Month: September 2004

Categories
Food & Wine Food & Drink

How Sweet It Is

In his offbeat classic Jitterbug

Perfume, author Tom Robbins heaps lavish praise upon the beet. It is, he says, “the most intense of vegetables deadly serious the murderer returned to the scene of the crime.

The beet is the ancient ancestor of the autumn moon,

bearded, buried, all but fossilized.”

The novel goes on to describe a recipe for

immortality that includes, among other things, lots of sex and beets.

Beets are as earthy as a mouthful of dirt. Perhaps

that’s why, here in America, few contenders come close to

challenging the beet for the title of Least Favorite

Vegetable. Not broccoli, not spinach, not even yellow

summer squash inspires such vitriolic passion among its

detractors. Perhaps the offense is in the paradoxical earthy

sweetness of the beet, while the scarlet aftermath in our toilet

bowl sings of our marriage to the food chain in ways we’d

prefer to forget.

Meanwhile, if you ask people about their

favorite taste in the whole world, many will name

chocolate. Like the beet, chocolate is a food of passion. In the

movie Chocolat, for example, the heroine opens a

chocolate shop in a conservative, old-world Catholic village during Lent. The town’s leaders

begin a witch-hunt, denouncing her as a temptress. Near

the end of the story she succeeds in awakening the

long-suppressed passions of the town folk. Indeed, chocolate is

known in many circles as not only an aphrodisiac but as an

outright substitute for sex.

So here we are, discussing two passionate,

earth-toned foods, both of which demand to be taken seriously.

Perhaps you suspect where I’m going with this and are bracing for

a combination that seems even less likely than the union

of heaven and earth.

But how heavenly is the taste of pure chocolate?

Not very, unless heaven is a bitter place. Chocolate — the

roasted seed coat of the cacao plant — is made palatable

only when combined with sugar. Oftentimes that sugar

comes from beets, the world’s second source of the sweet

stuff, behind sugarcane.

I was on the phone with a farmer friend one

day while he was making dinner for his wife and their

crew of hungry women. While we spoke, he made a vat of

pesto and some French filet beans in a soy-garlic-ginger

sauce. All of a sudden he said, “Oh, I gotta go stir my

beet thing.” Next thing I knew, I was talking to a dial tone.

That night, one of the farmer’s hungry women brought me a sample of

said beet thing. It was gooey and moist, like fudge. It was sweet

and full of chocolate, like fudge. It tasted like fudge, even though

it was mostly grated beets. (It also contained chocolate

chips, cocoa powder, and butter. He cooked it on the stovetop.)

His wife was inspired by the possibility of chocolate

and beets. Over the weekend, she did some research of her

own, arriving at a dense oven-bar recipe, wherein a cup of flour

is mixed with a cup of cocoa powder. To this is added a

mixture of one cup grated beets, two eggs, fresh raspberries,

a little water, and a melted mixture of two tablespoons

butter and a cup of chocolate chips. This substantial wad is

mixed and baked in a greased pan at 325 degrees for about half

an hour. The product is a color that would make Tom

Robbins blush: a combination of red and brown that is dark as

night and shiny as ebony.

Not wanting to be outdone and aware that Robbins

was also a huge mayonnaise fan, I devised, tested, tweaked,

and perfected the following recipe for chocolate beet

mayonnaise cake.

You think I’m crazy but wait! My tasters were

thoroughly blown away by this perfectly moist and dense

chocolate experience and reluctant to believe it contained

beets and mayo. You, my friend, will like this cake.

Combine the following ingredients in the following order: two cups flour; one teaspoon

baking soda; one teaspoon baking powder; 1/2 teaspoon salt;

1/2 cup cocoa powder; one cup sugar; 1/2 cup chocolate

chips. Stir the dry ingredients before adding one teaspoon

vanilla; 3/4 cup half & half, one cup mayo, and two cups

shredded beets (boiled 10 minutes in one cup water, until

tender, and drained). Bake it in a greased pan at 350 until a

plunged fork comes out clean (about 30 minutes). Cool.

For the frosting, combine 1/2 cup each of sour

cream, cream cheese, and confectioner’s sugar in a bowl. Beat it

all together until smooth. Beat two egg whites until stiff,

fold them into the frosting, chill 30 minutes, and frost.

Tom Robbins, eat your heart out.

Categories
Food & Wine Food & Drink

FOOD NEWS

If weeks of Olympics coverage didn’t satisfy your hunger for all things

Greek, come to Bartlett to celebrate Greekfest 2004. St.

George Greek Orthodox Church, 6984 Highway 70, will

host this 43rd annual event September 18th.

“Watching the Olympics you see all the beauty

of Greece,” says Kathy Zambelis, publicity

chairperson. “Now, Greece is coming to the Mid-South. It is a

great way to share our heritage.”

There will be crafts, games, dance troupes, and

music from the Lazarus Band from 10 a.m. to 10 p.m.

Admission is free. A traditional Greek dinner will be

served from 10 a.m. until 7 p.m. The complete meal,

which includes an entrée, sides, salad, and dessert, is $12

for adults and $6 for children 12 and under. Advance

tickets can be purchased for $10 and $5, respectively,

by calling the church at 388-5910.

Stay all day or just drive through and carry

dinner home. And don’t forget: The Greek Pastry Shop

will offer a variety of homemade treats, and stands will

sell gyros and souvlaki.

Cafe Society, 212 N. Evergreen, has a new look. Since closing its gourmet market Epicure in

June, the restaurant opened up that space by enlarging

the bar, adding a dining room, and updating the appearance, all while preserving the

upscale French café atmosphere.

“The new bar is beautiful,” says bartender Leanna Tedford. “It’s

made of Brazilian redwood, and it follows the same curve that outlined the

old Epicure. It’s double the size of the old bar.”

Enlarging the bar also allows room for smoking tables. The

renovations include a banquet room that can be reserved for private functions.

Artwork by husband and wife Anton Weiss and Lisa Jennings adorn the walls.

“We’ve been in business 17 years, and it was time for

an update,” says Telford. “We’ve added a few new items to

the menu, but there will be more changes. We wanted to

wait until we got comfortable with the renovations.”

For now, new menu items include osso buco, a veal

shank braised for 12 hours; pan-seared flat-iron steak

with andouille, succotash, and a Gran Marnier-scented

lobster glaze; and the chef’s daily selection of fresh fish.

Senses, 2866 Poplar, may be best known for its pulsing music and cold drinks, but the club also

features a full kitchen. The best time to sample the more

unusual menu items, like the endame (salted soy beans), is

Monday through Friday from 4 to 7 p.m. when free appetizers

are served in the Martini Bar.

Chef Robby Alexander, who formerly worked at

Automatic Slim’s, helped owners George and Dennis

Mironovich create an assortment of light and tasty finger foods.

“We didn’t want to offer a big cheeseburger, so

we created four mini-cheeseburgers,” says

George Mironovich.

The Asian-influenced menu mostly features

appetizers to be shared among friends and a couple of

entrées for bigger appetites.

Now that the club has found its niche in the

nightclub industry, it is carving out a spot in the

catering business as well. It offers themed buffets, such as

“Caribbean Carnival” or “Tea Time,” as well as nearly

50 finger food or plate dinners.

“Whether it’s a business meeting for 40 or a

wedding reception for 700, we can provide everything

— food, drinks, servers, sound, lighting, and even

decoration,” says George Mironovich.

Cookbook compliments of the Woman’s

Exchange will be published in the fall of 2005 to

share recipes and raise funds for an organization that has

been in Memphis since 1933.

“We’ve done cookbooks in the past, but this

will be the biggest and the best,” says Libby Aaron, a

member of the organization. “The book will be

hardcover and include about 250 recipes.”

The Woman’s Exchange is a national

nonprofit organization that sells products and crafts made

by people who work from home because of disabilities

or other reasons.

“The Woman’s Exchange is helping people

help themselves,” says Aaron. “Changes in the economy

have been hard, and consignors are a dying breed.

Women just don’t sew like they used to and the operating

costs are increasing, so we just need a good fund-raiser.”

The Memphis chapter’s store at 88 Racine also

features a tearoom. Three-course meals with a selection

of three entrées are served for lunch Monday through

Friday from 11 a.m. to 2 p.m.

Categories
Music Record Reviews

Short Cuts :: Record Reviews

Uh Huh Her

PJ Harvey

(Island)

On Uh Huh Her, PJ Harvey’s righteous,

angel-of-death passion and anger are imprisoned within familiar

lyrical tropes and familiar, simple arrangements, which

make her latest release as weak and timorous as her

previous masterpiece (and greatest album), 2000’s

Stories From the City, Stories From the Sea, was strong and confident.

The shocking, beautiful thing about Stories From

the City, Stories From the Sea was the way Harvey’s

magnificent, operatic, intensely carnal vocals embraced songs

of heartache and songs of pure romantic bliss. As

unlikely as it seems, that album’s “You Said Something” is one

of the great romantic mix-CD tracks of the new

decade. Unfortunately, Stories‘ ecstatic engagement with the

world has been exchanged for something far more typical:

bitterness, resignation, and terror. In Uh Huh

Her‘s songs, a lover’s mouth and a radio tune are not passports to

nirvana. They’re kisses from an asp.

This conscious downer is a statement of both

negation and independence. Harvey writes all the lyrics,

plays every instrument except the drums, and produces

every single track. As she has before, she charts the systole

and diastole of the broken heart. If she’s a sloppy,

somewhat mundane writer (one of the powerful punker

numbers compliments a man by saying, “You can straighten

my curls”), she often elevates her narratives with her

obvious commitment to the material. She also programs the

tracks to offset their lyrical similarity, alternating between

softly cooed ballads and heavily distorted

electric stomps. The jarring shifts in tone and dynamics sustain the first half of the

album, but after “Cat on the Wall,” things

drift off to sea. In fact, one interlude consists of seagull sound effects. But this album

is too trim for such atmospherics, and the seagulls sure as hell don’t lead into

“Lady Cab Driver.” Strangely, they might

have done just that in the old days.

Because Harvey is a powerful, deeply romantic artist

with plenty left in the tank, this failure emanates a Neil

Young-like integrity. As she quavers on “Pocket Knife,” “I just

want to make my own fuck-ups.” Instead of fucking up,

though, I’d like to hear her growing up. —

Addison Engelking

Grade: B

Listening Log

Red Bedroom —The Fever (Kemado):

Like a harder-edged Franz Ferdinand sans hit or hype, this NYC

quintet spins received sounds into frantic post-punk dance

music. Both bands dig Bowie, to a draw. But the Fever know

their Yankee roots. Last time out they covered Sheila E.; this

time they evoke Grandmaster Flash & the Furious Five

without embarrassing themselves. Take that, Brits! (“Cold

Blooded,” “Gray Ghost,” “Scorpio”)

Grade: A-

Drag It Up –The Old 97’s (New

West): Three years ago, the Old 97’s bid “alt-country” adieu with raging

pop guitars, tart vocals, and some of the slyest, sexiest

relationship lyrics ever conceived. The record was

Satellite Rides, and few outside their cult bought it. Here, after an iffy solo

move by frontman Rhett Miller, they’re back with alt-country

indie New West, and if that sounds like a regression, well it

sounds that way too. Slower, rootsier, less agitated, less

immediate — compared to the band’s past work, this is a total downer.

Compared to the typical “Americana” album?

More than passable. (“Won’t Be

Home,” “Moonlight,” “Adelaide” )

Grade: B

Crunk Classics –Various Artists (TVT):

In an age of downloading and CD-burning,

this Dirty South sampler can’t possibly

compete with the one you can make yourself, especially since

you aren’t likely to leave off “Get Low,” which

Crunk Classics does despite the fact that it was released on the TVT

label. The album collects representative but not standout

tracks from Lil Jon, Trick Daddy, Three 6 Mafia, etc. It

sounds okay, but not as good as commercial rap radio on an

average weeknight. (“Get F***ed Up” — Iconz, “Raise Up”

— Petey Pablo, “Where Dem Dollas At” –Gangsta Boo,

“Do It” –Rasheeda)

Grade: B-

Definitive Jux Presents, Vol. 3 –Various Artists

(Def Jux): This sampler provides too much fodder for

those convinced that the indie hip-hop scene is no fun.

NYCers Aesop Rock and El-P are the ideological

standard-bearers, but it heads up to Boston (The Perceptionists)

or skips out west (Murs) to shore up the head-bobbing

basics. (“Medical Assistance” — The

Perceptionists, “Dysexlia” –Rob Sonic, “You’re Dead to Me”

–Murs, “Oxycontin Part 2” –El-P featuring Cage, “Clean

Living” — RJD2) n — Chris Herrington

Grade: B+

082404_PJ_Harvey

Categories
Book Features Books

Sin Texts

Blood & Whiskey

By Peter Krass

Wiley, 288 pp., $24.95

Saying Yes: In Defense of Drug Use

By Jacob Sullum

Tarcher/Penguin, 352 pp., $14.95 (paper)

ack Daniel’s Old No. 7 burns like a love gone wrong. It’s not the mellowest sip around or

the most complex, but let’s face it: Everybody

knows Jack. Located, ironically enough, in the dry

town of Lynchburg, Tennessee, Jack Daniel’s is a brand

name to be reckoned with.

Blood & Whiskey, Peter Krass’ exhaustively

researched biography of Jasper “Jack” Daniel, tells

the Dickensian tale of a poor but tenacious farm boy

who was orphaned during the Civil War and taken in by

a whiskey-making, Yankee-fighting,

straight-shooting preacher-man. Jack, being Scotch-Irish and

partial to the occasional jug of corn liquor, learned

and grew to love the art of making sour mash.

Through wit, guile, and audacity, Jack and his heirs built

a whiskey empire.

Entertaining by fits and starts (charcoal

filtering takes away the hangover? who knew?), Blood &

Whiskey sometimes bogs down in questionable

Confederate apologia. Krass is at his best when he leaves

biography behind entirely and looks at the rich role

firewater has played throughout American history.

Consider:

One barrel of Missouri water,

Two gallons of raw alcohol,

Two ounces of strychnine to make them crazy,

Three twists of ‘backer to make them sick cause Injuns

won’t think it’s good unless it makes them sick.

This recipe for “Indian whiskey” also included

soap and red pepper. It was cooked over sagebrush and

sold to the “redskins” by white settlers. Paints a vivid

image of how the West was really won, doesn’t it?

In his love letter to all things dark,

intoxicating, and morally debatable, Krass quotes Robert E.

Lee: “I like [liquor]; I always did, and that is the reason

I never use it.” He also offers this from Abraham

Lincoln: “The making of liquor is regarded as an

honorable livelihood. If people are injured from its use,

the injury arises not from the use of a bad thing, but

the abuse of a very good thing.”

Now go back and read these quotes again

substituting the word “drugs” for the word “liquor.”

Here you have the two opposing viewpoints debated

in Jacob Sullum’s Saying Yes: In Defense of Drug

Use.

Sullum debunks druggie stereotypes. (Turns

out most have jobs.) He empirically proves that our

drug laws are hypocritical. (Hey, booze is just as bad,

and it’s legal.) He busts myths about drug-induced

craziness. (Who you calling crazy, crazy?) And he says

a lot of things most people born after 1950 already

know or at least strongly suspect.

The Pennsylvania Alcohol Control Board

distributes promotional literature reminding parents it’s

illegal to give their children liquor if they are under

21. To this Sullum, appalled by what he sees as an

intrusion, says, “It’s hardly reasonable to expect people

to suddenly know how to drink responsibly when

they turn 21 if they’ve had no experience with alcohol

till then.” And what reasonable person can argue?

Sullum uses solid data, simple logic, and clever anecdotes

to skewer the topsy-turvy logic of America’s contradictory drug

laws. Saying Yes refutes the notion that one may drink

responsibly but drug-users are necessarily high and looking for trouble

24/7. Sullum’s response to the complaints of modern-day

prohibitionists: Hell no I don’t want a stoned surgeon, but I

don’t want a drunk one either. In many ways it’s an

all-or-nothing challenge to conventional wisdom.

Sullum does occasionally make a stoner’s rhetorical slip.

After arguing that the average user, like the average drinker,

is more often than not a perfectly responsible person with a

perfectly normal life, he quotes retired General Joseph Franks,

who said, “If we [combat soldiers in Vietnam] got into any trouble

— say an evening attack on a perimeter — the marijuana

smokers were much more alert than the drinkers.”

So, according to Saying Yes, weed is better than booze

if you’re on the battlefield? Abraham Lincoln might

not agree. In Blood & Whiskey, the Great Emancipator wishes out

loud that he could send all his generals a bottle of whatever

it was Grant was drinking.

Both Krass’ and Sullum’s books prove that

prohibition is costly and counterproductive. Where there’s a

serious demand for “vice,” there will always be a

steady supply.

Categories
Theater Theater Feature

Taking the Prize

The 2004 Ostrander Awards honoring Memphis theater were

presented Sunday night, and there were few surprises. In fact, it’s safe to say

there were no surprises. It seems some copies of the September issue of

Memphis magazine, which contained a list of the winners, inadvertently went out

to subscribers late last week. Word of the winners soon spread among the theater

community via various Internet chat boards, making the presentations somewhat

anticlimactic. A good time was still had by all, however. It was an attitude perhaps

best expressed by the Arts Council’s Janie McCrary in her introduction: “You’re

actors. So act surprised!”

COLLEGE DIVISION

Set Design

Laura Canon

Equus/Laramie Project

Rhodes College

Costume Design

Bridget Lacher

Big Love

Rhodes College

Lighting Design

John McFadden

Twelfth Night

University of Memphis

Puppet Design

Laura Wilhelm and Amy Slater

Everyman

University of Memphis

Movement Design

Tony Horne, Tiza Garland,

and Rachel Martsolf

Big Love

Rhodes College

Supporting Actress in a Drama

Amy Gray

Equus

Rhodes College

Supporting Actor in a Drama

Nicholas Taylor

Twelfth Night

University of Memphis

Leading Actress in a Drama

Elishah Oesch

Twelfth Night

University of Memphis

Leading Actor in a Drama

Henry McDaniel

Twelfth Night

University of Memphis

Ensemble Acting

Cast of Laramie Project

Rhodes College

Direction of a Drama

Tony Horne

Big Love

Rhodes College

Best Drama

Tie

Twelfth Night

University of Memphis

Big Love

Rhodes College

Award of Commendation

Morgan McCrary

Horse masks in Equus

Rhodes College

COMMUNITY DIVISION

Set Design

Mark Guirguis

Jekyll & Hyde

Playhouse on the Square

Costume Design

Rebecca Y. Powell

Jekyll & Hyde

Playhouse on the Square

Lighting Design

Lee Burckes

Macbeth

Playhouse on the Square

Set Dressing

Melinda Bott

Jekyll & Hyde

Playhouse on the Square

Makeup Design

Matt Singer

The Wizard of Oz

Playhouse on the Square

Music Direction

Paul Seiz

The Spitfire Grill

Circuit Playhouse

Sound Design

Phillip Hughen

Macbeth

Playhouse on the Square

Supporting Actress in a Musical

Carla MacDonald

Hedwig and the Angry Inch

Playhouse on the Square

Supporting Actor in a Musical

John Hemphill

Guys and Dolls

Playhouse on the Square

Leading Actress in a Musical

Angela Groeschen

Jekyll & Hyde

Playhouse on the Square

Leading Actor in a Musical

Jason Watson

Jekyll & Hyde

Playhouse on the Square

Direction of a Musical

Scott Ferguson

Jekyll & Hyde

Playhouse on the Square

Musical Production

Jekyll & Hyde

Playhouse on the Square

Supporting Actress in a Drama

Mary Hollis Inboden

Cloud 9

Next Stage at Theatre Memphis

Supporting Actor in a Drama

David Perry

Cloud 9

Next Stage at Theatre Memphis

Leading Actress in a Drama

Angela Groeschen

Macbeth

Playhouse on the Square

Leading Actor in a Drama

Barry Fuller

You Can’t Take It With You

Theatre Memphis

Ensemble Acting

Cast of Tintypes

Germantown Community Theatre

Cameo Role

Dot Blackwood

You Can’t Take It With You

Theatre Memphis

Special Awards

The Machine

in The Man Who Only Wanted

a Screwdriver

Playwright’s Forum

Projection Design for The Wizard of Oz

Rory Dale

Playhouse on the Square

Direction of a Drama

Drew Fracher

Macbeth

Playhouse on the Square

Dramatic Production

Macbeth

Playhouse on the Square

Larry Riley Rising Star Award

Kyle Hatley

Eugart Yerian Award

Marler Stone

Categories
Opinion Viewpoint

Straight Talk

John Kerry, the Democratic Party’s not-so-happy

warrior, is breaking with tradition this week and

making at least one campaign appearance while the

Republicans dominate the news with their nominating

convention (a real cliffhanger). I applaud this

aggressiveness, because Kerry could use every day he’s got left until the

election. On the other hand, now would be the time to

pause and wonder what has gone wrong and what can be

done about it. Kerry could start by clearing his throat.

At the moment, the Democratic nominee seems to

be speaking from under water, making glub-glub sounds as

he tries to explain his original vote in support of the Iraq

war resolution, his subsequent vote against funding the war,

and his conduct in Vietnam many years ago and what he

said afterward. The man carries a heavy burden — a long

and complicated public record that can be mined for

negative nuggets. It does not help any that as a public speaker he

is no public speaker.

It just so happens that a man has appeared among

us here in New York City who can show Kerry what to

do. Senator John McCain has been the toast of the town

this week, his birthday (68) being celebrated like the 12

nights of Christmas. On Sunday, though, McCain was all

business when he appeared on Face the

Nation and was asked whether Kerry’s recent dip in the polls was attributable to

those wretched TV ads attacking his war record. McCain did

not launch into praise of George Bush as almost any other

politician would have done but instead ripped the muggy

air with candor: “I can think of no other reason,” he said.

Maybe you heard the thunder.

The irrepressible blurting out of the obvious, a

McCain trait for many years, not only stood in marked contrast

to what I had been watching before he came on — George

Pataki and Rudy Giuliani in full insincerity about the marvels

of the Bush presidency — but to politicians in general.

It is a magical thing McCain does: Tell the truth, tell it simply,

and get on with life. The formula is so obvious you’d think

more politicians would adopt it, if only because it works.

Bluntness is, bluntly speaking, what Kerry could use in abundance.

At the moment, the issue is Kerry’s Vietnam service.

He was first attacked for being a hot dog and a phony who

did not really earn his medals. George Bush himself has

now sort of put that matter to rest by conceding that Kerry is

a hero — although apparently not enough of one for Bush

to denounce the swift-boat ads. Now, new ads attack Kerry

for what he said after returning from Vietnam and becoming

a leader of the antiwar movement.

This is a moment for Kerry to speak plainly, embrace

all Vietnam veterans, and say that any suggestion that they

were war criminals does not represent how he feels now and

how he felt then — and if he gave the opposite impression,

he’s sorry. If it takes an apology — if it takes saying he was

once an angry young man who saw blood spilled in a

dubious cause — then that’s what he should say. Kerry’s inability

or refusal to return to the origin of his problems — a

wrong vote on Iraq and some incautious words on Vietnam —

has trapped him in a kind of rhetorical molasses. He’s

always trimming weeds that need to be yanked out by the roots.

Either by happenstance or design, I’ve been with

John McCain for three nights in a row and have watched the

magic he works on people. At a dinner one evening, someone

asked the secret of his appeal. A colleague and I looked at

each other in disbelief. It’s his honesty, his willingness to

(mostly) say what’s on his mind. He just clears his throat and

says what has to be said. John Kerry ought to try it. It

could make him president.

Richard Cohen writes for The Washington Post

and the Washington Post Writers group.

Categories
We Recommend We Recommend

Memphis by Design

“I don’t mean to insult Memphians, but I wonder if they are asleep.”

So said Mike Cromer, a retired businessman

who moved here a year ago after living in Boston,

Ottawa, Canada, Park City, Utah, and San Diego. The

quote comes from an interview with Cromer in the

current issue of The Keystone, a publication of Memphis

Heritage, Inc., the historic-preservation group. He was

responding to a City Council meeting with

representatives from the Riverfront Development Corporation

and Friends for Our Riverfront in July.

At issue was the RDC’s building plan for the

Promenade overlooking the Mississippi River and the

Friends’ opposition to that plan. But Cromer was

commenting on what he hasn’t been hearing since this

controversy began: the economic feasibility of the RDC’s

proposal. Instead, what he has heard are fuzzy references to

“vision,” “growth,” and “progress” — “vapor-ware,”

according to Cromer, a former software executive. “I

should think [Memphians] would care more about a matter

that affects their pocketbooks.”

For the record, Cromer also believes that Memphis

is “on the cusp of something big and special.” He likes

its “mix of old and new.” He visited the city many times

in the past, and he’s watched it “grow up.”

Memphians are watching too, sometimes with

pride, sometimes with concern — watching if not their

pocketbooks then their city’s built envivonment as never before.

Which makes the month of September in Memphis, Architecture Month, a good

wake-up call. The events and exhibits have been

coordinated by the local chapter of the American Institute of

Architects and Memphis Heritage and include the

participation of individual design firms and the Memphis Brooks

Museum of Art.

The visiting lecturers are impressive: John Connell,

architect, artist, and author of Homing

Instinct and Creating the Inspired

House; Thomas Hylton, preservationist, Pulitzer

Prize winner, and author of Save Our Land, Save our

Towns; and Memphian Carol Coletta, executive director of the

Mayor’s Institute of City Design and host of NPR’s

Smart City.

The activities are varied too: an art by architects exhibit;

a public-service project in Victorian Village; a downtown

scavenger hunt; a panel discussion by leading local architects; an

art exhibit by the city’s youth; a tour of homes designed by

local architects; a golf tournament; and the annual

Preservation Awards.

Heather Baugus, executive director of the Memphis

chapter of the American Institute of Architects, is psyched.

“The Memphis AIA chapter was founded in 1953 to support

the profession,” she says. “But for the past few years, we

realized that part of our responsibility is to the community as

well. We’ve been trying to refocus our programming, open it

up, and appeal to the general public. We’re a

resource for the public. We’re here for them.

“It’s funny,” Baugus says.

“I get plenty of calls from individuals coming to Memphis and wanting

to know the top 10 buildings to see. Or out-of-state individuals looking for a local

architecture firm to partner with in a project. I love those

calls, but I don’t get enough of them from within the city!

“We want to reposition the role of the architect

in people’s minds. The stereotype is not the reality. We

have architects involved in community giving. We’re

developing programs to offer design services for nonprofits.

“But we also need to emphasize the value of

historical buildings and engage the public to become

active citizens. Our history, and especially the built

environment, will not maintain itself. It takes pride. It

means hands-on work. It means sometimes getting a little

dirty. It means taking ownership. Memphis has a long way

to go. Architecture Month is a first step.”

For more information on Architecture Month, go

to aiamemphis.org or memphisheritage.org.

Categories
News

Gratefully Yours

I had called ahead and explained to the woman at Avis that I

needed a station wagon or an SUV or a van, and now she was saying there was no such vehicle available. I said to her, “You don’t understand. We have tosleep in this car for three nights.” I stood before her in a tie-dyed shirt, cutoff jeans, sandals, and a Grateful Dead baseball cap.

Considering the circumstances, I think she and Avis deserved what happened. This poor, misguided woman looked right at a twentysomething kid wearing sunglasses inside on a cloudy day, at a person who had just stated that multiple people will be spending the night in whatever car she gives

him, and she said, “Well, sir, the biggest

car I have available is a brand-new Cadillac Seville.”

It was too beautiful. And too horrible.

A few signatures later, we were testing the limits of the sound system,

pulling cold ones from a cooler in the backseat, dipping fries into ketchup

in between us, and rolling north out of Chicago, bound for the Alpine

Valley Music Theater in Wisconsin.

It takes a lot to get noticed in a Dead show parking lot, but a spotless,

jet-black Seville pulls it off. In the usual sea of VW vans and repainted

school buses, we stood out like a spaceship. People got out of our way. They

probably figured we were with the band — or that we were cops.

The parking lot was a former crop of some sort. It was hot, windy,

dusty, and filled with Frisbees, fireworks, and freaks. Instinctively, I knew

the Cadillac wouldn’t make it. It couldn’t.

We parked between a guy selling elephant ears and a bus whose

inhabitants were busy setting up big speakers and a disco ball. I popped another

beer and stood on the Caddy’s hood to take it all in. A Frisbee bounced off

the trunk.

That first night it was hot. It must have been 7,000 degrees. The show

was huge, though — the kind of musical event that had strangers hugging

each other, people wandering around dazed when it was over, the band pulling

out an encore they hadn’t done in years everything.

Then, with all of that whacked-out energy and all that dancing vibe,

all those concertgoers decided to work it out the rest of the night at “the

disco bus.” This, of course, was right next

to the poor Seville. Turns out sleeping in the Cadillac wasn’t much of an

issue after all.

The next night, toward the end of the second show, I noticed a cool

breeze swirling around the amphitheater. It was most welcome. Then it got

cooler and breezier. Then, ironically enough, as the band closed with the song

“Sunshine Daydream,” it started to rain.

It was a full-summer, Midwestern thunderstorm — rain that sends people

running. At least, it would send sober, non-Deadheads running. What it

does to Deadheads in their second day of a bender is make them think, Dude,

this whole hill is like a mudslide!

Disco bus, mud, dancing, more rain, Cadillac. You get the picture.

After that, it just rained. It rained so much there wasn’t even mud

anymore, just water. The third show was in a pond. The band tried to

humor us with all their “rain” songs, but

we didn’t care. There comes a point where you’re so wet you can’t

get wetter, so why worry? If we want to dry out, we can just, you know, chill in

the Seville.

On the last morning of the concerts, jeeps were driving around the

parking lot, charging a joint or two to haul cars out of the muck. The sky was

clearing, but the damage was done. The lot was lost, and people were stumbling

around like refugees, looking for a ride to Indy for the next show. And the Cadillac

well, like I said, it never should have been there in the first place.

It had about 230 miles on it, as I recall. Total. Since its manufacture.

It was also no longer black. From the air, you wouldn’t have been able to

locate it in the field. It was being swallowed by the muck. The seats looked like

a two-week-old cake, and the floor was, we decided, the home of a new

element in the periodic table. We had a science experiment going on in the back

seat: What happens when you put mud, water, grass, beer, pot, coffee,

donuts, clothing, and elephant ears in a dark, warm, moist place for three days,

then stay the hell away from it.

Of course, we still had to take it back to Avis. We slinked up behind

the drop-off zone, parked it, left the keys on a burger wrapper so they could

be found, and ran like hell. We had a train to catch and consequences to avoid.

We even left Avis a present. Underneath enough soil to plant next

year’s corn, on the once-shiny bumper of that brand-new Cadillac Seville, an

unauthorized, adhesive, rectangular addition said it all: “Good ol’

Grateful Dead.”

Categories
Music Music Features

Sound Advice

Angie Stone and Anthony Hamilton, two of the most likable

artists on the neo-soul scene, perform together Sunday, September 5th, at The

Orpheum. Stone is touring in support of her third

album, the recently released Stone Love. Though solid in every way, the

album doesn’t have a very distinct personality. Rather, it conveys the notion of some

kind of abstract genre ideal and leaves the impression that Stone is an artist whose

successes and failures are strongly tied to her collaborators. On

Stone Love, the winners are producers Missy Elliott and

Memphis-connected Jazze Pha. Nevertheless, Stone, who has performed on Broadway,

played sax in Lenny Kravitz’ band, and cut her teeth as a member of the hip-hop

group Sequence, is one of the scene’s purest talents. Hopefully, her live show will leave

a more distinct impression than her album.

Distinctiveness is not an issue with Hamilton, whose soul sound is far

from “neo.” Uniting the down-home flavor

of such ’70s soul stars as Bill Withers and Bobby Womack with a proudly

post-hip-hop sensibility, Hamilton is one of the most original soul artists working.

His most recent album, 2003’s Comin From Where I’m

From, has been one of pop’s greatest recent growers: Nearly a year

after its release, it’s still in the Top 10 of

Billboard‘s R&B/Hip-Hop album chart despite

never climbing higher than number six. Though Hamilton has emerged as a major artist

in his own right, he remains one of the most in-demand hook singers around. He got

a break-out a few years ago by providing the memorable vocal hook to the Nappy

Roots hit “Po’ Folks.” This year, he can be

heard with Stone on her single “Stay for a

While” but, even more recognizably, alongside

rapper Jadakiss on his smash “Why.”

In other hip-hop: Notorious ’80s rap group

2 Live Crew (sans founder Luke Skywalker) are scheduled to get as nasty

as they want to be at the Young Avenue Deli Thursday, September 2nd. As if that

wasn’t already unlikely enough, local white rap duo

Effingham & Wheatstraw are set to open. Definitely the spectacle of

the week. — Chris Herrington

Add the Buccaneer to the list of alternative-music venues in

Midtown. The venerable watering hole has been under new ownership since

July 31st, when Willis Davis III and Charles Lankford took command of the

pirate-themed bar. “I always thought the Buccaneer had a unique

personality,” Lankford explains. “While our main

focus is our food, we want to showcase good Memphis music.”

Although customers can expect few cosmetic changes in the atmosphere —

“the regulars seem grateful that we

maintained the integrity,” Lankford says with a laugh

— the club is now booking bands on a regular basis. After the Center for

Southern Folklore’s Memphis Music & Heritage

Festival (see Local Beat, page 39) winds down Saturday, the music will pick back up

Saturday night at the Buccaneer (1386 Monroe Avenue) with performances from

festival bands such as The Dutch Masters,

The Natural Kicks, and The Royal

Pendletons.

Categories
Film Features Film/TV

Worldly

Michael Cunningham has a thing for third wheels. In 2002 s The Hours, three women s lives were examined based on a primary relationship with a romantic partner and a complication from a third party.

I was astonished by The Hours unflinching look at the varieties of depression and its effect on the lives surrounding its victims. Depression is neither easily controlled nor contained and efforts to escape or compress it can result in unpredictable implosions or explosions in unexpected areas of the depressed person s life. Push down hard enough on something and it will squirt out the sides. Each of the women in The Hours pushes down on one or more parts of their lives, only to see it squirt out the sides somewhere else. There are two noteworthy, opposing strategies for combating this kind of repression: give boundaries to every aspect of life or have no boundaries at all. Both present hazards.

In A Home at the End of the World, we are introduced to Bobby, a shy, impressionable child of the early 1970s (played in younger years by Andrew Chalmers and Erik Smith), who worships his cooler-than-cool hippie brother and learns from him a singular life lesson: It s all just love. Big brother dies suddenly at a party (I won t spoil it, but the accident is gorgeously and terrifyingly filmed), and Bobby lives thereafter with It s all just love as a mantra. As a teen, this allows him to feel fine while sexually experimenting with his new best friend, Jonathan (Harris Allan), or getting chummy and sharing pot with Jonathan s mom (Sissy Spacek). When Bobby s father dies, Bobby is orphaned and taken in by Jonathan s parents where he lives after Jonathan has moved out for college.

As a young adult in 1982, Bobby is still a virgin but has the same loose sense of boundaries and is now played by Colin Farrell. Best pal Jonathan, now played by Dallas Roberts, has moved to New York s East Village, where he has a gay life, different from his family life and very removed from whatever life Bobby had fit into. Not knowing what to do after moving out of Jonathan s parents home, Bobby moves to New York to be with Jonathan and his spunky roommate Clare (delightful Robin Wright Penn). Jonathan s life is so meticulously segmented that Bobby s arrival, while welcome, violates several of the emotional protections Jonathan has set up for himself. Bobby belongs in friend life and family life not gay city life. When Clare successfully deflowers Bobby, Jonathan s roommate life has been invaded as well, forcing him out of the apartment until Clare becomes pregnant. The trio s strange emotional arrangement (Bobby loves Clare who used to love Jonathan but now loves Bobby, and Jonathan who loves Bobby and used to think he loved Clare) is somehow reconciled by the impending baby, and they all move to Woodstock, New York, and open a cafÇ.

Lacking The Hours depth and gravity but indulging, instead, in a journeyman s sense of wonder, Home successfully navigates through Jonathan s life compartments and through Bobby s vast limitlessness with the patience and ease of good friendship and the spark of Clare s self-conscious zeal.

As you watch Home (and I hope you do), you can distinguish the challenges that Bobby faces from those that Jonathan deals with. Jonathan s life is full of boundaries. Bobby has none. Bobby s not terribly bright but loves life. The reverse is true of Jonathan. One gets the sense that Bobby could have ended up anywhere and with anyone and that would be fine with him. He would make the best of it. But for now it s Jonathan and Clare, and he s happy to accommodate all.

Anchoring Home is a clutch of vivid and detailed performances. Foremost, Farrell s brave work as Bobby establishes him as that rare Hollywood hunk who isn t afraid to favor art and risk over image, while a radiant Spacek somehow manages to convince again as a young mother. Roberts Jonathan is well-crafted, but the character is almost too snarky and self-absorbed to like. It s easy to fall in a kind of love with Bobby and Clare, who are having so much fun together. Jonathan s a third wheel, and he squeaks.

The moral, if any: Sometimes life lets us choose our family. That s kind of great, isn t it?

Bo List

The most expensive film in Chinese history, Zhang Yimou s Hero has taken a long road to U.S. screens, so much so that the director already has another martial arts epic, House of Flying Daggers, making the festival rounds. American distributor Miramax acquired the film in 2002 and fiddled with it until Quentin Tarantino convinced his studio patrons to release Hero in full form.

It s curious why Miramax took so long, since Hero is an art-house action film in the spirit (and scope) of Ang Lee s commercially successful Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. Told in flashback, in a series of Rashomon-like tales, Hero centers around a nameless warrior (Jet Li) who has come to the court of the third century B.C. king of the Qin dynasty (soon to China s first emperor) claiming to have killed three assassins plotting against the king. The king is at first impressed, then skeptical, and we get different versions of the truth as the nameless man s story changes.

One problem here is that Li has a personality to match his namelessness. The stone-faced actor is overshadowed by his far more charismatic co-stars, including director Wong Kar-Wai veterans Tony Leung and Maggie Cheung (who appear together in Wong s In the Mood for Love and upcoming 2046) and Crouching Tiger starlet Zhang Ziyi. But Li s blankness fits the tone of a movie that, while impressive on first viewing, doesn t hold up the way Crouching Tiger did. Where Lee s film was driven by an old-fashioned sense of entertainment and romance, Hero is colder and more formal, with color-coded action scenes that are also a series of juxtapositions, comparing swordplay to the likes of music and calligraphy.

Hero is beautiful to watch, with highlights such as a sun-dappled duel between Cheung and Zhang Ziyi amid swirling yellow leaves (which turn blood-red when one combatant perishes); Cheung and Li fighting off a torrent of iron arrows in defense of a rural calligraphy studio; and Li and Leung skipping like stones across an idyllic lake as they pursue each other. As shot by renowned cinematographer Chris Doyle, Hero doesn t have the frenetic romance of Doyle s visuals for Wong Kar-Wai. It s still one of the most visually compelling films you ll see this year.

But you might leave the theater wondering whether the film s action thrills are a little manipulative: This national-origin story endorses peace enforced by power and does so with a worshipful pageantry (there s no irony in the film s title) that can be a little off-putting. n Chris Herrington