Month: February 2013

Categories
Film Features Film/TV

Measuring Up: a landmark doc series continues.

All movies are accidental time capsules. Those movies made today that explore the way we live now eventually become monuments to the way we were and the things we used to do. Robert Aldrich’s 1955 Kiss Me Deadly is not only one of the greatest film noirs; it’s also the first American film where its lead actor uses an answering machine to check his messages. And how about the size of Jules’ cell phone in Pulp Fiction?

No matter how great or small, most movies are littered with strange, unintentionally revealing sequences like those. Michael Apted’s 56 Up also offers multiple reminders of the cinema’s power to preserve the past, but there’s much more to the film than proof of changing times. 56 Up is the eighth iteration of a BBC documentary that has been interviewing the same 14 British men and women every seven years since 1964, when they were all 7 years old. The long view taken of the numerous pasts, presents, and futures still under construction here is never less than quietly mesmerizing.

The 14 sections of 56 Up all unfold in more or less the same way: Each subject discusses his or her plans, regrets, triumphs, or whatever else is on his or her minds while the editors juxtapose their most recent remarks with earlier footage from their younger selves. Now on the cusp of old age, everyone in 56 Up has plenty to say for their lives. Their remarks may frequently fall short of revelation, but the truths they’ve learned are clearly hard-won. Here’s Neil on wasted opportunities: “I am angry so many doors have been closed.” Here’s Paul on aging: “I don’t think you really notice it.” Here’s Jackie on misery: “For every one good day I have, I can have two bad.” Here’s Suzy on politics: “They haven’t got a clue what they’re doing.” Here’s Simon on 20 years of happy marriage: “Is that all it is?” Here’s Suzy on seeing her part in the documentary: “That’s all there is to me?”

Although I’ve known about this series for at least 20 years, this is the first Up film I’ve seen; there’s no doubt that part of my enchantment comes from finally meeting these people. Still, I cannot think of another movie that inspires as much introspection and soul-searching. Shakespearean questions linger long after the film ends. Is there a divinity that shapes our ends, rough-hew them how we will? Or is it not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves? No matter: Hopefully, these people will continue talking about their lives — and we’ll get to keep watching them — until subject and moviegoer alike are sans teeth, sans eyes, sans everything.

56 Up

Opening Friday, March 1st

Studio on the Square

Categories
Opinion The Last Word

The Rant

There was a Ku Klux Klan rally in Overton Park during the mid-1960s — I can’t remember the specific date — where they did the night-time cross burning and the whole deal. It was quite the white-robed spectacle, and my teenage friends and I attended in order to heckle the rubes. The Klan no longer appeared frightening in their customary outfits, merely ridiculous. We understood that beneath each hood was just another cracker-ass redneck with a chaw between his teeth and gums and a tin of Red Man in his back pocket. A speech was delivered by Robert Shelton, the Klan Grand Wazoo, who shortly before had granted an extensive interview to Playboy magazine, which I read between the centerfold and naked girly pictures. Even as a teen, I was convinced he was a damn fool. So the clown show that is coming to Memphis in March is way past the day when this bunch intimidated anyone and an embarrassment even to an organization like the Sons of Confederate Veterans. The Klan, however, is riding in defense of General Nathan Bedford Forrest — only the general would not approve.

O Lord, please don’t force me to write about Nathan Bedford Forrest at the end of Black History Month. Let this cup passeth from me. You see, I was born in Memphis, where the very mention of the name Forrest brought either a visceral loathing or a wistful admiration, depending on the individual. There is nothing defensible about an illiterate, bad-tempered, racist slave trader who made a fortune dealing in human bondage, but the Forrest name was such a lightning rod for controversy, I decided to read a couple of books about him.

The more informative was That Devil Forrest by John Allan Wyeth. Although Wyeth was a Confederate soldier and Southern sympathizer, his biography contains eyewitness testimony from the combatants. The book tends to gloss over some of the most glaring accusations of evil toward Forrest. After all, slavery is a crime against humanity, second only to genocide, and for that there can be no recompense. The single thing that historians all agree upon, however, is that Forrest was a born soldier. General William T. Sherman, no friend of the South, said that Forrest was “the most remarkable man the civil war produced on either side.” He was the only soldier who entered the war as a private and emerged as a general, and his fearlessness in battle was legendary. In close combat, Forrest killed 30 foes, had 29 horses shot from beneath him, and was wounded four times. What the Civil War historians admire most about Forrest was his unflinching courage in battle.

Even as a schoolboy, I was also a Southerner, so I was perplexed and had to wonder, “You mean our side lost?” That’s an adjustment for a child who knows nothing of the war’s particulars but only the region in which he lives. Consequently, I was thrilled by stories of Forrest’s raid on Union-occupied Memphis, when he chased General Washburn from the Gayoso Hotel in his nightshirt. There’s still a street called Escape Alley in honor of the event, yet no one has suggested changing that name.

I look as an objective observer at the current controversy over the Memphis City Council’s decision to rename the parks memorializing the Confederacy. I can understand the wounded Southern souls descended from gray uniformed soldiers, as well as the constant irritant Forrest Park is to the citizens of a city that is more than 60 percent African-American. Bedford, as he was called, was an unrepentant white supremacist, and to have his glorified tomb in the center of the city is galling to most of them. But it is history, regardless of how ugly that history may be, and renaming monuments or parks does not change that.

The upcoming Klan rally will eulogize the group’s founder and first grand wizard, although the Klan to which Forrest belonged was created in 1867 and officially disbanded in 1869. Testifying before a congressional hearing, Forrest said the KKK was formed as “a protective political military organization,” primarily to fill a lawless void and oppose the war profiteering of Reconstruction. When its members became night-riders and terrorists against black citizens, Forrest resigned and lobbied for the organization’s dissolution.

I don’t care if they disinter Bedford and the Missus and move them back to Elmwood Cemetery where they were first buried. There’s already a Forrest State Park near Camden. Why call a city park Health Sciences Park with a dead man there? The Memphis location could be used for reflection, especially upon the end of Forrest’s life when, in 1875, he was invited to speak before a group of black Southerners advocating racial reconciliation, and the general espoused an agenda of equality and harmony between the races.. Oh, you say you didn’t know that? Most folks don’t.

Perhaps Forrest’s transformation from a conscience-less slave trader to an advocate of interracial peace is a story of redemption, like Saul of Tarsus on the road to Damascus. Both men were knocked off their horses.

There is no way to temper the sins of N.B. Forrest. He said, “War means fighting, and fighting means killing,” and he was a ruthless killer. When he saw that the Confederate cause was lost, he told his troops, “Humanity demands that no more blood be shed.”

In a farewell address, the “unlettered general” said, “Civil War, such as you have just passed through, naturally engenders feelings of animosity, hatred, and revenge. It is our duty to divest ourselves of all such feelings. Whatever your responsibilities may be to government, society, or to individuals, meet them like men. Obey the laws, preserve your honor, and the government to which we have surrendered can afford to be, and will be, magnanimous.”

Were the Memphis City Council only so generous. If it’s wrong to kick a man when he’s down, what does it say to kick him when he’s dead?

Randy Haspel writes the “Born-Again Hippies” blog, where a version of this column first appeared.

Categories
Letters To The Editor Opinion

Letters to the Editor

Forrest Park

Chris Herrington recently wrote one of the best pieces I have ever read — “Liberating Forrest Park” (Viewpoint, February 14th issue). It goes well beyond the sometimes comical conversation we are having regarding the Forrest and Confederate parks and articulates some of the complexity of our region better than anything I have seen in a long time.

I’m currently reading Battle Cry of Freedom (one of the great books on the Civil War), and as a native Memphian, I am very glad Lincoln succeeded in restoring the Union (aka Jefferson Davis’ team lost). And, although I respect Forrest as the military genius he was, I agree with many of my Memphis brethren that he isn’t someone we need to name a park after either.

Renaming the parks isn’t an attempt to eliminate Forrest, Jefferson Davis, and the Confederacy from the history books. But acknowledging that those park names weren’t ever the best idea for a progressive city is a good thing.  

Andy Cates

Memphis

The NRA

Michael Jones is exactly correct in his letter (February 21st issue) pointing out that the NRA is nothing more than a lobbying bunch for Smith & Wesson et al. What continues to amaze me is that by repeating all that NRA Second Amendment defense nonsense, the rank-and-file members of the organization and other hunters and target-shooting hobbyists are allowing themselves to be played as complete dupes by the NRA. 

You would think that any thinking adult would know they are just being used to enhance the bottom line for the merchants of death arms industry. 

Harry Freeman

Memphis

Hope for America?

There is hope for our country yet. A recent survey shows that at this time only 22 percent of Americans consider themselves Republicans. Granted, that’s 22 percent too many, but it shows that the “Party of No” is fading away. The GOP is rapidly becoming the GONE.

It couldn’t happen to a nicer group of folks. During the presidential primaries, I listened to these people chanting “Let them die!” with regard to our uninsured and “Let them starve!” with regard to our poor. I listened to their demented candidates telling us that it was “God’s will” if a woman got raped and that “the body has a way of shutting that down” regarding pregnancy resulting from rape.

Thank God, sanity is prevailing in our country. Our sick will not be tossed into the streets to die, and our elderly and poor will not be cast aside to starve to death.

Americans are not nearly as cruel or heartless as the party of the rich wishes us to be. Trying to destroy our poor and elderly doesn’t play as well as some thought it would.

Jim Brasfield

Memphis

Tim Sampson

Could you find a worse way to end your paper? Tim Sampson is a moron. I find him more annoying than Michael Moore. What’s the problem with the parks’ names? Nobody cared for 100 years. Why now?

Better to have kept those names with the parks, because history is being omitted in our city school system. Seems that history starts with April 4, 1968, and what is mentioned about slavery is the white man’s fault. Funny how Africans sold their own into slavery is omitted. Is there a reason these teachers want to impress upon our children guilt?

As for Steve Cohen, let’s name a park after him. “Wedlock Park” has a nice ring to it. Our fine city council at its best, finding something to stir the race issue. That’s the real black eye, but then that is why this city will never be great. How about Loeb Park or Chandler Park? Why name parks geared toward a particular culture? As for the KKK, they are ridiculous, but they do have a right to protest. Then again, this is Memphis, and we only see one side. I guess we feel guilty.

Scott Blankenship

Memphis

Categories
Food & Wine Food & Drink

Hooked on Pho

CREDIT: Ari LeVaux

Pho, a brothy Vietnamese rice noodle and beef soup, is usually mispronounced “faux.” It’s more like “fuuh,” as if you were about to say a bad word and then realized you were in mixed company. However you pronounce it, this addictive bowl of steaming comfort food is grabbing the world by the bowls.

For lunch, when you can’t decide between soup, salad, and pasta, you can choose pho and get it all in the same bowl. A defining characteristic of the modern, global pho-nomenon is the fragrant and often whopping side salads served as a garnish. These salads usually consist of a pile of bean sprouts, topped with one or more varieties of basil, and typically cilantro, lime wedges, and sliced jalapenos. You might also find minced garlic, chopped scallions, and an obscure Southeast Asian herb called razor leaf.

Some purists from northern Vietnam, the birthplace of pho, consider the salad-in-your-soup thing something of a pho pas, since the practice was introduced when the dish migrated south. Another post-Hanoi improvement has been a growing body of condiments like hoisin sauce, spicy vinegar, chili sauce, chili powder, and fish sauce, all of which are served in a tabletop condiment caddy alongside soup and salad.

After pupating in Saigon for a spell, pho spread to nearby countries like Thailand. From there, it migrated with the Vietnamese diaspora, incorporating local ingredients wherever it landed — most notably, the jalapeno pepper in North America. Many American pho houses, aka Vietnamese restaurants, have also latched onto Western humor, with names like “Pho King” (proper pronunciation required for full comedic effect).

These restaurants generally have large menus featuring a bewildering array of dishes, some of which will be dead-ends. So unless you’re experienced, go straight for the pho — either classic beef, which can include tripe, tendon, meatballs, and slices of raw, tender steak that cook in your bowl at the table — or one of many similar soups that feature chicken, seafood, pork, duck, or vegetables.

Here’s a basic recipe for a traditional pho of beef flank (or some other tough cut). Those who want different meats or vegetarian options can modify accordingly. Daikon is often used to make vegetarian pho broth.

Parboil some beef bones for 10 minutes to release a shocking amount of scum and particles, then dump that water, rinse the bones in hot water, and put them back in the pot in 6 quarts of clean water. We’re going for a clear, subtle broth here. Venison bones make great broth, too. I like to oven-roast the bones before adding them to the pot, which adds a level of richness and reduces the need for scum removal.

Bring the water and bones to a simmer and turn the heat to the lowest setting. Add 8 star anise pods (either whole or in pieces), 1 tablespoon cardamom pods, a 3-inch cinnamon stick, 6 cloves, 4 tablespoons fish sauce, 1 tablespoon salt, a half-cup of sugar (optional, but typical), and 1 pound of tough red meat cut into 2-inch chunks. Ideally, isolate the cloves, anise, and cardamom in cheesecloth or a food-safe mesh bag so they can be easily removed — one inadvertently chewed anise pod can overpower an otherwise splendid, nuanced mouthful.

Next, slowly cook 2 medium yellow onions, sliced in half, and a 4-inch piece of ginger, sliced lengthwise, over a flame or in a dry pan, until charred, blistered, and fragrant. Add them to the stock.

When the meat is falling-apart tender — a matter of hours, depending on the cut of meat — remove the chunks with a slotted spoon, disturbing the broth as little as possible so it will remain clear (don’t ever stir it). Altogether, the stock should simmer for at least three hours, with fat being carefully skimmed as it simmers — or make the broth a day before serving and cool it in the fridge, which will cause the fat to solidify for easy removal.

Blanch some rice noodles for 20 seconds in boiling water. Rinse them in cold water to remove the starch, drain, and set aside. The noodles should be just a little soft, like an undercooked al dente. Assemble side salads on a plate and make sure your condiments are in place, including hoisin sauce, soy sauce, and a red chili sauce such as the ubiquitous Sriracha.

Place noodles in bowls, but not too many, as they will absorb broth; about a third of a bowl of noodles is good. Add a chopped scallion and some cubes of meat to each bowl, atop the noodles, along with a shake or grind of black pepper and a tablespoon of soy sauce. Ladle broth into the bowls and serve.

To eat, start by tearing off the herb leaves and adding them to your bowl, along with a handful of sprouts and as many jalapeno slices as you dare — piquant heat being an essential part of the soup’s warming effect, and you don’t need to actually eat the jalapeno for it to soak into the soup. Adjust the flavor to your liking with condiments.

Categories
News The Fly-By

What They Said

CREDIT: Greg Cravens

About “State’s Big Four School Districts Frown on Bills for Munis, Charter Authorizer, Vouchers”:

“Just because a school system works and works well is no barrier to all the little chiefs wanting to chip off a piece of the action for themselves. That, I think, is the fear. That is also why the representatives of those areas are so opposed to any law concerning munis that might apply statewide instead of just to Shelby County. IOW, the gander isn’t too keen to share the fate of the goose.” — jeff

About “Which State Legislature Is Stupider? Oklahoma or Tennessee?”:

“Mother Jones wants to ban conventional religious beliefs from the classroom, but wants to include Al Gore’s ‘global warming’ religion — which he clearly doesn’t believe in himself — and present it as fact. So, they might as well just leave things as they are and think back to the days when Rome sent its legions out to fight the invading dinosaur herds.” — GWCarver

About “The Rant”:

“That damn boy, Sampson, needs to get the hell out of the South if he insults & dishonors our Southern Heroes in the war of Northern Aggression. … There was a reason those statues were erected in the first place; Forrest was known as the ‘Wizard of the Saddle’ for good reason … loved by thousands, white & black alike!” — sky blue

Comment of the Week:

About “Letter from the Editor” and parks, slavery, and the KKK:

“Wonderful idea — an anti-klan protest by costumed Sons of the Confederacy. Bring in some hoop-skirted Daughters while we’re at it, whacking at the sheetheads with their parasols.
All those raised in Memphis on wrasslin’ scenarios can come up with endless variations.” — crackoamerican

Categories
News The Fly-By

Display of Unity

CREDIT: Louis Goggans

Thousands of people stepped into the Cook Convention Center this past Saturday to check out African-American vendors, celebrities, and entertainers at the fourth annual Memphis Black Expo.

“[The expo is] about promoting unity and encouraging the community to stick together,” said Viara Boyd of V-Rock Productions, the event’s producer. “The event was created so we can learn how to support each another, as well as [to show] the importance of family unity. It’s extremely important for us to build one another up.”

For the first time since the expo began, it featured a roster of celebrities, who were seated in a plush lounge area in East Hall of the convention center. Attendees got the chance to mingle with Lamman Rucker (star of Tyler Perry’s Meet the Browns), Marcus Matthews (author of I Am Not the Father), Van Chew of BET’s Comic View, and Olympic silver medalist Trell Kimmons.

“It’s always a blessing to come back home and show support,” Kimmons said. “I’m from Mississippi, but it’s the surrounding areas that supported me throughout my career and made this great success that I’ve done over the past years [possible]. I call Memphis home, so it was an opportunity that I couldn’t turn down.”

Mayor A C Wharton kicked the event off with a welcoming speech. That was followed by musical performances from local churches during the Expo’s Spirit, Soul & Body Gospel Festival.

The Sickle Cell Foundation of Tennessee CEO Trevor K. Thompson and Clarence Boyd Jr., the first African-American electronic instrumentation technician at Kimberly-Clark (now KTG), were honored during the event.

Those interested in starting their own business attended an entrepreneurial workshop. Other workshops focused on job recruitment and how to repair financial credit.

Black fraternities and sororities showed off their stepping skills during the Greek Stroll-Off. There was a Corvette show for car enthusiasts. And anyone with an appetite could fill their bellies with soul food prepared by the Soul-Lucions restaurant on Lamar Avenue.

Adults weren’t the only ones that benefited from the event. Memphis youth got a chance to show their talents at the “My Black is Beautiful Kids Natural Cutie Pageant” and the “Battle on the Bluff Dance & Step Jamboree.” The event also had a designated “Kids Zone,” an entertainment area where children could have their faces painted, view puppet shows, interact with mascots from cartoons such as Dora the Explorer, bungee jump, play games and win prizes.

“Once I got involved in [the expo], I saw how it could positively affect our community,” said Selma Brinson, CEO of Brinson Tax Service, which sponsored the event. “They’re giving the little girls an opportunity to show how pretty they are in a natural realm. The fellas [are] able to show off their pretty Corvettes and everything. It’s just an opportunity for local, talented people, beautiful children, and our community to show off how talented and pretty they are.”

Categories
Music Music Features

Original Blues Brothers Band at Minglewood Hall

Donald “Duck” Dunn, who played bass for Booker T. & the MGs and on so many of the classic Stax recordings, died last May at the age of 70 while touring Tokyo. Soon after the demise of Stax, Dunn joined MGs bandmate Steve Cropper in the Blues Brothers Band, backing Dan Aykroyd and John Belushi in the hit film and on a best-selling album. This week, remaining members of that band, led by Cropper and saxophone player Lou Marini, perform in Memphis as a tribute to Dunn and as a benefit for the Stax Museum of American Soul Music. The Original Blues Brothers Band plays Minglewood Hall on Sunday, March 3rd. Showtime is 7 p.m. Tickets are $25 in advance or $30 at the door. There are also tables for eight available for $400. See staxmuseum.com for more information.

Categories
Cover Feature News

Last Night at the Hi-Tone

CREDIT: Justin Fox Burks

“You better call your wife/Call your bossman/Cause we ain’t never goin’ home,” the Oblivians’ Greg Cartwright sang late Saturday night at the Hi-Tone Café. “Call the police/Call the police/Cause we’re gonna get our drink on,” he yelped as a sold-out crowd shook and shimmied before him.

The Oblivians, a scene-starting garage-punk trio that also includes Jack “Oblivian” Yarber and Goner Records founder Eric Friedl, first broke up around the time the Hi-Tone Café opened, in 1998. In the decade and a half since, the now well-worn club had evolved into the city’s most prolific venue for emerging local bands and notable touring acts. But it was closing its doors just as the Oblivians — with a new album on the horizon — were getting back together.

This was the club’s final public show. (A lower-key, invitation-only drink-up-the-bar party happened the next day.) Opening the Oblivians’ show was another reunion, the Barbaras, a garage-pop band nearly a generation younger who had broken up before ever releasing an album. The Barbaras were a thrift-shop-glam carnival. Band-member Bennett Foster was in drag as a rainbow-colored, purse-clutching biddy, assessing the audience with practiced disdain but helplessly cracking an occasional smile. Stephen Pope, shirtless with purple glitter pants and rainbow suspenders, mostly abandoned the stage and spent time dancing on the bar. Balloons dropped, and the band worked through its instant-nostalgia single “Summertime Road.”

The Oblivians followed just after midnight with a casual, no-frills intensity, working through new songs, the aforementioned zydeco cover “Call the Police,” and, finally, ’90s staples such as “You Better Behave” and “Bad Man,” as Hi-Tone owner Jonathan Kiersky pumped his fist stage left, cheering them on from an elevated perch.

The crowd matched the bands: fortysomething regulars and returnees who might have been there when roots-rocker Dave Alvin got the club off the ground in 1998 all the way down to college kids for whom it’s been a recent discovery. All there to say goodbye to a room that’s helped launch local bands from Lucero to post-Barbaras spinoff the Magic Kids, hosted everyone from rock legends (Elvis Costello) to heavyweight touring bands (the Hold Steady), and served as a home to beloved local celebrations such as Gonerfest and Rock for Love.

Lost Sounds

Located at 1913 Poplar Avenue, just across from Overton Park, the 450-person-capacity club is in a building that once housed the dojo of Kang Rhee, Elvis Presley’s former karate instructor, who still owns the property. It was a recently closed coffee shop in October 1998 when Dave Lorrison — who gave the club its name — signed a lease and converted it into a music venue. Early on, the Hi-Tone was heavy with rootsier acts such as locals the Pawtuckets and notable national bookings such as Marshall Crenshaw and Iris Dement, while more punk- and alt-rock-oriented bands were more likely to play the Young Avenue Deli. In time, however, the Deli cut back on bookings and the Hi-Tone emerged as king of the Midtown live music scene.

Lorrison sold it in May 2002 to Dave Green and silent partner Bryan Powers, with Powers taking the reins solo for a couple of years before selling to Kiersky in December 2007.

When Kiersky announced the club’s closing in December, he cited the confluence of an expiring lease and problems with the building, the desire to book shows at other local venues, and the difficulty of operating a full-time music venue in the Memphis market, suggesting he would continue to book local shows under the “Hi-Tone Productions” title.

“The decision to close was primarily based on lease, location, and the fact that the room had kind of grown a little stale,” Kiersky says now.

The building’s unreliable cooling made it notoriously hot in the summer, which discouraged some touring bands.

“Heating/air was obviously a big, big issue,” Kiersky says. “With the lease [issues], I wasn’t really interested in spending more money on someone else’s building on a constant basis.”

“That building is pretty old and beat up,” says Chris Walker, who currently helps run audio/visual for the NBA’s Houston Rockets but who has operated Memphis clubs such as Barristers and Last Place on Earth and has booked shows at many other local venues, including the Hi-Tone. “I think the roof was giving [Kiersky] problems. It’s hard to have climate control in there.”

Like Lorrison before him, who ran the upscale Rumblefish restaurant out of part of the Hi-Tone space, Kiersky had tried to supplement the club’s music/bar revenue with a food component, something Walker thinks is crucial to long-term success.

“I don’t think you can have a club in Memphis without another source of income,” Walker says. “You can’t just depend on beer sales at rock shows. You have a pretty small opening to make your money. That’s a really small window to pay your bills.”

But the layout of the Hi-Tone always made this difficult.

“Food was successful to a degree, but, because of the room, it didn’t have a chance to really grow,” Kiersky says. “If there’s some metal band soundchecking at 7 p.m., you don’t want to sit through that while you’re having dinner.”

The size of the club and the difficulties of the Memphis market also complicated things.

“One of the issues with being right in the middle of the country is you’re going to get a million booking requests. On any given day, we’d get anywhere from five to 80. What that ends up meaning, if you’re going to be a 350-days-a-year rock venue, is putting a lot of stuff in your club that you’re not that interested in doing or maybe it doesn’t make financial sense to do a certain band on a Tuesday,” Kiersky says. “In Memphis, the seven-shows-a-week concept is really, really hard. There were very few weeks where we could have six good shows in a week and actually hit our numbers on all of them.”

Lorrison, who showed up Saturday night for a final walk-through of the club he started, said he was disappointed to see it closing, but he isn’t surprised.

“Most rock clubs have a life span anyway,” Lorrison says. “And it seems like 15 years is a pretty good run.”

Veteran local musician Steve Selvidge, who has played the Hi-Tone stage with innumerable acts, including the Hold Steady, the Brooklyn-based indie-rock band he joined a couple of years ago, is sanguine about the closing.

“I remember when the Antenna club closed,” Selvidge says, crediting Kiersky for the Hi-Tone’s growth into a similarly beloved entity. “What’s happening now, you’ll see a spillover into Poplar Lounge and other smaller venues. But I imagine someone will step up with another mid-sized venue. It’s unfortunate it’s closing, but it’s a hard business. But it’s not the end of the music scene.”

Lookin’ for a Thrill

As it turns out, that “someone” might still be Kiersky, who began casting about for a new permanent space soon after deciding to close the current one.

“There was a part of me that said I’m going to get through the shows I already had booked, take the summer off, and figure out if this is something I still want to do or even if I still want to be in the city,” Kiersky says. “The more I thought about it, the more I looked around at what was going on, and it seemed like there was going to be a huge gaping hole.”

Kiersky was approached by Chris Miner, co-founder of the nonprofit Crosstown Arts, about space available as part of a strip of storefronts on Cleveland that are being rehabbed as a component of the neighborhood’s ambitious redevelopment as an arts district. The Cleveland locale already houses a gallery and exhibition space for Miner’s organization. As of press time, Kiersky was close to signing a lease on two adjacent bays there.

If the deal goes through, Kiersky plans to knock out a wall separating the two bays to create one 4,500-square-foot space, with higher ceilings and much better HVAC.

“It will be about the same size as the [original] Hi-Tone, but, with the ability to remake the space, it’s going to allow for a larger capacity,” says Kiersky, estimating a 600-person capacity, which might allow for booking bands that had outgrown the Poplar location.

Kiersky is attracted to the idea of being able to design his own club.

“It just got to the point where the building itself was something I couldn’t deal with,” he says. “One of the exciting parts about this new space is we’ll have a blank chalkboard. We can do whatever we want.”

Along those lines, Kiersky envisions a slightly larger stage at the back of the club, rather than the Hi-Tone’s odd small stage in the front corner. He imagines a bar in the middle of the room to reduce congestion. He plans on a separate smoking lounge to reduce in-and-out traffic and give patrons a place to watch a Grizzlies game even while bands are playing.

What he doesn’t envision is a full-time kitchen — he says the new club would be called the Hi-Tone, sans “Café” — or booking bands every night. He sees the bar/lounge open every day, with the rest of the venue holding concerts four to five days a week. And he’s excited about the potential for integration with other tenants, especially the Crosstown Arts space, which has already booked no-alcohol/all-ages shows with a 125- to 150-person capacity.

“There are a lot of bands that I really enjoy that in Memphis on a Tuesday might draw 30 people. Doing it in a 600-person room makes it look really dead to the band and to us,” Kiersky says. “Having a smaller space that’s a two-second walk down and still having the lounge space will be great.”

Wandering Star

Kiersky cites May as the earliest he might open a new club. In the interim — and, he says, even after — the Hi-Tone Productions concept is still a go, with March shows already booked at Young Avenue Deli and the Buccaneer Lounge.

“The Buccaneer always functioned as a Hi-Tone junior, so taking a lot of stuff we used to do at the Hi-Tone to the Buccaneer is super-simple,” says Kiersky, who has shows booked at other venues. Most local bands won’t lack for options.

“I talked to [New Daisy owner] Mike Glenn, and he was down to do shows. And I love that venue. It’s kind of where I grew up,” says Kiersky.

But even with the prospect of moving shows the other venues, the impact of the Hi-Tone’s closing seems to be immediate. The Hi-Tone Productions calendar for March is slim in the context of what is usually one of the busiest months on the local concert calendar. (Kiersky will be spending a week at Austin’s South by Southwest Music Festival with his other local music enterprise, Ping Pong Booking, which he formed with two partners.) And Kiersky says he plans to keep bookings light in April, which is typically a slower month.

The immediate impact of the closing is likely to be felt more in terms of substantial national bookings that smaller shows and local shows, which have plenty of stages around town from which to choose. In the weeks surrounding the Hi-Tone’s farewell, there have been record-release and other speciality shows booked at venues such as the Poplar Lounge (Jason Freeman’s album-release party), the Cove (Jeff Hulett’s album-release), Otherlands Coffee Bar (touring folk act Samantha Crain, with locals the Memphis Dawls), Cooper-Young’s new Bar DKDC (Cartwright solo), Young Avenue Deli (a Dead Soldiers record-release show this week), and downtown’s Earnestine & Hazel’s (a Mark Edgar Stuart record-release show next week). Most local bands won’t lack for options.

The Poplar Lounge, in particular, has stepped up to fill part of the void.

“We are definitely being approached by musicians that would normally probably play the Hi-Tone,” says Rachel Hurley, who took over booking of the long-standing Midtown bar a couple of months ago. “The positive thing I see is that because of the market we’re in, some shows at the Hi-Tone that would have great audiences in other cities might draw only 50 people. That looks bad at the Hi-Tone, but 50 at the Poplar Lounge looks like a party.” Hurley estimates the club has about a 150-person capacity.

So far, the venue has featured local acts, but, Hurley says, “we’re doing a lot of out-of-town bands in March because of [bands traveling to and from] SXSW. I’m trying to keep weekends open for touring bands. I think that local acts can bring out a crowd that probably wouldn’t come out on a Tuesday or Wednesday for a touring band.”

As for anchor events such as Rock for Love and Gonerfest, both of which are still months away, Rock for Love organizer Hulett says his event will move to Young Avenue Deli, with nights booked already for September 6th and 7th. Goner co-owner Zac Ives says he and Friedl are still undecided on a Gonerfest location.

Too Much Love

“There’s no money in running a club,” Walker says. “The only reason to do it is because you want to see bands, but that’s a business that will really wear you out.”

This may be even more true in Memphis, which as a touring destination tends to underperform its market size and musical reputation.

“There are a lot of uphill battles with Memphis,” Kiersky admits. “What Memphians see as the Memphis music scene and what [touring] bands see and what agents see are three totally different things. Memphians tend to see Memphis music as something that isn’t going anywhere and something they can see on any night. Bands want to come here. They want to go to Graceland. They want to go to Stax. They want to go to Sun. They want to play the Hi-Tone. They want to be here. They want to eat barbecue. Agents hate Memphis. Agents and publicists hate it. It’s the hardest of the Top 50 media markets to sell tickets and CDs.”

“It’s definitely a secondary market,” Selvidge says. “It’s upsetting to me, but I have lots of friends in touring bands and that’s just the way it’s looked at. There’s something in the water here. Something unique. But that doesn’t make it a great touring city.”

Given that reality, it’s surprising to see Kiersky getting back in instead of getting out.

“I guess the first reason is that I love it,” he says. “I’ve always believed in Memphis as a music hub. If we could consistently get our shit together and quit pissing away money and ideas, we could be Portland. I’ve always thought we could be Portland.”

Kiersky graduated from White Station High School but spent most of his 20s moving around, living in cities such as Denver, Charleston, San Francisco, and New York. He swears by Memphis music, but worries about the city’s demographics.

“Places like San Francisco and Chicago and New York are getting a huge influx of people, whereas cities like Memphis are losing people,” Kiersky says. “And that’s a little bit of a scary trend when you’re looking at how you’re going to grow a city where the mayor has said one of your three pillars is going to be the music industry. But Memphis goes through ebbs and flows. It’s almost like every five years, you’re building a new scene.”

Everyone has their favorite Hi-Tone shows, and Kiersky, who’s presumably seen more of them over the past half-decade than anyone, is no exception. He remembers ’60s cult band ? & the Mysterians. (“I’ve never seen six dudes drink so much tequila.”) He remembers hosting surf-guitar legend Dick Dale’s 75th birthday party. (“The coolest thing I’ve ever done.”) He remembers alt-country duo Shovels & Rope’s Memphis debut. (“They were incredible, and there were 30 people there to see them. We stayed up til 5 a.m. drinking whiskey, and then they went to sleep in the parking lot.”) He remembers hosting outlaw country icon Billy Joe Shaver. (“I got to sit with Shaver for nine hours and hear stories. How many people in their lives get to do that?”)

Last Tuesday, after perhaps the club’s last big touring show, Rhett Miller, of the Texas alt-country band the Old 97’s, came up to Kiersky. “I know the club’s closing,” Miller said, “but you’re doing God’s work. Don’t stop doing it.”

It’s moments like these, Kiersky says, that “it becomes a little bit less of a job and a little bit more something you’ve created.”

Categories
Music Music Features

Soul Hero

Dan Penn’s contributions to popular American songcraft are inestimable. Peter Guralnick describes the Alabama-born songwriter as the “secret hero” of Sweet Soul Music, his dot-connecting chronicle of American soul music in the 1960s. Working first at FAME Studio in Muscle Shoals with Rick Hall, Billy Sherrill, and Spooner Oldham and later as a songwriter with Chips Moman and the Box Tops at American Sound Studio in Memphis, Penn distinguished himself as a gifted singer and musician who preferred to work outside the spotlight. He produced “The Letter” for the Box Tops, and the jaw-dropping list of songs he’s contributed to as a writer or co-writer include “The Dark End of the Street,” “I’m Your Puppet,” and the Aretha Franklin hit “Do Right Woman, Do Right Man.”

This week, the Mike Curb Institute at Rhodes College is bringing Penn back to Memphis for a concert with keyboard player Bobby Emmons in the McCallum Ballroom.

“The scope of what he touched, from American to the Box Tops, is just incredible,” says John T. Bass, director of the Curb Institute, which studies and promotes Southern musical traditions.

The Flyer spoke to Penn in advance of the concert:

Memphis Flyer: I don’t know how else to ask. How do you write a song as good as “The Dark End of the Street”?

Dan Penn: That’s a good question. If you find out, tell me, because I’d like to write another one like it. Chips and me were really close at that time. We knew each other pretty good, and we had a lot of doggone respect for each other. And we’d had a lot of good times together. Also, I think songwriters, Southern songwriters at least, are inspired by Hank Williams. “Your Cheatin’ Heart” is about the best slipping-around song there is. Then Jimmy Hughes did “Steal Away.”

And you were at FAME when Hughes recorded that, right?

I got to watch all that go down. And I learned a lot. I didn’t feel like I was stealing from him [on “Dark End of the Street”], but he was definitely an inspiration. So you keep on trying to write this particular kind of cheating song. And in the ’60s that seemed to be highly important.

Having written hits already, when you finished writing “Dark End,” did you know it was going to be your “Your Cheatin’ Heart”?

I thought it was good when James Carr sang it. I can’t say that I knew it right off because we wrote it in a hotel room in Nashville, and it was a good while before we had the demo down where we could play it back.

You’re a great singer. Why aren’t all these Dan Penn songs Dan Penn hits?

I was no James Carr. But I was pretty good. I sounded okay to me. In the beginning, I wanted to be a rock-and-roll singer like everybody else. But I had this opportunity. People always ask, “Why didn’t you have the hit?” I tell ’em, well, I did! I realized pretty early on that a man can’t do it all. If you try, you’re gonna get scattered. If I got out touring on the road I can tell you one thing for sure, a lot of those songs I wrote would have never been written. And I just loved the studio, the producing, the writing. That whole end of it. I didn’t gig for 25 years.

But you play more now.

I started playing shows in ’92, and I immediately saw the benefit of that. I go places. I see different faces, different attitudes, and I get ideas. Sitting in your studio basement it’s easy to get closed in.

You were in Memphis at the city’s zenith. Hi is going strong, Stax is going strong. You’re at American writing songs for the Box Tops. How much interaction was there between all this talent?

To be honest, there was very little. I went over to Stax two or three times. Booker T. would come over and play trombone sometimes, like on Joe Tex’s “Skinny Legs and All.” It’s not like anything was off-limits. It’s just that everybody was busy.

And then it wasn’t busy.

It all went flat. Stax shut down. Chips left for Atlanta, and nobody else raised their head. I’ll tell you what, though, Memphis has the best recording air there is, anywhere. It’s better than Nashville, better than Muscle Shoals. I don’t know what to say except it’s funkier. And you know that’s what I like.

Songs like “Dark End of the Street,” “I’m Your Puppet,” “Do Right Woman, Do Right Man” have been recorded so many times. Do you even try to keep up? Do you have favorites?

I like the hits. I like the originals. Nobody’s going to outdo James Carr or the Purify Brothers. I’ve heard many versions. Some may go in a different direction from the way the song was originally written, but I don’t care. People do that. I still get the check.

I love the story about how you and Spooner Oldham wrote “Cry Like a Baby” for the Box Tops.

I was the producer on “The Letter.” I’d always wanted to record a big hit. That’s why I was working in Memphis. So the record company said they wanted another one like “The Letter,” and I told them I don’t do sequels. I wanted to put out “Neon Rainbow” and it only sold about half-a-million. So I call Spooner and say we’ve got to write the next hit for The Box Tops. And it was like we couldn’t even write our names. We didn’t have anything and we had a session for the Box Tops the next morning. So we go across street to have our farewell breakfast and we sit down and Spooner puts his head on the table and says “I could cry like a baby.” And I said Spooner, that’s it.

Sometimes you get lucky.

You make your own luck too.

Look at all the people who synched up in the right places at the right time. You, Billy Sherrill, Rick Hall. And didn’t you even play on “You Better Move On,” or some of those early Arthur Alexander singles?

I did not, but I was around for that. Arthur Alexander’s manager Tom Stafford was also my manager. I was around Arthur enough to learn from him. His simplicity made me want to be more simple. If you write simply and play simply more people can get it. Jimmy Reed wasn’t exactly burning up the chord charts.

It will be good to have you back in Memphis.

Just give me some Rendezvous ribs and a chance to go over to Pancho’s in West Memphis. I’ll be happy.

Dan Penn, with Bobby Emmons

Rhodes College’s McCallum Ballroom in the

Bryan Campus Life Center

Thursday, February 28th

7:30 p.m., $10

For advance tickets, call 843-3786 or see alumni.rhodes.edu/danpenn

Categories
Film Features Film/TV

West of Memphis

It gets to the point where I’d give my life to know the [expletive] truth,” witness David Jacoby says tearfully near the end of West of Memphis, the fourth feature documentary on the 1993 murders of West Memphis children Stevie Branch, Christopher Byers, and Michael Moore, which led to the eventually not-quite-overturned conviction of Damien Echols, Jason Baldwin, and Jessie Misskelley Jr. Earlier, Branch’s mother, Pam Hobbs, sitting on a bed, looking at old family photos, breaks down. “I just want the truth. I want the answers,” she says.

Let these be the voices for the rest of us — those who believe that a miscarriage of justice was committed with the initial conviction of the so-called West Memphis 3 but who aren’t particularly interested in Eddie Vedder cameos or the human-interest details of Damien Echols’ death-row courtship with activist Lorri Davis.

After more than 400 minutes across the three previous Paradise Lost films, did we really need another 147 minutes on the subject from filmmaker Amy Berg (Deliver Us From Evil) and co-producers Peter Jackson and Fran Walsh? Maybe. Some of it anyway.

West of Memphis might have been leaner if it spent less time with celebrity advocates such as Vedder, Henry Rollins, and Natalie Maines and delved less into the relationship between Echols and Davis, who are both also co-producers.

There’s an audience for all that, of course. But the substance of the film is still the details of the initial conviction and the lingering mystery of what, to many, if not to the state of Arkansas, remains an unsolved case.

West of Memphis provides even more persuasive arguments — particularly in terms of Misskelley’s coached confession and mishandled forensic evidence — toward what most who’ve followed the case long ago concluded: that even aside from questions of innocence or guilt, the West Memphis 3 were victims of a wrongful conviction.

The case this film makes against Terry Hobbs, Branch’s stepfather, is in no way conclusive but is perhaps more compelling than the remaining case against Echols, Baldwin, and Misskelley and is certainly more suggestive than the reckless case Paradise Lost built toward Byers’ adoptive father, John Mark Byers. Based on what West of Memphis presents, which is more thorough than a similar thrust in the third Paradise Lost film, most viewers might want to see authorities take Hobbs more seriously as a suspect than they’ve appeared willing to.

But the waters are poisoned in this case when it comes to implicating anyone, with the seemingly false accusations toward first Echols, Baldwin, and Misskelley, and then Byers, coloring the recent emphasis on Hobbs. West of Memphis might seem convincing, but you carry the knowledge that, as a direct outgrowth of the West Memphis 3 movement and under the partial direction of both Davis and Echols, its consideration of the evidence can’t be fully dispassionate. Independent-minded viewers will be reluctant to abandon skepticism.

West of Memphis is, at least, something more than rehash. It features fresh interviews with many people involved in the case from all sides, including some key witnesses now recanting testimony and others whose testimony should have been more prominent from the beginning. And the original material is more sharply filmed and more artfully marshaled to the screen than in the Paradise Lost series.

But not all of this new stuff feels necessary. Material featuring Samantha Hobbs, the younger sister of Stevie Branch, is needlessly exploitative, particularly what purports to be on-camera glimpses of Hobbs’ sessions with a therapist.

With West of Memphis, we’re at more than nine hours of feature film on this case, with more to come in the form of Devil’s Knot, an adaptation of journalist Mara Leveritt’s book, which is set to be released later this year. But closure remains elusive.

West of Memphis

Opening Friday, March 1st

Studio on the Square