Now Playing: Blur--"Turn It Up"
Saturday afternoon and evening unfolded much the way I'd imagined at the end of my previous post. I went along to WRAP, through a typically ebullient Farmer's Market, to find Sam and Dan there manning the downstairs. For the next four hours, I continued to get the non-fiction section together in my capacity as WRAP librarian. WRAP maintains a small library on the second floor of the building, comprised almost exclusively of private donations and overflow from Common Language bookstore, an LGBT-themed shop also in Kerrytown's Braun Court. Over the past few months (as I'm usually only there on Saturday afternoons) I've alphabetized and labeled the fiction section, and am well on my way through non-fiction (general, history, coming out, transgender, queer studies, etc.). It's not all that tedious, as I'm becoming familiar with an area of literature with which I might not otherwise be acquainted. The idea is to have the place finished by OutFest, which comes in late September.
That night, I hit Crazy Wisdom Bookstore and Tea Room on Main Street, a New Age haven in which it's impossible for me to move for about five seconds without trying not to giggle. Their magazine section has Bitch and Mother Jones, and they've got interesting books on vegetarian/vegan cooking, but other than that it's pretty ridiculous, at least according to my own frightfully prejudiced worldview.
Tim Monger of the Great Lakes Myth Society was playing that evening, and after hearing how good Greg McIntosh was heading the Victrolas a few weeks ago, the Saturday night show was a must. Sara and Brandon were there, as was Sara's mom, Greg and Amy, and a few other Madison stalwarts whose names I didn't remember. The performance space of the "tea room" is actually pretty cool--it's got an old nineteenth-century vibe to it, with tarot card tablets on the wall and an incongruous fifties or sixties office facade on the other side of Main Street through the window. The walls and paneling look a light greenish-beige, but ought to be dark red, violet and green, staffed by hookers with like-colored hair wearing blood-crimson velvet wraps, offering to fetch patrons whiskies and light their cigarettes and saying things like "do you like what you see?" and "to serve the god is a privilege, Kevin." Memories of that place should be like a sweaty, vaguely-remembered, not entirely unpleasant nightmare. Oh, well.
Tim Monger is a terrific performer, encapsulating many of the features that make his band so good. A lot of songs were mutable--they seemed to change form during play, which I guess is where the prog-rock influence comes in handy. His pleasantly whimsical and upbeat attitude extended to an electric birdhouse as a stage prop, and made even songs about baseball enjoyable (and "Marquette County, 1959" sounds better live than it does on the album, in my opinion). By the time he launched into an encomium on Neil Diamond and played "Sweet Caroline" (during which I couldn't help but tap out some of the drumbeats on the table, as I consider the song somehow incomplete without them), we were all entranced. There was also a family-friendly vibe reminiscent of Sari Brown's show at Espresso Royale that lightened the mood, toddlers clapping their hands to the beat and nearly dancing on tables.
I went home (glad to have brought my umbrella, as the heavens had partially burst) and polished off the rest of my PBR sixpack while watching the "Mystery Science Theater 3000" Prince of Space episode (again). I am being in no way ironic when I say that it was the perfect conclusion to a wonderful evening.
Wandering around Sunday afternoon, a little disoriented by no Cinema Guild showing, I decided to check out the Jacob Lawrence exhibit in the University Art Museum--Lawrence (1917-2000) was apparently one of the best-known African-American painters of the twentieth century. The exhibit mainly featured screenprints in striking, somewhat fauvist colors reflecting various facets of African-American life (and life in general--there was one series on Hiroshima). I liked them--like a softer, gentler, possibly more evocative form of German Expressionism. While I was there, I decided, against my better judgment, to take in the Pop Art exhibit, even though I'm not really into Pop Art. I still essentially maintain that the only good thing Andy Warhol ever did was to make the Velvet Underground possible--that, and maybe Andy Warhol's Dracula (1974). I was eventually glad that I did, since some of the more "conservative" stuff--lithographs, prints, etc., by Robert Rauschenberg and Claes Oldenburg--really appealed to me. Annie recently posted this interesting site where you can "paint your own picture." It awakened the old "art lust" a little and actually makes me want to start cartooning again.
I'll talk about the wonderful Madison House show tomorrow--this entry's already way too long.
Posted by Charles J. Microphone
at 4:43 PM EDT
Updated: 16 August 2005 5:50 PM EDT
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Updated: 16 August 2005 5:50 PM EDT
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