job, a new baby, a move, and an election all happening at once.”

An interesting twist: Both candidates were asked at a recent forum how long they intended to remain in office if elected. Marrero, who will turn 65 in January, indicated she intended to serve indefinitely. The 39-year-old Sullivan, citing the fact that he’ll be dealing with a growing family, opined that he would be inclined to serve only a term or two.

Categories
Music Music Features

Local Beat

Makeshift Records‘ Brad Postlethwaite isn’t quite as idealistic as he used to be: “I have a better idea of what we’re up against now,” he says, three years after the label’s first release. “I feel like the label is a real business now. We’re at that stage where we need to get really organized. We don’t want to have to license songs and stuff. Our main goal is to help bands.”

“One thing I’ve gotten used to is telling people we don’t have any money,” Postlethwaite says with a laugh. “We don’t have any investors. We just put any profit we make right back into the label. I’d like to keep it that way forever. If we’re not worried about turning a big profit, we don’t have to concern ourselves with the mainstream music industry.” Citing musicologist Alan Lomax as one of his greatest heroes, he adds, “It’s nice to be able to stray away from what’s happening with the mainstream entertainment industry, where shareholders set the standard on how music is supposed to sound. Those kinds of politics destroy the culture of music, which can have so many horrible side effects. Realizing all that really puts this record label in perspective.”

So far, Makeshift has provided an outlet for dozens of bands, including Lucero, The Lost Sounds, The Ultra Cats, and Loggia, as well as Postlethwaite’s own Snowglobe on two compilations, The First Broadcast and Makeshift #2. With a handful of other CDs and seven-inches rounding out the catalog, the Makeshift label serves as a catchall for the local indie scene.

This week, the label will celebrate the release of its third comp, appropriately titled Makeshift #3, with three shows in Midtown. The Young Avenue Deli is hosting a performance on Wednesday, November 26th, with Cory Branan, Blair Combest, Tim Prudhomme, The Glass, and The Audacity, while The Hi-Tone Café will be the site for two shows: Andy Grooms, Paul Taylor, and The Passport Again on Thursday, November 27th, and Snowglobe, Victory Mansion, Vending Machine, and El Hakim on Saturday, November 29th.

Postlethwaite explains that instead of royalties, all the bands on Makeshift #3 will get 25 copies of the CD to sell at their shows. “We needed to make sure the musicians got compensated somehow,” he says. “We just deal with them directly. No one else gets a cut.”

Along with Tommy Pappas and Aaron Rehling, he spent the last few years sifting through songs for the comp, which, with 22 different bands, is Makeshift’s most ambitious project yet. “We used half of the stuff that came to us via our Web site or through word-of-mouth,” he says. “We work closely with some other bands, so we knew their songs were gonna end up on it. Eventually, I made a CD of all of the songs with no band names on it and passed it around to get some input.”

With tracks from a cross-section of the Memphis scene, Makeshift #3 sounds joyously eclectic. Mouserocket, Vending Machine, and Andy Grooms each contributed dreamy, low-fi numbers, while Wet Labia, The Oscars, and The Final Solutions play primal punk-rock songs that clock in under two minutes apiece. Branan weighs in with the sunny “She’s My Rock’n’Roll,” and the Reigning Sound deliver a harsh “We Repel Each Other.” Then there’s [regular Flyer contributor] Andy Earles’ “You’re Harshing My Trip,” one of the funniest prank phone calls committed to tape.

“People might pick up this CD because it has the Reigning Sound or Cory on it — because they’re known, their contributions add substance and keep people listening,” Postlethwaite says. “There’s a correlation between the music being good and the band having a name, of course. But the CD also works for bands that aren’t as big. It makes a great promotional tool for them. The fact that the Oscars and Cory Branan are on the same album is really amazing.”

While most of the music on Makeshift Records could hardly be considered traditional Memphis music, Postlethwaite can’t imagine the label existing anywhere else. “Brandon [Robertson, Snowglobe’s bassist] and I moved to Athens, Georgia, a few years ago, because we were really into the music coming out of the Elephant Six collective,” he says. “Then it hit me. All of those people grew up together, and here we were trying to be a part of their scene. That didn’t make any sense. We needed to come back to Memphis and do our thing here.”

Makeshift #3 isn’t the only project Postlethwaite has simmering on the fire. He and his Snowglobe bandmates Tim Regan, Jeff Hulett, and Brandon Robertson have recorded 18 new songs at Memphis Soundworks for an album due out by spring. “We hope to shave it down to 12 songs,” he says, adding that he’s not sure whether or not his own label will release it. “There are some other labels interested in us, but I’m not gonna even think about it right now,” Postlethwaite says.

For more information, go to MakeshiftMusic.com or Snow-globeMusic.com.

E-mail: localbeat@memphisflyer.com

Categories
Music Record Reviews

Short Cuts

The Black Album

Jay-Z

(Roc-A-Fella)

Jay-Z is a different kind of great rapper: Unlike Rakim or his nemesis Nas, he doesn’t boast a dense, virtuosic, jazz-like flow. He’s more like his hero Notorious B.I.G. — a charismatic talker and storyteller whose honeyed voice and relaxed, spontaneous-sounding style make listening effortless –and perhaps never more so than on The Black Album.

The Black Album is billed as Jay-Z’s “retirement” record. No one who knows anything about hip-hop really believes that this is the last album Jay-Z will put out. (And he even subtly acknowledges this on “Encore”: “As fate would have it/Jay’s status appears to be at an all-time high/Perfect time to say goodbye/When I come back like Jordan, wearing the 4-5/It ain’t to play games with you/I’ll take aim at you.”) But the notion gives the album a conceptual framework that helps it cohere better than previous standouts like Vol. 3: The Life and Times of S. Carter and The Blueprint.

Where Jay-Z’s previous record, the double-disc The Blueprint 2.0, felt tossed off, The Black Album carries a palpable seriousness of purpose that comes directly from the idea that this is a final statement. It’s almost completely devoid of extraneous elements — the skits and guest appearances that clutter most major-label rap records — and has little topical variance outside of Jay’s own career and artistic status, which, luckily, is a bottomless topic.

This is the most likable Jay-Z’s ever been, a function of the introspection the album’s theme brings to the fore. Where, on previous records, Jay-Z made good on the Sinatra comparison he likes to play up with callow, Teflon-coated vocal finesse, here he lets us peek through the protective shell a little bit. Jay-Z’s music has always resided at the intersection of art and commerce, but The Black Album is the first time in his career where he lets that tension become a theme. Tracks like “Dirt Off Your Shoulder” and “Threat” are thrillingly standard-issue but are balanced by tracks like “Justify My Thug,” which does just what it says, acknowledging the limits of Jay’s usual lyrical content and then defending it (“Mr. President/There’s drugs in our residence/Tell me what you want me to do?”).

The Eminem-produced “Moment of Clarity” borrows not just a sound (even vocal, especially on the chorus) from Jay-Z’s only real king-of-rap competition but also the style of diary-entry confession, taking the listener on a riveting visit to his father’s funeral (“Pop died/Didn’t cry/Didn’t know him that well/Between him doing heroin/And me doing crack sales [Standing at] the church/Pretending to be hurt wouldn’t work/So a smirk was all on my face/Like, damn, that man’s face is just like my face”) and segueing into an acknowledgment of his critics and his own admiration for the “conscious” rappers that they praise over him (“I dumbed down for my audience and doubled my dollars/They criticize me for it, yet they all yell ‘Holla!’/If skills sold, truth be told/I’d probably be/Lyrically/Talib Kweli/Truthfully, I wanna rhyme like Common Sense”).

This tour de force is followed by the chaotic “99 Problems,” in which producer Rick Rubin rummages in his attic for some of the rap-metal production he pioneered with Run-DMC and the Beastie Boys nearly 20 years ago, the dirt and grime only adding to the ear-popping sound and inspiring perhaps the wildest and most playful vocal performance Jay-Z’s ever given, including a traffic-stop vignette in which the rapper plays both sides of the confrontation.

“This here is the victory lap,” Jay-Z raps at one point. It won’t be the last we hear of him, but if it were, The Black Album would be a pretty good way to go out. —Chris Herrington

Grade: A-

Want One

Rufus Wainwright

(DreamWorks)

Rufus Wainwright’s third album, Want One, is dressed to the nines: Every song is accessorized with soaring strings, booming brass, and shamelessly baroque production. “Oh What a World” shows up with a low-cut brass oom-pah rhythm, while “Go or Go Ahead” walks the red carpet with a bombast that borders on heavy-metal thunder. And “I Don’t Know What It Is” sports a revealing little number accentuated with full, grandiose orchestration.

In that song, Wainwright proclaims he’s “in love with beauty,” and his approach on Want One may be a little off-putting, especially when contrasted to the more straightforward production of his self-titled debut and its follow-up, Poses. The real problem, though, is that the music cannot match the wit and feeling in Wainwright’s lyrics and melodies, which, fortunately, carry on in the same style and standard he’s always shown.

“Men reading fashion magazines,” he sings on the lead-off track. “Oh what a world!” Want One is Wainwright’s account of his growing distance from that world, both musically and emotionally: “I tried to dance to Britney Spears/I guess I’m getting on in years,” he confesses on “Vibrate,” then sings the chorus — “My phone’s on vibrate for you” — like an old man both intrigued and intimidated by technology.

Want One is best during its less-is-more moments, when Wainwright’s voice and lyrics are front and center. “Pretty Things” is just him at his piano, and “Vicious World” sets an ethereal melody against programmed keyboards and an unobtrusive rhythm section to achieve a peculiarly theatrical intimacy.

Like an actor on stage, Want One projects to the rafters; Wainwright is playing not just to the individual listener but to an imagined audience of thousands. His lyrics are endlessly quotable and his voice is perfectly matched to put his songs over. The weak link on this production is its production: The music sets the stage well, but it can only distract from Wainwright’s naturally expressive voice. — Stephen Deusner

Grade: B+

Come Feel Me Tremble

Paul Westerberg

(Vagrant)

Known infamously as the often messed-up and irreverent frontman for classic ’80s rockers the Replacements, Paul Westerberg’s solo work since the band’s 1991 breakup has been decidedly patchy, but the past few years he seems to be getting closer to the mark.

Westerberg’s earlier solo work had its great moments but was often overproduced and way too sedate, while his 2002 Stereo/Mono alternated between incredible sloppiness and hints of genius. Like that album, Come Feel Me Tremble is also a glorious mess but one that has more stunning moments than not. Though the subject matter is similar — songs about drinking and death still predominate — almost every song here seems to have a whiff of that old Westerberg magic, whether it’s a ballad, a rocker, or a punk-fueled rampage.

As usual, the ever-evasive Minnesotan refuses to divulge other players on the CD, but there’s no mistaking his lazy but Stonesy guitar or his world-weary but compelling vocals. The faint aroma of Brit-pop, circa 1965, gives “What a Day (For a Night)” its punch, while two different versions of “Crackle and Drag,” a song originally debuted on the Stereo/Mono tour, are equally good, though one’s a near ballad while the next version is an indie stomper. Finally, after years of uneven releases, Westerberg seems to be inching toward a happy compromise between trying too hard and not trying at all. — Lisa Lumb

Grade: B+

E-mail: herrington@memphisflyer.com

Categories
News The Fly-By

Rock On

In the film School of Rock, failed-guitarist-turned-substitute-teacher Jack Black turns a class of fifth- grade smarties into a group of rock-and-rollers. As their music appreciation grows, so does their talent, as Black and his band take their show on the road.

The story is the same for kids in some Memphis classrooms — minus the famous teacher, a film script, and tour. In 11 elementary and one middle school, budding musicians are learning to play the guitar.

“The hardest part about learning to play the guitar was trying to get the D chord right,” says 10-year-old Tenisha Middlebrooks. The Coleman Elementary fifth-grader is one of 14 students in Maria Spence’s Little Kids Rock beginner guitar class.

In a music classroom adjacent to the gym, Spence directs the class of fourth- and fifth-graders in rhythm patterns while trying to ignore the sounds of basketball on the other side of the door. Inside the class are drums, xylophones, keyboards, and cymbals; guitars are the lesson of the day. “When [teachers] were approached to teach the classes, I volunteered,” says Spence. “I’ve never taught guitar before and it was different. The kids were excited because it’s something extra, and they soak it up like sponges.”

Spence, a local musician, has been teaching music for 10 years but has only played the guitar for two of those. Her classes at Coleman are composed of children from the after-school program. Scheduling conflicts have transformed the class into a regular-day activity, and students take shorter lunches and sacrifice recess to participate.

When Little Kids Rock executive director David Wish came to the Memphis area soliciting teachers for the program, Spence and others signed on on a pro bono basis. Coleman began its program in September. In addition to learning notes and scales, students are also taught proper care, use, and storage of their instruments.

Wish, an elementary school teacher, got the idea for the program in 1996, when his public school’s music-program funding was cut. Through donations and support from industry luminaries like Bonnie Raitt, John Lee Hooker, and B.B. King, Wish’s group was able to provide free classes and instruments to more than 1,000 children across the country. Twelve schools are participating in Memphis, with another 12 slated to begin as early as next year.

Teachers are allowed to create their own curriculum (Memphis’ is based on rock-and-roll), and students are encouraged to compose, perform, and record their own music. Nationally, the program has released four full-length CD compilations of children’s works. The latest, released this month, is a coast-to-coast collection of Little Kids Rock performances.

Spence’s goal is for her class to begin playing some blues progressions. “The classes really help the students. All music is math, and because we also have sessions on writing lyrics, it also helps with English,” she says. “The appeal of the guitar is that everybody can do it.”

In Memphis, the program has received assistance from Elvis Presley Enterprises. Since becoming a sponsor, the organization has donated more than $5,000, with $9,000 more expected. “[Little Kids Rock] contacted us to let us know about the organization, and we felt their mission was so on-target for everything that Elvis was about,” says EPE representative Scott Williams. The company has raised the funds through the official Elvis Collectors Club.

“I like guitar better than anything because I love Elvis and want to be like him,” says Middlebrooks’ classmate Stuart Settles. “My friends ask me about it and why I like it and now they want to do it, too.”

Spence expects to hold some sort of recital featuring the guitar students in the spring. Next year, she looks to expand the program to include more students and more guitars. “It’s wonderful,” she says, “especially in Memphis, to know that we get to make our own music.”

Categories
Music Music Features

Queer Eye for the Punk Guys

In an imaginary world where men can bear children and Joey Ramone is still alive and having an affair with Brian Wilson, the couple’s offspring would be something like New Hampshire-based surf punks the Queers.

Although the ensemble hails from New England, the only thing “East Coast” about their sound is their “Blitzkrieg Bop” peppiness. Upon hearing their latest release, Pleasant Screams, the uninformed listener might assume the band was a bunch of beach brats. Let’s just put it this way: If Gidget traveled through time and landed on the steps of Vince Lombardi High School (from the Ramones’ movie-musical Rock ‘n’ Roll High School), this is the kind of music that’d be playing in her headphones. The Queers are pop-punk at its finest, and after a few songs, it’s hard not to long for the lazy, booze-guzzling days of summer.

The band has been around in some fashion since 1982, and they’ve tried their damnedest to stay true to their punk credo by keeping a low profile and refusing to sell out to a major label. Signed to Berkeley-based Lookout! Records, they’ve seen a few former labelmates make it big — Green Day, Rancid, the Donnas — but they’ve managed to settle comfortably into indie-punk status.

Their early albums, like Love Songs for the Retarded and Beat Off (both released in 1993), had that raw, punk sound that comes from little rehearsal and lousy production highlighted by scene-setting anthems like “Granola Head” (“Whacked-out hippies’ brains are scrambled eggs/Ugly chicks with very hairy legs/I think I’d rather be at home/Listening to the Ramones/Or hanging out and getting drunk with a bunch of useless punks”).

The band released two full-length albums, a couple of EPs, and a compilation before temporarily abandoning Lookout!. In the late ’90s, drummer Hugh O’Neil began having complications from a brain tumor and bassist B-Face left the band to join Lookout!’s the Groovy Ghoulies. Joe King “Queer” told Rock ‘n’ Roll Juggernaut magazine that Lookout! wasn’t treating the band well during that time, so with a new bassist and drummer in tow, the band made a temporary move to another DIY punk label, Hopeless Records. Joe Queer & Co. released two original albums, a live CD, and a few EPs on Hopeless, but their merry, surf-inspired sound was laced with angst and bitterness.

But time heals all wounds, and in 2001, with another new lineup, they rejoined forces with Lookout! to produce Today, a five-song EP that includes a cover of the Beach Boys’ “Salt Lake City.”

The band’s latest full-length album, Pleasant Screams (released in April 2002), presents a slightly more polished version of the Queers. Gone are the cheap equipment and careless production (although the ’93 releases and Pleasant Screams were both produced by Screeching Weasel’s Ben Weasel), but their stuck-in-junior-high, curse-filled lyrics and classic three-chord guitar prove that they haven’t lost their touch. With the ever-present Joe Queer on guitar and vocals, Dangerous Dave on bass, and Matt Drastic on drums, Pleasant Screams is the quintessential “welcome back” album.

Any bitterness left over from the Hopeless Records days has been channeled into songs like “Get a Life and Live It” (“You think that you’re perfect/So lovable and cute/But you’re just so pathetic that it makes me wanna puke/You stupid little shit/Go suck your mommy’s tit”).

Most of the songs on Pleasant Screams have a similarly in-your-face theme, but it’s clear that it’s all in fun this time around. In “Generation of Swine,” the band attacks punk sell-outs (“Jock-ass punks are a bore/Those sell-out fucks are all whores”), and “See You Later Fuckface” is the comical ballad of a guy at a punk show who, after witnessing his friends getting beaten up, tries to retaliate by stage-diving on top of the culprits only to find himself face-down on the floor.

And, by the way, the Queers aren’t gay, but they’re often mistaken for a queercore band. In the CD booklet from A Day Late and a Dollar Short (the 1996 compilation of early songs recorded before signing with Lookout! Records), Joe Queer said they chose their name “to piss off the pathetic local art community.” And that’s what the Queers are all about: pissing people off and having fun doing it.

In the days of pretentious, manufactured pop-punk boy bands with names that consist of one-syllable words followed by a number (i.e., Blink-182, Sum-41), the Queers offer a refreshing brand of bubblegum punk that, despite its poppy beat, still manages to retain enough lewdness to qualify as real punk rock. With a penchant for cursing and pre-teen antics, they’re cruising past the mass-marketed bands with their middle fingers proudly raised.

The Queers

The Hi-Tone Cafe

Monday,

December, 1st

Categories
Opinion Viewpoint

Topping It Off

While construction workers topped out the FedExForum with an autographed beam, a pine tree, and an American flag, intergovernmental relations hit something close to rock bottom last week.

The ceremony and the Public Building Authority meeting that preceded it were marked by no-shows and gibes at political “monkeys,” government “malfeasance,” “Pyramid Two,” and the ever-unpopular “naysayers.” In other words, it sounded pretty much like a bunch of reporters.

No matter. There will be more ceremonies. Plenty of time to let bygones be bygones and say something like this:

“Good morning. I’m Arnold Perl, chairman of the Public Building Authority. Beautiful day, isn’t it? I just want to tell everyone that this building is going to make you proud. You’re going to bring your friends and family down here to see it, just like you did for AutoZone Park. The Public Building Authority isn’t perfect, and neither is the county commission. But that’s democracy for you. Those fights we had are as forgotten today as Sidney Lowe. We’re getting this job done on time and within budget. Granted, the budget is $250 million. Now here’s John Ford.”

“Thanks, Arnold. Whoa, that’s my cell ringing. Gotta go. Here’s Mayor Herenton.”

“Thanks, John. Like the man said, a building Memphis will be proud of, at least most of us. We’re going to clean up this whole area so you barely recognize it, then we’re going to tackle the rest of the city that isn’t in the news every week.

“I promise you that as long as I’m alive I will fight to see that Memphis never uses another nickel of public money to build a sports facility unless it’s for general public use. God knows, two of these deals in 14 years is enough. And as a sign of my sincerity, I’m going to stop calling people who disagree with me naysayers. If I’ve learned one thing in 23 years as superintendent and mayor, it’s that naysayers are as American as Thanksgiving, and maybe even right sometimes.

“I want to recognize some people real quick. I see Pitt Hyde. He and his partners have been pretty cool even when things got hot, and you can’t have too many people like that on your side. Our contractor, Mortensen, has done a good job. If you think high-dollar construction is easy, put yourself in the place of those ironworkers up there jumping around on those beams. I see Pat Tigrett, too. It would be easy to make some cracks about The Pyramid, which cost Pat and her husband John a bundle. But nobody’s going to do that, because he’s dead, for one thing, and The Pyramid’s served us pretty well, for another. We’ll judge the FedExForum in 2018.

“My colleague A C Wharton is standing next to me because this was first and foremost a city and county project, not a FedEx project or a Hyde project and certainly not a Jim Rout and Willie Herenton project. We’re just job-holders. It’s your money, folks.

“Now here’s Grizzlies’ owner Michael Heisley.”

“Thanks for the nice building. As a small token of our appreciation, the Grizzlies are going to see that next year every kid in Shelby County who likes basketball gets to come to at least one game, soft drink and popcorn included, at no charge. Call me generous, but it’s not like we don’t have the money and don’t need the fan base. And these kids have suffered enough from Mud Island, Wonders, and the Pink Palace. One more thing: Nobody in our organization will use the words ‘financial’ and ‘discipline’ in the same sentence ever again. Not when a beer costs $6.25 at our games, our payroll is a welfare program for coaches, and we’re still paying $60 million to Big Country Reeves for impersonating a professional ballplayer.

“Go Griz.”

John Branston is editorial special projects director for CMI, the Flyer‘s parent company.

Categories
Letters To The Editor Opinion

Postscript

The Root Problem

To the Editor:

Susan Ellis’ piece on her Ole Miss-addicted brother (Steppin’ Out, November 20th issue) brought a tear to my eye, seriously. I too suffer from the Rebelus-Saintsitus (a disease for which I have found no cure, nor — despite my continual complaining — do I really want one).

The root causes are the same as those of Ellis’ brother: Ole Miss, Archie Manning, New Orleans, Eli. My affliction also has complications. I occasionally bleed Tiger Blue during basketball season, and I am in a mixed-SEC marriage. (My wife is LSU and I am Ole Miss.) We won’t talk or acknowledge one another during the game but should be on speaking terms by Tuesday. This is acceptable, according to the rules set forth in the SEC interconference marital handbook.

This [last] weekend will be difficult on us both. Not to mention I will spend Thanksgiving in Bastrop, Louisiana. (Whether I will be eating turkey or crow remains to be seen.)

Ellis should tell her brother that the prayer chain needs to be set for 10:18 in every quarter. Don’t worry. He will understand.

Thanks for the article.

Ty Hardin

Memphis

Animal Instincts

To the Editor:

Thank you so much for publishing Bianca Phillips’ article about out-of-town rescue people bringing their animals to Memphis (City Reporter, November 20th issue). I have always wondered why they were here when we have so many homeless pets here already. I have seen them at local pet stores on the weekends many times. It would be different if we did not have a huge problem here already.

I think that the animals in Memphis that need homes should get them first. When we don’t have full shelters and local rescue centers, then bring in animals from other places. It just makes common sense.

Thank you for bringing this issue to everyone’s attention. It definitely deserves it!

Anna Kallecter

Memphis

An Abomination

To the Editor:

The oil-and-coal-friendly Bush-Cheney energy bill is indeed an abomination (Editorial, November 20th issue).

It provides token amounts of funding for the technology that can bring us the clean, safe, inexhaustible energy of the sun and wind and provides windfalls, of course, for dangerous, cancerous, and obsolete fossil-fueled technology.

A simple, painless conservation plan could enrich this nation like no other act in our history. It could wipe out our trade deficit, which is mostly a result of importing too much oil. It would conserve our diminishing resources, reduce deadly invisible air pollution, slow the ever-growing amount of mercury contamination in fish, reduce cancer deaths, reduce the megatons of greenhouse gases, and maybe move toward some kind of redemption for this troubled, gluttonous, and misguided corporate nation.

Maybe it’s appropriate that the megatons of extra-cancerous filth that will spew from the obsolete coal- and oil-powered power plants will travel on the prevailing westerly winds toward Washington, D.C. One would think if Congress and the administration can’t protect their constituents, they would at least think about protecting themselves.

Don Johnson

Minneapolis, Minnesota

Crazy Kids

To the Editor:

With all due respect to Jay A. Feinstein (Letters, November 20th issue), who wrote, “All the city needs is a few of those chain stores and restaurants that some of us crazy kids like these days,” I would like to share what I think we really need. It was best expressed by Senator Robert F. Kennedy in April 1968: “What we need … is love and wisdom and compassion toward one another and a feeling of justice toward those who still suffer … whether they be white or they be black.”

Have a nice Thanksgiving.

Arthur Prince

Memphis

Correction: The opening night for Disney’s The Lion King at The Orpheum is Friday, Nov. 28. It was incorrectly listed in last week’s paper.

The Memphis Flyer encourages reader response. Send mail to: Letters to the Editor, POB 1738, Memphis, TN 38101. Or call Back Talk at 575-9405. Or send us e-mail at letters@memphisflyer.com. All responses must include name, address, and daytime phone number. Letters should be no longer than 250 words.

Categories
News News Feature

CITY BEAT

PLANES AND BRAINS

Just in time for the holidays, two new Memphis companies are going public with stock offerings, hoping to become mainstays of the airport and the medical center — or what’s left of it — for years to come.

This week, Pinnacle Airlines Corp., a subsidiary of Northwest Airlines, went to market with 19.4 million shares, priced at $14. Buy some and you’ll own a piece of one of the country’s largest regional jet services based out of Memphis, Detroit, and Minneapolis. Northwest bought Pinnacle in 1997 and gave most of the stock to its pension plans in 2002 and 2003. The CEO is Philip Trenary.

Risk factors listed in the prospectus include possible terrorist attacks, labor unrest among Pinnacle’s 2,438 employees, competition from Mesaba and other regional jets, more debt than capital, and heavy dependence upon Northwest.

On the plus side, business is good, on-time performance is among the best in the industry, service is offered to 76 cities and 29 states, and there’s a sweetheart deal with the Memphis and Shelby County Airport Authority. By increasing its fleet and juggling routes, Pinnacle expects to grow a measurement called “available seat miles” 24 percent a year through 2006.

A second Memphis company, GTx, is the brainchild of AutoZone founder J R. “Pitt” Hyde, III. Its business is applied medical research into new drugs to treat prostate cancer, which Hyde himself has beaten, and other types of cancer. It is expected to start selling shares to the public in December or early in 2004.

GTx has actually been around since 1997 but has only 43 employees and a low-profile. That will change after the stock goes public, and if the company is successful in partnership with the University of Tennessee Medical School, it could remake the site of the old Baptist Hospital and the medical center in several years.

GTx has no revenues. In the start-up stage, investors will be betting on UT’s brains and intellectual property and Hyde’s business savvy and dedication. The stock price won’t be set until just before the offering.

  • Herenton scolds MLGW in letter

    Add Mayor Willie Herenton to the list of Memphians frustrated by Memphis Light Gas & Water. And that could be bad news for the utility as it seeks approval for a rate increase next month.

    In a letter to members of the City Council and MLGW President Herman Morris, Herenton says he has “yet to understand MLGW’s need to advertise and support costly promotions when, in fact, it is the exclusive service provider. Consumer information that is useful to the citizenry is understandable.”

    MLGW’s “Hometown Energy” campaign extols the wonders of a public utility working tirelessly for its customers. The trouble is, for years many of those customers have had a devil of a time contacting the power company when they have problems.

    The city has requested help from FedEx in developing a call center for all of city government and its entities, including MLGW.

    “It also concerns me that Memphis Light Gas & Water has invested approximately $30 million in an automated billing system and CRM (Citizen Relationship Management) application that apparently has problems,” Herenton wrote.

    The mayor said he intends to provide the council “with some pertinent information that will be helpful during the upcoming MLGW hearings.”

    He left it at that. The council meets December 2nd. At this point, MLGW’s rate increase request has been denied, and Morris has not yet been named by the mayor for another term as president.

    Calvin Williams Defense Fund

    As chief administrator of the Shelby County Commission for four years, Calvin Williams was in a position to do favors for a lot of people. Now that he’s been indicted for official misconduct, Williams is asking friends to help pay for his legal defense.

    In a letter this month from the “Friends of Calvin Williams,” potential donors are asked to make contributions by a bipartisan list of signers including zoning attorney Homer Branan III, local GOP activist and attorney David Kustoff, attorney Richard Glassman, the Rev. Lasimba Gray, suburban developer Jackie Welch, and George Reems — a former employee of the Circuit Court Clerk’s office who was involved in a moonlighting venture with Williams that got both of them in trouble.

    “I have spent the last 20 years of my life helping others in the community,” Williams says in the letter. “. . . I’m sure that I have helped you in some form in the past.”

    Williams resigned under pressure from his $101,856 job as commission administrator in January. He was indicted on state charges in October. He has been given a lower-paying job in the county’s Equal Opportunity Compliance Office.