gatewaygroupies

Tequila & Villains!

Two things happened on Friday that I must tell you about.

First, Laine and I got off work late and ate supper at home, then got invited out for a late supper at a new Mexican restaurant in SoHa, so we just showed up for booze. I'm sure you don't remember Su Sala from well over a year ago when I begged y'all to go there and keep them from collapsing, since you didn't, and it did. Anyway, the new owner replaced all the unibomber restaurant furniture with real tables and chairs, and he brought on my saucy new table-wench, Wendy. We sat down and the first thing she said to us was, "Who wants to get DRUNK???" I was only marginally embarrassed when I was the only one who raised my hand and squeeed "Me!!!" Screw 'em if they can't take a joke. Anyways, Wendy brought me a submarino, a pilsner glass filled with a Corona and a shot glass full of tequila (the good stuff) and challenged me to a race to the bottom of the glass. 

I declined the race, but happily consumed the drink (even though I don't care for Corona). Then other people ate some stuff. 

That bean dip was really good, I think. Shortly after I tried it, I finished my submarino and badgered Wendy about where my margarita was. She brought me the "Wendy's Special" which, I'm doubting is a real drink, 'cause if it was, they would run out of tequila waaaaaaaay too fast. Go ahead and give it a shot, order one. It was fantastic.

So good, I had to tweet about it.

The ride to Mad Art for the Famous Fictional Villains opening was kinda of fuzzy, but I'd sobered up by the time we got there. Other than the fact that Frankenstein's monster wasn't really a villain, the show is a success. Laine was wearing her latest shirt.woot.com acquisition and had her picture taken with the shirt.woot creative director's golden iPhone.

We greeted Kick Ass Award Winning couple Daniel Shown and Carmelita Nuñez, and then these guys were pretty cool:

but then everyone else was dour faced and unhappy, so we left to go play Rock Band in Princeton Heights before the joy-sucking hipsters could completely steal my buzz.

SLSO Blogger Night III: Another Carnegie Preview

So, last March, I blogged about the Carnegie Preview at the SLSO, and this year, I am chuffed to get to do it again. In the effort to spread the love and get back into regular posting on this blog, I chose to write about it here at Gateway Groupies instead of my poetry blog.

So we parked on Olive and were granted a spectacular display of midtown hoosier as a middle-aged Boomhauer look-alike was harangued and threatened with the four-pronged cane of an elderly Vietnam War veteran, much to the frustration of the city police officer who was trying to break them apart without laughing. And if you ever feel the need to rob a vacant apartment building, midtown is your neighborhood. Alarms, strobe lights and whatnot lit up the building next to Powell Hall when we arrived, and they were still going strong when we left. Don't get me wrong, I love me some midtown, but damn. Why does the cultural center of the city have to feature the county-dwellers' every urban nightmare?

But on with the show. 

Recent business traveling (one of many reasons for my frequent blog silence) has widened my cultural experience somewhat. One of my trips included a surprise opportunity to see Lyric Opera of Chicago's performance of Tosca. Our host was adamant that we would be wowed by the building. It was cool, but it was no Powell Symphony Hall.

The opera itself was magnificent, but I was unaffected by the architecture. Nothing compares to a palace of stunning opulence that still makes you feel you're at home. For better or worse, Powell Hall lacks the desire, and maybe even the ability, to intimidate its patrons. 

Having no Icelandic sopranos or psychedelic mushroom trips to boast, I was apprehensive about how this year's Carnegie preview would compare to last year's. The program notes claimed the first piece, Igor Stravinsky's Le Chant du rossignol fit the Chinese festival theme, but it was too subtle for me. I think I'm destined to ignore (to my own detriment) the first piece in any symphony performance because it takes me too long to adjust the volume of my inner monologue so I can hear the damned music. 

Besides the persistent whining of my brain, I was also distracted by my extreme eagerness to get on to the second piece, the Water Concerto. The Academy Award winning composer, Tan Dun, scored not only Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, but also one of my favorite movies of all time, Hero. The stage hands began hauling out the goods as soon as the applause for the Stravinsky ended. Dale Fisher and Eddie Silva mentioned that some violins had gotten spattered with water earlier in the day, so tall Plexiglas screens were brought in to surround the stations of percussionist Colin Currie and those of his two accompanists. The front row had ponchos drawn up around them and Wet Floor signs banked  both sides of the floor in front of the stage. But all Gallagher jokes were abandoned once the show started.

As far as my best Google fu can tell, the instruments Colin Currie and his associates struck, bowed and wobbled above and in their giant bowls of water were called waterphones. Outside the water, they echoed with a high-pitched, tinny sound, but when half submerged in the bowl, they made decent replicas of whale songs, rendered hilarious to me, since I'd just been party to a conversation about an amateur-ichthyologist friend's irrational hatred of Orcas.

The music was amazing, but it was pretty much downhill from there in terms of my ability to intellectualize what was happening. The rhythmic water clapping, the upside-down floating salad bowls, and the colander rain shower denouement were all delightful and they turned me into a slack-jawed six year old watching the best episode of Spongebob Squarepants EVER. I'm not a huge proponent of the standing ovation, but this time I was more than happy to join in St. Louis' tradition of exuberant enthusiasm for anyone who doesn't throw things at them.

How Colin Currie had the energy (and lack of prune hands) to turn from the water bowls to a mammoth marimba for the next piece is beyond my comprehension. Composer Bright Sheng's Colors of Crimson proved to be 20 minutes of frenzied complexity on the marimba, and perhaps it was the bolted Bailey's and coffee during the intermission, but it seemed like he was spotlit and the only one on stage. I was so happy for Currie at the end when the composer came out to hug him, I teared up a little. But that was probably the Bailey's, too.

The final piece of the evening, Bartók's The Miraculous Mandarin Suite, op. 19, was a fun, sassy performance that would have been much more enjoyable had I not spoiled it for myself by reading about the ballet for which Bartók originally wrote the music. Since this monstrous barbarity occurred earlier in the week, I had zero patience for multiple male on female violence, fantastical or otherwise. I did cheerfully hoot for the bassoon and oboe players who got a hug from conductor David Robertson during the ovation.

Overall, the Carnegie is once again damned fortunate to get a visit from the SLSO. And on the walk back to our car, it seemed like the neon lights of Grand Avenue were brighter, the sidewalk cleaner, and the Saxophone busker a little nattier, as all of midtown recognized the genius our itty bitty city can generate.

Lumberyard #2 Release Party

This was our first venture out to Firecracker's new digs. Two enthusiastic thumbs up. The space is incredibly open and delightfully random. Had I more disposable income, I'd have made off with even more, but as it was, I spent enough $$ to qualify for a free Firecracker t-shirt. I love Firecracker parties because they always have a couple boxes of Imo's pizza and a keg of beer on hand. I don't know why people tend to lean toward the froo froo with their vittles once they go legit, but I hope Firecracker bucks that trend.

Daniel and Carmelita were there, looking gorgeous and respectable, back from their vacation in Puerto Rico. Once again, I expected Aaron Belz to barge through the door any minute, but alas, he really did move to LA. :(. He's got a poem in Lumberyard #2 that's worth the whole issue.

Speaking of Belzy, I noticed last weekend at Star Clipper that 52nd City's stuffed April's print issue, SEXY, with their Sound CD. Belz has a poem recorded on it that is hysterical. I listened to it 7 times on Friday while I was coding shopping cart entries at work. Grab this before it's ungrabbable.The FOOD issue is online only, so if you want a freebie, get thee to their website.

As for Firecracker, Eric's party was a huge success and two people stopped us on the street as we were leaving asking, "Hey, what *IS* this place??" They seemed disappointed when we told them it was a printing press, but they still knew they were missing out on a par-tay.

Bench Press Burlesque

We saw these kick ass chicks at the final Playground of the Ridiculous at the Contemporary two weekends ago. Laine has a ton of pictures on her flickr page. Check 'em out. The ladies were delightfully raunchy and unabashedly political as they ripped into the status quo one goofy, yet athletic skit at a time. They seem to be nursing a beef with Myspace, as it strangles conventional human interaction, but their act is *screaming* for a website.

First Friday this Friday

Grand Center's big deal last Friday wasn't much of a big deal, apart from the architectural genius of the newish Centene Center for the arts. But I have high hopes for this Friday's gallery walk, though. The downtown gallery walk's website seems to be on the fritz, so I'll sift through my e-mails to deliver the goods. Let's see...there's free eats and drinks and the "Forces of Nature" show at Art St. Louis, Cheryl Wassenaar and Mel Watkin are still up at Phillip Slein, uhhh... this is really irritating. So few art galleries in the Lou have websites. Laine thinks the abstract show is still up at Ellen Curlee Gallery. 3rd Floor Gallery hasn't been open on a Friday night in months, but I have nothing to indicate that it will be this time, either. Drive Agency is having an opening reception for photographer Mark Schepker and metal sculptor Andre Tourrette. You should stick your head in MacroSun Imports, too. And if you're willing to break from downtown for Soulard, MadArt is bustin' out the wine and cheese for Julie Malone and Justin Visnesky.You could even buy something.

It's the first unofficial Friday of Summer, come have fun with us.

cat blog and a plug

Our friend Ann is a contract photographer with our business, Nuclear Family Photography. She started making jewlery last year, and these photo transfer bracelets she makes are just gorgeous. You would be darn lucky to get one of these St. Louis-themed bracelets. Each one is a work of art made up of works of art!

Obligatory Friday cat blog. As of this update, Rudy is still growing. Stay tuned for the likely-harrowing account of Pammy's vet visit tomorrow.

Saturday Night Art

Art Saint Louis thinks they're being sneaky, but my Google-fu is too strong for them. Saturday night is the opening of a new show, a special show, a show jurored by someone wholly unconnected from the St. Louis Art scene (read: fair). My super-freaky Google-fu tactics have garnered the following from Art St. Louis regarding ASL XXII:

From 620 artworks submitted by 141 St. Louis & Midwest regional artists for Ms. Thomas' consideration, she selected 49 artworks by 39 artists for this 22nd annual exhibition.

The featured artists are:
Todd Anderson, Edwardsville, IL
Travis Bailey, Union, MO
Jack Beckemeyer, Union, MO
John Bohac, St. Louis, MO
Monique Bromberg, St. Louis, MO
Luca Cruzat, Carbondale, IL
Sharon Davie-Barrett, Rantoul, IL
Carla Dawson, Chesterfield, MO
John DenHouter, Edwardsville, IL
Adam Dupuis, Charleston, IL
Ron Flier, Glendale, MO
Sarah Frost, St. Louis, MO
John M. Goessmann, St. Louis, MO
SJ Hammack, Kirkwood, MO
Mitch Horstmann, Richmond Heights, MO
Katherine Kaminski, Carterville, IL
Dani Kantrowitz, University City, MO
Ken Konchel, University City, MO
Paul LaJeunesse, St. Peters, MO
Susan Leslie Lumsden, Thayer, MO
Elaine Marschik, St. Louis, MO
Don McKenna, Kirkwood, MO
Carey Netherton, Carbondale, IL
Betsy Nimock, Clayton, MO
Marion Noll, Webster Groves, MO
Elizabeth Parris, Rolla, MO
Carol Ross, Chesterfield, MO
Helene Slavin, Clayton, MO
Sun Smith-Fôret, St. Louis, MO
Darren Snead, Maplewood, MO
Larry Torno, University City, MO
Kristy Verticchio, University City, MO
Justin Visnesky, St. Louis, MO
Patricia Vivod, Troy, IL
Ron Vivod, Collinsville, IL
Peggy Wyman, Macomb, MO
David M. Yates, Edwardsville, IL
Raymond Yeager, Jacksonville, IL
Yingxue Zuo, Ballwin, MO

This is so exciting! Only TWO people I've ever heard of! I love our local art scene, but a body just gets SICK and TIRED of seeing the SAME NAMES over and OVER and over again. Celebrate change with us this Saturday night from 7:00 to 9:00 at Art St. Louis, 917 Locust Street, the third floor loft, I think. My impeccable Google-fu also revealed the following: Good Free Food!

Reception Sponsors:
Adams Mark Hotel
Bryan Young Catering Plus
Catering St. Louis
City Grocers
Companion Baking Company
Gourmet to Go
Hank's Cheesecakes
La Tropicana Market & Deli
Something Elegant Catering

Come eat with us, see Laine's two newest photographs, and all the new works from St. Louis' brilliant artists.

Mule Tide

This is the only known picture of Beth Ketcher (far left) almost standing still. Some StudioSTL foks accept their Kick Ass award.

The Atomic Cowboy was split in half for the 3rd Annual Kick Ass Awards. There were $1 bottles of "The Champagne of Beers" to celebrate the occasion. I was more intrigued by Leslie's classy Stoli Razz and Tonic, but I feared any alcohol would immediately put me into a coma. We had the long, comfy orange vinyl sofa to ourselves, but we offered the other end to various friends as they mingled. We don't know the little girl with the daring cammo and cowboy boots ensemble, but she did, indeed, kick ass.

Laine took her sneak-attack pictures all night, only getting up to get the picture of the stunning half karate-kicking man, half rear end of donkey trophies.

We were surrounded by the underground St. Louis elite, and it was definitely funky. I'm an idiot and didn't realize until Tom Crone said it, that Steve Ewing was/is the lead singer of The Urge. Duh.

Karen Duffy looked fantastic in her sparkly jeans and faboo haircut, and both Laine and I vowed to be her when we are her age. Scott Emanuel's partner Ed Reggi sported the most awesome anime facial hair I've ever seen on a human being. He was sitting with the infamous Joan Lipkin, who's met me several times at parties and readings, but instantly forgets who I am. And that's, okay.  K. Curtis Lyle stunned the audience with a performance of one of his poems for his girlfriend's anniversary present. Leslie's date and I were mouthing, "your uranium ass," for a solid ten minutes after he finished.

Okay, last night, the Non Prophet Theatre Company took home a Kick Ass Award, and they were decidedly not kick ass. Either I was too sober, or they were too not funny, but the only time I laughed during their set was when, after a gag they thought was funny, they would wait a full 30 seconds for their laughs and never get them. Call me a fuddy duddy if you will, but there is a time and place for everything, folks, and a civic award ceremony is not the time for Granny fetishes and blue language. I work blue, too, but I scan the crowd for children first.  I also stop if nobody's laughing, but maybe that's just me. They reminded me of an ill-rehearsed drag king troupe.

Stefene and Andrea did great jobs, but the best speaker of the night was probably Mr. Crone. His giving the crowd in back the business for having full-blown party-volume conversations during the ceremony was hi-larious. And his realization that he said "dick" five times directly in front of someone's eight year old, right after scolding the NPT Co's filthy whore mouths was comedy gold.