Newest articles on The Sacramento Press written by Lindol French

Vokab Kompany

2011-06-10T04:41:17Z

Are you sitting down?

I've got some news.

You should probably just grab a seat.

In July, I will be moving to Nashville, Tenn.

Stop it. Please. Don't cry. It's not you. It's me.

You're an angel, a snowflake. You're gonna make someone very happy one day.

I'm going to miss you at least as much as you miss me. Probably more.

Are we OK? You're composed? It's all good?

Good.

You know what I'm gonna miss more than you?

Harlow's.

Yeah, Harlow's. The nightclub.

‘Cause it's awesome?

To say that I like Harlow's would be a gross understatement.

I used to get my mail sent to Harlow's.

A little more than a year ago I went to my first show at the venerable J Street music venue. The headliner was a band called BLVD. They're awesome, but that's neither here nor there.

The opener, and therefore the very first band I ever saw at Harlow's, was a San Diego trip-hop act called Vokab Kompany.

Never heard of ‘em? Let one-year-younger Lindol enlighten you on the matter:

Vokab Kompany is another act that refuses to be pigeonholed. Two MCs might lead you to believe that it's hip-hop, but that doesn't begin to tell the story. The seven-piece band played for more than an hour, a set that was at times funky, jazzy, heavy, bouncy, even bluegrassy.

At one point, it eased comfortably in and out of Stevie Wonder's "Superstition." A moment later, during a long electric fiddle solo, a young lady joined the fiddler on the floor and did her best "Lord of the Dance." And it all made sense. Through it all, the crowd was treated to microphonic gymnastics of the dueling MCs, Rob Hurt and Burkey. The group is legit. See them.

Sounds awesome, right?

One more thing about Vokab Kompany: They'll be back in Sac, at Harlow's, on Friday night.

The first band I ever saw at Harlow's will also be the last (for now).

I'll see you on the dance floor (or I'll never see you again. Maybe.)

Vokab Kompany is playing Harlow's on Friday June 10, at 10pm. Tickets are $10. Yahtzee.

Shannapalooza, you'd be crazy not to go.

2011-06-03T02:35:24Z

Five bucks.

It sure doesn't go as far as it used to.

What follows is a short list of things that you can purchase for $5:

1.25 gallons of gas
1.33 gallons of milk
3.875 songs on iTunes
2.86 tacos from Chando’s or 4 from Lalo's (Lalo's are better anyways)
1 foreign or microbrew at Streets of London, if it's happy hour
A large white mocha or caramel macchiato or pumpkin latte or whatever the hell the kids are drinking these days
.8333 $5 foot-longs from Subway ($5 foot-longs actually cost $6. It's tough all over.)
A Sunday Chronicle and a bagel with butter (maybe)
3 pictures of this chick with the slogan of your choice written on her face
1 picture of that same slogan on a piece of toast

Slim pickin’s, right? Fret not, for there is a place where $5 still has some real purchasing power. What if I told you, for $5, you could get seven hours of live music performed by some of the best bands Sacramento has to offer, all with an idyllic backdrop of the beautiful Sacramento River?

"Is this heaven?" you might ask, full of wonder.

"No," I would answer, affectionately tousling your hair. "It's just Shannapalooza."

This Saturday Swabbies Bar and Restaurant is hosting the fifth annual Shannapalooza. What started as a birthday party for friends and family in the woods is now one of the year's best showcases of local musical talent.

This year’s headliners are Sacramento pied-pipers of funk, The Nibblers. These soulful cats love to party, and they are celebrating the release of their brand spanking new album, "So Much Trouble," so you know they'll be at their rip-roaring best. Dancing shoes and party hats aren't required, but they are strongly recommended.

Walking Spanish will be filling the pre-Nibblers slot in the lineup. The same Walking Spanish that will have Nicki Bluhm and the Gramblers opening for them the following week at Concerts in the Park. The same Walking Spanish whose "Wishbones" I consider to be one of the best albums released this year by anybody, anywhere. These guys are no joke and put on an amazing show. See them now, because they aren't going to be a "local" band for much longer.

Joining my two favorite Sacramento bands on the bill are Indian from Pluto & Joe Byrd, Crossing the River and In the No, whose jammy-latin-jazz-fusion I've been listening to all afternoon and am fully smitten with.

Who says you can't get anything for $5 anymore?

Shannapalooza will be popping off (rain or shine) on Saturday, June 4th, from 3pm until 10pm ("or until the police shut [em] down").

Shannapalooza will be going down at Swabbies, 5871 Garden Highway, Sacramento.

Shannapalooza is an all ages show with a full service bar and restaurant.

Trampled by Turtles announces presence with authority

2011-05-23T23:22:51Z

The first time a band plays a gig in a new town can be a dicey proposition. It often takes a show, or three, for a band to build up the fanbase that they deserve. That first inroad into uncharted territory often results in half-filled venues without much intrinsic energy.

Thursday night, Harlow's hosted not one but two bands making their first ever Sacramento appearances: Duluth, Minnesota's Trampled by Turtles and Nashville, Tennessee's The Apache Relay.

If you didn't know any better, you might have assumed that both bands had been playing here for years.

The venue, owing in large part to recent triumphant appearances by TBT at High Sierra and Coachella, and in very small part to the tireless hyping of the gig by one Sac Press communinity contributor, was brimming with fans.

The energy in the room was akin to a religious fervor.

One particularly ardent young fan, a blond girl at center stage, appeared at one point to be speaking in tongues. During Trampled's set, she made a point to shake hands with each one of her conquering heros, and responded to each touch as a religious zealot might respond to the touch of their earthly prophet himself.

So, yeah, the crowd was pumped up.

The Apache Relay took the stage at 9:20 PM and before the curtains were even fullly drawn they were well into "Power Hungry Animals", a pulsing, sing-along-able track that builds to a crushing crescendo. They followed that with a searing version of "American Nomad", which got the already buzzing crowd bouncing in earnest.

By the time lead singer Michael Ford Jr. introduced himself with a "This is our first time here in Sacramento, and it's awesome already!" TAR had the crowd, the vast majority of whom had never heard of The Apache Relay, let alone actually heard them, eating from the palm of his hand.

I don't know that I've ever seen a quicker audience domination by an unknown opener. These cats have the goods.

They maintained their energy throughout the nearly hour-long genre-bending set. They were at times grungy ("Home is not Places"), rythm-and-bluesy ("Watering Hole"), indie-y ("Lost Kid"), but they never lost the crowd, who'd come to see Minnesota thrashgrass.. When Ford, Jr. addressed the crowd again towards the end of the set "I just want to say I love you so much! This is incredible!", the crowd responded in kind.

When Relay's set ended the crowd response was so long and rambunctious that I half expected the kids from Tennessee to come out for an encore. They did not, but they could have, and that speaks volumes.

At 10:28 PM, the boys from Duluth took the stage, each of them carrying a PBR tallboy in addition to their weapon of choice. They began playing the opening strains of "Separate", a track off of their most recent album, 2010's tour-de-force Palomino, and we were off to the races.

In fact, the first three songs of the evening were off Palomino. "Victory" featured an epic fiddle solo that inspired some serious do-si-do-ing by some of the more exuberant audience members, and got pretty much everyone up and hopping.

The third song of the evening, the primal, pulsing, "It's a War", pushed the crowd already teetering on the edge of extatic fervor over the brink. As the men on stage violently strummed their instruments into submission, the men and women in the crowd went into a full-blown tizzy, where it remained for the bulk of the 19 song, 75 minute set.

At one point, following a rip roaring version of "Darkness and the Light", again off Palomino, Banjo player Dave Carroll could be heard requesting a shot of Jack Daniels from no one in particular. Someone in the crowd, (no one in particular. . .) took it upon himself to make that happen. A few moments later there were five shots of JD lined up on the side of the stage. Between songs, the shots were passed down, the band members raised their glasses to the crowd, then to each other, and to uproarious applause threw back the shots.

They chased the shots with an epic instrumental medley of "New Son/Burnt Iron", the former being meandering and lovely, the latter blistering and percussive. The two together make a wonderful juxtapposition, though both are more than good enough to stand on their own merit, the brilliant pairing ends up greater than the sum of it's parts.

They closed the set with their most popular song off Palomino, the beautifully infectious "Wait So Long", which might be melencholy with poignant lyrics like "I could never pretend that I don't love you, you could never pretend that I'm your man" but is such a humdinger of a song that it's hard to listen without a smile taking ownage of your face.

They left the stage at 11:40 PM to applause that did not waver for the seven minutes that went by before Dave Carroll came out to take a picture of the crowd. He was joined moments later by the rest of the band who proceeded to absolutely annihilate a cover of The Pixies "Where is my Mind". I always think of the final scene in Fight Club when I hear this song, which plays as the buildings blow up all around Tyler Durden. . . so it was a fitting that they burned Harlow's to the ground with it, metaphorically speaking. They followed it up with an older track of theirs, "Whiskey", before leaving the stage again at midnight.

Once again, the applause was raucous and unwavering, and six minutes later, the band returned to the stage for a second encore. Simonett acknowledged the crowd "We've never played in Sac before, we didn't know what to expect". Unsaid, but reasonably inferred from their decision to play a second encore, during which each band member took an extended solo, was that they were more than impressed by what they'd found here.

I'm pretty sure they'll be back.

Trampled by Turtles

2011-05-17T21:57:36Z

High Sierra Music Festival 2010 was one of the highlights of my young life, and one of the highlights of High Sierra Music Festival 2010 was Trampled by Turtles.

So, by the transitive property, Trampled by Turtles effin rock, and you'd be a fool not to check out the Minnesota thrashgrass maestros when they visit Harlow's Thursday night.

"Yes, you in the back, in the "Beck" t-shirt?"

"It's Billy. What, the Hell, is Minnesota thrashgrass?"

"Well, Billy, I'm glad you asked. Minnesota thrashgrass is bluegrass, as played by the AK47-weilding future viking straddling the space unicorn on the side of this van."

"Could you extrapolate on that a bit?"

"Sure can Billy! TBT are a classic five piece bluegrass band. Guitar, bass, banjo, fiddle, and mandolin. They play bluegrass music, but they play fast. Really fast. And dirty. Really dirty. I thought I made that clear with my space viking analogy. . . "

"Sounds gimmicky"

"That's enough out of you, Billy. Face the corner, put the "idiot" cap on. You know the drill. TBT's 2010 album, Palolmino, was, in my humble opinion, one of the best albums of the year. It is chock full of supremely catchy, heart-filled, beautiful songs. (Beautiful songs that make you wanna slap bags of Franzia and gargle bourbon, but beautiful songs nonetheless). I defy you to listen to "Wait So Long" or "Help You" without tapping your toes, fingers, and anything else you've got available to you. Class dismissed. Not you Billy."

As good as their album is, their live performances are better. I'm driving two hours back up to Sacramento for the show, and I'd drive further. This is going to be a humdinger of a barnburner. I can't wait.

Trampled By Turtles is playing Harlow's Nightclub, Thursday the 19th, 9:00PM. Tickets are $12.00.

Be sure to get there on time, because Nashville's indie-bluegrass-rockers, The Apache Relay, are opening, and all signs point to them being dope as well.

I'll see you on the dance floor.

River Cats win. . . eventually

2011-05-05T05:59:12Z

“Baseball is a slow, sluggish game, with frequent and trivial interruptions, offering the spectator many opportunities to reflect at leisure upon the situation on the field: This is what a fan loves most about the game.”
–Edward Abbey

First off, let me get this out of the way: Your Sacramento River Cats continued Sactown's ownage of all things Anaheim with Tuesday night's 2-0 victory over the Salt Lake Bees, the AAA affiliate of the Los Angeles Angels of that town in Orange County that tried to steal the Kings.

Anthony "Home" Recker, who extended his hitting streak to seven games with a second inning double, had a hand in both River Cats runs. After Adrian Cardenas led off the home half of the eighth with a double, Recker smacked a single to left, bringing Carednas home for the first run of the game. The River Cats catcher later came around to score the second and final run on a sacrifice bunt by DH Adam Heether.

Trystan Magnuson (3 saves, 1.88 ERA), the fifth River Cats pitcher of the evening, pitched a 1-2-3 ninth to seal the victory for the fourth River Cats pitcher of the evening, Joey Devine (3-0, 0.00).

Now that we've gotten that over with, I can get to the meat of the issue: This was, without question, the worst game of baseball that I have ever had the misfortune to watch.

As Ed Abbey noted up top, baseball at its best is slow-moving, and this was not baseball at its best. This was molasses in January. As a general rule, the more action a game has, the longer it takes to be played to completion. A 12-11 barn-burner will most likely be over three hours, while a 1-0 pitchers duel may clock in at just over two hours. Action takes longer than a lack thereof.

Somehow, the laws of baseball physics ceased to exist in Tuesday's games kitchen. We had all the slow drudgery of a slug fest without any of the excitement. We had the total lack of offense of a great pitchers duel, without the great pitching.

Through seven innings, the two teams combined for 15 strikeouts and 11 walks. That's 26 at-bats without a ball being put into play. Through seven innings the two teams had combined for seven hits … and seven pitchers. The eighth pitcher entered the game in the top of the eighth ... of a 0-0 game.

Salt Lake starter Ryan Ketchner threw 94 pitches in three innings of work. The River Cats left eight men on base in those three innings. Nine would have been a record (they tied the record for men left on base through two innings with six. This record will never be broken).

River Cats starter Bobby Cramer only lasted 3 2/3 innings. In a game that was 0-0 through seven, neither starter got through the fourth. That has got to be some sort of record.

River Cats batters saw 170 pitches in the eight innings in which they batted. There were 36* full counts. There were 67* pick-off throws.

In between the third and fourth innings, as if to mock our pain, they had the crowd pick their favorite of three Ke$ha songs. In a related note, I just found out that Ke$ha has three songs. "Tick Tock" won. Everyone else lost.

Cricket thought this game was boring.

"War and Peace" thought this game was too long.

In the middle of the eighth, I snapped.

I watched the eighth inning rally on a TV in the bowels of the stadium and listened to the top of the ninth on my way back to Midtown. If I had decided to stay in the press box, the game would probably still be going as we speak, knotted at zeros in the 112th inning (another record).

Nobody wanted that, so I took off, and set the rally into motion.

You're welcome.

*these numbers may be wildly innaccurate

River Cats take out Bees

2011-05-04T00:55:09Z

Monday was a good day for Sacramento in its suddenly burgeoning rivalry with that Disney-and-sun-soaked menace to the south, Anaheim.

First, there was the morning announcement that the Sacramento Kings would remain in town for another year, an unexpected cup check to supporters of the would-be "Anaheim Royals," which just a few short weeks ago was considered a fait accompli.

Then, to add salt to the wound, your Sacramento River Cats smoked the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim's AAA affiliate, the Salt Lake Bees, 5-1 on a pleasant evening at Raley Field.

I don't even like writing the "A" word. Never again.

Sacramento-2, Orange County's second largest city in terms of land area- 0.

River Cats starter Yadel Marti (1-0, 4.05) went seven strong innings, scattering eight hits and allowing just one unearned run.

Marti was matched most of the way by Bees starter Eric Junge (0-2, 5.01), but the wheels fell off in the bottom of the seventh.

The River Cats (15-10) plated a run in the second inning when struggling catcher Josh Donaldson led off with a double into the right field corner, advanced to third on a sacrifice fly by scorching hot DH, Anthony "Home" Recker, and scored on a Shane Peterson single to center.

The Bees (13-11) answered in the fourth when Jeremy Moore stroked a one-out single to right that Matt Carson misplayed into a three-bagger. Moore scored moments later on Efren Navarro's dribbler to third.

The score was still knotted at 1-1 when we hit the seventh inning stretch.

The home half of the ending started innocuously enough with a Donaldson flyout to left before the bottom of the order went to work. Adrian Cardenas smacked a single to center and Recker extended his hitting streak to six games with a perfectly executed hit-and-run single to center. Peterson walked to load the bases before number nine hitter Josh Horton put the Cats in the lead to stay with a sac fly to center, scoring Cardenas from third.

At this point, Bees manager Keith Johnson came out for a conference at the mound. It was a 2-1 game, two men on and the top of the River Cats order was coming to the plate. Junge had thrown 106 pitches in his 6 2/3 innings, and the Bees had a pitcher ready in the bullpen. It was so obviously time for a change that I wrote "pitching change" down in my notes.

Inexplicably, Johnson left his starter in to face Eric Sogard.

It took exactly one pitch for the River Cat shortstop to make the Bees manager rue the decision. Sogard deposited the first offering he saw into the bullpen beyond the right field fence, the very same bullpen that Johnson had decided not to call on moments earlier. Coincidence? Probably, but either way, the tight game was suddenly far less so as the home team took a 5-1 lead into the eighth inning.

Willie Eyre came on to throw two shutout innings in relief of Marti and preserve the victory.

The first place River Cats have three more games against the Utahan affiliate of the major league team from the birthplace of Rebecca Black, beginning tonight at 7:05 when Ryan Ketchener (1-0, 3.60) will start for the Bees against recent Oakland Athletic Bobby Cramer (0-0, 18.00).

Loose. Foodloose.

2011-05-02T04:47:37Z

"In a lot of ways I think food is starting to take the place in culture that rock and roll took 30 years ago, in that eating has become incredibly political. And just as the street has always dictated fashions on music and other things, it's starting to happen that way in food."
–Jonathon Gold, LA Weekly food critic

In 2008, the Sacramento City Council, under pressure from brick-and-mortar restaurants, voted 8-0 to pass Measure 5.68, which requires all mobile food vendors to relocate every 30 minutes, remain at least 400 feet apart and close at sundown. It was, at the time, effectively a death sentence for the Sacramento food truck.

If food is rock ‘n’ roll, then Sacramento is Beaumont, the town in "Footloose" that banned it. (The John Lithgow character is being played admirably by the godfather of the Sacramento brick-and-mortar mafia, Randy Paragary.)

But on Saturday, close to 10,000 folks converged at Fremont Park for the first Sacramento Mobile Food Festival, a celebration of street food featuring over 20 vendors from all over Northern California.

Like so many tractor-riding Kevin Bacons defiantly putting on guerrilla proms, Joshua Lurie-Terrell of YumTacos.com, Catherine Enfield of MunchieMusings.net, Paul Somerhausen of the Sacramento Epicureans, and Costa Apostolos of the Friends of Fremont Park organized the event.

“SactoMoFo” was an emphatic repudiation of the draconian mobile food restrictions imposed upon us by our elected delegates.

Basically, we voted 10,000 to 0 that Measure 5.68 is a crock.

We're here and we're hungry, and we don't need our city council to protect us from cheap and delicious street food.

It's a testament to the bewitching power of street food that, despite lines that would make DMV workers blush, the atmosphere remained convivial and celebratory throughout.

With the exception of the relatively speedy Fat Face popsicles, the shortest lines took close to an hour.

The lines for Curry Up Now, Chairman Bao, Drewski's Hot Rod and others were between 90 minutes and three hours, depending. I don't go three hours between meals. When I polled the folks in front of the Curry Up Now line as to the length of their internment therein, a wildly bearded fellow answered my query with one of his own: "What day is it?"

Once people (finally) got their food, they were, seemingly to a man, exceedingly pleased with the fare. I found Rebecca and Tim noshing on a Hemi (Carolina BBQ pulled pork, four-cheese mac 'n' cheese, caramelized onions and melted extra sharp cheddar grilled on brioche bread) and some deep fried mac 'n' cheese balls (self explanatory, served with a compound truffle butter) from Drewski's Hot Rod. It had been a 90-plus-minute battle of attrition to get the meal, but they were enjoying the spoils immensely.

Jose Andrade braved a three-hour line to get a "Mustang" from Drewski's. About the kimchi, short rib and havarti cheese concoction, he said, "worth every minute."

My personal heros of the day were Stephanie, Shaylin and Nicole. The three ladies arrived before noon and immediately took their places in three different lines. When I found them, an hour and a half later, they had just sat down to an epic spread of HapaSF, Chairman Bao and Curry Up Now offerings. It was an embarrassment of riches, and the consensus was "amazing."

I am sad to report that I, like many attendees, chose to avoid the lines and eat at one of the many brick-and-mortar establishments in the area. I actually didn't avoid the lines so much as mitigate them. At Burgers & Brew, I stood in line for over 20 minutes before placing my order.

The entire neighborhood benefited greatly from the overflow. Hot Italian was full to bursting, Magpie was packed. By 3 p.m., Top This Frozen Yogurt looked like a plague of locusts had gone through their toppings. The fresh fruit was a distant memory. Chita's Taqueria all the way down at 20th and Q even reported a boost in business, as did Zocalo on 18th and Capitol.

On my way over to lunch, I spotted Spencer's on the Go taking off. Turns out the veterans of "The Great Food Truck Race" had run out of just about everything by 2 p.m. The last thing to go was, not surprisingly, the Escargot Lollipops.

The MoFo fest was "a victim of its own success," Leigh Coop said. "I'm glad it sent a message, but we went away without food and very hungry."

"We've received overwhelming feedback that people loved the event,” Enfield said. “Even though the lines were long, they made new friends, loved the beautiful day, had great food and are begging us for more."

Maybe most importantly, the organizers collected 3,500 signatures on the petition to get city leaders to relax regulations on mobile street vendors.

"The feedback we received from the politicians that attended was very favorable," Enfield wrote on the MoFo website.

I'll believe it when I see it. Talk is cheap, but so is street food.

To paraphrase Gilbert from “Revenge of the Nerds,” "No one's gonna really be free until food truck persecution ends."

Walking Spanish at The Torch

2011-04-20T02:19:04Z

It's not every day you get a chance to see the next big thing before they blow up.

It's more like every fourth or fifth day. . . depending on how many gigs Walking Spanish is playing that week.

This week, four is the magic number. They are playing Wednesday night at The Torch Club, following up Saturday night's gig at The Naked Lounge.

Walking Spanish recently released my favorite album of 2011, "Wishbones," and may not be long for venues as small and awesome as these.

Alex Nelson (lead singer, guitarist and songwriter) and the boys (Timothy Picchi on bass, Christopher Haislet on keys, Robert Mills II on drums and Thomas Gunterman on violin) put on a phenomenal, high-energy rock show, peppering their staggeringly good original material with a variety of tasty covers that included Mother Hips, Allman Brothers and Depeche Mode.

These guys are going to be stars. I'm going to be able to say that I saw them "way back when." Will you?

Walking Spanish plays the Torch Club on Wednesday, April 20. Tickets are $4.00.

You read that correctly.

I'll see you on the dance floor.

Yonder Mountain High.

2011-04-20T01:07:45Z

It is a rare treat to see a band play at a venue that they have long since outgrown.

On a tour filled with dates at places like the Fillmore (capacity: 1,250) and Montbleu Resort (1,400), bluegrass behemoth Yonder Mountain String Band stopped in Sacramento for the first time ever and played a nearly packed house at our very own Harlow's. Capacity? 300 and change.

It was amazing.

"We're gonna have some fun tonight!" frontman and mandolinist Jeff Austin proclaimed a few songs into the first of two rollicking sets.

"This is the most intimate show we've played in a long, long time."

As you might expect, this proclamation was met with an enormous, prideful roar from the gathered throng. I would venture that it was a near perfect crowd. The venue was full, but not impassable. The route from the back bar to the restrooms, though crowded, was navigable. The fans that had come were fully aware of how lucky they were to be there, and what we lacked in numbers, we made up for in enthusiasm.

"They are amazing" said a clearly stoked Maya, who was losing her Yonder V-Card that evening.

Maya’s friend Erin, a vet of numerous shows, added, "I haven't seen them in like four years. I feel like a real asshole."

A couple of songs into the second set, at the end of an extended jam on the rollicking, guitar driven "Damned if the right one didn't go wrong," the crowd reached a level of ecstasy that I don't think I've ever seen at Harlow's. It was the loudest and most lengthy applause that I have been a part of in my 20 (30?) odd shows.

It was chill inducing and the boys on stage were eating it up. "If you're having even a portion of the fun that we're having, then you're having a great time," Austin said before adding, "Why haven't we played here before?"

The worlds funkiest string quartet made up for lost time with nearly three hours of incredibly high energy Colorado jam-grass, and one of the best shows I've seen this year.

If Sunday night's show was any indication, their first Sacramento show most certainly won't be their last. I just hope they don't further outgrow Harlow's before their next visit.

Man, what a treat.

An evening with Yonder Mountain String Band!

2011-04-16T23:37:35Z

This Sunday Harlow's nightclub continues it's spring-long blitzkrieg of High Sierra Music Festival performers, once-and-future, with Colorado's pied-pipers of bluegrass rock, Yonder Mountain String Band.

"Yonder Mountain String Band has always played music by its own set of rules. Bending bluegrass, rock and countless other influences that the band cites, Yonder has pioneered a sound of their own."

Yonder has been a stalwart on the festival circuit for more than a decade, playing their unique brand of feel-good jamgrass for massive crowds at Bonnaroo, Rothbury, Austin City Limits, Telluride Bluegrass Festival and their own Northwest String Summit.

I, and about 200,000 of my closest friends, caught their set at Hardly Strictly Bluegrass last fall. You notice I didn't say I saw their set, cause I couldn't see shit.

I can't even tell you how excited I am to actually see them at a venue as intimate as Harlow's.

Aside from their festival appearances, this is a band that sells out the 9,450 seats at Red Rocks Amphitheatre, and will be playing two nights next week at the Fillmore in San Francisco (1,250 capacity).

Getting two full sets (No opener! All Yonder, all the time!) at our very own 350 person venue is going to be a real treat.

Yonder Mountain String Band at Harlow's, Sunday, April 17th, 9:00PM.

Tickets are $25.00

I'll see you on the dance floor.

The Gregory Brothers and YouTube's Digitour

2011-04-16T02:07:10Z

YouTube's Digitour rolled into Sacramento Thursday night, planting its two gigantic tour buses on J Street for an early show at Harlow's.

The Digitour features a menagerie of the ubiquitous site's biggest musical celebrities (over 1 billion views between ‘em!).

Now, I consider myself fairly Internet-savvy for a 32-year-old. I mean, I surf the interwebs ... a lot. My myriad of Facebook friends, many of whom I've never met, would probably say too much. I have a blog that I haven't updated in eight months. I know about both "Charlie the Unicorn" and "Charlie bit my finger." I've created numerous memes of varying quality. I've even had a taste of Internet celebrity. I'm plugged in.

Or so I thought.

I only recognized one name on the Digitour roster, but what a name it was: the undisputed heavyweight champion of the worldwidewebs, the Gregory Brothers. The Gregory Brothers are the (mad?) geniuses behind "Auto Tune the News" and "The Bed Intruder Song," among others. As far as I'm concerned, they are the best thing to happen to the Internet since sliced bread. (ed. note: what?)

I was really excited to see how "Turtle Fence" translated to a seven-piece live band.

But first, there were the other YouTube stars about whom I had been (blissfully?) ignorant prior to Thursday night's show.

Leading off the show was Savannah Outen, a pretty blonde with a good voice. She sang Bruno Mars and Jesse James covers, along with some originals. You know what I like better than Jesse James? Dentist appointments.

It's not you, Savannah. It's me.

Between the acts, they played videos on a large monitor next to the stage. The videos varied from kind of funny but annoying (the aptly named “Annoying Orange”) to gouge-out-your-ears-and-eyeballs annoying (the first video they showed sounded like wacky drive-time radio for ‘tweens. Just the sound of it literally made me nauseous). There is something called “Smosh” on YouTube that has something like 148 bazillion views. They're like a slightly older Fred, but there's two of them. Ugh.

Back to the music. . .

Ricky Ficarelli is an extremely talented young drummer. He'll be able to write his own ticket. Mystery Guitar Man is pretty good at looping, playing multiple instruments and layering beats. Think Keller Williams for teenage — well, I don't know, Internet fans? When I was a teenager I was listening to Phish.

Destorm is a talented MC, as displayed on a "Random Topic" freestyle rap based in part on crowd suggestions ("401 K!" "Golden retrievers!" "Tech support!" "Skittles!") and a live Twitter feed (technology, it's what's for dinner) that was running on the stageside monitor.

The closing act of the night was Dave Days and his band, including the aforementioned Ficarelli. They too were clearly talented, but not at all my bag. I saw a girl wearing a shirt that read "Dave Days Makes My Favorite Songs Better." "Dave Days Makes My Least Favorite Songs Slightly Less Grating!" would be more apropos in my case.

Which brings us to the Gregory Brothers. The seven-piece came out to the biggest applause of the evening and went into "Winning – A Song by Charlie Sheen."

I had been a little unsure about how their songs would translate to a live performance. Much of the singing on their hits is done by "unintentional singers": celebrities, politicians, cable news anchors, talking heads, or, most famously, Antoine Dodson, whose words are auto-tuned and set to music.

What I quickly realized, as Mike Gregory rapped about banging 7-gram rocks and the whole gang harmonized behind him is that the G. Bros. are much better singers than their autotuned cohorts. Ultimately, their songs wouldn't be so popular if they weren't good, catchy songs to begin with. And, as such, they are much improved when the brothers cut out the unintentionals.

Up next was "Rent Is Too Damn High! Song," their impassioned ode to Jimmy McMillan and his titular New York political party.

From there they went into their dance sensation, "Backin’ Up Song," dedicated to Diana of Kansas City. It's seriously a great dance song when performed live. As with all of their tracks, not only did it not lose anything in translation to the live show, it gained something. It gained a lot, actually.

Up next was "Turtle Fence," my favorite song of theirs going into the show. You bet your ass there was a killer keytar solo in the middle of it.

"Charles Rangel Sings for Mercy" is a huge, almost anthemic song. Don't leave Chuck swinging in the wind until November.

"Mommy and Daddy" becomes an awesomely soulful R&B song with beautiful harmonies and Sarah G. killing the lead vocal.

"Bed Intruder" brought the house down. You can run and tell that, homeboy.

I assumed that "B.I." would be their last song of the evening, but you know what they say about assumptions.

They closed instead with "Double Rainbow" which had somehow evaded me up to that point. Remember when I called "Charles Rangel" anthemic earlier? That was before I heard this. If "C.R." is anthemic, than "D.R." is double anthemic. When they turned it into an epic crowd sing-along, building to an ecstatic crescendo, it started to sound triple anthemic.

Intense.

Orgone and The Nibblers, together at last.

2011-04-14T00:00:42Z

or·gone n. A universal life force, a cosmic unit of energy, the creative force in nature.

Orgone n. A banging nine piece soul/funk ensemble from Los Angeles.

A staple on the festival circuit (High Sierra Music Fest, Moe.down, South by Southwest, Jazzfest, to name a few) Orgone has opened for the likes of Al Green and Sharon Jones, and toured with the Roots and Greyboy Allstars.

"With a rooted sense of funk, soul, afrobeat, deep rhythms and an intimate understanding of dj culture as well as each others' individual talents, Orgone seamlessly slides through multiple styles and dynamic performances. The group continuously injects whatever they play with a heavy brand of raw funk power." (orgonespace.com)

They played an epic Harlow's show back in January with local favorites Zuhg.

Thursday night, they make their triumphant return to the Midtown uber-venue with local possibly-even-more-favorites, our own merry band of funkateers, The Nibblers.

I thought it was an inspired pairing last time. This time it's a stroke of genius.

If you happened to catch one of The Nibblers' last few Harlow's gigs, opening for soul-funk-superstars Big Sam's Funky Nation and Trombone Shorty, you know what a treat this show will be.

If you didn't, take my word for it.

There is nowhere else you wanna be on Thursday night.

Orgone and The Nibblers play Thursday night at Harlow's, 9:30 PM, immediately following the Youtube Digitour at 6:30 (Featuring the Gregory Brothers of "Turtle Fence" and "Bed Intruder" fame).

Tickets are $12.00, ($15.00 for Digitour).

I'll see you on the dance floor.

River Cats fall short

2011-04-11T16:45:08Z

Friday night your Sacramento River Cats hosted the Tacoma Rainiers in the second game of their season-opening four-game series.

Though the air was warmer than it had been during Thursday night's opener, the home team's bats were much, much colder. Blake Beavan and four Tacoma relievers combined to hold the River Cats to just four hits while striking out 13 in a 3-1 Rainiers victory. Cesar Jimenez (1-0, 1.2 IP, 3Ks) picked up the win.

The Rainiers wasted no time getting to Sacramento starter Guillermo Moscoso. Dustin Ackley led off the game with a single to right, Greg Halman reached base on a fielder’s choice, and then Matt Tuiasosopo crushed a ball that center fielder Matt Carson couldn't quite get to. Halman scored on what ended up being a triple for the Tacoma first baseman.

Moscoso minimized the damage by striking out the next two batters he faced, stranding Tuiasosopo at third.

In the bottom of the first, it looked for a moment like the home team might be in for another hot night. Jamile Weeks and Eric Sogard walked, then Chris Carter knocked a full-count fastball right back up the middle for an RBI single. The game was tied at 1-1, and more importantly the River Cats had a good shot to put up a crooked number with runners on first and third with nobody out and the meat of the order coming up.

It was not to be, as Carson took a backward K, Josh Donaldson continued his early season struggles with a forward K, and Steve Tolleson was unable to pick them up, flying out harmlessly to right.

The only play of note during the vast nothing that was innings two through five was a third-inning drive by Weeks that Tacoma right fielder leaped for at the fence, possibly saving a home run (it ended up being a double) and disappointing the heck out of those of us (me) who had pulled Weeks' name in the game of "Home Run Cup" in the press box.

Gabe DeHoyos (0-1, 1.2, 3H, 2R) relieved Moscono to start the sixth and promptly retired the first two batters he faced. It was the third out that proved to be elusive, however. Alex Liddi smoked a two-out double past an outstretched (but certainly not diving) Carter in left, then Paguero smacked a single to right, driving in Liddi from second with what turned out to be the winning run.

Carter led off the Cats half of the inning with a base on balls, but then Carson (0-4, 3Ks) struck out looking for the third straight at bat. The unproductive out was mitigated a bit when Carter stole second base, putting himself in scoring position with only one out and the 5-6 hitters coming to the plate. Unfortunately, Carter remained stranded at second when Donaldson (0-3, 2Ks) and Tolleson (0-3, 2Ks) both struck out swinging.

DeHoyos once again had no trouble securing the first two outs in the top of the seventh, making quick work of Josh Bard and Sean Kazmar. He would have had a perfect outing were there only two outs needed per inning. Unfortunately for him, this was neither horseshoes nor hand grenades, and Ackley followed with a two-out single back up the middle, ending DeHoyos' night.

Joe Bateman came in to face Halman, who promptly stroked a line drive to left field. Carter's uneven outfield play continued as he took a step in before breaking back out and watching the drive sail over his head. I'm not certain he would have caught the ball had he read it correctly off the bat, but he certainly would have improved his chances. Ackley scored on the play, giving the visitors a 3-1 lead.

Carter had a chance to put his uneven performance in the field behind him when he came up to the plate with two outs and the bases juiced in the bottom half of the inning. He struck out swinging.

In the bottom of the ninth, Carter again had a chance to be the hero when Weeks (2-4, BB, R) hit a two-out single and Ackley misplayed a Sogard sky-high pop-up into a runners-on first-and-second situation. The crowd was as loud as they had been all night when Carter strode up and grounded the first pitch he saw to Ackley, who redeemed himself by getting the force out at second.

Carter's night, much like his pro career thus far, was uneven. It's hard to call him the goat considering he drove in the only run of the game and later singlehandedly manufactured a runner in scoring position with fewer than two outs. On the other hand, he stranded six runners on base and played a shaky left field that contributed to two of the three Tacoma runs.

If Carter can be a little more consistent, he will be a really special player. And he won't be long for Sacramento. Enjoy him while he's here.

River Cats ice Rainiers

2011-04-09T00:57:18Z

"The coldest winter I ever spent was … Thursday night at Raley Field" –Mark Twain (would have said had he been at the game last night)

Your Sacramento River Cats opened their 2011 campaign on Thursday night, hosting the Tacoma Rainiers at the Frozen Tundra formerly known as Raley Field. To the delight of the home fans, who came out in droves in spite of the less than ideal (straight up Arctic?) conditions, the River Cats came out swinging, pounding out all 13 of their hits and six of their runs in the first five innings before coasting the rest of the way to a 6-2 victory.

After the team wasted a pair of first-inning singles by Erik Sogard and Chris Carter, the bottom half of the River Cats lineup sparked a rally in the second. No. 6 hitter Steve Tolleson started the inning with a sharply hit single to right center and advanced to second when the Raniers right fielder, Carlos Peguero, somehow air-mailed a pair of cutoff men, throwing the ball all the way to the backstop. Cardenas followed with a sharply hit single to right. Tolleson was held at third, a move that proved prescient when Peguero semi-redeemed himself with a perfect seed to the catcher. After Jai Miller struck out swinging, No. 9 hitter Wes Timmons drew a walk, loading the bases for the top of the order.

The crowd was amped as leadoff hitter, Sacramento newbie, top prospect and soon-to-be fan favorite Jemile Weeks took his place in the batter’s box against the Rainiers starter, the fantastically surnamed and first-initialed Luke French (0-1, 4IP, 10H, 6ER).

He took the third pitch he saw from L. French and deposited over the head of the left fielder Mike Carp for a bases-clearing triple. Rainier shortstop Sean Kazmar exacerbated the issue for my distant cousin when he threw his relay throw about 15 feet over the third baseman's head, and Weeks hightailed home, making the score 4-0.

Sacramento starter Josh Outman (0-0, 4IP, 1ER, 4BB), making his first start since 2009 after undergoing Tommy John surgery, was his own worst enemy. In the top of the third, Tacoma managed to scratch one across without a single hit. Two walks, a fielding error by Sogard and an RBI groundout by Carp and the Rainiers were on the board.

It didn't take long for the Cats to get that run back, as Matt Carson turned on the second pitch he saw leading off the bottom half of the inning and smacked it just over the wall in left. Jai Miller added an RBI double a few batters later to complete the scoring for the home team.

Tacoma DH Mike Wilson broke up Outman's no-hitter with a one-out double to left in the top of the fourth and scored the final run of the game on a Josh Bard single.

It remained 6-2 River Cats for five more innings, each one colder than the last.

Former San Francisco Giant, Cleveland Indian, Toronto Blue Jay and Hiroshima Toyo Carp pitcher Vinnie Chulk got the win by pitching two 1-2-3 innings.

The paid attendance was 10,387. How close the turnstile attendance was to this number is up for debate, but if there were more than 500 people in the stands for the final out, I will eat my hat, and yours too.

At first pitch, the temperature was 48 degrees, but it felt a lot colder due to the stiff winds whipping through the yard.

At last pitch it was 42 degrees, and you bet your sweet patootie it felt colder than that.

Despite all that, there isn't another place I would rather have been.

Baseball season is upon us, and for that we should all be thankful, but I'm wearing a beanie tonight, press box etiquette be damned.

Chris Robinson Brotherhood (is not a cult)

2011-04-08T06:56:33Z

Chris Robinson Brotherhood played a show at Harlow's on Tuesday night in front of an exuberant and packed house.

CRB consists of the eponymous once and future Black Crowes frontman, Neal Casal (Ryan Adams) on guitar, Adam MacDougall (Black Crowes) on keys, George Sluppick (Robert Walter's 20th Congress, JJ Grey and Mofro) on drums and Mark "Muddy" Dutton (Burning Tree) on bass.

This was the eighth show on their spring-long pilgrimage throughout the Golden State, and I went into it not really knowing what to expect (other than a great show). As of this writing, youtube only has two videos of CRB, and one of them is a Black Crowes song.

I arrived at Harlow's ten minutes before 9pm, and to no ones surprise, the place was already jumping. Artists of Chris Robinson's stature don't often play at 300+ person clubs. I mean, The Black Crowes are the 92nd greatest hard rock band of all time. VH1 doesn't hand that out to just anyone.

The first thing I noticed upon entering the venue was a mammoth "California Republic" flag flying above and behind the stage, a tip of the cap to the only state that they'll be visiting on their whirlwind two month tour.

I began my pre-show ritual:

1) Hit up the restroom. Peeing during the show is for suckers. (The top of the toilet paper dispenser was covered in green shake. A precursor of things to come.)

2) Hit up the bar. (My beer of choice depends on the crowd. Fair to middling crowd, PBR. Packed house, Racer 5. On this night it was a Racer 5 with a bullet.)

3) Grab a smoke. Smoking during the show is for suckers. On my pilgrimage outside I met Josh, a jam band enthusiast and self described "square" who teaches in Elk Grove and has two kids. I thought I'd met him at Harlow's before, but he scoffed at the notion "nope, this is my one get out of jail card". With all the great jam bands that have been coming through Sac recently, it couldn't have been easy to decide on just one. I saw him later on the dance floor and it was clear that he'd chosen well.

4) Find my photographer. Taking your own pictures is for suckers. Steven had maneuvered his way to front and center, it looked like he'd be in great position to get some killer shots. Alas, it was not to be. Midway through the first set, Steven was approached by a large dreadlocked fellow I can only presume was a roadie for the band. The man informed Steven, in no uncertain terms, that there would be no professional photography on this night. It would be up to me and my spectacularly amateurish pointing and clicking to win the day. What a sucker.

At 9:19 in the PM, Chris and the boys took the stage. The crowd responded with a roar and more than a few clouds of marijuana smoke.

I was immediately struck by how much they look the part. If you saw CRB walking down the street, or at the movies, or painting your house, you would immediately recognize them as a rock band.

Sluppick was wearing a pair of horn-rimmed spectacles and a sports coat to go with his relatively kempt mane. Macdougall had a classic scraggly rocker look with his long hair, beard and many-zippered brown leather jacket. Casal went with a flannel shirt and red corduroy pants to complement his shaggy hair and grey-tinged beard. Dutton sported the ubiquitous rockstar black snap-down collared shirt with jeans that belled ever so slightly at the bottom. The look befitted his Brian May-esque coif perfectly. Which brings us to Robinson. All the other outfits, though screaming "Musician! Rocker! Keep that guy away from my drugs!" could conceivably have been worn by laypeople. I have trouble imagining anyone but a rockstar wearing Chris Robinson's shirt.

Flowing pink tie-dyed open collared shirts just aren't done by "normies". And if you think for a second that he was wearing shoes, you haven't been paying attention.

They opened with an original song called "Tulsa Yesterday", and it became immediately clear that they sounded the part at least as well as they looked it. As they would throughout the evening, to the delight of Josh the "square", they extended the jam to great lengths. "Tulsa Yesterday" featured an epic psychedelic Moog organ solo that really stood out.

After the first song, Robinson chopped it up a bit with the crowd, "I've hit my head on the microphone twice already!" he said, illustrating the point by accidentally-on-purpose hitting his head on it again. "Just a reminder" he joked "The Brotherhood is not a cult, but it would be nice to get tax exempt status".

Up next was their first cover song of the evening, a rip-roaring honky-tonked out take on Bob Dylan's "Tough Momma". "TM" featured another rollicking pedaled-out Moog solo and extended jam with all of the musicians showing off their prodigious chops. It was the second of what would be five 10-minute songs in a row to start off the show.

They returned to the new original stuff with their third song of the evening, the slower, pleading "Beware". This was the one original CRB song that I'd heard before, and it's lovely. At one point, Robinson was singing nearly unaccompanied with just the sparsest musical backing. It was a beautiful, but momentary, interlude before the whole gang came crashing back in.

They mined the gargantuan well-spring of source material that is the Grateful Dead oevre for their next song of the evening, "They Love Each Other". They really knocked this bluesy rocker out of the park. It may have been partly due to my vantage point (right in front of the keyboards) but once again I found myself particularly struck by Macdougal's keyboard wizardry. Just a wonderful song, played both expertly and with great soul.

Possibly in honor of the song's originators, a joint was thrown on stage by an audience member during the Dead cover. It was put aside, whether to be smoked later or discarded later, well, your guess is as good as mine. I didn't see the band smoke it, but I didn't see the band not smoke it either.

As they began their next song, another original called "Star or Stone", Steven was called out by the dreadlocked brownshirt, and decided to take off. I was on my own.

"Tomorrow Blues" was one of my favorite songs of the evening, a raucous blues number that featured a sick Moog solo seemingly culled from the furthest reaches of outer space. Phenomenal.

They capped off the set with a couple songs that were familiar to the Chris Robinson true believers in the crowd. "Appaloosa", the aforementioned Black Crowes song, is a heartfelt ode and was a crowd favorite. They followed that with "40 Days", a hard driving rocker from Chris Robinson and The New Earth Mud, Robinson's side band the last time the Crowes went on an extended hiatus. It was the most searing track of the first set and sent the crowd into a tizzy heading into the break. A sign of things to come.

The band left the stage at 10:34, having taken a cool hour and fifteen minutes to play 8 songs. They don't scrimp on the jams, these cats.

They returned to the stage at 11:00 PM on the button, and proceeded to blow the doors off for another hour and a half. Nine songs this time, including the encore, a rousing version of Elvis's Blue Suede Shoes.

I am going to spare you the blow by blow break down of the second set, in part because I am 1300 words deep already, and in main because I was too busy cutting the rug a new one during the rousing second set to take anything more than the most elementary of notes ("Awesome!" "Epic!" and "guitarist put his flannel back on!" all appear in my second set scribblings")

The set list is pictured.

You'll get another chance to see them for yourselves when they return to Harlow's on May 3rd.

As good as they were on Tuesday, I expect they'll be even better with another month of shows under their belt.

Chris Robinson Brotherhood!

2011-04-05T05:35:41Z

Chris Robinson, the lead singer of blues rock legends The Black
Crowes, wasted little time finding a new gig when the band went on
hiatus following a six-night run in San Francisco at The Fillmore in
mid-December.

The Chris Robinson Brotherhood will be in town Tuesday night to play a
gig at Harlow's.

It will be the eighth night of a whirlwind 33-show spring tour of
California that started last week.

Joining Mr. Robinson in The Brotherhood are Neal Casal (Ryan Adams) on
guitar, Adam MacDougall (Black Crowes) on keys, George Sluppick
(Robert Walter's 20th Congress, JJ Grey and Mofro) on drums and Mark
"Muddy" Dutton (Burning Tree) on bass.

The band’s sparse website features a couple of drawings, the tour
dates and a note from the lead singer.

"We'll be playing a bunch of new songs I have been working on and will
be digging deep into what is happening at that musical moment. There
will be old stuff that I've done and a handful of covers that just
feel right. Please come with your good vibes, feel free to trip along
with the bouncing ball or just float away. Remember we all want great
gigs!"

We certainly do, and I fully expect one on Tuesday.

Chris Robinson Brotherhood will be playing at Harlow's on April 5 at 9:00 PM.

Tickets are $15.00.

See you on the dance floor.

Lady Lions selected

2011-04-04T04:08:24Z

The Sacramento Lady Lions, the official cheer squad for the Mountain Lions UFL team, held their final team tryouts Friday night at Dream Ultra Lounge.

The event bore little resemblance to last month’s preliminaries, which were six hours long, closed to the public and held in a barn in Rio Linda.

The finals had a party atmosphere, befitting the locale. The public was welcome, so the 51 hopefuls were supported by friends and family as they vied for the 32 spots on the team.

When I arrived at 5:30 p.m., there was already a line to get in, perhaps 100 strong.

Dream is basically a large, square venue with an ample, curved, wrap-around bar smack dab in the middle. As you enter the club, the DJ booth is directly to your left, with the dance floor in front of it, and beyond that was the judges’ table. There are booths along the side walls and a hallway in the back that completes the circuit around the venue. The aspirant young ladies were in the back right of the club, preparing for the competition.

As I walked through, I recognized Jenna M. from the first round of tryouts. I asked her if she was feeling more or less nervous the second time around.

"About the same" she said. "We've been practicing."

In the interim between the prelims and the finals, the girls had not only been practicing their routines but had also been subjected to a stringent interview process and an extensive boot camp.

Lindsay Shoemaker, director of the Lady Lions, said they wanted to make sure the girls were fully committed to the team.

"They've been doing burpees," she told the attendees before bringing the ladies out. "Burpees are not fun."

At just a bit after 6 p.m., the tryout began with each girl getting a brief introduction, followed by the opportunity to do a little un-judged dance from the DJ booth to the judges’ table. Once they had gone through everyone, the competition began in earnest.

The ladies were split into three groups. Each group had a different song for the free dance portion of the tryout. The first group danced to Mike Posner's "Please Don't Go," the second to Britney Spears' "Till the World Ends" and the third to Usher's "More."

I can honestly say that I don't like any of these songs, but all three were a welcome respite from Flo Rida and Akon's "Who Dat Girl," to which the choreographed routine is set. That song haunts my dreams.

The girls paired up for the routine, followed by their solos, where they had six eight-counts to make an impression on the judges with their creativity and personality.

There was one clear crowd favorite through the process. No. 48, Zarah R., must have had 30-plus friends and family in attendance, many of whom carried signs bearing her likeness and one of whom, to the consternation of most in attendance, carried a mini air horn.

It took about an hour and a half to complete the tryout, and then came the hard part: tallying up the votes from the 11-person judging panel.

'It's going to be a real tough decision," Shoemaker said. "I'm glad I don't have to judge the finals."

Indicative of the difficulty of the decision, the judges deliberated for a full hour.

Just before 9 p.m., all the hopefuls returned to the dance floor, where, after offering words of encouragement to all the ladies who didn't make the squad, Shoemaker called out the numbers of the girls who made the team.

When she called out No. 48, it was bedlam.

Jenna M's No. 23 was called as well. When I asked her how she felt, she answered my query with one of her own, "How do you think?" she asked, a huge smile on her face.

Now that they've got the cheerleading squad, they can focus on building the football team.

Your 2011 Sacramento Lady Lions:
Regina M.
Jeanette M.
Jazmin "Jazzy" A.
Kelly T.
Malia H.
Tori W.
Sydni B.
Dari H.
Miriam M.
Jeshura N.
Anjel P.
Tinna W.
Jenna M.
Courtney H.
Bailee B.
Veronica N.
Amanda M.
Elizabeth R.
Daisy H.
Karisa G.
Chelsea G.
Roxanne "Roxy" C.
Janell A.
Brandi R.
Kali G.
Andrea K.
Zarah R.
Melanie H.
Jessica N.
Vanecia R.
Courtney S.
Thannia G.

Eating for the cycle at Raley Field.

2011-04-01T03:53:16Z

Baseball, more than any other sport, is meant to be seen in person.

In this day and age, football is far better viewed from the comfort of your Barcalounger, especially if your team happens to be the Niners. If you have great seats, basketball is awesome, but from the upper bowl it's hardly worth it. And basketball is a dirty word here in Sacramento right now, anyways. I would grant you hockey, but … it's hockey.

Baseball is the one. It's meant to be enjoyed in the sunshine or under the lights, with all the accouterments that go with it. The sights, of course, but also the sounds, the smells and the tastes of that can only be had at the ballpark. Mmmmmmm. The tastes.

I often go all winter without eating a hot dog. I thought that was the case this winter until the vaguest recollection of a semi-recent 2 a.m. drunken devouring of a chili dog from Hot Rod's popped into my head. I'm gonna go ahead and pretend that never happened.

With Major League Opening Day upon us, and Opening Day for your River Cats just a week away, I was lucky enough to commemorate the beginning of baseball season (hot dog season?) by attending a food tasting at Raley Field on Wednesday.

It was wonderful.

The Raley Field concessionaire, Ovations, had set up a spread in one of the suites with all of their new and or improved menu items. In attendance were various members of the media, fan sites and at least one winner of a tweet-off.

The menu was as follows:

Walking Taco ($7.75)
Seared steak, chicken, or chayote squash tossed with shredded cabbage, tomatoes, peppers, onions and a chipotle ranch dressing all stuffed into a southwest-flavored taco shell cone. This was the first thing I tried, and it was very good. It's the brainchild of head chef Ryan Curry, who has a real passion for authentic Mexican flavors which shines through in his creation. I had a chicken version with some grilled jalapeno, cilantro cream and salsa verde, all of which will be available at the games. It’s like a fajita in a spiced waffle cone, and I would most certainly get it again.

Mango on a Stick ($5)
Another example of Curry’s appreciation for true Mexican dishes, this is a play on a classic Mexican street food: fresh-peeled mango drizzled with lime juice, ancho chile powder and cayenne pepper. The heat and spice from the chile powder and pepper balance perfectly with the tartness of the lime juice and the sweetness of the perfectly ripe mango. Absolutely delicious and super refreshing. I want one right now.

Donut Bacon Cheeseburger ($9.75)
Whoooooa. The second thing I tried, and the first of several dishes I split with the contest winner, Maudi Munoz. I had seen variations on the theme before, often called a "Luther Burger" after Luther Vandross (RIP). It's a bacon and cheddar cheeseburger on not one but two glazed doughnuts. The versions I had seen before had always been on one doughnut, split in half. That always seemed silly to me, not to mention structurally unsound. What, are you worried about calories? Two donuts, that's the ticket.

It is served sans accoutrement, but I added all the fixin’s. (I have a buddy who sometimes calls me "Captain Condiment." I've never met one I didn't like.) Once my Luther was fully loaded, I excused myself to eat it alone out on the deck. This was a private moment. The thing was shockingly good, far better than I thought it would be. The first bite, the doughnut is a little cloying, but by the third bite, all the flavors have melded and you just get a wonderful blend of sweet, savory, salty, juicy goodness. I would, and absolutely will, get it again. Yum.

BBQ Nachos ($8.75)
Smoked sirloin simmered in chillies and barbecue sauce with a creamy cheese sauce over chips. Quite good, although it could have used some jalapenos and onions. Of course, I think pretty much everything could use jalapenos and onions. I would gladly eat some of yours if you got it, but I would probably stick to the classic chili cheese style.

Pacific Wild Salmon Tacos ($7.75)
Sports Illustrated recently ranked these among the top Minor League eats in the country, and it's easy to see why. Perfectly roasted Pacific salmon, shredded cabbage, thin-sliced radish, salsa fresco and a lime-cilantro aioli all piled on fresh corn tortillas. Unfortunately, I forgot to get my tortilla grilled (thanks for nothing, Maudi!) before making it, so the whole deal kinda fell apart on me, but other than that it was good. I'm not a huge salmon guy, so I probably wouldn't get it again, but you totally should.

Chipotle Black Bean Burger ($6.75)
This is a vegan black bean and chipotle patty with an herb aioli, layered with lettuce, tomato and onion. I just tried the patty and it was among the better veggie burgers I've ever had. It had a really nice charbroiled flavor with a mellow heat from the chipotle. I probably won't get it because it will be trumped by the Luther, but I totally will have a bite or three of my girlfriends’.

Veggie Italian Sausage ($7)
This was probably the best veggie sausage I've ever had, which is to say it was edible. Barely. I shall not be revisiting it.

Sac Town Dog ($7)
Now we're talking: a jumbo dog topped with chipotle ranch, blue cheese crumbles and fried onion strings. If you like blue cheese, you'll like this dog. I always see blue cheeseburgers, but this is the first time I've ever seen a blue cheese hot dog. It's really good. The only reason I might not get it again is because of how good the next ones were.

Chicago Dog ($7)
This was probably my favorite of the dogs, a classic combo of tomatoes, onions, coarse relish, sport peppers, mustard and a pickle spear. If it ain't broke, don't fix it. Eighty percent chance I get one opening night.

Dinger Combo ($12.50 with a 21-oz. drink)
The famous Dinger dog is smothered in chili con carne, cheese sauce and onions. It’s just a great chili dog. Their chili is top notch, and so's their Dinger dog: two great tastes that taste great together. Eighty percent chance I get one opening night.

Baked Potato Dog ($7)
This jumbo dog is topped with sour cream, chopped bacon, chive and shredded cheese, using a Russet potato for a bun. Are you kidding me? This is a revelation, a stroke of genius. It was the last thing I ate and one of the best. Russet potato bun. C'mon. Eighty percent chance I ... I may have to adjust these percentages.

As if you needed another reason to come out and enjoy a game at the best minor league stadium in the entire country, there's 10. And a veggie Italian sausage.

Video courtesy of Raley Field

Zach Deputy FTW.

2011-04-01T01:59:26Z

Zach Deputy brought his feel-good brand of island-infused drum ‘n' bass gospel ninja soul to Harlow's on Tuesday night, and it was outstanding.

One of the ways I can judge how good a show was is by how sore my legs are the following morning. I'm a dancer, you see. To paraphrase the great Dave Mustaine, dancing's my business, and business is good.

Tuesday night, at Harlow's, it was business time.

I woke up the next morning and could hardly walk. I also think I strained my smile muscles. It was a heck of a show.

I arrived at 8:30 p.m. to find Harlow's mostly empty, so I went upstairs to Momo's where folk rocker Dan Bern was finishing up his set.

What an unexpected treat that was. I caught three songs, including one, presumably called "This is the year-by-year home run totals of the great Barry Bonds," which was just that.

"In 1986, he hit 16 home runs. . . then 25, 24, 19, 33," and so on and so forth.

I really enjoyed the abridged set of catchy, funny, immediately sing-along-able folk songs. Bern and his acoustic guitar were accompanied by a banjo, harmonica and lap steel. The musicians had eschewed the corner stage, choosing instead to stake out a patch of floor in the center of the room from which to hold court. What would have been an intimate show regardless was suddenly far more so.

Next time Mr. Bern comes to town, it won't be blind luck that gets me to the show. It'll be clear-eyed intent. That boy's good.

About 15 minutes into my Dan Bern experience, I heard a pulsing beat coming from downstairs. Deputy's opening act, Chicago's Mighty Dub Killerz, had taken the stage. With great ambivalence, I bid adieu to Bern and the boys and headed down to Harlow's, more out of a sense of duty to you, dear reader, than an actual desire to trade out shows.

It was a very different scene downstairs.

Mighty Dub Killerz are a fairly hardcore electronica reggae dubstep act. Zach Deputy is about as laid back as they come, island breeze summertime soul-calypso reggae.

The reggae is about the only thing the two share, and they couldn't be further apart on the reggae scale.

If you were to draw a Venn diagram of the two acts’ respective fan bases, the 1 percent overlap would encompass me and about 15 other dudes.

Your typical Zach Deputy fan sees MDK, with their pounding bass, rib shaking "wompwompwompWOMPWOMPWOMP" and rapped lyrics like "I was innocent, ‘cause I was militant, we had to instigate a prison riot," and they are at the least perplexed, and quite possibly fearful.

Take Paul Mason, who wrote on Mr. Deputy's Facebook wall regarding the Sacramento show: "Any opening band tonight? I was at the show in SF at the Boom Boom Room, and I wouldn't want to experience that opener again..."

Some folks just can't handle the womp.

I thought it was great. I especially enjoyed their take on classics that they dubbed out and made their own. They did a dope riff on Peter Tosh's "Legalize It," which included a nod to Musical Youth's "Pass the Dutchie" ("How does it feel when you got no herb?") and another on Bob Marley's "Sun Is Shining" ( "To the rescue, here I am!").

Mine was the minority opinion, however. For the bulk of the set, I was the only person on the dance floor. I was joined sporadically by an extra crunchy, young tie-dyed couple who would gamely give it a go for a couple minutes at a time, before adjourning back to their seats.

It was basically an unfortunate pairing for the fans as well as the band. It's a shame, because there is a vibrant dustup scene in Sacramento, but they were all over at Townhouse, where Tuesday night happens to be Grimey (dubstep) night. Right town, right night, wrong venue. Two out of three ain't good.

To the relief of many, the set ended just after 9:30, and the squares could breath a little easier.

People kept steadily pouring in through the break, and what had been a nearly empty room when I had first arrived was nicely peopled by the time Big Zach took the stage just after 10 p.m.

Zach's a one-man band, and he has quite the control center/cockpit setup on stage. He is bracketed on either side by all manner of electronic gadgets and gizmos (not the technical terms, but I'm a greenhorn when it comes to the tools of his trade). I recognized one of them to be an electronic drum pad, but that was only because he was hitting it with a drumstick, and I was able to put two and two together.

In front of him a whole bouquet of microphones jut up at chin level. At his feet are a plethora of pedals that he uses to, among other things, record loops of himself which he then plays over. His live songs are kind of like jigsaw puzzles: you get one piece at a time, you keep putting them together until eventually you have a picture of dogs playing poker. Except, the picture is an amazing song, and there's no dogs playing poker (ed. note: What the hell are you talking about?).

He opened with "My Annie," a beautiful, yearning love song that really shows off his four-octave vocal range with some awesome, climbing scalelike singing and a bouncy beat.

Up next was "Valencia." He started out with a tight little guitar lick, added some strummed guitar, a little beat boxing and then some drums. By the time he starts singing in earnest, "I met her on the mountain, y'all," the crowd was in a minor tizzy, that became less so when he reached the titular chorus.

The crowd maintained their intensity level through a wailing jam on "All I Need," then tizzy became fervor on the fourth song of the evening, the uber-funky "Mama Just Dance."

He followed that with about the dirtiest tango song you'll ever hear in your life. "Way Down Tango" features Zach spitting hot fire over a bass-heavy and seriously infectious groove. This ain't your grandmother's tango.

After a blistering guitar solo to cap "Tango," he closed an epic first set with fan favorite and oh-so subtle "Tubesteak" ("You only want me for my tubesteak and my collared greens"). The fervor became even more fervent.

At 11:01 ZD left the stage for a relatively rare but well deserved Tuesday night set break.

You know how when an alcoholic stops drinking for years and then gets back on the sauce, the alcoholism returns as it would if they had been drinking the whole time they were sober? Zach Deputy is kind of like that, but with music. 11:31 he started up, not right where he left off, but where he would have been if he had never stopped in the first place. He obliterated the bluesy "Doctor Doctor" to open the second set, and bam, just like that, we were at fever pitch again.

There we remained the rest of the evening. "Act That Way" featured an extended instrumental intro that really showcased Zach's incredible musicianship. "That Girl" is another searingly soulful funk track that would get even your most died in the wool "stand there and watch" concertgoers getting loose.

"Mama Don't Preach" beat-boxed and jangled it's way into a rip-roaring "Most People Never Heard Real Music." Present company excluded, of course.

He closed the set with probably my favorite song of the evening, the ultimate "feel good song of the summer," for this summer and all others, "Coconut."

As big as the smiles in the audience were when Zach hit the sing-along "Oooah whoooooaaah, wash it in the water" refrain, the biggest and brightest smile in the place probably belonged to the man on stage.

At 12:38 he left the stage, only to return moments later for a two-song encore, which began with a crowd favorite, "Games," but closed with by far his slowest, most mellow song of the evening. Closing an encore with a really mellow song is a controversial move for sure. It was to the consternation of many in the audience who clearly wanted to end the evening with another barn burner, but I thought it was a nice, chill way to close the evening. Plus, I was pretty out of breath by that point.

Big Zach FTW.

Zach Deputy brings the sunshine.

2011-03-29T02:22:40Z

This past summer, for the first time, I attended the High Sierra Music
Festival in Quincy, Calif. It was, without a doubt, the best music
festival I have ever attended.

We have been lucky to have a steady flow of past and future High
Sierra performers coming through Sacramento recently, and the trend
continues Tuesday night.

Tuesday night, Harlow's plays host to High Sierra personified, the
"Gospel Soul Ninja" himself, Zach Deputy.

Although I do not have the official count, I estimate that the
one-man-super-band from South Carolina played 38 sets in the 72 or so
hours that he graced the Quincy Fairgrounds with his presence. You
couldn't swing a dead cat (or a kind-vegan-ganja-gooball, if you're not into swinging dead cats) without hitting Zach Deputy, mid guerilla-style RV rooftop set. It was amazing and wonderful.

On a weekend where the smile never left my face, my smile was never
bigger than when Deputy was performing. Take a look at a description
from Deputy’s website.

"Put simply, Zach Deputy does what is called live looping: layering
sounds through the magic of technology to create a full band effect.
He isn’t the only performer out there doing this, but he has taken the
technique to the next level. First and foremost, however, Zach Deputy
is a songwriter, a shredding guitarist and a soulful singer with a 4+
octave vocal range... He is a one man dance party..."

Deputy combines rock, reggae, hip hop, soul, calypso and dancehall to
create infectious tunes that demand you stand up and get down. He's like
the Pied Piper of happy-happy-fun-time. It might be a coincidence
that the sun is shining in Sacramento for the first time in weeks just
in time for Deputy’s arrival, but I doubt it.

Come to Harlow's Tuesday and ring in spring with music that will make
you feel like it’s summer.

Zach Deputy plays at 8:30 p.m. on Tuesday, March 29. Tickets are $12.
I'll see you on the dance floor!

Walking Spanish, "Wishbones"

2011-03-25T04:42:39Z

In late February I went to a show at Old Ironsides, my first. I had come to see Nicki Bluhm and the Gramblers, an Americana rock group from San Francisco that I had previously seen absolutely dominate a set at High Sierra Music Festival.

The other two acts on the bill were local bands Honyock and Walking Spanish. It's not surprising that a band with a nationwide reputation and fan base would enlist a couple local stalwarts to join them on stage and ensure a packed house.

What was surprising, to me at least, was that Walking Spanish wasn't opening for Nicki Bluhm. Nicki Bluhm was opening for Walking Spanish.

Knowing what an incredible show the Gramblers put on, I was skeptical (apprehensive?) that the young bucks would be able to follow them without being overshadowed. There are many a big name national act who would pale by comparison, and there's no shame in it. Nicki and the boys are just that good.

As it turned out, my concerns were unfounded. Alex Nelson (lead singer, guitarist and songwriter) and the boys (Timothy Picchi on bass, Christopher Haislet on keys, Robert Mills II on drums and Thomas Gunterman on violin) were more than up for the challenge. They played a phenomenal set, brilliantly opening with a Mother Hips cover, a nod to Tim Bluhm, founding member of the Hips, the Gramblers and Nicki's husband. They also played a Depeche Mode cover, which is always a good decision.

Where they really impressed, however, was with their original songs, many of which were from their upcoming album, "Wishbones."

Walking Spanish is throwing its "Wishbones" release party Friday at Old Ironsides. I was able to procure a copy of the album in advance, and boy howdy, it's a barn burner.

Their eponymous debut (2006) had flashes of brilliance, displaying their skill as musicians, but was raw, unpolished. Their new album has no holes. It is a complete work. "Wishbones" is the kind of album that you can listen to from start to finish, on repeat, and I've been doing just that.

The songs are fully developed. The solos and interludes are searing but restrained, integral to the songs. It's all about the songs on this record.

The album starts with "What If You Knew My Name?" a key-heavy toe-tapper whose poppy sensibilities belie its lamenting lyrics. The song is broken up with a fantastic instrumental interlude vaguely reminiscent of the "Layla" coda. Awesome.

Up next is "Sarah Marie," which is a great example of Nelson's growth as a songwriter. What begins as a slow, bluesy ode to the titular young lady becomes something very different. The song picks up pace steadily through the first four verses before entering an intermezzo momentarily reminiscent of San Francisco's Jellyfish, from which they emerge with crushing staccato power cords and then a prog rock guitar riff that leads back to whence they had come. It ends with Nelson issuing a warning, "Your days are numbered/ better start to count." All this in a 2:35 song. One of the best tracks on the album.

"Jacksin (Is Long Gone)" is another one. It's the rare rock song that makes good use of an accordion and has a bouncy, almost polka-esque theme running throughout. The song tells the story of a veteran who finds his lady with another man, with tragic results. Nelson extends himself as a storyteller on "Jacksin", and the band extends themselves as well with several instrumental interludes of varying styles.

"Sweet Cherry Lane" is a mournful, poignant ballad to love lost. "I watched the mountain crumble as your heart forgot my name," Nelson sings. "The picture frames are being emptied now/ what a cheap memory."

The album takes its name from the fifth track, "Counterfeit Wishbones." As good as it is on the album (very), the rollicking power rocker is better live, as it affords the band such an opportunity to extend the already crunchy instrumental jams, bringing the crowd to theretofore unfound heights. I remember it well from last month and look forward to seeing it again on Friday.

"Amor Vincit Omnia" proves that Nelson can write a love song that isn't mournful or tragic. Love conquers all. A beautiful sentiment and a beautiful song. (Upon closer inspection, it isn't entirely rainbows and sunshine after all. Nelson sings, "Rock and roll has tamed my soul, and left me smiling at the gallows pole." "Tiptoe through the Tulips" this ain't.

Another great song, "The Simple Moves," combines a rip-roaring Skynyrd-esque riff, with some soulful keys and poignant lyrics ("It's hard to be somebody when ‘somebody’ is your name"). The guitar-driven coda to this track would make the boys from Jacksonville proud.

"The Soldiers Lullaby" tells another sad tale, this of a soldier (natch) dying in battle and pining for his love. It's got an old-timey saloon feel to it, and I picture the protagonist losing his life somewhere in Europe during either the Great War or WWII. A beautiful love song that finishes on a hopeful note. "I'll build us a house in heaven to share," Nelson sings, channeling the young combatant, "and I'll wait, I'll wait for you there."

"Mama Don't Love Him" features an epic piano solo by Nelson's older brother, Jackie Greene, who also produced the album and contributes backing vocals, organ and tambourine at various junctures.

The album closes with its longest song, "Holiday Years." It's a super upbeat dance track about going on vacation.

Just kidding, it's a powerfully poignant and lovely ballad. Nelson sends us off with this: "Don't be afraid, don't be afraid, everything must change, I'll be gone/ so long."

It is a hell of an album, if a bit melancholy. Hey, it's the trials and tribulations in life that generally lead to the greatest pieces of art. Without it, you get this. Nobody wants that.

The "Wishbones" CD release party is at 9 p.m. on Friday.

Opening for Walking Spanish will be local rockers Prieta, about whom illustrious local music scribe Aaron Davis once said, "They'll knock your penis off, great band!" I'm seriously looking forward to them.

Tickets are $7.

I'll see you on the dance floor.

Kings take it to the Warriors.

2011-03-16T04:03:12Z

Your Sacramento Kings played host to the Golden State Warriors on Monday night, possibly for the final time.

In front of a raucous crowd of 14,243, the home team played inspired ball for three quarters and held off a furious fourth-quarter comeback by the Warriors' B team to win 129-119.

The Kings were led by Samuel Dalembert (27 points, 16 rebounds) and newcomer Marcus Thornton (42 points, 4 steals), who both went for career highs in points against the porous (sievelike? nonexistent?) Warriors D.

The Warriors drew first blood on a Dorrell Wright corner three. The Kings answered with a spectacular 19-0 run. In my mind, I heard "Sweet Georgia Brown" playing as the Kings made their NorCal rivals look Washington General-esque with a dizzying array of sweet takes, no-look passes, fake no-look passes, steals and all-around domination.

Following a timeout and mass substitution, the Warriors were able to slow the onslaught with their second-teamers on the floor and escape the first quarter down "just" 15, 35-20. It felt like it could have been more.

The few times the Warriors were able to put together a semblance of a run, the Kings had an answer. Marcus Thornton stopped a four-point mini-Warriors run with a fast break slam-dunk three-point play off a MADE basket. The Warriors couldn't get out of their own way.

The Warriors were able to keep it relatively close in the second quarter when Monte Ellis and Stephen Curry decided to join the game. Golden State trailed 47-23 when Stephen Curry hit a 20-foot jumper, giving the highest-scoring backcourt in the NBA its first two points of the evening, almost 15 minutes into the game. Ellis, Curry and Wright combined for 28 points in the quarter, and the visitors were able to cut the home team's lead to 12, 71-59, at the half.

At this point, Thornton already had 26 points, and Dalembert already had a double double (19 and 10).

The deluge continued in the third quarter as Demarcus Cousins (15 points, 9 boards, 4 assists) entered the fray in earnest after a relatively quiet first half. "Big Cuz" had 10 points and 2 assists in the quarter, including a ridiculous three-quarter-court outlet bounce pass to Francisco Garcia that extended the lead to 17 and sent the crowd into a tizzy.

By the end of the third, the Kings had extended the lead to 23 points, 107-84, and Warriors Coach Keith Smart had seen enough. The Warriors' starting five of Curry (19 points), Ellis (15 points), Wright (18 points), David Lee (8 points) and Andris Biedrins (0 points) were done for the evening. They would watch the rest of the game from the bench.

They had the best seats in the house to watch their backups (led by the Warriors' new Thornton, Al, who had 23 points) play an inspired fourth quarter, cutting the 23-point lead to just 9 with 2:14 to play.

The Kings were able to avoid a repeat of their epic collapse the last time the Warriors were in town, however. After Acie Law missed an open three-pointer that could have cut the lead to six with 90 seconds remaining, Garcia sealed the deal with a three of his own. Game, set, match.

"It's nice to get outscored 35-22 in the fourth and get a win" Kings Head Coach Paul Westphal opened at the postgame presser. "We did a lot of good things tonight."

They certainly did.

It bears noting that they did all this without star guard Tyreke Evans. Kings fans should be ecstatic at the prospect of Thornton (23 years old) teaming with Cousins (20) and Evans (21) in the years to come.

Or tormented by the prospect of it happening in Anaheim. I suppose it depends on your outlook.

See more photos at Darren Hall Photography

House of Floyd

2011-03-14T06:14:53Z

In the spring of 1994, Pink Floyd embarked on what would be their final world tour, in support of The Division Bell.

I was a sophomore in high school when they played their three-show April run at the Oakland Coliseum and had only recently discovered Floyd in earnest.

Which is to say, I had only recently begun to smoke pot.

I had yet to take acid and listen to/watch “Dark Side of the Moon” synced up with “The Wizard of Oz.” (Or “Alice in Wonderland,” or “Fantasia.” “Gone with the Wind?” I think what “Dark Side” really syncs up with is the acid.)

If they had come through Oakland in June, there is a good chance I would have joined my cooler friends (and our "cool" high school security guard John, who would open the parking lot gates for us at a price, usually a dip — there is a fine line between "cool" and "creepy") at the Coliseum for at least one of the shows.

Alas, my appreciation of Floyd and their tour dates didn't quite sync up, and I never got another chance to see them.

Saturday night at the Crest Theatre, I got something of a reprieve.

The House of Floyd, a Pink Floyd tribute band, was in town, and they offered up as close a facsimile of a classic Floyd show as you can hope to find today, with the possible (probable? certain? probably certain) exception of a Roger Waters gig.

I walked down to the Crest at around 7 p.m., dodging a brutally bastardized combination of Second Saturday lurkers and poop-faced premature St. Patty's Day pub-crawlers as I went. It was just like The Walking Dead out there, except instead of zombies hunting brains, it was jackholes hunting Irish car-bombs. I'm not sure which scenario unnerves me more. (Actually, the latter, because at least you can take a bat to the zombies.)

I was ecstatic when I reached the Crest, unbitten. I surveyed the scene, which was refreshingly free of green top hats, leprechaun vests, "Kiss me, I'm a moron” shirts and nearly all other trappings of the one-time religious, now sophomorically inebria-centric holiday which remained five days away.

The crowd at the Crest was as diverse a group of white people as you'll ever find.

College kids, 20-somethings, 30-somethings, middle-aged couples with their kids, aging hippies, aged hippies. It ran the gamut. Pink Floyd truly has a universal and timeless appeal (to white people).

After a $5.75 Negra Modela, I adjourned outside for a smoke, where I met Jillian and Bryan.

"I thought I was buying tickets for a Pink Floyd laser light show," Bryan said. "I didn't realize it was a live tribute band playing until later."

I took my seat in the auditorium at a couple minutes after 8 p.m.

At 8:09 p.m. the lights went down.

At 8:10 p.m., the band took the stage, the backdrop lit up with a shot of the moon, and through the speakers began the cacophonous intro of "Speak to Me/Breathe" — the heart beat, the clocks, the cash register, the creepily spoken line "I've always been mad. I know I've been mad, like the most of us are. It's very hard to explain why you're mad, even if you're not mad."

By the time the wailing came around and they entered into the meat of the song, I was covered in goosebumps.

"This is amazing!" was my first thought.

My second? "Man, I wish I was stoned right now."

I don't puff at shows I'm covering, even if it is offered (and it is, often). I try to pay great attention to detail in order to paint a more vivid picture and, hopefully, add to your enjoyment of the piece. In this case, dear reader, I feel I may have done you a disservice by being such a straight-edge weenie. I mean, this is freakin’ Pink Floyd we're talking about.

During the course of the evening, the movie screen behind the stage showed a wide variety of images, both familiar and un, that were often spliced with live video of the performers on stage. The common theme throughout? This would look awesome if you were baked right now. A few highlights, all from the first 10 minutes or so:

- One of the first images was of the words "ARE YOU TRIPPING?" with the letters slightly Dali-fied, as if to hammer the question home and increase the likelihood that your answer would be yes.

- Moments later, "Did everything just taste purple for a second?" Classic stoner move, switching a color for a taste or vice versa. I wished everything tasted purple for a second, but, alas, it did not.

- Toward the end of their second song of the evening, the Syd Barrett penned 1967 classic "Astronomy Domine," they started playing the Pink Elephant scene from "Dumbo," which is the first hallucinatory trip we are ever exposed to as children, and has been for more than three generations. And to top it off, it's a bad trip. The first time I watched it, I wigged out. "The pink elephants! They're everywhere! And they won't stop marching! Now one giant elephant is made out of hella little ones, and it's all up in my face! Get me out of here!". I was four.

- Giant melting mushrooms.

"Shine On parts 1-5", another goosebump-inducer, was up next, followed by "Keep Talking" off "The Division Bell". Sheri Showalter and Melissa Hartley, two backup singers who swayed rhythmically while nailing the many female singing parts in the P.F. oeuvre, really got a chance to shine for the first time on the latter number: "Why won't you talk to me? What are you thinking?" It was also the first song (of many) where Joe Bartone brought out the Frampton-y talk box.

The rest of the first set was a doozy: "Welcome to the Machine" led into "Mother," with lead guitarist/vocalist Pat Potter swapping out his electric axe for an acoustic. Since potter already had his acoustic out, Bartone swapped his electric for an epic "Wish You Were Here.”(the opening strains of which were strummed, recorded and used by me as my outgoing voicemail for about half of my junior year in high school. Their version was better.) They plugged in again for "Pigs (3 Different Ones)" and one of my all time favorites, "Have a Cigar", before re-entering "Shine On Pts 6-9" to close it out.

They left the stage at 9:19pm, and returned a little over 10 minutes later. They opened the second set with "Raving and Drooling" the opening song from their 1975 tour. Never recorded, it was changed to "Sheep" for at the Animals album.

They rejoined the mega-hit portion of the program for their next stretch, tapping Darkside with "Time" (more goosebumps), "Great Gig in the Sky" (holy amazing pipes! Sheri absolutely nailed the unreal wordless wailing vocal, laid down on the album by Clare Torry ), and "Money", the last of which afforded vocalist and keyboard player mark Showalter to show off his sizable saxophone chops.

Up next was a stretch from "the Wall", starting with "Another Brick 2", which led to the first dancer of the evening. A lone woman, about four rows back on the floor, at first danced by her seat, attempting, with no success, to start a trend. She soon recognized that she was fighting a losing battle and moved her one-woman dance party to the aisle. Across the venue, I stood up and danced next to the stage. Solidarity and whatnot.

She maintained her post through most of "Empty Spaces> What Shall We do Now?" before abandoning ship before "Young Lust" (The screen behind the band was playing the "Off with their heads/paint the roses red" scene from "Alice in Wonderland. Awesome.).

They finished the second set with "Run like Hell", which got the girl and a newfound partner back on their feet, cutting the rug in the aisle. At 10:19 the band left the stage, only to return 30 seconds later to cap off the evening with "Comfortably Numb", which was mind-blowing to hear live.

I don't know if it made up for my missing The Division Bell Tour, but seeing House of Floyd certainly eased the sting. The guys and girls in House of Floyd do an amazing job of recreating the huge, lush, layered soundscapes for which Pink Floyd is so known, and loved.

Now, it wasn't perfect:

-The laser show, considering Pink Floyd has become almost synonymous with them, was something of a disappointment: It probably would have been considered cutting edge about 30 years ago. Saturday, it was a little sad. They are doing amazing things with lasers these days. H.o.F could take a lesson from the electronica movement and bring their laser show up to date.

-The vocals weren't identical (Not Britishy enough?) to the source material, but what tribute band/replacement singer's are? (besides the Fillipino kid that Journey drafted to the bigs 'cuz he does a better Steve Perry than Steve Perry)

-The venue. Though beautiful, and lovingly restored, The Crest is not the best place to see a show. The sound is good, if a little bass heavy, but it just doesn't lend itself to dancing at all. If they took out the chairs on the floor, leveled off the ground in front of the stage and added a couple bars it could be something akin to a Warfied East. As it stands, The Crest more closely resembles John Lithgow's character in "Footloose".

Minor quibbles all, none of which I took home with me. What I did take home, and will carry with me for a while, is the feeling I got listening to "Comfortably Numb" played live for the first time, in all it's glory.

Maybe it wasn't Pink Floyd, when I closed my eyes, it might as well have been.

House of Floyd will be back in town playing at Harlow's on May 7th. Tickets are $20 and dancing is actively encouraged.

North Mississippi Allstars at Harlow's

2011-03-11T03:51:24Z

One of the best days of my life was spent in North Mississippi.

On my way to New Orleans from Nashville in the summer of 2009, I decided to stop in Clarksdale, Miss. It was a little out of the way, but the pulled pork at Abe's Barbecue was supposedly a game changer, and that was good enough for me.

A little after 9 a.m., I pulled into Abe's, located at the intersection of two highways, 61 and 49. A crossroads, really. The Crossroads, to be exact.

I had, completely unbeknownst to me (in spite of myself?), stumbled upon the birthplace of the blues, the very spot of lore where Robert Johnson sold his soul to the devil.

All ‘cause fatty wanted a sammich.

I ended up spending the day in Clarksdale, staying the night at the Shack Up Inn, located on the converted Hopson Plantation. After eating my sammich, checking out the Crossroads, the Delta Blues Museum, the spot where Muddy Waters was born, the spot where Bessie Smith died, and the whimsically named Hambone and Cat Head Delta Blues Art Galleries, I had worked up quite a thirst.

I watched the sun set over the plantation while drinking sweet tea vodka and Country Time Lemonade Arnold Palmers out of mason jars on the front stoop of a converted shotgun shack. My drinking companions were a French Canadian couple, two Irish lasses and a foreword-thinking fellow from Knoxville. (He had brought the sweet tea vodka. The lemonade was mine. Kismet.) They had all come to explore the Delta Blues Highway. I had come for a sandwich.

We would end up taking the party over to Ground Zero Blues Club for an epic open mic night, hosted by Daddy Rich, and closed with a set by Mr. Tater the Music Maker (R.I.P), "the last of the true Delta Blues street performers".

Fast forward to Tuesday night, the North Mississippi Allstars played a show at Harlow's.

The show was to concerts at Harlow's what that late summer day in Clarksdale was to. . . uh. . .days: damn near perfect.

When I arrived at 10 minutes past 8 p.m., Luther Dickinson was alone on stage, already wailing away, a rack of guitars to his right.

Dickinson is the lead singer of North Mississippi Allstars and was opening for himself.

To say that he is a talented guitarist would be an understatement. The cat is amazing. He played just about every guitar in the rack during his opening set, in all manner of styles.

The first song I caught from beginning to end was a slide blues number about Highway 61, one half of the legendary Crossroads.

He was already on his fourth guitar of the evening when he went into an epic instrumental jam, employing a thumb-slapping technique on the guitar that would generally be associated with electric bass players (think Les Claypool). For a moment the tune reminded me of "Sinister Minister" by Béla Fleck and the Flecktones. How one man with a guitar is able to create a sound reminiscent of Béla (banjo) and Victor Wooten (bass) at their absolute nastiest is beyond me, but, like I said, Dickinson ain't your average guitar player.

Another high point was his rendition of "Georgia Women," a Hill Country Revue cover of a song by another North Mississippi hill country blues man, R.L. Burnside.

Playing to his audience, Dickinson took some liberties with the lyrics: "I don't know, but I been told, California women. . . they sweet jelly roll.”

The packed house ate it up.

Dickinson finished off the solo portion of the evening with a rollicking cover of the Big Joe Williams classic "Shake Your Boogie," which got the audience doing just that.

At 8:40 p.m., Dickinson's brother Cody jumped on stage and took his rightful place behind the drum kit.

Dickinson commemorated his sibling’s arrival on stage by bringing out what I believe to have been his sixth guitar of the evening. This one was a doozy: a coffee can guitar, which is just what it sounds like. A coffee can serves as the body of the guitar, with what looks like a broom handle serving as the neck. Two strings serve as strings.

He played it both plugged and unplugged, holding the open bottom of the coffee can atop his mic. The unplugged stunt proved to be the death knell of the opening set, as the sound system couldn't handle the sheer amount of awesome going down, and we were hit with a couple shrieking blasts of feedback. On that note, Dickinson put down his Frankenaxe and informed us that they would be back in a few before adjourning backstage with his brother.

Twenty minutes later, the brothers Dickinson returned to the stage, this time accompanied by the force of nature that is Chris Chew on bass. The band was whole, and the show was about to go supernova.

They opened with the revival-esque "The Meeting" off their new album, "Keys to the Kingdom," which is an homage to the brothers’ father, Jim Dickinson, a North Mississippi blues legend and the former frontman of Mudboy and the Neutrons.

Jim Dickinson passed away in the summer of '09 while the Allstars were on hiatus, Luther playing lead guitar for The Black Crowes and Cody manning the skins for the Hill Country Revue. In the months before his death, Jim told his boys that he wanted them to play together, that they were far better together than they would ever be apart.

"Keys to the Kingdom" is the result of the boys honoring one of their father’s last wishes, and it is some powerful stuff.

After another soulful, emotive track off the album, "Let It Roll," Dickinson bantered a bit with the already-riled up audience.

"This is our first time in Sac,” (raucous cheers). “Y'all feeling alright?” (more of the same). “I'm feeling pretty good myself,” (bedlam).

Up next was one of my favorite cuts of the evening, "Mean Old Wind Died Down," a driving blues track that starts out with Dickinson singing in harmony with his juicy slide licks, before heavy-ing it up with some distorted power cords, then capping it off with an absolutely shredded finger-picked solo.

On a couple songs, big daddy Chris Chew ably took over lead vocal duties. The first such instance was on "I'd Love to Be a Hippy" off their 2008 album, "Hernando." "I'd love to be a hippy, but my hair won't grow that long," the bassist croons, taking the time between verses to pulverize a rib cage-rattling bass solo.

During a downturn in the especially boisterous "Shake What Your Momma Gave You," a young lady who was doing as she was told saw her opening and took it. "You guys are smoking hot!" she cried out, capping her exclamation with a warbled half-"yeah"-half-"woo": "yeahwooo!" She was right on all counts.

It was as packed as I've ever seen Harlow's on a Tuesday night, and between the musicians on stage and the adoring, pulsating throng in front of it, the room had a decidedly tropical heat. It was a fairly chilly night outside, but inside it was about 80 degrees and rising.

The entire two-hour set was just a series of high points, but a few more moments bear mentioning:

- At one juncture, Chew sat out and Luther was playing by himself. Cody had his back to the audience behind his kit, and it took a moment for me to realize that there was a keyboard back there the whole time. After wailing on the keys for a bit, he switched over to the washboard. I didn't know it was possible to "shred" a washboard, but Cody did just that.

- A little later during another epic jam, Cody ended up with a guitar in his hands. As he played the kick drum and hi-hat with his feat, he began to exchange licks with his brother until he was playing a full-blown ridiculous solo of his own. Unreal.

- Dickinson's final guitar of the night (eighth? 10th? By this time I had lost track. Call it a plethora) was another cobbled-together Franken-instrument. This one had a body made from a cigar box and four strings. As he had with every other guitar of the evening, he absolutely dominated with the cigar-tar.

All told, the gathered throng was treated to a solid three hours of North Mississippi mayhem, and by the time they encored with "Talking ‘bout the Ghetto," the crowd was in such a fervor that it almost felt like a revival.

One thing's for sure: We had seen the light.

Don't sleep on North Mississippi.

Truth is coming!

2011-03-09T02:39:06Z

I've got some great news.

Truth & Salvage Company is making a triumphant return to Harlow's on Wednesday evening.

T&S is the only band to have (with a big nod to The Avett Brothers) two of their concerts appear on Aaron Davis' top 10 Sacramento shows of 2010, and that doesn't include their September gig opening for Tea Leaf Green at Harlow's, which led a certain wide-eyed young Sac Press reporter to proclaim: "Truth & Salvage was a game changer. I think everyone should go see them, every chance they get. I certainly will be."

Since I've already broken the golden rule of "doth not quote thine self, lest ye wish to appear a pretentious ass.", I may as well keep it going:

"Truth & Salvage was born in Hollywood in 2005, but the bands roots and soul lie in places as disparate as Asheville, N.C.; New Orleans; Indianapolis; Tupelo, Miss.; Atlanta; deep-southern Ohio and, I like to think, in the backseat of a Greyhound bus, rolling down Highway 41. It is an unusual six-piece band featuring four singer/songwriters, each of whom brings a unique voice to the group."

The following quote from a recent article on T&S Co. in the Boise Weekly also sums the band up nicely : "The Sacramento Press likened the band to 'a freight train ride down the Route 66 of American music,' complete with Hammond organ, steel guitar and accordion on board.".

Alright, we admit it, a couple of us here in the music department at SacPress are a wee bit smitten with the So-Cal sextet and their soulful, bluesy, countrified-rock'n'roll. Come check 'em out on Wednesday and you will be too.

Opening the show will be Monterey's Honeymoon, a quartet of female singer/songwriters playing their own brand of Americana Folk, which Phil Lesh (Grateful Dead, Furthur, do I really have to do this?) described as the music of "sirens and goddesses". (Goddesses in the pre-Charlie Sheen definition of the word)

Tickets are $10.00.

Doors open at 8:00pm.

I haven't been this excited for a show since, well. . . Mustache Harbor.

But before that, since the last time Truth & Salvage were in town.

I'll see you on the dance floor.

North Mississippi Allstars

2011-03-08T02:40:49Z

Tuesday night, Sacramento is going to receive a heavy dose of crushing hillcountry blues in the form of a visit from the three-time Grammy-nominated North Mississippi Allstars, who will be burning Harlow's to the ground, figuratively speaking.

The Allstars hail from Hernando, Miss., a town 80 minutes north on The Delta Blues Highway from the birthplace of the blues (and the famous crossroads where Robert Johnson sold his soul those many years ago), Clarksdale, Miss., and 30 minutes south of "Blues City", Memphis, Tenn.

Along this stretch of Highway 61, you can't throw a dead cat without hitting a really good blues musician. And the cat probably played a mean harmonica. If you ever have the chance, go to an open mic at Red's or Ground Zero in Clarksdale: Your mind will be blown. You have to be incredible to stand out, but stand out is exactly what the North Mississippi Allstars do.

As if there wasn't enough geographic pressure on the group to be spectacular badasses, throw in a little genealogical pressure: Luther (guitar and vocals) and Cody (drums and vocals) are the progeny of Memphis bluesman and producer Jim Dickinson, who, among other things, fronted Mudboy & the Neutrons.

It's not easy to emerge from the shadow of a legendary father, but emerge they have.

Sadly, the elder Dickinson passed away in August of '09. At the time of his passing, NMA was on hiatus, with brother Luther playing lead guitar for The Black Crowes while brother Cody manned the skins for Hill Country Revue. In the months before his death, Jim told his sons that he wanted them to play together, that they were far better together than they'd ever be apart.

The younger Dickinsons honored their father's wishes and dedicated their new album, "Keys to the Kingdom," to his memory. "Keys" is the "Allstars' swampiest, greasiest, grittiest, funkiest – and most heartfelt, poignant and honest – release to date." (Relix)

If you like jammed-out Mississippi swamp-blues (and who doesn't?), you'd better be at Harlow's Tuesday night. It doesn't get much better than this.

Doors open at 8:00pm.
Tickets $17.50
See you on the dance floor.

Sierra Nevada Brew Night

2011-03-03T02:56:44Z

Old Ironsides was packed to the gills Saturday night for an epic three-band bill. Two of Sacramento's best young rock bands, Honyock and Walking Spanish, bookended San Francisco darlings Nicki Bluhm and the Gramblers.

All three played inspired sets, as you would know if you were there.

If you weren't, well, you would be well served to attend their next Sacramento gigs.

Honyock is bringing their rare blend of folk, classic and new age rock to the Luna's on Friday, March 4.

Walking Spanish will be bringing their searing high-energy indie rock, fronted by Jackie Greene's virtuosic kid bro Alex Nelson, back to Old I for their CD release party on March 25.

And Nicki Bluhm and the Gramblers — well, Nicki has no Sacramento dates upcoming, although she has been known to make surprise (or not-so-surprise) appearances at her husband's shows. Tim Bluhm will be at Marilyn's on K with the Mother Hips this Saturday.

So what of the Gramblers, you ask?

You're in luck. Three of them will be headlining the Sierra Nevada Brew Night at the Shady Lady on Thursday.

in conjunction with Sacramento Beer Week, the Shady Lady will have Sierra Nevada Hoptimum, Glissade and a special top-secret brewer’s choice on draft.

Dave Mulligan & Friends (Deren Ney and Mike Curry) go on at 10 p.m. These guys are all supremely talented musicians, and they assured me personally that they will be blowing the doors off. Chico's Dick and Jane open things up at 9 p.m.

It's not every day you get a second chance. I just gave you four of ‘em. See you at the shows.

Sacramento Lady Lions Auditions

2011-03-01T06:35:46Z

Everything I know about cheerleading, I learned from "Bring It On," Cheri Oteri and Sue Sylvester. ("This is not a democracy, it's a cheerocracy. . . Go Spartans!. . . I'm all about empowerment. I empower my Cheerios to live in a state of constant fear by creating an environment of irrational, random terror.")

In other words, I know absolutely nothing about cheerleading.

I wasn't about to let this impediment prevent me from attending the Sacramento Mountain Lions Lady Lions Cheerleaders auditions, however.

Held Saturday afternoon at the Sacramento Youth Football Training Center in Rio Linda, this was the first of two preliminary rounds leading up to the finals.

Thirty young ladies showed up in hopes of receiving an invitation to the aforementioned finals, to be held April 1 at Basic in Roseville. In addition to the women trying out for a spot in the finals, 13 veterans of last year's squad were in attendance. The returnees have a "bye" to the finals, but many showed up anyway to learn the routine and offer encouragement to the new girls.

Soon after I arrived, Lindsay Shoemaker, the director of the Lady Lions, filled me in on some parameters:

-There will be 32 women on the squad.

-Twenty returnees have a pass to the finals, but have no guarantees of making the squad. They have to earn their spots.

-They hope to have between 75 and 80 finalists.

-In order to try out, you must turn 18 before June 1. There is no upper age limit.

The girls ranged in age from 17 to 32, from high school seniors to a former Frankfurt Galaxy cheerleader. Many were currently college undergrads, and one of them had a master's degree in economics.

There was even a magazine editor in the bunch.

The two things they all seemed to have in common were a love of dance and a desire to give back to the community. The former was readily apparent; the latter became clear during the brief interview portion. If the goal of the interview portion was to stand out, the 29 or so who mentioned a desire to give back to the community didn't necessarily achieve it.

I spoke to three young ladies who all danced at Sacramento City College and had come together to try out. I asked Vanecia Rogers how she was feeling, and she said, "I'm really anxious. I'm not about waiting, I'm ready to get started." Her friend, Jenna Miller, would be her dancing partner.

The tryouts themselves were led by Isela Perez, a veteran of last year's squad who will not be returning. (She'll be attending school at Long Beach State.)

The setup was as follows:

1) Head shots. Self explanatory

2) Warm up. Perez led the assembled ladies in some dance-oriented stretching. It reminded me a bit of the beginning of a football practice, but a lot more graceful and attractive. They went through all manner of squats, bends, lunges, stretches, spins and twists, many of which would not be available to me.

3) Across the floors. Aptly named, these consisted of the ladies splitting into pairs and crossing the floor on the diagonal in front of the judges. There were three separate versions, each performed twice. The first was a "jazz-walk" pass, the second a "high-kick" pass, and the third a "six-step" pass. Though not scored, these were the first opportunities for the women to connect with the judges.

4) Perez taught the whole group the choreographed dance routine. Broken up into eight parts, she taught each section on its own, and they built upon one another. Each section, individually, had a fair amount of moves in it – enough so that I would have had serious trouble getting through any one of them (even were all the moves available to me, which they decidedly were not. My dream of becoming a MoLo cheerleader was over before it started). The routine is set to "Who Dat Girl" by Akon and MoLo superfine Flo Rida. (In a related story, If I never hear this song again, it'll be too soon. "She ain't an actress, but she's in movies" *shudders.*)

5) They broke up into three groups and alternated performing the entire routine, an indeterminate (large) number of times. Lots. Practice makes perfect. This was the portion where the song started to really get to me. Akon and Flo Rida haunt my dreams. ("that girl, that girl, that guuuurl.")

6) It's business time. After the veterans ran through the routine as a group, the newbies paired off and were called up for a brief interview, followed by two run-throughs of the entire routine. At the end of the choreographed section, they had an opportunity to show off their own moves and their own style. By far my favorite was No. 14, 19-year-old Faith Gorman, who had the biggest smile in the room and put the exclamation point on her routine with some old-school popping and locking, even dropping a robot on the judges. Awesome.

7) Deliberation. The six judges took their time with the difficult decisions in front of them. The panel consisted of Shoemaker; Carol Roth, the assistant director of the Lady Lions; Justin Peyret, personal trainer for the Lady Lions via S.W.A.T. Elite Fitness; Becca Breining, former Kings Royal Court dancer, and a team choreographer as well as being the gameday MC for the Mountain Lions; Nate Jones, member of the Mountain Lions front office/ticket sales and promotional crew; and Susan Brink, a trained dancer and Shoemaker's mentor (and mom). They deliberated for a little over half an hour.

8) Results. The heart-wrenching portion of the day's festivities. All the would-be finalists gathered in a semicircle as Lindsay read off the numbers of those who made it. Twenty numbers were called, including each of the trio of Sac City girls with whom I spoke. Alas, No. 14 was not among those numbers called. Keep the faith, Faith! There's always round two! (Those who didn't make the cut were encouraged to return to the next round of preliminaries to give it another shot.)

I left with a newfound respect for, and understanding of, the sport of cheerleading. All the ladies worked incredibly hard, both physically and mentally, to pick up a complicated and grueling routine in a short amount of time. Cheerleading is seriously hard work.

Of course, it's all relative.

As Sue Sylvester says: "You think this is hard? Try being waterboarded. That's hard!"

Round two of auditions will be held at The Sacramento Youth Football Training Center, 5845 Dry Creek Road, Rio Linda. Registration begins at 11 a.m.

The finals will be held at Basic in Roseville on April 1 and will be open to the public.

It's Beer Week! Bottoms up!

2011-02-26T04:17:15Z

Museums, beer, live music and cheese.

If I were to make a list of my favorite things on earth, all four of these would figure prominently therein.

Conveniently enough, all four of these things also figured prominently in Thursday night's Sacramento Brewers Showcase, the kickoff event to Sacramento Beer Week.

The showcase, featuring nearly every local brewery offering samples of their wares, was held from 5 to 9 p.m. in the spectacular two-story atrium of the Crocker Art Museum.

I arrived five minutes before 5 p.m., ‘cause I like to party.

The breweries had set up their kegs along a large L-shaped table that wrapped around the east and south sides of the atrium. When I arrived there were maybe two dozen people milling about, some seated at the tables concentrated at the west side of the room, the rest mingling with the assorted brewers and volunteers.

I had five drink tickets, so I set about cashing them in.

The first brewery that caught my eye was Sierra Nevada. It makes sense, seeing as it was the closest to the entrance, but also because I have a long and distinguished history with their product, specifically the Pale Ale.

As I enthusiastically told their representative, Molly, "I grew up drinking Sierra Nevada!"

She wasn't quite sure how to respond to that. (Do not drink until you're 21, kiddos! Or at least until you're in college. Alright, fine — no earlier than senior year in high school, and always designate a driver.)

Sierra Nevada brewed a special beer just for the occasion. Sloughhouse Pale Ale is the product of a collaboration with Rick Sellers, co-founder of Odanata Beer Company and founder of Pacific Brew News.

Sloughhouse is a light pale ale, bright and hoppy with a relatively low alcohol content (4.8 percent). My first beer of the evening was also one of my favorites.

On my first pass through the gauntlet, I skipped Brew It Up and Rubicon, because something else had caught my eye.

Cheese.

Nugget Markets had brought a selection of their finest cheeses, and, man oh man, were they good. An amazing gouda, aged 18 months until it almost had the bite of a sharp cheddar. A wonderful Gruyere, aged a year. A creamy Wisconsin Blue that was aged in abandoned mine shafts up in Nevada City. An extra sharp Vermont Cabot Cheddar. And a spectacular French triple creme brie, reminiscent of a St. André (better than?).

The only thing missing was a Manchego, or it would have been my dream cheese platter.

I went next to Lagunitas to try their Beer Week selection, Lagunitas Fusion, a dark imperial rye ale, which I readily admit was a bit rye-y for my palate. I thought it was alright, but it wasn't my cup of, well, beer. It was, however, a consensus winner among those with a bit more advanced beer palates than my own. I found many of the brewers and volunteers were drinking the Lagunitas and raving about it.

Following another cheesy interlude, I stopped by the fellas at Two Rivers Cider for a taste of their pomegranate cider. It, like all of their other offerings I have tried, was light and refreshing, fruity with a nice crisp tartness.

I asked them about a lemonade cider that I had heard rumblings about but never crossed paths with. I received confirmation that they do, in fact, make not only a regular lemonade version but also watermelon and strawberry lemonade versions. Summer is just around the corner.

On my way back to Brew It Up, I decided to check on my buddy over at the cheese table. I wanted to make sure he was doing alright. Once assured of his well-being, I was poured a glass of Brew It Up’s Valentale Ale, a raspberry Belgian triple.

Lest you think it might be a girly beer, the Valentale is 8.2 percent alcohol by volume. I actually really enjoyed the taste, smooth and with clear raspberry notes and not too sweet. Unfortunately, It had a slightly sticky, chalky aftertaste that I couldn't overlook.

It reminded me a bit of a Gordon Biersch aftertaste, which is unfortunate.

By this point the atrium was two-thirds packed and rapidly becoming more so. I could barely get back to the cheese on my next pass.

There were now fairly deep lines at most of the breweries, including Davis' Sudwerk, where I ventured next. They have a sourbock I was eager to try.

The fellow in front of me got the sourbock as well, and his response summed up the experience better than I could. Stuart Canton took a large swig and with a surprised look on his face, exclaimed, "Ooh, that’s weird!" In his very next breath, he reappraised, "Ooh, that's good!"

That's about right.

At this point I should mention that the Mulvaney run Crocker Cafe was putting out scrumptious fare for the revelers who wanted something a little more substantial than cheese, crackers and little cones of trailmix. Two small plates in particular stuck with me: A corned beef and cabbage slider, and a pork belly corn dog. I saw a pair of the former get delivered to a table next to me. I asked the fellow how they were, and he insisted I take one of his. After halfheartedly rebuking the offer at first, I quickly changed my tune before he could his ("No, really, I couldn't. . . alright, if you insist". *Yoink*). It was great.

As far as the pork belly corn dog, I saw a fellow eating one. He appeared to be on the verge of weeping. "You alright buddy?" I asked. "This is so good it should be illegal" he muttered, tears welling in his eyes.

Soon after my interaction with the tear-inducing pork belly corn dog, the band started up. The Freebadge Serenaders are Gregory Sabin (banjo) and Patrick Skiffington (washboard, kazoo, slide-whistle, etc.) and they play "discount jazz". They were a perfect accompaniement for the occasion. Great beer drinking music, which brings us to. . .

My final beer of the evening was a collaborative effort of several of the brewers on hand, made specifically for beer week. A Scottish Ale, in cask, was tapped (or at least the first beer was pulled) by UC Davis brewing science professor Charlie Bamforth for the opening toast of Beer Week.

He gave a quick speech to commemorate the occasion, although most of the crowd was too busy drinking and chatting to hear.

"It's always an uphill battle when people would rather be drinking beer than listening to me,” he said. “You can tell this isn't a wine event. Today we're celebrating malt, hops, the world's favorite drink.”

And with that, Beer Week was underway in earnest.

This may have been my favorite beer of the evening, dark and rich but very smooth with a fairly high alcohol content (above 6 percent). This, along with the other two specially made brews, will be available at certain bars around town until the end of Beer Week or until they run out, whichever happens first. (All three can be found at Brew It Up.)

If the Sacramento Brewers Showcase is any indication, we are in for a heck of a week. As one of the revelers at last night's event put it, "I wish every week was Beer Week!"

Nicki Bluhm & The Gramblers!!!

2011-02-25T04:29:48Z

Old Ironsides is playing host to San Francisco’s Nicki Bluhm & The Gramblers Saturday night.

If you haven’t seen Nicki Bluhm perform before, you really should. Here’s your chance.

If you have seen Nicki Bluhm perform before, well, then, I don’t have to tell you. I’ll see you guys Saturday.

Mrs. Bluhm has been compared to Bonnie Raitt, Stevie Nicks, Linda Ronstadt, Joni Mitchell and pretty much every other great leading lady of rock ’n’ roll.

She is reminiscent off all of them at times, while retaining a voice all her own — comforting, smoky, velvety, textured, whiskey-tinged, beautiful.

The Gramblers most recent album, “Driftwood,” features members of The Mother Hips (including her husband, front man Tim Bluhm), ALO, Railroad Earth, Jackie Greene, Dengue Fever and the Skinny Singers.

The songs are timeless, evocative of the past but certainly not doomed to repeat it. I wanna listen to this album with the windows rolled down, driving along a two-lane country highway to anywhere (with a slight buzz. Can I say that? Don’t drink and drive, kids!).

It’s Americana pop rock, with a little country and a lot of California soul. I can't even tell you how excited I am for this show.

Filling out the Jerry Perry Presents bill are Sacramento stalwarts Walking Spanish (as their CD release party) and Honyock, neither of which I know personally.

From Walking Spanish’s MySpace page: “Their songs pay homage to great artists of the past while moving forward in a genre-mixing, fist-pumping affair that brings audiences of all ages to their feet.” ( Andy Laughlin, Village Life)

From Honyock's MySpace page: “Sounds like: Fun.” (They really don’t have much on their page, but one of their 348 friends is Dr. Dog, which is a very good sign.)

So come on out: Old Ironsides, Saturday night at 9 p.m. Tickets are $7.

See you on the dance floor.

The Nibblers and Big Sam at Harlow's

2011-02-24T01:57:00Z

Sacramento's merry band of funkateers, The Nibblers, opened up for New Orleans' party-funk phenomena Big Sam's Funky Nation on Sunday night at Harlow’s.

Wowzers.

I don't know much, but I do know that whenever our Nibblers join forces with a New Orleans powerfunk group led by a virtuoso slide trombonist featured prominently in HBO's "Treme," you better drop whatever you're doing and head on over.

It is always an incredible show.

I wasn't feeling well on Sunday evening, to the point where I was actively soliciting offers to take over my spot covering the show. (By "actively soliciting offers", I mean "updating my Facebook status from bed".)

Boy, am I glad I didn't find any takers.

I arrived about 9:20 and, eschewing my usual PBR for a tall glass of ice water, I headed over to my usual spot at the front left side of the stage.

The hometown heroes took the stage at 9:30, and by 9:31 the dance floor was fully bumping.

It was a typically high-energy Nibblers set, New Orleans soul flavored liberally with jazzy horns and funky beats.

Lead singer Hans Eberbach chopped it up with the gathered revelers throughout.

"It's only been, what, a week since we last played? Feels like forever!" he said.

The crowd, as it always is at Nibblers shows, particularly those at Harlow's, was an eclectic mix. The 20-somethings were about as well represented as the 60-somethings, with the majority of the crowd falling somewhere betwixt the two.

As far as a ratio of sexes goes, let's just say that the ladies love The Nibblers.

A couple of the highlights were songs I knew well from previous Nibblers performances: the churning, bluesy "Memphis Train" ("The train's a-coming!") and maybe their signature hit, "Baby Let Me Kiss You" (the ladies go crazy for this one — really, everyone does).

My favorite song of the night, however, was one that I did not immediately recognize. "Going Slowly Down" is an unexpected, ska-tinged burner featuring some wahhed-out guitar that really stood out. In the middle of the song they transitioned seamlessly into a couple minutes of the ubiquitous Bob Marley classic "Three Little Birds" before returning whence they began.

During the Marley interlude, a familiarly sweet, skunky, smoke began wafting up from the center of the dance floor. Cliched, I know. It wasn't mine.

They closed their set with the straight up funk-rock "Improve," which packs a wallop, and a positive message to boot. ("Take a look around. . . and see what you can improve.")

They left the stage to wildly enthusiastic applause at 10:30 p.m. on the button.

Big Sam had still not taken the stage when 11 p.m. rolled around, and, with a lesser crowd, the natives may have started getting restless.

Not these guys, however. There was a steady 10- to 20-person dance party going on pretty much the entire set break to the filler music playing over the venue speakers. These folks weren't afraid to dance while waiting to dance. All night, it was one of the best dancing crowds I've ever seen at Harlow's, no matter who was (or wasn't) on stage.

11:10 p.m., a voice came over the speakers: "Are you ready to have a good time?!" On came Funky Nation.

The New Orleans five-piece (guitar, drums, bass, trumpet and Big Sam on trombone) came out guns a-blazing and didn't slow down for the entirety of the 90-plus-minute set.

Trombone Shorty threw down the gauntlet with their Harlow's appearance back in September. Going in, I didn't give Sam and the boys much of a chance to match it.

Oh, me of little faith.

Funky Nation absolutely killed it.

I don't know if I've ever seen a performer exert more energy during a 90-minute set than Big Sam did Sunday night. From the moment he took the stage, he was a dancing fool, fully matching the delirious crowd tearing up the dance floor in front of the stage. Some of his moves were Kid ‘n Play-esque, which I consider to be high praise.

They heavily involved the audience throughout the set, launching into all manner of call and response ("Say hell yeah!" "Y'all feeling good? Then scream!" ), as well as numerous call and reacts ("Put your hands up!" "Get low!").

And how about this medley right here: "It's Your Thing" > "No Diggity" > "Cool Like That" > "Hip Hop Hooray" > "Dolla Dolla Bill Y'all"?

If that doesn't get your juices flowing, I'm pretty sure we can't be friends anymore.

At the end of this absurdly dope medley, Big Sam and trumpet player Andrew Bahum left the stage for a few, leaving guitarist Takeshi Shimmura, bassist Eric Vogel and drummer "Chocolate Milk" ("He does a body good!") to drop a searing, almost experimental fusion jazz break, featuring crushing solos from all three.

They had built to a crescendo when the horns came back out, and Sam got utterly loose on the slide trombone. He would break up his wailing lead trombone solo with little comical womp bursts, aimed in the face of revelers (generally female) in front of the stage. Dude's a master showman and had the crowd eating out of his hands.

At one point a birthday was announced. Turns out it was Big Sam’s birthday as well. The birthday girl was hanging out in the back of the room, and Sam wouldn't stand for it: "You can't be scared and all sitting down in the back. Get your ass up here!"

She did just that, and they went into a jam on "Happy Birthday," which then turned into an epic "Treme," which turned into an epic version of "Everybody Needs Somebody to Love," which, of course, turned into "Let It Shine," which turned into "You Are My Sunshine," at which point I passed out.

I got one more for you.

After getting the whole crowd to give "spirit fingers," they went into Prince's "You Sexy Motherfucker" > Gnarls Barkley's "Crazy" > Kanye’s "Golddigger" > Lil Jon’s "Get Low" (during which the whole crowd and all band members who were able got down on the ground) > "Shout!" (a little bit louder now!) > "Jump Jump" (not sure if it was the Kris Kross or House of Pain version — I was delirious by this point) > Ceelo’s "Fuck You" > Lady Gaga’s "Bad Romance" (I think, or maybe "Poker Face") > Black Eyed Peas’ "Humps."

It was absolutely insane, and the crowd was in a full-blown tizzy.

They finished the set with — what else? — the theme to “The Flintstones.”

The horns left the stage at 12:40 p.m., with the trio following them off a couple minutes later. At this point, I would say only about half of the crowd remained from a high of 150 or so.

Luckily, it was the loud half, and by 12:45 we had spurred on our champion’s return.

Did they encore with "When the Saints Go Marching In”? You bet your sweet bippy they did.

And did they adjust the lyrics to refer back to the 2010 New Orleans Saints Super Bowl victory ("Who dat saying dey gonna beat dem Saints?")? You're darn tooting!

And did Big Sam and A.B. lead the crowd in a conga line around the whole of the venue while all this was going down?

They'd have been crazy not too.

ALO and Nathan Moore at Harlow's

2011-02-22T20:03:48Z

Saturday night, San Francisco (by way of Santa Barbara) jam rockers Animal Liberation Orchestra brought their Tour D'Amour to town, playing a sold out show at Harlow's with their good buddy Nathan Moore.

I arrived a few minutes before 9pm to find a long line cued up out front and the venue already teaming with folks.

The first person I saw at the front of the line was my friend Heather Clement, who I'd met at High Sierra, and then again at Outsidelands, and a third time at Hardly Strictly Bluegrass. She had made the drive up from San Louis Obispo for the show, with a pitstop in Redding to link up with her pops.

In fact, it seemed that most of the people I spoke to were from out of town. In addition to S.L.O. and Redding, San Francisco, Santa Barbara, Tahoe, Pacifica, Reno and Salt Lake City were all represented amongst the 20 or so concert-goers I polled.

The show took place in Sacramento, but the crowd was decidedly a West Coast hodgepodge.

After greeting the Clements' at the door, I proceeded to cut in front of them, heading straight for the front desk. "Lindol French, I'm with the SacPress" I said to the guy manning the post. The "I'm kind of a big deal" was implied.

As you might expect, I wasn't on the list.

So much for impressing the out-of-towers, who were now openly laughing at my plight.

A moment later the owner came to my aid, and I was in, unscathed except for some light bruising of my ego. I suppose I deserved that.

I sidled up for the bar for my first PBR of the evening, and immediately noticed some subtle (not so?) cross promotion going on: Truth and Savage Co. (March 9th, $10.00, I'll see you there) was playing on the sound system. They played the album in it's entirety, and informed the uninitiated of the fact during the first set break. They also mentioned that T&S are on Chris Robinson's (April 5th, $15.00, I'll see you there as well) label. Well done.

Nathan Moore took the stage a little before 9:40pm. The curtains were drawn open for his introduction, after which they quickly closed again. The curtains remained shut for the duration of his opening number, "The Invisible Guy".

For those of you who don't know, Nathan Moore is a folksinger extraordinaire, a captivating storyteller and a prolific songwriter. Dennis Cook of Jambase describes him as "undeniably one of the finest songwriters of the modern age".

To top that off, he's a pretty darn good magician.

After his second song (first with the curtain drawn) "Siting on Top of the World", he pulled out a newspaper and started playfully ranting on the state of world affairs. At the climax of his rant, he tore the newspaper to shreds. Then, with a flourish, he unfurled the shredded newsprint, and "presto!" it was back in it's original state.

"Did he really just do that?' I asked to no one in particular. A gentleman standing in front of me replied "He's really good, I've seen him hypnotize an audience. Seriously, he brings out a spinning wheel and everything". Unreal.

Many of the highlights of his set featured the Virginia troubadour playing a kazoo. During the kazoo laden tracks, some folks (the cool kids?) in the audience pulled out kazoos of their own and joined in on the fun.

One of the highlights was "Dear Puppeteer", a slower song and the title track of his newest record. "I'm really proud of it" Nathan told us matter-of-factly, "It's the best thing I ever did." High praise that.

Later in the set, to the delight of the packed house, he pulled out what appeared to be a mouth operated pygmy keytar/kazoo (I was later informed it was a melodica). He played the melodica (M.O.P.K.K.?) on several songs, "The Woo Hoo Blues" being first among them.

Moore continued to banter with the crowd throughout the set. After thanking ALO for having him open, he informed us that "there's a very good chance you may fall in love by the time the night's over. It's ALO, these guys are trained professionals."

His most profound words he saved for just before he ended his set with an epic kazoo solo. "Don't take it too seriously" he said, seriously. I'm not certain as to what he was referring to, so I'm gonna go ahead and assume it was just about everything.

He left the stage to a standing ovation at 10:50, and 15 minutes later the headliners took his place. "This is a special setlist, you guys picked it!". This was the second "Fans Choice Setlist" of the tour, where-in fans voted online for the songs that were to be played.
The songs would be played in descending order, with the most voted-for song closing the set.

Bluesy rocker "Lady Loop" got the set started off with a bang, and the sweaty throng of fans began to get down with a little more intensity than they had during the predominantly mellow first set.

Up next was "Walls of Jericho", sung by drummer Dave Brogan. I didn't actually realize this fact until a subsequent youtube viewing of the song. I had lost my position next to the stage between bands. The dance floor was uncomfortably packed (at least for ALO's first set), and it would have been an impossibility for me to juggle my camera, notebook and my trusty PBR amongst the throng. I was forced to take shelter from the masses in the small alcove next to the side bar, which would have been fine if the Sacramento chapter of "The Well Over 6-Foot Tall Jam Band Appreciators Syndicate" wasn't holding their yearly meeting directly between I and the stage. (and, yes, they're coed). For most of the set I was lucky to catch glimpses of the guitarist Dan Lebowitz's head in between the altitudinous ALO-philes bobbing before me.

That being said, it sounded fantastic, and I was able to carve out a nice little dancing area for myself, complete with railing on which to rest my camera, notebook and beer, alternately.

The hits just kept coming, mostly older stuff. The blues tinged "Roses and Clover" from the 2007 album of the same name; the Steely Dan-esque super cool "Pobrecito" off of 2006's "Fly Between Falls"; the keys heavy classic rock sing-along "Maria", also off "R&C".

As they went into Maria, I had the following (inevitable?) encounter with superfan Princess Moonbeam Sparklespinner, who was lamenting the tune selection: "People keep requesting all the popular songs !?!?!?!?!"

"It kinda makes sense, doesn't it?" I answered her puzzled exclamation with a query of my own. She was nonplussed and spun off on her merry way.

The popular songs continued, as I knew they would (almost by definition, right?), with "Girl, I Wanna Lay You Down" and "Wasting Time (The I.V. Song)". They are both love songs, of sorts, but the similarities end there. Anyone who has spent any time in Isla Vista can relate to the latter. (and, I suppose, anyone who's ever wanted to lay you down can relate to the former).

They finished off the crowd pleasing set with the XM Radio stalwart, and, well, bubbly, "Plastic Bubble", followed by their classic, if wistful, summer anthem "Barbecue", which was the most requested song in Santa Barbara as well.

The first set ended at 12:10pm, and (thank God!) some of the more faint-of-heart cleared out, leaving the room a good deal more maneuverable. Don't get me wrong, it remained packed for the second set, but the concept of personal space became a semi-possibility rather than a distant memory. If you squinted just so you could even make out aisles (probably illusory, but hey).

The second set, ah, the second set. Where the training wheels come off. Everytime I thought that they were going to really extend a jam during the first set, the very thought seemed to signify the songs end. In the second set, everytime I thought a jam was ending, it seemed to signify they had a little further to take it.

The uninitiated, nonbeliever might have preferred the more structured, song-based first set, but for died-in-the-wool hippy jamming enthusiasts like me and Princess Moonbeam Sparklespinner, it's no contest. Second set for the win.

They even brought Nathan Moore out for the easily sing-along-able "I Hate Love" which climaxed in an epic dueling melodica (dueling pygmy mouth powered keytars?) jam, with Zach Gill proving equal to the challenge. In the middle of the shenanigans, they dropped into a Steve Miller "Joker" for a moment. 'Twas awesome.

When they dropped into "Kolomana" (2002, Time Expander) P.M.S. (I swear to God I didn't do that on purpose) came over to me and announced "I love this song!". All was again right with the world!

By the time they encored with Hot Tub>Pirates of Rock>Hot Tub, I had put down my camera, my notebook and my beer. Only the dancing remained. The animals had been liberated.

The Refuge . . .

2011-02-22T05:54:20Z

Have you ever been a part of a great crowd at an epic rock show?

The kind of crowd that becomes a living, breathing, thing? A sea of buzzing, sweaty, frenzied humanity, urging and inspiring it's champions to take their playing to theretofore undiscovered heights? The kind of crowd that makes band members to look at each other in a mixture of awe, appreciation and pure joy?

Man, it's fun to be a part of one of those crowds.

Now, imagine the opposite of that.

Friday night, downtown's all ages concert venue, The Refuge, played host to a pretty darn good rock show. The Northgate Project, The Common Men, The Generals, Dusty Brown and Eight Four Seven gave it their all, but unfortunately the deck was stacked against them.

The crowd of 40 odd people couldn't, or wouldn't match the energy put forth by the assembled rockers.

At no time during the nearly four hour show was there anything resembling a dance floor. Actually, that's not entirely true. In front of the stage, for most of the evening, was a space the length of the stage and probably 15 feet deep, completely void of humanity.

The empty space kind of resembled a dance floor, if only someone had danced.

We arrived as The Northgate Project was finishing up, about 7:45pm. As they broke down their equipment, I surveyed the scene and spoke to promoter Casey McKracken. Of the venue, McKracken said "It's just something that this town has always needed." I would agree with the sentiment. A midsize (240 capacity, though it looks like it could hold more) all ages club right in the heart of Midtown (1723L St.) is certainly an asset to Sacramento.

The room looks like what it is, a multipurpose room for the St. Johns Lutheran Church. It won't win any beauty contests, but it's a comfortable space, with an assorted hodgepodge of comfortable seats and clothed tables spread around the rear two thirds of the room. The restrooms are located behind the slightly elevated stage, and the band members milled about the venue when they weren't performing.

Davis' post punk trio The Common Men took the stage next and inspired the crowd to, well, mostly sit on their hands and clutch their coffees close to their breasts. They played a nice six song set, highlighted by their radio track "Hanged Men", a really solid punk song, which reminded me a bit of The Clash.

They ended their set with lead singer/guitarist Kevin Ian on his hands and knees ripping his guitar strings violently from the neck of his guitar as he and his bandmates crashed and banged and feedbacked their way to a noisy crescendo. The lack of energy in the room was certainly not on them.

Up next were Sacramento indie two-piece, The Generals. Consisting of only a drummer and guitarist, both of whom sing, they played a remarkable set. I'd heard them described as being "U2-like", and there is certainly a little bit of "The Edge" in Matt Sertich's guitar playing.
They create a huge sound with recorded synth tracks underneath the driving drum beats of Kirk Jonowiak and the ambient guitar play of Sertich.

If you were going to make a classic 80's movie, but with a present day soundtrack, you might want to recruit The Generals for the project.
During their set, the lack of crowd energy reached awkward levels. Between songs you could hear a pin drop. At one point Sertich commented on the elephant in the room "It's so quiet".

Several members of the crowd shushed him.

Jonowiak tried to break the ice between the next two songs with a joke "What did Kenny G say when he got on the elevator?" he asked before quickly answering himself "This place rocks". Was it a subtle jab at the crowd or just a cheesy joke? Probably the latter, but it works just as well as the former.

Awkward silences have no place at rock shows.

Up next was Dusty Brown, fresh off a memorable set at the Sacramento Electronic Music Festival a few short weeks ago. I didn't get a chance to see them there, but the highlight of my experience there-in was Tycho featuring D.B. guitarist (Zach Brown) and singer (Jessica Brown).

They played a great set of their drum and bass heavy electronica, with Zach's guitar and Jessica's haunting vocals creating layers of sound that flooded the room.

This is music that is meant to be danced to, nay, demands to be danced to. I asked Steven Chea about their performance at SEMF , "They played nearly the same set, and it absolutely killed".

It's rough when the man in the room dancing the hardest is Dusty himself, throwing down behind his MOOG. Before their last song of the evening, he chastised the crowd "If you guys could stand back another 30 feet, it'd make it a little more awkward" .

I made it a point to relieve him of the mantle of biggest dancing fool, if only for one song.

After their set I caught up with Zach outside "I really feed off the energy of the crowd." he said. On this night the pickings were slim.

The last act of the evening was Eight Four Seven, who like D.B. are deeply steeped in electronica, but the quartet features a lot of heavy, crashing guitars to go along with the beats.

They recently toured with fellow Sacramento band the Deftones, and there are definite similarities between the two bands.

The kids pulverized their instruments, as if they owed them money. To their credit they were able to induce the crowd to within 10 feet of the stage, and there was some serious (semiserious?) head bobbing going on. It never quite reached the point of headbanging.

I apologize if I am judging the audience a bit harshly, but the good news is, the situation is easily remedied. "All ages" doesn't have to be an impediment. I mean, how many 15 to 20 year old kids are there within a 20 mile radius of downtown Sac who enjoy seeing live music and are looking for something to do on a friday night?

A crapton, give or take.

They need to do a better job of tapping into this market. The average age at an all ages dry show in a youth center should never be mid to late twenties. (there were as many 50 somethings in attendance as there were teenagers.)

In my formative years I would have been ecstatic to have a place like Refuge to hang out. Sure beats the pants off the AM PM parking lot.

Here's hoping the next show has a crowd worthy of the performers.

Big Sam's Funky Nation!

2011-02-19T02:16:14Z

New Orleans' funk phenomenon Big Sam's Funky Nation rolls into Sacramento Sunday night to play a show at Harlow's.

"Big Sam" Williams, a former member of the Dirty Dozen Brass Band, has been celebrated as "the top man on the slide trombone in the birthplace of jazz" by the San Francisco Chronicle.

He also has a recurring role playing himself on the HBO Original Series "Treme."

Jambase describes Big Sam's Funky Nation as "soul food to get us through the week" and touts the band for always "bringing a straight raw party."

BSFN is a stalwart on the U.S. festival circuit, having appeared at New Orleans Jazzfest, Bonnaroo, Voodoo Arts and Music Fest , South by Southwest, Gathering of the Vibes, and Jam Cruise. Sunday night is the second to last date on a West coast swing (they play Yoshi's SF on the 21st) before they return to the Southeast.

Opening for the New Orleans funksters are local favorite, soul/funk troubadours The Nibblers.

The last time The Nibblers opened up at Harlow's for a New Orleans powerfunk group led by a virtuoso slide trombonist featured in "Treme," it resulted in one of the best Sacramento shows of 2010.

I expect more of the same on Sunday night.

The show begins at 9 p.m., and tickets are $12.

Dancing shoes, though not required, are highly recommended.

See you there.

Murder by Death

2011-02-16T00:02:30Z

Sam Diamond: "I don't get it. First they steal the body and leave the clothes, then they take the clothes and bring the body back. Who would do a thing like that?

Dick Charleston: "Possibly some deranged dry cleaner."

What precedes is a scene from the classic 1976 film "Murder by Death," which is hilarious. Diamond is played by Peter Falk, and Charleston is played by David Niven. Truman Capote has a starring role, as does Sir Alec Guiness (in his last role before becoming Obi-Wan Kenobi). It's even got Peter Sellers playing an elderly Chinese detective, which, though borderline racist, is a role he was born to play. (and by "borderline," I mean "overtly.")

When I heard that "Murder by Death" was also an alt-rock band that would be playing at Harlow's on Sunday night, I went, sight unseen (sound unheard?).

If nothing else, I figured they'd have a good sense of humor.

Turns out they are pretty fantastic musicians as well.

Opening for the Indiana folk rockers were Damion Suomi and the Minor Prophets, and The Builders And The Butchers.

Unfortunately, due to some faulty intel (we had been informed that the bands were running late and the show wouldn't start until 9 p.m.), we missed all but the final song of Damion's set. The one song that we did hear, the soulful introspective "The lion, the ram, and the fish," made me wish that we'd heard the rest.

Up next were Portland's (by way of Alaska) The Builders And The Butchers.

It took very little time to recognize that these guys have a style and sound all their own. Two drummers, one of whom also plays keys, t'other a mandolin, sharing a single deconstructed drum set (this is fantastic). There is also a lead guitarist who does most of his damage on an electric banjo, but who also brings an electric mandolin and lap steel to the party when the situation calls for it. And a lead singer who doesn't hesitate to employ a 1930s? traffic cone-like megaphone while singing, tossing it to the stage as if disgusted with it when it no longer serves it's purpose.

It sounds crazy, but it all works.

They play a heavy crushing version of alt/Americana/folk/whiskey rock. Songs like "Rotten to the Core" and "Golden and Green" are driving, crunching dark and powerful tracks, elevated by Ryan Sollee's haunting vocals and able storytelling.

They set the bar pretty high for the evening's headliners.

Murder by Death proved up to the challenge.

The boys (and girl) from Bloomington play another unique version of American/folk/alt-country rock. It's not very often that you see an electronic cello or a drummer playing a propane tank.

Sarah Balliet's cello playing gives the music a lush, fat richness that just envelops the room. Speaking of haunting vocals. . . . Adam Turla's got em. Another great storyteller, his vocals range from deep and resonant (possibly my favorite song of the evening, "Brother"), to borderline Danzig-esque (crowd favorite and encore, "Comin Home").

The band may be even better than the movie.

Kings, close but no cigar.

2011-02-14T03:40:17Z

The Sacramento Kings lost another heartbreaker Saturday night, falling to the Oklahoma City Thunder 99-97 in dramatic fashion.

After trailing by as many as 13 points in the fourth quarter, and by 10 with less than three minutes to play, they charged back in the final minutes, nearly completing the dramatic comeback.

With 5.8 seconds left, Samuel Dalembert rebounded a Kevin Durant-missed free throw, and the Kings called a timeout, trailing by two with a chance to send it to overtime or win it with a three-pointer.

Off the inbounds, Tyreke Evans was a bit short on his three-point attempt, and Omri Casspi couldn't get his follow tip to fall.

It was their fifth straight loss, and they ended a brutal six-game homestand at 1-5. Each one of the teams that came into Arco (PowerBalance?) figures to make the playoffs. The worst record among them belongs to Utah, currently sitting at 31-24 and the seventh seed in the West.

They started the homestand with a victory over New Orleans (33-23, 5th W), but then fell to Boston (39-14, 1st seed in the East), San Antonio (45-9, best record in the NBA), the aforementioned Utah, Dallas (38-16, tied 2nd W), and last night to Oklahoma City (34-18, 4th W).

The San Antonio game was the only one of the five in which the Kings weren't highly competitive. The Spurs have a way of making teams look bad.

Saturday night’s game was the third in a row that came down to the final possession.

Of course, basketball being neither horseshoes nor hand grenades, a close loss is still just that: a loss.

Coach Paul Westphal began his postgame presser with a query for the assembled media: "We've been here before, haven't we?"

"We kept fighting back," Westphal said. "I’m proud of our team’s effort. I don’t want to be saying the same thing every time, but it’s true. We are getting close to being able to beat these great teams and we have not broken through yet."

In the end, it was just too much Kevin Durant (35 points, 6 boards, 2 assists, 2 blocks), too much Russell Westbrook (22 points, 5 boards, 7 assists), and way too many turnovers (19, resulting in 26 points).

Evans, for the most part, had a great game, collecting nine rebounds and doling out four assists to go along with his team-high 30 points. Unfortunately, he also led the team with six of those costly turnovers.

DeMarcus Cousins, too, had a solid game (14 points, 12 boards) but was forced to sit much of the third quarter after collecting three personal fouls in the first three minutes of the second half.

To make matters worse, the big rookie got into an altercation with Donte Green following the game, did not joint the team on its flight to Phoenix, and is facing the second suspension of his young career.

Apparently he was unhappy that Green didn't get the ball in to him in the post on the final play of the game. While you like to see that kind of competitive fire in your young star, you would prefer it not come to fisticuffs in the locker room

The Kings knew what they were getting when they drafted the mercurial Cousins, the most talented player in the 2010 draft, with the fifth pick. There's no way he would have fallen past the second pick if there hadn't been questions about his maturity and demeanor.

It doesn't get any easier for the boys in purple as they begin a seven-game road trip with a game today at Phoenix (26-25), followed by rematches with the Thunder and the Mavericks, then games at Miami (39-15, 2nd E) and Orlando (5th E).

No rest for the weary.

Mustache Harbor, Yacht Rock Samurais

2011-02-12T03:55:32Z

Mustaches are the new black. I know, I've said it before about a wide variety of things (orange, Thai food, peacocks — the list is long and distinguished), but this time I really mean it. Think about it. They're cool, slimming and they go with everything. They can be formal or casual. They can be used for good or evil.

Always bet on mustache.

I've heard a lot of people describe 2011 as "the year of the rabbit." Balderdash. Poppycock, even. 2011: The Year of the Mustache.

I could do this all day.

Spearheading this mustache revolution are San Francisco soft rock ninjas Mustache Harbor.

What the world needs now is epic soft-rock classics, delivered in spectacular fashion by dudes wearing yachting gear, vintage blue blocker aviators, Hawaiian shirts and, most importantly, mustaches.

Thankfully, Mustache Harbor is knuckle deep in the Zeitgeist, mustachioed crusaders changing lives, making the world a better (hairier?) place, one "Toto" cover at a time.

Thursday night, they brought their yacht rock explosion to Harlow's Nightclub, and it was spectacular.

I am not prone to hyperbole, but they are without a doubt the single greatest cover band of all time.

They are also the second best cover band of all time. Third place goes to Super Diamond.

I arrived a few minutes after 9 p.m. and was greeted by a fellow wearing a T-shirt adorned with a big pair of sunglasses and, natch, a mustache (the scoundrel). I complimented him on his shirt and, assuming it was a Mustache Harbor shirt, asked him about the band.

He'd never heard of them. A friend of his had gotten him the shirt in Hawaii. He just loved the shirt and had worn it to the 7 p.m. comedy show preceding the concert. Like I said,Year of the Mustache.

A few minutes later, saddling up to the bar to grab my first PBR of the evening, I struck up a conversation with a mustachioed gentleman to my left.

"Did you get that in honor of the occasion, or is that a permanent fixture?"

"I grew it for charity, Mustaches for Kids. We've raised over $10,000."

He handed me a card. "Mustaches for Kids," it read. He had never heard of the band until a couple days earlier when a friend mentioned it to him. He was there out of mustache solidarity. Zeitgeist.

The opener, the Sean Tabor Band, came on at 9:45 p.m. It's no easy task opening up for the soft-rock assassins, but they did a bang-up job.

I would describe their music as bouncy Cali ska/surf party rock with a smattering of saccharine and a healthy dose of humor. They were a lot of fun. Among the highlights was the playful lament "Bottom of the Rock" and the easily sing-along-able "Let's Get" (drunk).

The eponymous lead singer was affably self-deprecating, making fun of his dance moves (or lack thereof) and engaging the audience throughout the set. "The next band, Mustache Harbor — if you have not seen them before, get ready for some shit," he said, proving to be prescient.

He teased the audience before his last song of the evening: "If you like singing, go ahead and sing along to this song. You've heard it before. If you haven't, you should probably be wearing a helmet.”

What can I say? I'm a sucker for a well-placed helmet jab. The song? A rollicking version of Tom Petty's "American Girl." If you haven't heard it, well, you know.

The STB finished up at 10:40 and the crowd prepared themselves for the main event.

And by "prepared themselves" I do mean strapped on their mustaches. There were a half dozen flats of fake mustaches floating around. I took one (The Scoundrel) with the caveat that I must wear it the entirety of the evening. It took about 30 seconds of wearing it on my upper lip to realize that, barring a drastic change, there was no way I would be wearing it for the remainder of the set break, let alone the evening. I went to the bathroom and, as it often does, inspiration struck.

Goodbye upper lip, hello forehead. The scoundrel makes for a fine unibrow, and it did so for the remainder.

The mustache mavens took the stage at 11 but remained behind the curtain for a prolonged sound-check as they worked out some kinks. As they worked on the sound, I couldn't help but notice a couple stage accoutrements they had set up.

On the two center-stage monitors, facing the crowd, were two giant, fuzzy mustaches. Technically, they are Carstaches, but for the evening they were Monitorstaches. The point is they are epic, fuzzy mustaches, a foot high and nearly three feet long. Hell, they're three inches deep! This ain't your grandmothers mustache (wait, what?). They are great for parties, weddings, funerals, awkward silences, really anything. I would drape myself in Carstaches were it socially acceptable. Full disclosure, I am friends with the inventor (mad genius?) of the Carstache, but that has no bearing on my enthusiasm for the product. He came up with quite possibly the most important invention of the 21st century (The Century of the Mustache). Fact. Kismet Zeitgeist.

At 11:17, the curtain dropped and the unmistakable opening chords of the Christopher Cross classic "Ride Like the Wind" filled the venue.

Unfortunately, the first three songs were marred by feedback that were handled during a brief instrumental interlude between "Nights on Broadway" and "Caribbean Queen." Take a moment to let that sink in.

You know how some shows, you're waiting for certain favorite songs to be played? You'll enjoy the whole set, but you're always thinking, "I really hope they play (such and such) song," until they finally play it and you are beside yourself with ecstasy.

Every song that Mustache Harbor plays is that song. Every single one.

The entire set is an exercise in ecstatic jubilation. It's almost too good.

Let’s take a quick look at Thursday nights set:
1. "Ride Like the Wind" – Christopher Cross
2. "Lido" – Boz Skaggs
3. "You Make My Dreams" – Hall & Oates (speaking of epic mustaches)
4. "Nights on Broadway" – The Bee Gees
5. "Caribbean Queen" – Billy Ocean
6. "I Keep Forgetting" – Michael McDonald
7. "Africa" – Toto (I honestly can't even tell you how awesome this was.)
8. "Love Isn't Always on Time" – Toto (Is Toto in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame? ‘Cause they should be.)
9. "Go Your Own Way" – Fleetwood Mac
10. "Make a Wish Baby” – Ambrosia
11. "Rich Girl" – Hall & Oates
12. "Escape (The Piña Colada Song)" – Rupert Holmes
13. "Evil Woman" – Electric Light Orchestra
14. "Brandy" – Looking Glass (Really? Looking Glass? Huh, learn something new every day.)
15."I Can't Go for That (No Can Do)" – Hall to the Oates, man they are good.
16." Dancin’ in the Moonlight" – King Harvest (!)
17. "What a Fool Believes" – Doobies
18. "All Night Long" – Lionel
19. "All Out of Love" – Air Supply
20. "Come Sail Away" – Styx

Where's the low point? The bathroom break? The "I'm gonna go have a smoke" song? There isn't one (although I would accept "Evil Woman" as an answer).

And don't think these guys are just getting by on their phenomenal taste in music, sweet mustaches and impeccable fashion sense. They absolutely own these songs. I've seen Hall & Oates, and, to be honest with you, they're no Mustache Harbor. I mean, Oates doesn't even have a mustache anymore.

I've seen Styx before. Their "Come Sail Away" is no match for the Harbors.

Look at the set list again. These songs were meant to be played by dudes wearing yachting gear, vintage blue blocker aviators, Hawaiian shirts and, most importantly, mustaches. They were meant to be played by Mustache Harbor.

Mustache Harbor and The Sean Tabor Band will be playing next Friday, the 18th, at Slims in San Francisco. It is Sean Tabor's CD release party. Go.

Yacht Rock Ninjas!

2011-02-09T04:03:42Z

If you're like me, you've always yearned for someone to combine your loves of yachting, mustaches, martial arts and soft rock into one epic, easy-rocking juggernautical tour de force.

You needn't yearn any longer.

Soft rock ninjas Mustache Harbor, playing Thursday night at Harlow's, are the answer to all of our prayers.

From their website:

"Our mission, our destiny, is simple, to build a mustache army capable of creating a Soft Rock Explosion the likes of which has not been seen since the days when Christopher Cross, Steely Dan, Ace, Kenny Loggins and The Little River Band, to name but a few, created A.M. Gold. So Join us! party with us, live with us, work out at the dojo with us, sing with us, slap on a stash and drink from our bountiful coconuts filled with delicious grooves and tasty hooks."

Sounds amazing, doesn't it?

So if you like Piña Coladas , getting caught in the rain (down in Africa) or walking on air (believe it or not, I'm), then come sail away, ride like the wind, I'd really love to see you tonight. . . Maneater.

Look, what I'm trying to say is, dust off your finest polyester suit, or karategi, or boating gear and get mustachioed up for Thursday night's Yacht Rock Explosion. All of your favorite smooth and easy 70's and 80's jams are in play. It's on like ... Warren Zevon? (or, with a little pronunciation flexibility, it's on like Billy Ocean). Point is: it's on.

Mustache Harbor will be appearing at Harlow's Nightclub this Thursday, the 10th of February at 9:00pm. Tickets are $10.

If you're not into yoga*, and you have half a brain, you'll be there.

*If you're into yoga, you should still come. I don't know what Rupert Holmes has against flexibility.

Museum Mayhem

2011-02-08T01:45:21Z

You know what's better than a museum? A free museum.

You know what's better than a free museum? Twenty-six free museums.

Saturday, two baker’s dozen of the best museums in Sacramento swung open their doors and let in every Tom, Dick and Harry, free of charge. Gratis. Complimentary. On the house. Floated.

Now, my motto has always been "If it's free, I'll take three," so I fought through a wicked head cold and really bad sniffles (I know, I know. Maybe I did take the Waaaaaaaambulance. So what?), and headed down to Old Sac to take my reward. And I took my reward.

I may have to change my motto to the far less catchy, but way more accurate, "if it's free, I'll take six."

The lucky half dozen, in chronological order: The California State Military Museum, Old Sacramento Schoolhouse Museum, Sacramento History Museum, California State Railroad Museum, California State Capitol Museum and The California Museum.

California State Military Museum-
My first stop on this beautiful Saturday morning, it was heavily guarded by a variety of military vehicles parked out front. One of them appeared to be a military fire truck. Be still my beating heart.

I ventured inside and was pleased to be greeted by guns, guns and more guns. For my money, as far as weaponry goes, there may be nothing cooler than the multi barrel machine gun. Maxim guns, battery guns, they have a plethora of these mean looking SOBs on display therein. I wanted to call them all Gatling guns, but it turns out I was mistaken. Volunteer Tom Burke was happy to explain the difference.
The Gatling gun is hand-operated, and the Maxim is self-powered – using the energy from the recoil to eject the spent cartridges. The Gatling gun can fire up to 200 rounds a minute. The Maxim, 600. A multi-barrel gun with an outside power source? 3,000. Dang.
Have you ever seen a .50 caliber machine gun? I have. Have you ever held a Russian submachine gun? Ditto. Thanks to the California Military Museum.

The Schoolhouse Museum-
Whereas the military museum had been well-peopled, the schoolhouse was packed, mostly with children (makes sense, if you think about it). They seemed to all be having a good time, which is something of a coup, considering they were in a schoolhouse on a beautiful Saturday afternoon. I think the free cake may have had something to do with it. The volunteers, all schoolmarmed-out, were exceedingly friendly. They had a peach basket set up on the wall in the corner where a few kids were shooting hoops. I didn't see any of them make it. I'll be honest, I was in and out like a jewelry heist. I like kids fine, but not 30 at a time. God bless those schoolmarms.

The Sacramento History Museum-
Next, I walked across Old Sac to the History Museum, stopping only to grab a free sample of saltwater taffy at the candy store. I'd also stopped there on the way to the schoolhouse. Like I said, if it's free...

I passed the greedy hordes out front panning for gold and entered the museum. I was struck immediately by the old-time printing press to the right of the entrance. There is a certain magic to the care with which the printed word used to be created. What is now so simple was once so labor-intensive (typesetting!). I spent a few minutes watching the old fellows work in the print shop before venturing into the museum proper.

Probably my favorite part of the museum was the section with the old farm tools, like the "Sure Pop Almond Huller" and the "Simpson Butter Cutter." (If you're like me, next time you go up to Apple Hill, be sure to check out the Larsen Pioneer Farm Museum. It's fantastic.)

I also really enjoyed the exhibit on Sacramento landmark Dunlap's D ining Room. . . they just don't make places like that anymore, and it's a shame.

By the time I left, the museum had reached capacity, and a small line had formed out front.

California State Railroad Museum-
A couple of my most vivid early childhood memories involve trains: playing with my grandfather’s train sets in the attic of their home in Portsmouth Ohio; and a family train ride I took from New York City to Ohio, during which we played canasta and I saw a man open a beer bottle using his eye socket.

I also used to take the train up to school in Eugene, Ore. I love trains. If it were economically and logistically feasible, I would do all of my traveling by rail. It's really the only way to travel.

Of all the museums I visited, I was probably most excited to visit the Railroad Museum.

It did not disappoint. I even really enjoyed the educational film that plays on the half hour, at the end of which the screen rises to unveil a massive steam engine, barreling through a tunnel blown through solid rock. Pretty dramatic.

I could, and one day will, spend hours meandering through the myriad railroad-related exhibits, but on this day, and in my weakened state, the museum was a bit too crowded for me to fully enjoy it.

Many of the train walk-through exhibits had good-sized lines to get in, and once inside, the people were packed in shoulder-to-shoulder. Neither of these situations was very appealing to me, so I chose to fight another day, and did only a cursory walkthrough, consciously not looking at anything too thoroughly so as to save it for next time. Man, that is nerdy.

I'll be back soon.

State Captiol Museum-
I'll admit it, I was just padding my stats here. I was walking to the California Museum, and this was en route. I spent maybe 10 minutes inside. I was hoping it would be a shortcut, but the doors on the south end weren't open. Doh. Don't get me wrong, it's well worth the visit, but I'd been there fairly recently with some friends from out of town.

The California Museum-
With the Railroad Museum, this was my co-favorite of the museums I visited. The California Hall of Fame is very cool and eclectic (James Cameron, Charles Schultz, Merle Haggard, Barbara Streisand and Mark Zuckerberg are all in the 2010 club. The California Hall of Fame makes for strange bedfellows, apparently.), but my favorite exhibits were the "Uprooted! The Japanese Americans during WWII" and the "Psychedelic Poster Art 1965-1975."

Both exhibits are awesome.

The Japanese Internment during World War II is one of the more embarrassing acts in American history, and it is an episode that is oft-overlooked or glossed over. I remember it being discussed very briefly, maybe in a sixth grade American History class, but we certainly didn't dedicate an entire class period to it, or even a large portion of one. I think, in our history books, we had maybe one secondary paragraph devoted to the internment, set aside in the corner of a page with a different color background.

The exhibit does a great job of showing what internment was like from a Japanese-American perspective, and the volunteers like Sacramento native Mas Hatano, who spent three of his teenage years in Tuli Lake Internment Camp on the Oregon border, do even better.

Said the still spry and extremely sharp Hatano: "The more people know about this, the less likely it is to happen again." It's hard to believe that something like this could have happened here such a short time ago, but a lot less so when speaking with a man who lived through it. I wish I'd had an opportunity to visit such an exhibit, and speak with such a man, when I was a sixth grader.

The Psychedelic Poster Art Exhibit was awesome... ’cause it's psychedelic poster art. I mean, a poster for The First Annual Sacramento Pop Festival, Oct. 15, 1967 featuring Jefferson Airplane and Strawberry Alarm Clock at Hughes Stadium? "Donation $3.00 in advance, $3.50 at the stadium Box off. Come and go as you please, visit psychedelic shops at the festival." Don't mind if I do. If you don't get a kick out of that, I'm not sure we should hang out anymore.

Six museums in just under five hours: I absolutely owned Free Museum Day. And so did many of you: The Sacramento History Museum had 3,233 visitors on Saturday, up from an average Saturday attendance of around 200. The California Museum had approximately 4,000 visitors, up from the same Saturday average of around 200. And the Railroad Museum, which brings in somewhere between 800 and 1,000 visitors on an average Saturday, pulled in 13,742.

As Paul Hammond, museum director for the Sacramento History and Railroad Sector, put it: "This event is a wonderful opportunity for the spotlight to shine on museums in the region. There are so many museums right here in the greater Sacramento area, and this event gives the community an opportunity to sample the many possibilities and become more familiar with them."

And sample we did, voraciously.

Consider my appetite whetted.

Odd Fellows, great music.

2011-02-03T04:14:38Z

At first blush, Odd Fellows Hall in Davis seems like it would be more suited to host Jazzercize and Bible classes, bingo, and fraternal fundraising dinners than an epic rock show.

This makes sense, seeing as the former are exactly the type of events the venue generally holds.

But on Tuesday night, there were no bingo cards, no Bibles, no rubbery chicken, (there may have been some spandex — I'll have to check the tape), just a glorious display of musicianship and singer-songwriting. (And despite appearances, the sound was great)

Shannon Harney, Johnny Corndawg and Dawes took ownership of the junior high school auditorium-esque venue, and, if for only for a night, it was Davis' answer to Harlow's or the Independent. Well, minus the hard alcohol. Plus a handful of elementary-age kids with really cool parents.

The show started off with Harney, at first alone with her keyboard, later joined by Ben Lewis on acoustic guitar. Indicative of her sense of humor, her MySpace page describes her music as Christian rap, but I would go with Americanasoulfolk. Ms. Harney was mind-blowing on several levels.

Firstly, there's the shock of hearing such a huge, soulful voice coming from a cute, elfin hippie-ish chick who absolutely still gets carded for cigarettes, or would if she weren't such a badass.

Unexpected.

Then there's her lyrics, ranging from poignant and cynical ("I love you is ambitious, I would settle for goodbye") to mischievous and sensual ("Take off my dress, go down below my waist/ If you have something to say, now would be the time"), but always unconventional, clever and deeply emotive.

Wow.

Lastly is her commanding stage presence and the absolute ease with which she developed a rapport with the audience. "Davis people, you're so polite," she teased, belying (or maybe not) her own Davis roots. "Find me after the show," she said, before adding impishly, "I'm in a purple dress." When she asked the audience, the bulk of whom were seated up to that point, to get up for her last song, they did, to a man.

This is the first opener? Unreal.

Gauntlet thrown, Southern-fried alt-country singer-songwriter Johnny Corndawg took the stage next with his more than able backup band, Dawes, who were opening for themselves. (At one point during the show, the singer asked the crowd, "How are you liking CornDawes?")
The smorgasbord of brilliant lyricism continued, this time with a good ol’ country twang. "When a Ford man turns to Chevy," the Nashville-based Corndawg sings on the song of the same name, "an angel gets it's wings, and the babies, they won't ever cry no more."

He dedicated his next song to anyone who is married. The title of the song? "Shut Up." Needless to say, it's not an ode to marital bliss. "Tired of hearing about your terrible life, I'm livin’ the exact same one, but on the other side of your voice, and I hate that I need to raise mine."

My favorite song of the set was the funny yet mournful ballad "Trashday." "Monday is the day that the trash goes out, I can't forget/ Monday morning I wake up when the truck rolls by . . . She's gonna be so God damn mad at me when she gets home. . . Andersons they put their trash out Friday night, and they never forget, and they never fight. I hate them." Who can't relate to that?

This is the second opener? What a night.

Gauntlet thrown a second time, Dawes, who had left the stage briefly for Corndawg's a cappella encore, returned to the stage around a quarter to 10 p.m. As impressive as the opening acts had been (very), it took Dawes just a few moments to remind everyone why they were the headliners.

I had seen Dawes once before, at Outside Lands at the back of a large packed field, which is to say, I hadn't ever really seen Dawes before. I had only the slightest knowledge of their oeuvre, and what little I had was only recently acquired. I went in almost blind.

But now, now I see. They were absolutely phenomenal.

They played a lot of tracks off their debut studio album, “North Hills.” Crowd favorites, including "Give Me Time," "Peace in the Valley," "That Western Skyline" and "Love Is All I Am," had many in the predominantly college age to slightly older crowd singing along passionately, particularly those of the female persuasion.

They closed the set with their anthemnic hit "When My Time Comes." Lead singer Taylor Goldsmith at one point turned over lead-singing duties to us, the audience. A young boy in particular was perched atop his father’s shoulders front and center, directly in front of the out-turned mic. The kid, who had been splayed on the ground ready to conk out just a song before, belted out the chorus with all his might.

Continuing with one of the recurring themes of the evening, love gone awry, they mixed in an inspired and upbeat cover of Warren Zevon's classic "Hula Hula Boy s."

Some of the best moments of the set came on songs from their upcoming album, which they just finished recording.

"So Well" is a powerful ballad (not to be confused with a power ballad), soulful and yearning. Often when a band plays a new ballad, they are opening the bathroom and smoke-break floodgates. Not this time. Taylor's younger brother, 20-year-old drummer Griffin Goldsmith, took over lead-singing duties (admirably) on the rollicking "How Far We've Come.” "Fire Away" is a drum- and keys-heavy ‘70s-style track that brings to mind Fleetwood Mac.

Which brings us to the encore, "A Little Bit of Everything.”

It's a tour de force. Honestly, I can't remember the last time I was affected as strongly by a song upon first listen. It's songwriting at its best. A beautiful melody, an infectious chorus, a captivating tale of hope and hopelessness, love and despair, fear and regret, with a dash of humor and a healthy slathering of wisdom. As soon as I had heard it, I couldn't imagine not having heard it. Know what I mean?

When I went home, I found a clip of it on Youtube and watched it a half-dozen more times. I didn't get the least bit emotional or weepy. As far as you know.

As we strolled out of the venue, Mike Tobias, a Davis local and an accomplished musician in his own right, exclaimed "An amazing show! What a treat it is to have a place like this in Davis!" It certainly was, and certainly is.

You have one more chance to catch a show during Sophia's Thai Kitchen Presents: 2011 Winter Concert Series at Odd Fellows Hall. (catch a show at the Independant Order of Odd Fellows Lodge! It's like an assembly, except awesome!)

If Telekinesis, The Love Language and Jake Mann & The Upper Hand put on half the show that Dawes, Corndawg and Harney did, you'll be in for a treat.

VegFest 2011

2011-01-31T06:21:11Z

My girlfriend recently finished a 21-day yoga and dietary cleanse at Deep Yoga. While I did not join her on her daily 5:30 a.m. yoga pilgrimages, I went stride for stride with her on the dietary portion of it.

The first week we were allowed fish, but from the second week on we were no longer allowed any animal products. Or corn products. Or wheat products (I cheated here. I wouldn't have made it without soy sauce).

It was not easy for this lifelong omnivore to give up meat, and even harder to give up cheese and grains, but I did, and lost nine pounds in the process.

Don't get me wrong, I'm glad it's over. But I'll also concede that I both look and feel better. There is something to this veggie/vegan lifestyle.

With this in mind, I was pretty amped to check out Vegfest 2011, hosted by the Del Paso Boulevard Partnership at the Artisan building in the Boulevard.

I arrived a little before 1 p.m. to find the Artisan building already teaming with people. A few highlights:

The Loving Hut (formerly Au Lac Veggie)
They had a booth and were giving free samples of their noodles and spring rolls. Easily the most popular sample table, it was hard to even make out where their line began. "Yonder" was my best guess. Everybody who braved the line seemed to be happy they did. "Was it worth it?" I asked an older gentleman wearing a ponytail and scarfing his bowl of noodles. "Absolutely," was his immediate response. I chose not to venture into the abyss, but I will certainly give the restaurant a try sometime soon.

The sweets
Several of the booths offered sweets, and for the most part the vegan sweet offerings were very good. I tried a vegan, gluten-free, organic chocolate from Bicycle Bakery that was delicious. Another table offered a yummy vegan peanut brittle. A third had a solid vegan chocolate chip cookie (relatively; Mrs. Fields need not lose any sleep).

Michael Marks, "Your Produce Man"
The ubiquitous TV personality was on hand to talk about — what else — produce. He was his usual charming self and got the audience involved in his demonstration, giving away books to members of the audience who correctly answered questions. They don't call him The Produce Man for nothing. He was full of tips for preparing and storing your fruits and veggies, like always store your bananas stem-side down, or better yet, hanging. And always rinse your vegetables in ice water. And do you like apples? Keep ‘em in the fridge if you don't want them to get mealy. How you like them apples?

The crowd
All shapes and sizes were in attendance. Of course the hippie tree-hugger crowd was well represented, but it is abundantly clear that vegetarianism and veganism have gone mainstream. Larry Groves of the Del Paso Boulevard Partnership estimated that they had over 1100 folks turn out for the event. "This was our first time doing this event," Groves said. "We were amazed and overwhelmed with the attendance." In conjunction with this, two neighboring businesses, Top Dawg restaurant and The Green Boheme Raw Food Cafe, reported having their busiest days ever.

The festive atmosphere
Beer and wine were sold in the Artisan Cafe, which doubled as one of the entrances to the festival. The other entrance was through the Artisan Gallery, which featured live bands and art from local emerging artists on the walls. It all made for a fun, festive ambiance.

I would be remiss if I didn't mention a few lowlights:

The crowd
It was a little too much at times. Combined with the line to get the noodles, the crowd for The Produce Man's presentation got to be prohibitive. I got caught up in the maelstrom, and the crunch of humanity was uncomfortable. They were a victim of their own success.

The "Vegan Nazi"
"To be healthy you have to be vegan" was the mantra of a particular booth barker. "Meat is murder and dairy is worse" was another line I heard. I appreciate the passion, but I could have done without the rhetoric.

Veggie dogs
I love veggie burgers and have even come around on tempeh. I had lunch at Sugar Plum Cafe on Day 14 of the cleanse, and Jess and I split a vegan BLT and a vegan Reuben. I thought they were great, especially the Reuben. That being said, I have never in my life tried a veggie hot dog/sausage that was any good. This sad streak continued, apologies to Top Dawg.

Overall, the highs far outweighed the lows, and the event was a success by almost any measure. It was such a success, in fact, that Mr. Groves says "The Del Paso Boulevard Partnership is looking to host another VegFest later this year, expanding the venue and including cooking classes and more demonstrations."

We'll keep you updated.

Womp Fest 2011

2011-01-29T03:29:12Z

I got my first taste of electronic music, like most of you, in the mid-'90s underground San Francisco rave scene.

You remember the ones. They didn't announce the location (usually a warehouse) until an hour before the party started, or about an hour after the time I now usually go to bed. You'd get there at like 1 a.m. and get loose to some house and trance and German techno (so efficient!) and unz unz unz unz unz unz and not get home ‘til about the time I now usually wake up.

You remember, don't you?

After college I took a long hiatus from the scene, broken up only by occasional (and usually accidental or coerced, or accidentally coerced. Or in Nevada.) forays into the club scene.

I was reintroduced to electronic music in the summer of 2009 when I had the privilege of going to a few electronica-fueled music festivals, Camp Bisco and Trinumeral. My mind was blown, and my passion for the genre rose, phoenixlike, from the ashes.

Let me tell you, they are doing some amazing things with electronic music these days. This ain't your grandma's techno.

Thursday night, Townhouse hosted the opening night of the second annual Sacramento Electronic Music Festival. As an avid fan of the womp womp and the weeooo weeooo, I decided to check it out.

Midtown was draped in an ominous fog as I biked up to the Townhouse. It would have been nice to have noticed that I didn't have my wallet before I locked up my bike, but I guess that just wasn't in the cards.

Midtown was draped in an ominous fog as I biked up to the Townhouse a second time, this time walleted.

"Great electronic music festival weather," I offered to the small throng gathered outside, waiting patiently for admission. (They were letting in about four people at a time so as to ease the pressure on the ticket-takers, including event co-creator Clay Nutting.) Everyone agreed wholeheartedly.

I entered the bar at 8:40 p.m. I left at 1:30 a.m. Some observations/goings-on in the interim:

- Though I am a huge fan of the genre, I am not exactly an expert or an aficionado. Good electronic music for me is something like hardcore pornography was to Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart: I can't define it, but I know it when I see it. And man I saw a lot of it on Thursday night.

- Fernie Fresh kept the downstairs bumping (womping?) along with a slew of other DJs. At times there were as many as three of them manning the booth at once, and the downstairs dance floor was peopled but not overly crowded all night, a nice respite from upstairs, which was elbow-to-elbow for most of the night.

- Pregnant was the first act I caught upstairs. A dude from Placerville, his guitar and a looping machine. I only caught a couple of his tracks, but they were pretty dope. I mean, he's got a ways to go to catch up with my man Zach Deputy, but I enjoyed it.

- When he was done I asked the dude spinning between sets if he had a schedule. "No, not really," he answered. "There's gonna be great music all night, just stick around." Prophetic. And a lot of it came from him. (He dropped "Computer Love" in there at one point. Always a good decision.)

- Thriftcar, from Auburn, was also dope. Two men playing (here’s where my lack of knowledge really comes in) MacBooks and several other things on a table in front of them. And one of them was a more than capable rapper. A friend of theirs mentioned that they "create beats on the fly" which, if true, makes it all the more impressive.

- Local act Sister Crayon is deserving of all the praise they have lavished upon them. And a lot heavier than I thought they'd be. Almost crunching at times.

- I was so fired up by Sister Crayon, and the other acts I'd seen, that I went up to a fellow I thought was organizer Clay Nutting (who I'd met for 30 seconds on the way in) and gushed about what a coup it was for Sacramento to have all this top-notch musical talent in town and how great the festival was for the credibility of the local music scene and yadda yadda yadda. He was also excited and agreed with me on all counts, before apprising me of the fact that he was in no way shape or form Clay Nutting. Turns out he was the Zach, the guitarist for. . .

- Tycho was probably my favorite act of the evening, and not just because of my bull in a china shop-like introduction to their guitarist. Beautiful, ambient melodies, driving beats, soaring, haunting vocals. They were f antastic.

- Daedelus was the headliner, and looked and acted the part. Dressed dapperly in a vintage suit, he came out and brought the house down. By the end of the set he, like the rest of us, was a sweaty disheveled mess with a huge smile on his face.

The best part about Thurday night?

It was only the beginning.

The Sacramento Electronic Music Festival continues Friday the 28th and Saturday the 29th. Doors open at 8pm both nights. Info and tickets can be found here.

Mondo Bizarro

2011-01-28T02:40:30Z

Did you know that Butch and Nellies Coffee Co. recently changed ownership and is now Mondo Bizarro Cafe?

For those of you who, like me, loved B&N, don't fret, the new owners have maintained much of the original feel. Without losing much, if anything, they have greatly expanded the menu, the hours and the lego collection. They are now open until 10pm Wednesday through Saturday, and co-owner Erin Newbold says they plan to eventually be open until 10pm every day of the week.

Newbold is hoping to draw a crowd to fun events like trivia night (bring it), game night (they have an extensive selection of board games on site, if I'm there you're playing for second), and a variety of events featuring live music and poetry. The first and third Wednesday of every month, Midtown Outloud puts on a spoken word and acoustic open mic night.

This Friday, January 28, from 7:30 to 10:00pm, Mondo Bizarro will be hosting Hot Pink to Cool Blue, A Night of Music, Comedy, and Spoken Word, put on by the Queer Syndicate and Sacramento Transgender Coalition . All proceeds will go to the Gender Health Center. Doors open at 6:30pm. Tickets will be $10 each at the door. Advanced tickets are only $8 each or $14 per pair and can be purchased online.

Featured artists include: Jovi Radtke, Natasha Muse, James Clark, Morgan and Eli Conley

Mondo Bizarro is located at 1827 I street. I am often located at one of the tables there-in.

David Lindley's gots licks, jokes.

2011-01-25T02:27:54Z

Friday night, legendary guitarist David Lindley played an early show at Harlow's night club.

I am embarrassed to admit that I hadn't known Mr. Lindley from Adam until a couple weeks ago when I received a note mentioning that Sacramento Press Editor-in-Chief David Watts Barton had suggested me, personally, for coverage.

D.W.B.'s recommendation was good enough for me. The man knows his music (even if he doesn't grok the Grateful Dead: blasphemy where I'm from). I agreed to cover the show without knowing a single thing about Lindley, or having heard a single note of his music.

A cursory glance at the YouTubes produced this, which was all I needed to see before concluding I'd made the right choice.

A cursory glance at his website reinforced the notion. The list of men and women with whom he's collaborated reads like the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame co-ed softball team: Jackson Browne, Linda Ronstadt, Bob Dylan, Rod Stewart, Graham Nash, Warren Zevon, Dolly Parton, Curtis Mayfield, James Taylor. . . I could keep going.

I arrived at Harlow's about 10 minutes after the 7:30 listed start time, having forgotten that even though an 8 p.m. start time means the show will start closer to 8:45 p.m., a 7:30 p.m. start actually means, a 7:30 p.m. start.

When I walked in, Pieta Brown was already on stage, accompanied only by her acoustic guitar and a lone microphone. Harlow’s was fairly packed. With it being an early show, the dance floor was chaired and tabled and fully peopled with folks enjoying the show from the comfort of their seats. A strikingly statuesque brunette, Pieta held the crowd’s rapt attention with her uniquely haunting voice and alt-folk-Americana sensibilities.

As I approached the bar to grab a PBR, I got to take in the second half of her song, "Rolling Down the Track."

At the end of the first entire song that I was privy to, "Closing Time," as the applause died down, a woman's voice rang out from the crowd, "You're awesome!" she said, and the applause rose up again.

"Thank you," the singer responded gratefully, before resuming her set.

She played until 8 p.m. on the button, with each song receiving as enthusiastic applause as could be hoped for from a 98 percent-seated audience. When she left the stage, she received a partial standing ovation, but quite a few of them were multitasking as they headed to the bar or lavatories.

I adjourned to the patio, where I joined a few smokers who were discussing what we'd just seen and, more importantly, what we were about to see.

When I admitted that I'd never seen Lindley in concert, and had only recently found out that he existed at all, one fellow castigated me lightly: "Man, he's a legend. You've never heard Jackson Browne's version of ‘Cocaine’?"

Another gentleman regaled me with a story of catching Jackson Browne at the OG Mountain Aire festival in the early 1980s. I think he said Night Ranger opened.

The consensus was that I was in for a treat.

At 8:18, the man himself took the stage, bracketed on three sides by all manner of stringed instruments. I'm pretty sure one of them was the taken directly from Whoville. A "FloomFloggle," I believe it was called.

I'm pretty sure the only time I'd seen another one was in the “Star Wars” cantina.

He opened with a track that I could only describe as Gaelic classical. He called it an old fife and banjo tune.

At the completion of the first tune, he began a running, quite funny, banter with the crowd.

The dude's got a quirky sense of humor, and it was on display nearly as much as his prodigious musical talent.
"I used to play at Disneyland . . . That's where I learned to drink." he said, pausing to let the thought sink in.
"Underneath the Matterhorn." The audience laughed, and a good-length pause followed.
"Oh shit, what's that smell? People getting high . . . running the Matterhorn," he said, slowly.

He reached to grab his next instrument, this one a fairly traditional guitar.

"Shouldn't have said that," he said with a laugh before beginning his next tune, a masterfully fingerpicked version of Levon Helm's "The Poor old Dirt Farmer."

"I'd like to follow an old Blues tradition, and sing you a drug song" he announced to the crowd before his next tune. "This is a drug many of us know and love . . . Excedrin."

The song was called "Little Green Bottle." The crowd ate it up.

Through the course of the evening, he probably used eight to 10 different guitars (Instruments? I’m not sure if they were all technically guitars), both lap and traditional.

Up next, a song by 1950s Greenwich New York folk quartet The Weavers called "State of Arkansas."

A question shot out from the audience – "Are you still crazy bout your Mercury?" – caused Lindley to go into a stellar Jimmy Stewart impression. (I admit I thought for a second he was giving us a Nixon. They kind of sound alike).

He followed this with, what else, a Ben Harper lap steel track, "Well, Well, Well."

He continued his "If it didn't work so well, I'd wonder where the Hell he comes up with this stuff" set with the Bruce Springsteen classic "Brothers under the Bridge."
It’s a great song, but also a great song to eat a gun to. He astutely chose to lighten the mood on his next ditty, his last of the set.
The next track, "When a Guy Gets Boobs (It don't look so good),” was just what the doctor ordered.

"He's funny as hell," offered the gentleman sitting at the table to my right, and I wasn't gonna argue with him. Even though man boobs are a medical condition, not a laughing matter, and I don't make fun of your gout, do I?

All right, I guess man boobs are kinda funny.

To raucous applause, he left the stage at 9:24 p.m., only to return to stage at . . . 9:24 p.m. He's been around too long to put on airs.

He encored with "Revenge will Come" by Southern California-based singer/songwriter Greg Copeland.

It was an incredibly eclectic and wonderfully performed set, if a bit subdued. And though I generally gravitate toward shows with active dance floors, I was able to more than make up for the lack thereof at the early show with some late night buffoonery at Momo's upstairs. I love Harlow's.

Nibblers at the Crocker

2011-01-22T01:58:47Z

Did you know that the Crocker Art Museum, as part of its recent 125,000-square-foot addition, added a 260-seat auditorium?

Not content with being the oldest (and arguably the awesomest) art museum west of the Mississippi, the Crocker is also now a pretty sweet little music venue to boot.

The museum is open every Thursday until 9 p.m. for its aptly named "Thursdays 'Til 9" program. The third Thursday of every month has been pegged "Playlist," a concert series that "highlights local, regional and national performers from musical genres as diverse as blues, reggae, indie, folk, country, bluegrass, rock, hip hop, world music and everything in between." (http://crockerartmuseum.org/learn-do/thursdays-til-9)

This week’s "Playlist" featured local funk/soul stalwarts The Nibblers.

The auditorium where they played is super-intimate, located off an alcove adjacent to the two-story atrium and Mulvaney-operated Crocker Cafe.

Many of the concertgoers had taken an early, farm-to-fork dinner in the lovely new space, enjoying a selection of wine, beer and even cocktails as they did so. Beverages are not allowed in the auditorium itself, but you could make out the music from the tables nearest the venue, if you were so inclined.

If you've never seen The Nibblers, you are missing out on something of a local treasure. In my nearly 11 months in town, I've caught them four times. The ubiquitous funk mavens played a great set at Cesar Chavez Friday Night Concerts in the Park, routinely tear it up on Second Saturday, more than held their own opening for Trombone Shorty at Harlow’s (no small feat), and I heard they played some mean guerrilla-style sets at High Sierra Music Fest.

They took the stage at 7:10 to raucous applause, which was soon followed by a sheer silence as the eight band members took their places on stage. For a moment, it took on the feel of a collegiate lecture hall or small symphonic performance. Lead singer Hans Eberbach broke up the the briefly awkward silence: "The chairs are bolted down, I checked, but that doesn't mean you can't get up and dance."

This was greeted with responding cheers, which carried right into the first song, "Love." Many fans danced in the aisles and the open walkways on either side of the plush red seats.

Several times during the set, the stage was rushed by precocious young fans.

Like, 3-year-olds.

The musicians embraced their young fans. "The Nibblers: good for kids, too," Eberbach joked.

It was a typically great Nibblers set – high-energy, straightforward New Orleans soul featuring some searing horn solos and funky beats.
They closed their first set with a rollicking "song about math," entitled "638." The song is actually about a racehorse, and the crowd pleaser invokes the fans to participate with a "Giddy up, giddy up now" call and response. Giddy up indeed.

At a bit after 8 p.m., they left the stage and implored the crowd to go check out some art during the intermission.

It is a museum, after all.

I, and many others in the crowd, adjourned upstairs to take in some culture with our, uh, culture.

After about 15 minutes, the museum speakers rang with the announcement that the band was about to return to the stage.

Unfortunately, I was not nearly ready to leave the gallery.

The third floor of the Crocker is up there with my very favorite spots in Sacramento. A quick list off the top of my head? The back patio at the Zebra, the right-field lawn at Raley Field, Harlow's, my bedroom and the third floor of the Crocker.

There's my Sacramento Mount Rushmore.

So I didn't return to the show, choosing instead to spend some more time with San Francisco's Norman Irving (I could spend an hour looking at his "My World and Yours . . . And the Gods Created the World in their own Image " by itself), Carmel's Clayton Pinkerton and my absolute favorite, San Francisco's (again!) Edwin Deakin, among others.

I doubt I was missed. They had to know they might lose a few of us when they sent us out there. . .

Upcoming “Thursday Til 9 “events can be found here.

Dive Bar Grand Opening

2011-01-21T05:58:29Z

On Wednesday night, Dive Bar held its grand opening.
The "New K Street" has been covered ad nauseum here and (and here and here and here. . . .) and elsewhere.

George Karpaty's new "entertainment complex" is big news, and I wanted to see what all the fuss was about, so I put on my press hat, my dance pants and my shiniest shirt and headed over.

The block was already bumping when I arrived a little before 8 p.m. I went to Dive Bar first, but my contact was nowhere to be found, the mermaids had yet to arrive and the bar was seatless. I decided to to take my leave and begin my night with a beer at the pizza "joint" next door.

Pizza Rock was bustling. The huge dining room was close to packed, and a handful of people were gathered by the host desk awaiting their tables. There were, however, a couple open seats at the long curved bar. I chose one directly underneath the grill of the Peterbilt DJ booth and made myself comfortable.

I am pleased to report that they have 24 oz PBR tallboys (In Wisconsin they call em silos!) for the relatively reasonable price of $4 apiece. Well, $4.40 with tax. Look, I ended up paying $11 for two of em with tip. Like I said, relatively.

I spent a little over an hour at Pizza Rock, taking in the scene and the end of the Kings overtime loss to the Trail Blazers. Some impressions:

– The truck/DJ booth and Sistine Chapel-esque ceiling art are as gaudy, cartoonish and over-the-top ridiculous as they sound. The room is like an Ed Hardy wet dream, which makes sense, seeing as chef Tony Gemignani teamed up with the ubiquitous graphic designer on a line of Ed Hardy pizza boxes. Seriously. That being said, the space is huge, open and comfortable in spite of itself.

– The food looks and smells terrific. (My girlfriend is currently doing a 21-day yoga cleanse, and as a show of solidarity, I am trying to follow her mostly vegetable diet. Except when Korean tacos are involved). The chef became the first American to win The World Pizza Cup competition in Naples, Italy, in 2007. The White anchovy and prosciutto de Pomodorini pizzas were eaten on either side of me, and they both looked outstanding getting rave reviews from their owners. Manny, a recent transplant from Hoboken, described the latter as an "off-the-hook Jersey-style pizza." The meatballs also looked phenomenal. These 21 days can't end soon enough.

– Mayor Kevin Johnson was in the building, and he gave the pizza a thumbs-up.

– In accordance with the name of the place, the music was kind of awesome. Skynyrd, Beastie Boys, Whitesnake, Bon Jovi, Nirvana, Faith No More, 311, The Red Hot Chili Peppers, Pearl Jam, Dynamite Hack . . . They were all over the map, and I had several, "Hey, this song!" moments. Good stuff.

– A fellow next to me ordered a Malibu and pineapple for his lady friend, and after receiving the drink he asked the bartender to add a little more Malibu, and the barkeep gladly did so. A nice sign.

After the Kings game ended (badly), I headed back over to Dive Bar. Some impressions:

– Mermaids. They are there, swimming around, and it's kind of awesome.

– How awesome will it be six months from now?

– They turned away a few people who were under-dressed. Don't let the name fool you, this Dive Bar has a dress code.

– I think this spot, more than the other two, will have to find its identity. It's not really a lounge, not really a dance club, certainly not a dive bar. Dance music, mermaids, TVs with sports playing, patterned carpeting, no food, bottle service, $300 "booths" that are just couches against the wall.

– Someone offered that it is just a place to go for the people who can't get in to District 30.

– This proved prophetic, as it filled up as soon as a huge line of people who had been waiting to get into D30 were turned way, with apologies and passes to return at a later date.

– They should have called it "Overflow."

– It opens at noon, but doesn't serve food. We'll see how long that lasts.

After being rebuked in my initial attempt to gain entry to District 30, I was able to sneak in on my way out. (Not really, I got to speaking with the manager, who let me in on the caveat that I not take any pictures). A few very brief observations:

– The floor around the main dance floor is kind of bouncy.

– This will succeed. George Karpaty knows his nightclubs. It's everything you might expect from the guy behind Ruby Skye: clean, slick, cool, great sound, comfortable booths, full of beautiful people and at least one professional athlete.

All in all, the “New K Street” left a pretty good first impression. Karpaty knows night clubs, and Gemignani knows pizzas. I've got every confidence in Pizza Rock and District 30 being successes. As long as that happens, Overflow should be fine, too.

Immaculate Taco

2011-01-19T05:13:35Z

The taco is the world’s most perfect food. Fact.

Personally, I think the taco is the single most perfect thing, food or otherwise, in the universe. I'm willing to bend on this stance, but I don't expect to. Feel free to nominate something else, but it has to be a physical thing. I will not accept "love" or "a summer's day" as viable submissions.

Some have called me taco-obsessed. And, if getting 50 tacos mailed to me in New York from California on dry ice for my first collegiate care package makes me obsessed, then, well, maybe.

If picking up a duffel bag full of tacos and burritos during a 45 minute layover at SFO is wrong, I don't want to be right.

The point is, since I discovered that there were trucks in Los Angeles and Portland serving tacos made with Korean-style barbecue meats, I have wanted desperately to have a Korean taco place of my own.

Korean barbecue lends itself perfectly to tacos, as there are a lot of similarities between Mexican and Korean foods. Obviously, the spices are different, but both cuisines are known for their flavorful, tender meats served with spicy, pickled vegetables.

Beef and pork bul gogi are perfect stand-ins for carne asada and al pastor. Korean spicy slaw and kimchi are equally adept stand-ins for the ubiquitous pickled jalepeños and carrots of your favorite taqueria.

When I heard that GoGi’s Korean Barbecue was opening at the former Park to Go stand at 15th and L streets, I was absolutely giddy. Finally! A Korean taqueria to call my own!

I got a chance to sample its goods this morning before it opened to the public, and I was not disappointed.

There are four different fillings for the tacos: beef short rib, chicken, spicy pork and tofu. I sampled one of each of the meat offerings. And then I "sampled" two more of the beef ones. They are really good.

The soft corn tortillas are brimming with meats that are juicy, sweet, salty and as tender as can be. All the tacos are topped with a crunchy, spicy slaw made with cabbage, carrots, onions and sriracha. There are bottles of the rooster sauce on the counter for those of us who want a little (or a lot) more kick.

I also sampled the house-made lemonade, which is sweet without being cloying and has a tart tang to it. A good, but not great, offering.
All of the tacos are $2, and burritos go for $5.

This week only, your first taco is free.

There is a strong possibility (dead certainty) that I will go back tomorrow for lunch.

Orgone and Zuhg > Monday

2011-01-19T02:47:47Z

Harlow's Nightclub was at the center of a perfect storm Monday.

Headliner Orgone brought in a decent crowd of folks looking forward to a unique brand of SoCal soulpowerfunk. Local reggae act Zuhg opened the show, bringing a sizable and impassioned young fan base looking forward to high-energy NorCal Jazzreggaejamrock.

Many of those who came for Zuhg weren't all that familiar with Orgone.

Most of those who came to see Orgone weren't all that familiar with Zuhg.

The beauty of this scenario is that if one were to draw a Venn diagram representative of the people who would like each of these acts, it would be very close to a single circle.

What ended up happening was the crowd for both acts was about half newbies getting caught up in the groove, looking around excitedly as if to get confirmation that what they were seeing was, in fact, this dope, and half die-hards, singing along to their favorites, answering the newbies’ glances with knowing nods, giving confirmation: Oh yeah, they are this dope.

It made for easily the best Monday night crowd, and show, I've ever seen at Harlow's. Inspired booking by my man Brian McKenna.

Zuhg took the stage about 8:45, opening with "Up to no good." In it's first incarnation, Zuhg featured one sax player, two drummers, two guitarists and a bassist.

These six members would remain on stage for the entirety of the set, but they were far from alone.

For their second song, the horn-heavy, bouncy reggae cut "Nothing You Can Do," off their 2010 EP “Fish Tank,” they were joined on stage by two more sax players. They made good use of the horn section as they came to a cacophonous crescendo interlude (reminiscent of the interlude in the Beatles classic "A Day in the Life") before going back into NYCD.

For their next song, they were joined on stage by a fourth sax player, although he did not stay long, preferring to take his horn with him into the crowd. I think the song they were playing at the time was called "Personality." I know it was a crunchy-ass jam.

A few more highlights of the Zuhg set included a cover of Jimmy Hendrix's "Let me stand next to your fire," and a twisted version of the "Inspector Gadget" soundtrack for which the band brought out an MC to spit hot fire. (Inspector MadSpit?).

The band then played a couple more tracks off the “Fish Tank” EP, "Dreams" and "Sexual." For these, the last member of the band, Charlie, a long-haired beatboxer who has mastered the art of dubby womp wompitty womp womp beatboxing, joined the musicians already on the stage.

He really got to stretch out his Wompboxing on their last song of the evening. I didn't catch the name of the song, but at one point, to the absolute delight of the audience, the exquisitely mustachioed fourth sax man went to his knees on the dance floor and leaned back till his shoulders were on the ground while belting out a mean solo.

The dude wearing a monkey and a sarong was especially stoked by the performance.

They left the stage to raucous applause a little after 9:30 p.m.

At 10 on the button, Orgone took the stage.

Orgone, which one of my buddies described, I think aptly, as "West-Coast Galactic" also had a three-man horn section, theirs featuring a trombone, trumpet and either a flute or a sax, depending on what the moment called for.

A keyboard, bass, guitar and two drummers rounded out the group as it was composed for the first song of the evening, “A WOT,” an instrumental jam off of the 2008 album “Killion Floor” featuring an epic flute solo.

The eight-piece became nine on its second song of the evening, a rollicking "Do your thing," from the same album, that brought the already-amped crowd to new heights. Newly arrived vocalist ~~Fanny Franklin~~ Sy Smith implored the audience: "If you feel like you wanna scream, and screaming is your thing . . . then scream."

The audience felt like screaming.

~~Fanny~~ Smith dedicated the next song, "Nassau," from, you guessed it, “Killion Floor,” to Chris, "Cool Chris," the aforementioned saronged-and-monkeyed audience member.
The track offered several members of the band a chance to show off their chops as ~~Fanny~~ Smith sang: "Listen to the drummer, he's gonna play a funky beat. . . . Listen to the bass player, he's gonna make you move your feet."

“Nassau” ended with an epic solo by the stand-up percussionist just violating the bongo, snare, cowbell and . . . more cowbell.

Prescription filled.

They continued to mine their 2008 album with the bluesy "Who Knows Who," went elsewhere for "Ain't No Use," before returning for another instrumental jam, "Hambone."

Miss ~~Franklin~~ Smith returned for the ode to all things '70s, "Welcome Back." (J.J says Dyno-mite!).

~~Fanny~~ Smith was a dancing, singing ode to the '70s personified with her giant red-tinged Afro, purple print shirt referencing said Afro, shiny gold skirt, purple fishnet stockings, pink belt and heels.

"Make sure to head over to the mercy table after the show: You might get someone's number," she announced before the next song. "Like Sergio. Sergio is known to give it up."

The next song? "Give it Up."

Orgone closed with another track off “Killion,” "I get lifted," ("Speaking of getting high") and a cover of the funkadelic classic, “Cosmic Slop.”

At 11:12 p.m., Orgone left the stage, only to return at 11:14 to raucous applause.

The musicians encored with "Do Your Thing" into "Honky," which turned into an extended instrumental jam featuring another epic flute solo. It's a rare (awesome) set that is bookended with searing flute solos, but then Orgone is a rare band.

It was a fantastic show featuring no less than 20 musicians between the two bands, and it was played in front of a packed and super-amped-up crowd. It was hard to believe it was a Monday night in Sacramento.

David Lindley at Harlow's

2011-01-19T01:01:05Z

Friday, renowned multi-instrumentalist David Lindley is coming to Sacramento for a gig at Harlow's.

The longtime Jackson Browne collaborator and front man of El Rayo-X has been one of Hollywood's most sought-after session musicians.

Lindley has lent his talents to the recorded works of such musicians as Bob Dylan, Rod Stewart, Linda Ronstadt, Warren Zevon, David Crosby, Graham Nash, Ben Harper and many others.

From David Lindley.com: The David Lindley electro-acoustic performance effortlessly combines American folk, blues, and bluegrass traditions with elements from African, Arabic, Asian, Celtic, Malagasy, and Turkish musical sources. Lindley incorporates an incredible array of stringed instruments including but not limited to Kona and Weissenborn Hawaiian lap steel guitar, Turkish saz and chumbus, Middle Eastern oud, and Irish bouzouki.

You get all that?

Should be a heck of a show.

David Lindley, with guest Pieta Brown

Friday, January 21st,

Doors open at 7:30 p.m.

Tickets are $25

Cut that meat!

2011-01-19T00:45:30Z

If God did not intend for us to eat animals, then why did he make them out of meat? - John Cleese.

In a given year, the average American consumes 73.6 pounds of poultry, 62.4 pounds of beef, 46.5 pounds of pork and 16.1 pounds of shellfish. (visualeconomics.com)

That adds up to almost 200 pounds of animal flesh consumed, per person, per year.

And really, those numbers are skewed by the rapidly growing number of vegetarians and (groan) vegans who are running around these days, averaging zeros across the board. If you are afflicted with vegetarianism, and for some reason the quote at the top didn't send you running, feel free to stop reading now.

As for the rest of us, if you're like me, it's probably easy for you to disconnect the meat from the animal. It's a steak, not Bessie. It's a rack of lamb, not one of Mary's flock. It's bacon, not Wilbur.

Or at least it was easy for me to make the disconnect, until I attended Taylor's Kitchen Butchering 101 class on Saturday.

Taught by Taylor's owner and Head Butcher Danny Johnson, the class is a comprehensive introductory lesson in all things meat.

Johnson is an old-school butcher. He knew he wanted to be a butcher from the time he was a kid and went to butchering school in Oregon straight out of high school, where he learned his art under trial by fire. "Basically, I paid $100 a month to work in a shop 40 or 50 hours a week, butchering every kind of animal you can imagine," he said.

Taylor's Market continues the proud tradition of the neighborhood butcher shop.

"We're a dying breed," Johnson said. "As far as breaking down whole animals, we're just about the only one's doing it (in Sacramento)."
His butchering classes, which were featured last year in a Time Magazine article, are offered in the dining room of Taylor's Kitchen and limited to just 25 students. Saturday's class was sold out.

Class began with Johnson presenting an assortment of seafood. Dungeness crab (don't buy it out of tanks unless you know how long it's been there), scallops (make sure they haven't been soaked in phosphate), prawns (don't get them if they are farm-raised in China) and Atlantic salmon (the best is farmed in Scotland) are just a few of the sea creatures about which he dropped knowledge.

His general rules regarding seafood are to, whenever possible, buy fresh ("I won't eat frozen seafood"), always smell the product before buying ("If the fishmonger won't let you smell it, leave.") and always find out where you're product is coming from.

Next, Johnson brought out the poultry. He completely broke down two whole chickens, one into pieces, and other he de-boned and butterflied with the skin on. The speed and skill with which he breaks down the birds is a sight to behold.

He is a big proponent of buying your chickens whole and doing the butchering yourself as a way to save money. It was this portion of the tutorial that will probably prove the most useful for the home cook. We discussed the merits of different providers (don't buy Tyson, do buy Mary's) and whether buying "organic" is worth the added expense (no).

Third up was the whole lamb. This is where the class, for me, went from tutorial to exhibition. It's also where the hacksaw, which had been hanging seductively from a light fixture on the wall behind Johnson, joined the party.

If you have any questions as to whether or not you are a carnivore, this portion of the class should answer them.

I imagine it would have been mortifying for your average vegan to watch the man hacksawing his way through the sheep corpse. I found it to be absolutely captivating.

As he broke down the lamb (dismembered the carcass?) he went over the different grades of product (prime, choice, select, et cetera).

Batting cleanup was half of a hog. As a pork lover, this may have been my favorite portion of the course. Watching a pig get broken down into spare ribs, baby backs, pork belly (bacon!), butt (carnitas!), rib end pork chops, picnic shoulder and more was almost a spiritual experience.

Last, but certainly not least, was the beef. When they brought out the Harris Ranch beef chuck, the excitement in the air was palpable.
In order to make his first cut, Danny had to lean up onto the table and brace the animal’s leg under his thigh. At this point, the class, which had been barraging the butcher with questions for the better part of three hours, fell nearly silent – rendered speechless by his masterful knife work and the sheer size and beauty of the beef.

As he deftly broke the behemoth portion of steer down to a roast, he spoke of "true" dry aging, the merits of grinding your own beef (there is a whole lot of leeway when it comes to what can legally go into "ground beef") and a thing called "beef bacon" that sounds too good to be true.

At the end of class, we were treated to a light lunch of chili and cornbread muffins, which we ate while excitedly discussing what we'd just seen and learned.

As John, who owns La Cocina Economica in Chico and had received the class as a gift from his wife, put it, "To me, this is art."

I would highly recommend this class for anyone who eats meat on a regular basis. Not only do you learn butchering techniques you can use in the home and tricks for finding the best product for the best price, but you gain a respect and understanding for where your meat comes from that can only be acquired by seeing it firsthand.

I won't ever look at my dinner in the same way.

A list of upcoming classes and events at Taylor's can be found here.

Orgone coming to Harlows.

2011-01-15T08:07:29Z

or·gone n. A universal life force, a cosmic unit of energy, the creative force in nature.

Orgone n. A nine piece soul/funk ensemble from Los Angeles.

A staple on the Festival circuit (High Sierra Music Fest, Moe.down, South by Southwest, Jazzfest, to name a few) Orgone has opened for the likes of Al Green and Sharon Jones, and toured with the Roots and Greyboy Allstars.

I happened to catch a few minutes of their RV rooftop set at High Sierra and they absolutely killed it.

They are bringing their unique brand of powerfunk to Harlow's this coming Monday, the 17th.

Doors open at 8pm.

Opening for them will be local reggae act Zuhg.

Getting loose on the dancefloor will be me.

Tickets are $12

Image #1 is the property of Josh Miller.

Image #2 comes from Orgone's website.

You mess with the bull. . .

2011-01-15T01:52:57Z

The Professional Bull Riders Built Ford Tough Series is in town this weekend for its second stop of the 2011 season. In conjunction with the appearance, the PBR held a media hour on Thursday afternoon where I had the opportunity to meet and interview Bull Rider McKennon Wimberly.

Also in attendance was Zorro, a 25-year-old, 1,700-pound bull. More on him later.

I met Wimberly in the Kings store. The 5-foot-9-inch, 150-pound Cool, Texas, native was wearing a black banded cowboy hat that matched his boots, blue jeans, a light brown vest (that matched the band on his hat) and a collared shirt which read Neckover, a brand of horse trailer, down the sleeve. He looks every bit the professional bull rider.

His manner is befitting his hometown, and he speaks with a laid-back Texas drawl that becomes less so when he's excitedly discussing his chosen career. The man clearly loves what he does, and he's good at it. Over the course of his career, he's made more than $400,000. Through one event this season, he's 12th in the BFTS standings. But jaded professional athlete he is not.

As someone who learned everything I know about bull riding from the Woody Harrelson, Kiefer Sutherland classic "The Cowboy Wa y," I kept the questions fairly elementary. For a more in-depth breakdown, try the PBR website.

The Sacramento Press: What would you say to someone who is kind of thinking about going, but has never been?

McKennon Wimberly: I'd say somebody that hasn't been to bull riding, but is thinking ’bout going, I'd say you need to go. Any sport you've ever seen, there's nothing like it. There's no other sport where it's man versus beast. It's a great show, too. It's not just a bunch of redneck cowboys hitting around and . . . bucking bulls, you know? It's a good show. We have the best entertainment in the business: great bull riders, some of the best fans . . . It's pretty exciting. There's good music, a lot of pyro – it's a show for sure.

SP: Is bull riding something that's just in your blood? I know your dad did it. . .

MW: Yeah, my dad was a bull rider, and I always just wanted to be like him, you know? Then once I got old enough to make my own decisions and stuff, I loved the sport, and that's what I always wanted to do.

SP: How would you describe riding a 2,000-pound bull that doesn't want you to be riding it?

MW: Ah, there's nothing else like it. I'd say maybe getting on the wildest roller coaster you've ever seen, without a seat belt. That's about the closest thing I can come up with.

SP: Yeah, I was watching a couple clips of you man . . . I saw a clip of you on Charlie?

MW: Charlie Bullware.

SP: Yeah. Do you want to talk about that? That was kind of hard for me to watch. . .

MW: (Laughs) Yeah, it was actually . . . other than getting bucked off – and it cost me winning that event – it was actually kinda fun. It's all an adrenaline rush, you know? That bull bucked me off about four or five seconds and, uh, I got hung up. My hand was tied to my rope and wouldn't come out, and he was slinging me around . . . I just kinda looked like a rag doll on him.
There wasn't much I could do. You just try to get your hand out and stay in control, but . . . when the bull’s bucking that hard and moving that fast, it's hard to stay in control. Aah, it was still a little bit a fun.

SP: How do you feel about helmets?

MW: I wear a helmet. I think they are a great idea, especially for young guys coming up. It's not just the danger of the bull jerking you down. They step on your head, they throw you into a fence, in the bucking shoot they might hit you on the fence – there's always something. There's so many dangers in this sport. Some of the guys think it's not tough to wear helmets, well, gladiators wore helmets when they were fighting. What's not tough about it? We're riding bulls. I mean, we're not in a cage fighting somebody, it's a completely different deal. We have a protective vest that . . . when a bull steps on you it kinda absorbs the pressure and spreads it out. I think the helmet's a great idea. I've seen a lot of my friends get their heads stepped on and live through it, and I've seen a couple without the helmet, and it's been bad.

SP: A couple friends wanted me to ask if you have any extra protection down in the . . . uh. . . groin region?

MW: Actually, no, it wouldn't help you out any. If a bull stepped on you there, it'd just crush the cup and go on about it. And, as far as riding, it doesn't bother you like people would think, you know? I mean, there's times that it . . . catches wrong . . . but for the most part, it's all good.

SP: I was wondering about what kind of injuries you have had? Is it hard to wake up the next day?

MW: You know, sometimes it's a little rough getting out of bed, even at 22 years old. I've broken my leg twice, I've dislocated both shoulders, broke my elbow, broke my jaw and broke my back.

SP: And you've been riding how long?

MW: I've been riding professionally for four years, but I've been riding all my life.

SP: Most Sacramento Press readers (I went out on a limb here), the closest they've ever come to riding a bull is a mechanical bull ride. Does that compare in any way? Do you ever ride ’em?

MW: Yeah, I do it some. It's a little bit similar just by, you have to put out the effort to stay on top, but it doesn't really feel like a bull. If you get on a bull that feels like a bucking machine, you're going, "What the heck?" (laughs) It just feels completely different. There's no forward motion, there's not that power, that big strong jump yanking you . . . it's just kinda little short, quick yanks. But, I have a bucking machine at my house, and some of us use ’em for practice. They're a little different than the ones you might see at the bar, but, still, anything that you ride is good practice.

SP: How long does you're average bull riding career last? With how rough it is and the beating you take. . .

MW: It depends on the guy, and it depends on the injuries. Back in the day, it used to last a lot longer. The bulls just weren't . . . well, they had some that were just as bad, but there just weren't as many as they have now. Now, there are stock contractors from all over the world, and every guy brings his best five or 10 bulls. It's great bulls from all over, and it's hard to stay healthy. The average career for a bull rider nowadays is probably around 10 years.

SP: So then you’ve got another six left?

MW: Yeah. I might even have more than that. I just really love the sport. Even if I retire from professional bull riding, I could see myself probably still getting on bulls at the house just for fun, you know?

SP: Is there a particular bull . . . Charlie, we talked about . . . that is the badass?

MW: There's one called "Bushwacker" that's gonna be bucking here. He's a pretty tough one. He's unridden. I look forward to drawing him. I like to be the guy . . . the first one to ride him. I think a few guys have let him slip through their fingers. I'm not gonna be that guy.

When I agreed to do the interview, I had no idea that the story would end with me "riding" (struggling to mount, clinging to for dear life and eventually dragging myself to a seated position atop?) a bull in the parking lot. Even when Casey, my Sac Press liaison, later mentioned the possibility, I kind of thought she was joking. "I get on the bull? Sweet. 'Fat kid falls off bull.' This story writes itself."

As soon as we finished the interview, Alex Sigua, a public relations coordinator for Maloof Sports and Entertainment, made it clear that Casey had not been joking.

"Hey, Lindol, we've got the bull outside, are you ready to ride?" he asked.

"Seriously?"

Jack Carnefix, who's Senior Manager of Public Relations for the PBR, sensed my trepidation and made it clear that I didn't have to ride the bull if I was nervous about it, but in his next breath mentioned that a nice young lady had just ridden Zorro that morning.

Gauntlet thrown. I knew then what I had to do.

I had to tame the mighty beast.

We walked out to the parking lot where Zorro was waiting. As Dennis, Zorro's handler, brought the bull out of his trailer, Wimberly mentioned that whereas the young lady had three fellas offering to help her on to the bull (and one actually doing so), I would have no such luxury.

Upon seeing the brute, I had two thoughts: "OK, think I can do this," and "Man, I wish I had a stool."

The latter was far louder in my mind than the former.

Zorro stood about chest high on me, a wee (good?) bit higher than I can comfortably swing myself. It would take every bit of my prodigious 3-inch vertical jump to catapult myself atop him, and, to be honest, I wasn't sure that would be enough. Also, crediting myself a 3-inch vert may be generous at this point.

Two tears in a bucket . . . I reached across Zorro’s back, grabbed hold and swung my 230-odd pounds up as high as I could . . . and Zorro took off.

Now Zorro isn't as young as he used to be (who is?), so when I say "took off," I mean "walked off."

It wasn't a rampaging bull situation by any stretch of the imagination, but my hold upon him was tenuous at best(see image #6). Despite my arms and legs both being wrapped around the beast, for a moment I was facing the very real possibility of being "bucked" and ending up tossed to the asphalt.

Although I was not fearing for my for my safety, I was in terror for my pride.

It didn't help that every person in attendance was already laughing heartily. Maybe a little with me, but mostly at me.

Did I mention Zorro was sopping wet?

Right when I was sure I was done for, Dennis was able to stop Zorro's progress, and in the calm I was able to yank myself up to an awkwardly seated position.

Eventually I was even able to offer a double thumbs up for what I thought at the time was the only picture taken of the fiasco.

It was only when I got home that I realized Alex had gotten the full play-by-play on film.

It was then that I realized how silly it had been for me to be fearful of hurting my pride.

Needless to say, I have a newfound appreciation for bull riding.

The PBR BFTS begins tonight, Friday January 14th, at Arco Arena at 8pm and continues tomorrow beginning at 7pm. Tickets start at $10 and can be purchased here.

Steak beats sizzle

2011-01-13T04:58:22Z

I love to eat out. I mean, I love to eat in too, but I really love to eat out.

When I worked in the restaurant industry, in those heady woebegone days of the mid-aughts, I used to go out to eat four or five nights a week.

These days, I have less disposable income, so I rarely get a chance to indulge myself in such a manner.

When I found out about The Downtown Sacramento Partnership's "Dine Downtown Restaurant Week," I leapt at the chance to review one of the participating restaurants’ prix-fixe offerings.

I was given a 6 p.m. Tuesday reservation for two (I would be joined by my lovely girlfriend Jess) at Dawson's, a classic American chophouse found in the lobby of the Downtown Hyatt.

Dawson's is probably not a place I would have found on my own. I admit, when it comes to dining out, American cuisine is pretty far down on my list. I'm an unrepentant fusion-ophile, a sucker for all things nouveaux-ethnic. Korean Bul-go-gi tacos? Yes, please. Vietnamese Tapas? Sign me up. (I have my limits though, I consider California Pizza Kitchen to be an abomination).

A cursory glance at the Dawson's menu confirmed that there would be none of that tomfoolery on this night. Chef Ian Libberton has created a menu that is comfortable and comforting. The entrée list is textbook: four steaks and a prime rib, one chicken dish, one pork dish, one rack of lamb, two fish dishes (salmon and sea bass, natch) and a token veggie entrée (you bet your sweet bippy it's a mushroom tortelinni). Classic. Straightforward. Few frills. No tricks.

So it all comes down to execution, and I'm pleased to report the execution, though not flawless, was stellar.

We arrived five minutes before our reservation and were immediately greeted by the genial host, who, like all of the plentiful floor staff, was dressed in shirt and tie. He led us past the dimly lit horseshoe-shaped bar and the open kitchen into the main dining room.

We were seated at a comfortable two-top next to a deeply varnished wooden railing that separated us from a row of booths and the aforementioned kitchen.

As we were seated in our large, comfortable chairs, I was suddenly reminded of the immortal Ron Burgundy: "I'm very important. I have many leather bound books, and my apartment smells of rich mahogany." Though I didn't see any books, I feel the setting he was trying to convey to Veronica Corningstone was something akin to the one in which we sat.

The host, while lapping our napkins for us, informed us that Michel, our waiter, would be right with us, then returrned to his post.
The moment he left us, another fellow arrived with water, and hot on his heels, a third gentleman arrived with bread, butter, an olive tapenade and a caveat: "The tapenade has a little anchovy in it, in case you have any allergies".

Thankfully, neither Jess or I have such an affliction, so we dug in post-haste. (As a trained professional, I both buttered and tapenaded my bread. If one is good, both is better).

Michel arrived and, in a charming French accent (not to be confused with the oft-heard "condescending French accent." He was from Nice, not Paris.), asked us what we'd like to drink. I ordered an Anchor Steam on draft, Jess stuck with the water and Michel went off to grab us the Dine Downtown menu. (I'm not implying that Michel did this, but when I worked at a restaurant and we had special prix-fixe menus, I wouldn't necessarily go out of my way to make sure the customers got a copy of the menu. It's nothing personal, just business).

Jess and I decided to start out with a cup of the French onion soup and a Caesar salad. While waiting for the first course to arrive, I took a moment to survey the crowd. For a moment, I was struck by the fact that Jess and I were easily the youngest (at 20-something and 32) people in the dining room. Then I remembered that it was 6:10 p.m. on a Tuesday. We would be done with dinner in plenty of time to go home, watch Matlock and fall asleep in our Barcaloungers. As the meal went on, the crowd became far less senior citizen-centric.

The first course arrived, and we wasted no time in getting after it.

The French onion soup was beautiful: a small cup crowned with the perfect amount of evenly melted cheese, just slightly browned and capped with a few rings of green onion. The broth underneath was silky smooth with just the right amount of oniony sweetness and melt-in-your-mouth bread cubes. It was one of the better examples of the classic dish that I've ever sampled.

The Caesar, though promising, was tragically overdressed. The uncut Romaine leaves were generously garnished with anchovies and pesto croutons and needed only a slight drizzle of the bright, citrusy dressing to complete the dish. Unfortunately, the dresser had a very heavy hand, and it rendered the salad a shell of what it could have been. A case of less is more, where more was, most certainly, less. An unfortunate, but easily correctable misstep.

For her entrée, the lady went with the grilled hanger steak while I chose the braised beef short rib ragout with gnocchi.

The entrées arrived soon after our first course had been cleared. The steak was served au poivre, and it arrived classically accompanied with trios of asparagus spears and crispy steak fries. It's a dish that countless restaurants serve, but few serve well. Dawson's makes the cut as one of the latter.

The sauce was savory and served to accent the medium-rare steak without overpowering it. It was cooked perfectly for Jess's taste. I'm embarrassed to say that I prefer my steaks closer to medium. I've always wanted to be one of those guys, like my father, who order their steaks "bloody." I remember him once, at a chophouse, being asked how he would like his steak. He looked the waiter in the eye and answered, "still breathing." I always thought that was cool. Certainly cooler than "medium." I like my coffee with lots of cream and sugar, too. (Sorry dad).

The asparagus could have been a bit firmer, but I like my veggies very al dente. I built several perfect bites that included all three components and plenty of sauce, and I thought they were delectable. The crisp potato skins offered the crunch that the asparagus did not.

My short rib ragout was also very tasty. The gnocchi was relatively light, and the ragout was chock full of tender short rib, silky tomato and, to my delight, large slivers of garlic. The garlic must have been added very late in the cooking process, because it still had bite to it. Wonderful.

We finished off the meal with one of each of their desserts, a chocolate lava cake and a vanilla bean gelato. I took a cue from my earlier tapenade and butter experience and turned it into one single, uber-dessert. Chocolate lava cake with bittersweet chocolate sauce and vanilla bean gelato. The whole was even greater than the sum of its parts, and the parts were pretty good in their own right.

All in all, it was a lovely meal. The service was superb, the ambiance cool yet comfortable, and the food ranging from good to very good. Kathleen, the manager, described the place as "a diamond in the rough," and I would agree, to an extent. She went onto say, "We are the best chophouse in town. People always go to Morton's or Ruth’s Chris, or McCormick & Schmick’s, and they come back saying that they should have just eaten here."

This being my first chophouse experience in town, I can only say that I once had a miserable experience at Ruth's Chris that left me both unsatisfied and broke, and I've heard not-so-great things about Morton's as well.

Dawson's may be all steak and very little sizzle, but it's a chophouse, isn't steak what you came for?

Kings stomp Nuggets

2011-01-08T02:59:27Z

Thursday nights, the NBA belongs to TNT. Whereas Wednesdays and Fridays might have a dozen games on the schedule (This week featured 11 games on each day), Thursday nights generally feature at most three games, and often only two (this week, just two).

Those two games are featured, consecutively, nationally, on TNT. Usually, of course, these games will feature some combination of the Celtics, Heat, Lakers, Spurs, Bulls, Magic, Mavericks, Nuggets and Thunder – teams with a national fan base or a superstar player.

Once or twice a year, however, in the interest of fairness, the Thursday night spotlight will shine on one of the smaller, oft-forgotten NBA cities. (Almost without exception, it'll be when one of the big boys are visiting. We won't be seeing Steve Kerr and Marv Albert doing a Kings/TWolves game anytime soon).

Thursday, the Denver Nuggets were in town to play your Sacramento Kings, and the national spotlight alit, however briefly, on our fair hamlet.

For a moment, Sacramento was the center of the NBA universe.

Apparently, the Kings like the attention.

'Reke and the boys played easily their best game of the season, handily beating Carmelo and the Nuggets, 122 to 102. The team with the worst record in basketball (Entering the evening. The win put them a game up on the lowly Cavs.) thoroughly outclassed the team that would be the seven seed in the West were the playoffs to start today.

It was a very impressive performance.

The opening stanza of the game was not a harbinger of the symphonic performance to come as the home team fell behind 15-9 despite scoring the first five points of the game on long jumpers by DeMarcus Cousins and Francisco Garcia.

Following a Kings timeout, recently inserted Carl Landry drained a long jumper to get the home team off the schneid. By the time the first quarter ended, the Kings had retaken the lead, 29-27, thanks in large part to Garcia's dead-eye from long range (4 of 6 on threes in the quarter) and Landry's spark off the bench (7 points, 2 of 2 from the floor, 3 of 3 from the line)

In the second quarter, Tyreke Evans took over, looking every bit like the superstar Sacramento fans have been waiting to see all season. He was a perfect 4 of 4 from the floor on two long jumpers and two athletic driving layups. He matched that with a perfect 4 of 4 from the charity stripe. And when he wasn't scoring, he was dishing it with five second-quarter dimes.

By the time it was all said and done, the Kings had put up 40 points in the quarter and built a 69-55 halftime lead.

It was most certainly the best first half of basketball the Kings have played all season, but the game was far from over. Right before play resumed, one of my compatriots in the press box offered ominously "I've got a bad feeling about this."

If you watch enough Kings games, you’re bound to become a bit defeatist, but if you were ever gonna feel good about a Kings performance, this was it.

That being said, the Kings came out in the second half-sloppy and lackadaisical, and the Nuggets, led by Carmelo Anthony (26 points), came storming back. What had been a 16-point lead after Evans scored the first points of the half on a pull-up jumper at the 11:19 mark had totally evaporated less than eight minutes later, when Anthony tied the game at 79 apiece on an 18-foot jumper.

As recently as two weeks ago, this Kings team may have folded like a cheap suit at this point. Coughing up a double-digit lead on national TV to a would-be playoff team probably would have proved too much to bear, and next thing you know, a 16-point lead would have turned into a 16-point deficit. (Ignore, for a moment, that two weeks ago they wouldn't have had the 16 point lead to begin with).

That was then. This is now.

The Kings didn't panic. Without calling a timeout, they calmly took the ball back up the court, and Beno Udrih drained an 18-footer from the elbow.

After Al Harrington missed a three-pointer on the other end, Omri Casspi swished a three-pointer of his own, and the crowd exploded, and the Nuggets were forced to call a timeout.

These were the first five points in a 23-2 run that for all intents and purposes put the game away. It was the Nuggets who folded up shop, unable to put up any kind of a fight in the fourth quarter.

This Kings team bore no resemblance to the one that I saw in my two previous trips to Arco this season, the first a mauling by the Timberwolves, the second a devastating collapse against the Warriors. This is a team reborn.

“It certainly shows what type of team we’re trying to be. To move the ball like we did all night, to play through Tyreke, play through DeMarcus, space the floor and hit shots – it was the way we want to play." Head Coach Paul Westphal said in the postgame press conference.

When he was asked about the team’s recent transformation, Westphal again related it to his two young stars: "Tyreke has had a tough time being healthy, couldn’t be himself, and DeMarcus is early in his career and is learning his game. Those are two players that have been contributing lately at a level that they weren’t able to contribute earlier and that makes everybody else play so much better."

Nuggets point guard Chauncey Billups was asked about the game and payed the Kings a backhanded compliment: “They played well and everything, but that team is not supposed to beat us."

Maybe they weren't "supposed' to, but they certainly did. And they did it while the rest of the NBA watched.

Notes-
-It was the Kings first victory of the season over a team with a winning record.

-The Kings are now 3-2 in their last five games after having lost 22 of their previous 24.

-The Kings’ lead (15) and their point total (69) were both season highs for a first half.

-The point total for the game (122) was also a season high.

-They had six players in double figures in points, led by Evans’ 27 and Cousins' 20.

- At the end of the first quarter, the arena announcer introduced the TNT commentators:
-Chris Webber was greeted with a standing ovation. He responded by waving one arm in a circular motion, in a manner that I will always associate with Arsenio Hall. Roof, roof , roof, roof, roof.
-Keven Harlan received some polite applause.
-Reggie Miller was roundly booed. (Awesome).

All images are the work of my main man David Alvarez.

A man called Moonbeam.

2011-01-04T07:36:56Z

"Noon-2 p.m.: A "people's party" with free hot dogs will be held at the Capitol Northwest lawn; (Jerry) Brown will speak." Steven Harmon, San Jose Mercury News, 1/3/11

As a political science major, a former intern at one of Washington D.C.'s most influential think tanks, and an all around amateur politico, I was very tempted to go to "The People's Inauguration Party 2011" to see Jerry Brown speak.

I'm tempted to do lots of things.

As a broke fat kid, I actually went to "The People's Inauguration Party 2011" to eat free hot dogs.

I kept a running diary of my experiences thereat:

11:50 AM- I arrived at the Capitol and immediately located the line for the free hot dogs. It was probably 150 yards long, beginning at the party tent on the Northwest steps and winding itself nearly all the way to the West lawn.

11:55 AM- I found my way to the end of said line, and jumped in. The line was moving briskly, and populated with exceedingly upbeat folks from nearly all walks of life. I say nearly all because there was one group that was conspicuously absent: the (apparently) homeless. I saw nary a one. At a downtown event, offering free food to "everyone". I'm not sure how they pulled that off. (busing?)

12:00 PM- The seven-piece mariachi band that had been "entertaining" those of us in line moved under the big top to "entertain" those of us who already had their hot dogs and were eagerly awaiting the governors arrival. Nobody in line was visibly upset by this development. Can't speak for those already in the tent. More on the Mariachi's later.

12:15 PM- I arrived at the hot dog tent, which featured three windows. At the first, I was flummoxed by the rapid-fire greeting I received:
"DoritosFritosCheetosorPlain?" "Huh?" I replied, dumbly. "Doritosfritoscheetosorplain" my inquisitor responded, exasperated. I went with Cheetos because it was what the person in front of me had chosen, and I didn't want to find out what would happen to me if I'd made the young lady repeat herself a third time. Thankfully there was no choice to be made at the next two windows, where I received first a bottled water and then two (two!) hot dogs. As far as condiments went, it was pretty basic: mustard, catsup and relish. I took three of each (if it's free, I'll take three!) and found a spot near the podium to get my grub on.

12:18 PM- Hot dogs, inhaled. Pretty solid dogs, would have been a lot better with onions and kraut, but they had a nice char on em. They were a bit small. I could have eaten six without hesitation or remorse. "This Jerry Brown guy is alright" I thought to myself.

12:20 PM- I joined the rapidly growing crowd in the main tent. There were four or five rows of chairs in a semicircle facing a stage with a podium atop it. Behind the stage hung a banner reading "The People's Inauguration Party 2011" with "JERRY BROWN" underneath. The seats had long since been occupied and the crowd was about five people deep behind them. Middle back of the room was a small raised area for the television news cameras. Beyond the news cameras was a covered area with 10 or 12 tables at which people stood and ate their hot dogs. The Mariachi band was playing to the left of the stage.

12:30 PM- Perfunctory "We want Jerry" chant begins.

12:30 PM- Perfunctory "We want Jerry" chant ends.

12:35 PM- From my vantage point, I can see all of the following things: a blood red feather boa, a pair of leather bike chaps, a VFW hat, a bald mullet ponytail, a bright yellow yarmulke, an eye patch, and a big blond afro (to be fair, the last three all belonged to the same person). Politics (and free hot dogs) makes for strange bedfellows.

12:42 PM- A half-hearted rhythmic clapping of the the sort you might here at a rock show when the crowd is trying to extoll a band into returning for an encore begins.

12:42 PM- Halfhearted clapping ends. If it had been at a rock show, the lights would have come up. No encore for you.

12:44 PM- I briefly, but seriously, considered re-entering the hot dog line. You know whats better than two free hot dogs? Four free hot dogs.

12:46 PM- As the Mariachi begins it's 20th (120th?) song of the afternoon, a woman to the left of me says what we'd all been thinking: "Enough with the music, already". Here, here. Mariachi music is best appreciated in small (two or three song) doses. And while drunk. Really drunk. Try listening to 80 minutes straight of mariachi music while dead sober sometime. I dare you.

12:50 PM- "Alright, now I'm sorry I voted for him" offered June, who was there playing hooky from work. "If he doesn't come out soon I'm gonna leave. He's not gonna pay my parking ticket". She was joking about being sorry she voted for him. I think.

12:51 PM- K.J. arrives, makes his way through the crowd, poses for a couple pictures and then poof, like that, he's gone.

1:00 PM- Nothing happens. Mariachis still playing. Huzzah.

1:12 PM- Another "We want Jerry" chant begins and ends. A modicum better than the first.

1:14 PM- June can't take it anymore, takes off.

1:19 PM- The Gubernatorial hype man (Gubernatorial fluffier?) takes the mic, exhorts the crowd "Let's get it going for the Governor !!!" and looks to his right where the man himself is exiting the Capitol and heading our way. The crowd goes respectably bananas. Finally, they are going to get to greet their champion! The wait was worth it!

1:21 PM- A funny thing happened on the way to the podium. J.B. took a b-line across the lawn and entered the back portion of the tent, to glad-hand his way through the hot dog eaters. For a moment it looked as if he was simply going to go up to the podium the back way, through the crowd, but then he turned right instead of left. He approached the hot dog tent.

1:25 PM- He ate a hot dog

1:27 PM- He left the tent, the same way he'd come in, and re-entered the Capitol, never to be seen again. To the consternation of his adoring supporters, many of whom had been waiting two plus hours to see the man.

1:28 PM - One of Brown's flunkies (Ed. note- it was Lou Correa, D- Santa Ana. Authors note- potato, potahto) took the podium, and offered a lame analogy about how the Governor had "visited the cheap seats" and had ignored "those with the most access". Which would have been fine and valid had the people in front paid money or exerted their political influence to get their seats. But they hadn't, they had simply taken more time out of their busy day to get their earlier. It was more important to them. And this is the thanks they got. Not even a cursory walk through from their conquering hero. Thanks for nothing, Moonbeam.

1:29 PM- It was all over. A flunky (The same one? A different one? I don't know. Stuffed suits all look the same to me) announced that "this is the people's inauguration" and sheepishly thanked us all for coming. The crowd booed. I thought it was a joke until I saw the TV news folks breaking down their equipment.

It's an interesting first act as Governor, to dick over your supporters like that. I don't quite understand the thinking behind it. Regardless, he's made a powerful new enemy. I certainly didn't see that coming while I was eating my free* hot dogs.

*There's no such thing as a free hot dog.

Believe it. That just happened.

2010-12-23T02:15:58Z

"If we didn't need that game so badly I could talk about what a great game it was, but I'm not going to do that," Kings Head Coach Paul Westphal, addressing the media following Tuesday night's game.

This is why we love sports.

Because at any given time, on any given night, you may witness something incredible.

A few years ago, the NBA had a slogan: "Where Amazing Happens."

Tuesday night, amazing happened, all over the Kings’ collective faces.

On Tuesday night, a bad (9-18 record coming in, having lost 14 of their last 16 games) and beat-up (missing their starters at point guard and center, Stephan Curry and Andres Biedrins) Golden State Warriors squad came to Arco for a tilt against your Sacramento Kings.

The Kings were less banged-up, missing only sometime-starting forward Jason Thompson, but they made up for their lack of injuries by being even more lackluster than their NorCal rivals (5-20 coming in, having lost, well, 20 of their last 25).

It had all the makings of an awful game, and for most of the night, it lived up to the billing. But thanks to a furious and totally improbable fourth quarter comeback by the visiting team (epic collapse by the home team?), it ended up being one of the most memorable games I've ever had the privilege of witnessing.

The Warriors trailed by 16 points with 9:20 left in the game.

They trailed by 5 points with 19.3 seconds left.

They trailed by 4 points with 3.4 seconds left.

Through all that, they ended up winning the game, 117-109 in overtime, as the Kings were unable to make any of those seemingly insurmountable leads hold up.

There was no inkling of the epic finish to come as the Kings struggled out of the gates. The Warriors shot 65 percent in the first quarter to jump out to a 26-18 lead over the ice-cold home team (29 percent). The only reason the Kings were able to stay within shouting distance was the inspired play of Beno Udrih, who had 12 points on 4 of 5 shooting, en route to a career-high 34-point night.

The Warriors kept the Kings at arm’s length for the first half the second quarter, maintaining an eight-point lead until Tyreke Evans finally broke through with his first field goal of the night (after an 0-for-6 start) with 5:11 left before halftime.

This seemed to spark the Kings, as they played out the half with a new level of intensity.

Carl Landry (13 points in the quarter) took over, scoring or assisting on each of the next five Kings baskets, but they could still pull no closer than six points until Donte Greene scored five straight in the final minute to cut the lead to one.

Following two free throws by Monte Ellis with 1.3 seconds remaining, Demarcus Cousins threw a perfect length-of-the court baseball pass to Tyreke, who made a touch pass to Pooh Jeter, who laid it in at the buzzer. It was beautiful basketball play to return the defecit to one, get the crowd on it's feet and give the home team the momentum going into the half.

The third quarter started with the Warriors scoring the first five points on jumpers by Ellis (36 points) and Reggie Williams (24 points). The Kings didn't make their first bucket of the quarter until Greene hit his second three-pointer of the night at the 10:04 mark.

That first bucket, however, was the start of a 36-16 run wherein they thoroughly outclassed the Warriors. It may have been the best 10-minute stretch of basketball that the Kings have played all season: crisp ball movement, attacking the basket, getting to the line, forcing turnovers . . . for a few fleeting moments the Kings looked like, *gasp*, a very good basketball team.

Of course, the Warriors have a knack for making other teams look good.

But, then again, so do the Kings.

The fourth quarter started with the teams trading buckets, and at 9:20, Landry (22 points) scored his last points of the night to put the Kings ahead 94-78.

They would not score again until Evans hit a layup with 4:21 to go. Luckily for them, the Warriors weren't exactly lighting it up, and despite being shut out for nearly five full minutes, they still held a 96-89 lead at the time. With 2:05 left, Ellis made a driving layup to make the score 98-93.

The two teams proceeded to trade turnovers, ill-advised three-point attempts and general poor play for the next 100 or so seconds.

Then it got ridiculous.

For some reason, Francisco Garcia took and missed a long three-pointer with 25 seconds left, despite having well over 10 seconds left on the shot clock and a five-point lead.

Egregious error No. 1.

David Lee rebounded the miss and pushed the ball to Reggie Williams, who got Udrih up in the air beyond the three-point line and drew the shooting foul with 19 seconds left.

Egregious error No. 2.

Williams missed the first free throw, made the second and missed the third. The Kings failed to box out, and Radmonovich got the rebound.

Egregious error No. 3.

Radmonovich swung the ball out to Dorrell Wright beyond the three-point line, and he got Landry off his feat and drew another shooting foul with 15 seconds left.

Egregious error No. 4.

Wright made two of three to make the score 98-96, and with 14 seconds, the Warriors sent Udrih to the line. He made both free throws. Kings 100, Warriors 96.
After Radmonovich hit a running hook shot with 10 seconds left, the Warriors again fouled Udrih, who again hit both free throws. Kings 102, Warriors 98.
Following a time-out, Ellis missed a three-pointer, but Williams got the rebound and was fouled on his follow with 3.4 seconds left.

Egregious error No. 5.

Williams made the first free throw, then missed the second. Cousins mishandled the rebound, and it squirted out of bounds.

Egregious error No. 6.

Wright was inbounding the ball down three with two seconds to play, and was left unfettered by the Kings defenders, which is fine, if you want an extra defender to keep the players on the court from getting open. But then they left Radmanovich unattended above the top of the key, Wright found him and he drained a 28-foot bomb as time expired.

Egregious error No. 7, all in the final 26 seconds.

Game tied at 102.

Kings announcer Grant Napear was nonplussed: "You know, honestly, if I wasn't sitting here watching this, I would not believe it . . . we're gonna go to overtime."

The Kings scored the first four points of overtime, but couldn't keep it up. Ellis ended up outscoring the Kings by himself in the extra period, 9-7.
Final score: Warriors 117, Kings 109.

I'll give the final word to Westphal: "Amazing things happened. How do you explain those? Nine-hundred ninety-nine times out of 1,000, the game is put away . . . There's crazy endings in the NBA, and we were the victim of one tonight."

Amazing.

All images are the fine work of the one and only David Alvarez.

Soulive, so good.

2010-12-16T04:10:14Z

The first thing that struck me were the hats.

I myself wear a "Country Gentleman" fedora, and on any given night, it is likely to be the sharpest lid in the joint.

But not Tuesday night at Harlow's.

Soulive was in town in support of their "Rubber Soulive" album, and the crowd was brimming with hats of all shapes and styles.

There were a smattering of standard-issue baseball caps and beanies, even beanies with brims.

But those aren't the hats I'm talking about.

The hats I'm talking about are your father's hats. And your grandfather’s (great-grandfather’s?) hats. Fedoras galore, both "Bogart" and "Safari." Newsboys. Buckets. Porkpies. I didn't see any top hats or fezzes, but pretty much everything else was represented.

My Country Gentleman wouldn't have even sniffed the top-10 were there to have been an impromptu "Keenest Hat of the Evening" competition. (Brought to you by Hyman's Haberdashery!)

It is fitting that the chapeau selection in the crowd would hark back to a time when men regularly wore hats with wonderful names like "porkpies" and "newsboys." The Soulive members themselves are a throwback, comporting themselves with an early '60s kind of cool.

I had a fair amount of time to consider the millinery in the building as I sat, eagerly awaiting the opening act – fellow Royal Family Recording artist Nigel Hall.

I'd been told over the phone that Nigel would be taking the stage at 8 p.m., but being the grizzled concert veteran that I am, I pooh-poohed the notion. 8:30 p.m. – that's the ticket.

I arrived just before 8:30 p.m. and took a seat in front of the stage. With no Nigel to be found, I turned my attention to the slowly (but steadily) growing crowd.

8:30 p.m. came, and went.

9 p.m. brought nary a peep from the stage. (But a sweet short-brimmed Panama hat joined the crowd).

9:15 p.m., and the natives began to get restless. (A snappy herringbone newsboy pulled up a chair to my left).

9:26 p.m. – The Nigel Hall Band, to the crowd’s great relief, took the stage.

TNHB is made up of Nigel Hall (sporting an oversized newsboy) and Evans brothers Neal (rocking a derby and mirrored aviators) and Alan (his impressive Sideshow Bob-like ’do probably proves headwear prohibitive).

The boys opened with a raucous "Leave me Alone," and the long wait was immediately forgotten.

All three men wore coats and ties, Alan pulverizing the drums stage right, Nigel front and center on keys, and Neal stage left, with a four-level rig of keys splayed out in front of him.

They slowed it down on the second song, the classic Leon Russell tune, "A Song For You." The song has been recorded by dozens of acts ranging from The Temptations to Ray Charles, Whitney Houston to Neil Diamond, The Carpenters to Bizzy Bone (seriously), but Nigel absolutely crushes it. His soulful crooning lends itself perfectly to the track, laid down so expertly by one of the best rhythm sections going. It was a simply beautiful rendition.

I wasn't able to place the third song, but I can tell you was a slower love ballad. Nigel loves you, "even if your breath is a funky in the morning," and "sometimes you make the toast a little crispy in the morning." So there's that.

They closed the abridged set with a rollicking Motownesque jam, and a Nigel Hall original, "Gimme a Sign."

After a very brief set break (one cigarette long, if that cigarette happens to be an American Spirit.), Soulive took the stage to boisterous applause. Harlow’s was only a little more than half capacity, but it felt like more with the inclimate weather (and crunchy jams) keeping everyone inside.

Neal and Alan returned to the stage, but this time they were bracketing guitarist Eric Krasno (also in jacket and tie, sporting a short-brimmed grey fedora). Neal had ditched the aviators. Alan had swapped out a bottled water for a Heineken. Other than that, the bookends were identical for both headliner and opener. The Royal Family is, for lack of a better word, incestuous. Of the 11 acts listed on the label, one or both of the Evans bros are in no less than six. It's a good thing.

Soulive opened with one of its classic tracks, "Rudy's Way", a bouncy, jazzy track off its first LP, “Turn it Out,” released in 1999.

It got the place jumping.

The trio followed that with a searing version of "El Ron", off Soulive's eponymous 2003 album.

It melted the paint off the walls.

Alan took a moment to address the crowd as it caught its breath. "How y'all feeling? We've been having a real good time on this tour. Looks like we're going to continue to do so." As you might imagine, the crowd responded very positively to his prognostication.

Up next was "Turn it Out," the title track on the aforementioned 1999 LP, and also the last track on the 2003 album. Neal absolutely blew the doors off on this one.

Neal Evans is one of the most amazing keyboard players on the planet. He plays bass and keys at the same time, and it's pretty spectacular to watch. For the entirety of both sets, Neal had a group of keyboardophiles smashed up behind and to both sides of him, straining to admire his digital dexterity. His phenomenal phalangeal ferocity?

Dude’s a beast on the keys.

They finished up the old-school opening portion of the set with a third track off "Turn it Out," “Uncle Junior.”

Next to "Uncle Junior" in my notes, I have written, "Forget it. Unreal."

I wish I could do you better, but for a moment I dropped my press hat and put on my dance pants. You're just gonna have to live with that.

We then entered the "Rubber Soulive" portion of the show. Their most recent album, for which they are touring, is made up of 12 instrumental Beatles covers, from throughout the Fab Four’s oevre.

They announced that they would be playing some tracks off their new album and went right into the unmistakable opening riff for "Come Together." (Shoom Boom, ba da bee. . . doo).

Without a singer, the vocals are mostly "voiced" by Erik Krasno's deeply emotive guitar playing.

Of course, every chorus and many of the verses are vocalized loudly by the enthusiastic fans in the crowd.

"Come Together" started off slow but built to a crushing crescendo. By the end of the jam, I thought a couple of the superfans perched over Neal's left shoulder might collapse in fits of keyboard-induced ecstasy. If they had, it would have been totally understandable.

They slowed it down a bit with another monster hit off "Abbey Road," the George Harrison-penned "Something," which is the perfect vehicle to showcase Krasno's affectional guitar work.

They then reached further back into the Beatles’ canon with "Eleanor Rigby," off the Beatles’ 1966 "Revolver." This may be my favorite of the tracks they chose to cover – it really lends itself beautifully to the trio. They absolutely destroyed it. Eleanor Rigby evolved into "I Want You (She's so heavy)," the final Beatles cover of the evening.

Nigel Hall returned to the stage to play a couple Royal Family mainstays, "Do the 2" and "Too Much." On the latter, Nigel and Krasno performed a dueling guitar of sorts, with Nigel mimicking guitar licks with Ella Fitzgerald-style scat singing, which Krasno answered with actual guitar licks.

Nigel took the time to thank the crowd for coming out and bringing the energy on this chilly and rain-soaked Tuesday evening, but he offered that it could be a lot worse. Some wiseacre-sometime-journalist who happened to be in the crowd offered up, "We could be in Maine", knowing full well that the singer made his bones in the Portland, Maine, music scene. The singer glanced over at the culprit, and replied with a smirk, "Well-said, brother."

Then they proceeded to absolutely obliterate the Tears for Fears '80s classic, "Rule the World," which Nigel proclaimed to be one of his favorite songs. As far as Tears for Fears songs go, "Rule the World" will always be second to "Mad World" in my book, but after seeing Soulive play it, the gap has lessened.

They finished the set with an extended jam on "Tuesday Night Gang," the high point of which was when Nigel joined Neal on the keys to stage left. The two kept alternating sides of the keyboards, swapping positions in an instant without missing a beat in the jam.
The Tuesday night gang that (half) filled the venue just ate it up. I'm pretty sure that one of the superfans next to the keyboards actually entered the throes of passion.

It was pretty epic.

They left the stage for a moment before returning one last time to encore with Stevie Wonder's "Signed, Sealed, Delivered." A fitting way to end the evening, and a great song, but I'd say it was probably the least-interesting cover of the night.

It was an outstanding performance by a formidable band. Next time Soulive, or Nigel, or any of the Royal Family is in town, do yourself a favor and go check them out. You certainly won't be disappointed, and you'll most likely have your socks knocked off.

Now where in this town can I buy a fez? I gotta step my game up.

All of the images are the work of the supremely talented and staggeringly well mannered Steven Chea

Soulive is coming!

2010-12-11T06:18:57Z

Do you have plans for December 14th?

Scrap them.

There is only one place that you're going to want to be on Tuesday, Dec. 14, and that place is Harlow's Nightclub, where Soulive will be making its one and only Sacramento appearance.

Soulive consists of Eric Krasno on guitar and brothers Neal and Alan Evans on keyboards and drums, respectively. If the names don't sound familiar, fret not. How about this (very partial) list of musicians with whom they've shared the stage over the past 10 years: Dave Matthews, John Schofield, Chaka Khan, Stevie Wonder, Fred Wesley, Ivan Neville, Robert Randolph, Keith Richards and Mick Jagger?

Musically, the New York three-piece knows no limits. Jazz, rock, blues, hip-hop, soul, funk, R&B: They do it all, and they do it all extremely well.

Their most recent album, which will be the focus of Tuesday's show, is a tribute to The Beatles, aptly titled "Rubber Soulive." They take 11 of th Fab Four's most well-loved hits, and while staying true to the original tracks, make them wholly their own. The album is a terrific homage to the boys from Liverpool, and that is no small feat for the boys from Brooklyn.

The show should be amazing.

Your other plans can wait.

The Gracious Few

2010-12-08T03:35:49Z

Candlebox and Live.

The two bands combined have sold over 25 million albums.

Candlebox's eponymous debut went platinum four times following its release in 1993, and peaked at #7 on the US Billboard Charts.

Live's sophomore effort, "Throwing Copper," released the following year, sold over 8 million copies, reached #1 on the US Billboard Charts, and included four Top 10 singles, two of which ("Selling the Drama" and "Lightning Crashes") reached #1. (I'm pretty sure that "Lightning Crashes" is – and will continue to be – the only number one hit in American history featuring "placenta" as a prominent lyric.)

At the peak of its fame, Live was among the biggest rock bands in the country, if not the world.

Hell, both bands played in front of well over a hundred thousand fans on the main stage at Woodstock ('94). Remember that cluster-show?

It was the one with the rain, mud and Green Day; not the one with fire, rape, and Limp Bizkit (Woodstock '99)

At any rate, three members of Live and two members of Candlebox, have collaborated to form The Gracious Few.

What would have been a rock supergroup 16 years ago, is today a small club headliner, and they came to Sacramento to play a gig at Harlow’s on Monday night.

Out of curiosity (morbid?) and a deep nostalgia for all things 1994, I decided to check it out.

I arrived around 8:30 p.m. to find Harlow’s about a third full and Crowded House’s "Don't Dream it's Over" playing on the sound system.

The trappings of the headliners’ former fame could be found in the copious equipment at the sides of the stage and by the soundboard, as well as the very impressive tour bus parked out front.

While the bus and the rigs would have been fitting during their mid '90's heyday, the crowd (or lack thereof) was a not so subtle reminder that we are a LONG way removed from 1994.

The opening act, Danielle Barbe, a young singer-songwriter out of Pittsburgh, took the stage with her backing band at around 8:40 p.m.

She cuts a striking figure on stage – a petite brunette beauty with a big booming voice. She probably is likened a lot to Alanis Morissette, and she should embrace the comparison. She has a charisma under the lights that lends one to believe that if she landed with the right producer/ collaborator she could certainly become a star.

On this night, however, the deck was stacked against her.

At no time during the nearly hour-long performance did anyone, save for a few cameramen and women, so much as venture onto the dance floor.

Her backing band soldiered on, but didn't really seem like they particularly wanted to be there. Even the comically over-emotive, heavily mascara-ed blonde spiky faux-hawked drummer with the red-checkered pocket square didn't seem to have his heart totally in it.

My suspicions were confirmed when I ventured outside between sets to overhear the following exchange between The Gracious Few's lead guitarist Sean Hennesy, who was on his way in, and the lead guitarist for Danielle Barbe, who was on his way out:

Sean Hennesy: "Hey man, how was your set?"

Barbe's guitarist: " It sucked."

He said it, not me. But I get it, it can't be easy to play to an unresponsive audience.

Probably the biggest response that they did get was when they played a 10 second tease of the first few bars of the Candlebox smash hit "Far Behind."

They did finish with a relatively inspired cover of Spacehog's "In the Meantime" that got some people banging their heads in the crowd.

The Gracious Few took the stage at 10:03 p.m., and looked every bit the rockstars that they had once been (still are?).

Guitarist Chad Tayler and bassist Patrick Dahlheimer turned their backs to the audience, and, facing their stacks, stroked the first crushing chords of the opening track, "Appetite," also the first single off their self-titled debut album.

The two former members of Live bracketed the third former member, drummer Chad Gracey, who battered away at his drum kit between them. Lead singer Kevin Martin took the stage wearing sunglasses and prowling from side to side like a caged animal. Lead guitarist Hennesy let fly some searing licks in the face of the crowd that had gathered in front of the stage. The throng was small, but agitated, and it was easy to see how these men had become such big stars in the first place.

After "Appetite," Martin began an easy dialogue with the crowd, one that would continue throughout the evening and belied his skill as a lead showman.

"We walked in today and said, ‘Fuck, this place is cool as shit,’" he said, before asking us rhetorically "Is this Sacramento?“

"You will hear the entirety of the new album, and some other stuff" he went on to announce, and he proved prophetic. They played every song on their self-titled debut album, recorded just up the road in Sausalito at Studio D. They also played one original that wasn't on their album called "Great Houses" and a cover of the Depeche Mode classic "It's No Good," which I found to be one of the evening’s highlights.

They had a dueling slide guitar solo going face to face during the Depeche Mode cover, and they actually slid seamlessly into about 45 seconds of the Rolling Stones classic "Gimme Shelter" before finishing it up.

I enjoyed "Guilty Fever," a bass driven bluesy rocker that once again featured one of those dueling guitar solo/ interludes that get me every time. (At one point Hennessy went into a riff off Jimi Hendrix's "Purple Haze" – always a crowd favorite.)

There was also a heartfelt rendition of "Crying Time," a tribute to a fallen friend, Wendell Green, who used to manage the Whiskey Bar in LA. (K.Mart introduced the song with a nod to David Alan Grier on “In Living Color” : "Wanna hear it? Here it goes." My mid '90's nostalgia meter went through the roof )

It was interesting to see these artists who had once been such big stars, reinventing themselves 15 years later as a club band and not looking back.

It would be very easy for the guys from Live to recruit a new singer and go on tour playing their old hits. Or Martin and Hennesy to just keep playing with Candlebox. Or, even better, for The Gracious Few to change their name to CandleLivebox and play all the greatest hits of both bands.

They could hit up the county fair circuit, and play in front of much bigger crowds than they saw Monday night. I mean, I saw Foghat at the California State Fair this summer and they had exactly ZERO original members in the band, but they still played in front of 1,200 folks.

It's laudable – what they’re doing – but I don't know if I necessarily agree with it. What I saw was an OK, but ultimately forgettable show. Now a CandleLivebox show? That I'd remember.

all images are the superlative work of the lovely and talented Steven Chea.

(Speak)Easy skankin

2010-11-23T03:25:12Z

“Once, during Prohibition, I was forced to live for days on nothing but food and water.” ~W.C. Fields

The 18th Amendment, which banned the sale, manufacture and transportation of alcohol in the United States, was ratified on Jan. 16, 1919.

As a result, drinking in the United States stopped almost completely. Drunk and disorderly behavior went the way of the dodo, crime rates sunk like a turd in a jug and America became an idyllic utopia full of stolid, sober, upright men and women who had finally been saved from that liquid Mephistopheles which had held them captive for so long.

"Is this Heaven?" people were known to ask one another. "No, it's just government-mandated Prohibition" someone would reply, knowingly.

Yeah, I’ve got jokes.

Of course, what really happened is the 18th Amendment created a hugely profitable and violent black market for alcohol where organized crime ran rampant while corrupt law enforcement agencies looked the other way, and otherwise law-abiding citizens were made into de facto criminals.

The drinking continued, unabated, it just went underground, and the speakeasy was born. Underground drinking clubs were everywhere. For every legitimate saloon that was forced to close, a half dozen clandestine establishments sprang up. By midway through "The Roaring Twenties," there were supposedly 100,000 speakeasies in New York City alone.

At any given time during Prohibition, Sacramento, one of the "wettest cities in the union" had 200-plus operating speakeasies. I know this, because last Saturday night I went on The Old Sacramento Speakeasy Tour, offered by the Downtown Sacramento Partnership.

I arrived at the River City Saloon 20 minutes before the tour’s scheduled 6 p.m. start. It didn't take long to ascertain who would be guiding the tour. If Shawn Peter’s dapper, striped, not-quite-zoot-suited (But not-quite-not-zoot-suited) appearance wasn't enough to give him away as our fearless leader, the clunky off-white lunchbox (construction worker, not preschooler) sized portable speaker to which he was strapped was.

I introduced myself, and he encouraged me to grab a cocktail while we awaited the rest of the group. I decided on an Irish Coffee, ’cause there had been a sign outside that had said "Irish Coffee" on it, and, apparently, I'm a sheep.

It took me a few minutes to gain the bartender’s attention, so I passed the time by eating peanuts that I found at the bar, because that's what I do to peanuts that I see sitting on bars. Thankfully, the young lady to whom the peanuts belonged was very understanding when she returned to her seat to find a pile of shells in front of me and a half-empty basket in front of her.

By the by, peanuts and Irish Coffees are an awful mix. Just terrible.

At a little after 6 p.m., Shawn gathered us up in the back of the saloon, which, though less than 2 years old, is very reminiscent of how a typical 1920s Sacramento speakeasy would have been.

"Sacramento has always been a drinking town. . ." Shawn began, to assorted hoots and hollers from the gathered throng of about 20 or so men and women, just about all of whom were clutching a drink of some sort. "And it wanted nothing to do with Prohibition."

He went on to give us a brief history of Old Sac and the town’s hate/hate relationship with Prohibition and its total refusal to comply with the federal law.

There was a saying in Prohibition-era Sacramento that "if you couldn't find a drink, you were dumber than a halfwit."

After a fascinating and in-depth (Shawn and partner Mike Munson spent years researching 80-plus-year-old city and police records before beginning to offer tours) history lesson, we left River City and headed around the block to the Speakeasy Lounge, Shawn pointing out locations of interest along the way.

The Speakeasy Lounge is underneath Cafe New Orleans and was an operating speakeasy during Prohibition. It was attached to a series of tunnels that, at the time, went from the waterfront all the way to 12th and J.

Unfortunately, owing to a miscommunication, the bar downstairs was closed. If I had been working, I'd have eschewed the tumbleweeds and crickets in the upstairs dining room for a few minutes in order to fix some cocktails for our raucous group of amateur speakeasy enthusiasts downstairs, but that's just me. I guarantee we would have bought more alcohol in 20 minutes downstairs than they sold upstairs all night.

Did I mention that the Speakeasy Lounge was turned into a dance club in the ’70s, so it mixes a 1920s basement speakeasy setup with 1970s sensibilities (complete with a raised, lighted Plexiglas disco dance floor). When and if it ever opens, (Their "website" is a myspace page that says it's "in" hiatus. I'm not holding my breath) it immediately becomes my favorite bar in Sacramento.

Up next on the tour was the Delta King, which was a floating casino/speakeasy/liquor transport during Prohibition. They used to offer passenger fares to San Francisco. The 10-hour trips would rapidly degenerate into wild parties.

In the ’20s, the bar area would be hidden. Today it is in the Pilothouse, where we mingled with a bunch of hotel residents and visitors eagerly anticipating the Delta King Murder Mystery Dinner Theatre. After a couple of drinks on the Delta King (we had to make up for the aborted trip at the last place), we ventured back out into the dark and stormy night, headed for our final destination of the evening, (and our guide's favorite) the Back Door Lounge.

I'll admit it, this is where my recollection gets a tad fuzzy. I can tell you that it was an operating speakeasy in the ’20s, and it was also a Saltine Cracker Factory. Or maybe it was next to (under? in cahoots with?) a Saltine Cracker Factory. I can tell you that they serve a ridiculously strong cocktail at the Back Door Lounge, and apparently they do a mean breakfast as well.

I can also tell you that if you enjoy a little history with your cocktails, (or a lot of cocktails with your history), you will absolutely love The Old Sacramento Speakeasy Tour. I may do it again next month. I wanna see that dance floor fully operational.

Keller Williams returns

2010-11-20T02:58:34Z

Keller Williams made his triumphant return to Sacramento on Thursday night in front of a packed house at Harlow's. If the success of last night’s show is any indication, we won't have to wait another dozen years before his next visit.

The place was already jumping when I arrived a little before 8:30, and fans kept pouring in to the one-man jam band’s first set, which began just after 9 p.m.

Keller came on stage alone, as he is wont to do, strapped to an acoustic guitar. A stand to his right held an electric bass, in playing position, ready to be fingered. A stand to his left held an electric guitar, ditto. Behind him were several other electronic noisemaking implements, including a Macintosh laptop.

One of the most important tools of his trade lay at his (bare) feet, the loop pedal that he uses to record, well, loops that he layers on top of one another in order to create music that would otherwise necessitate three, four, five or more musicians to play.

As he went from instrument to instrument, a familiar tune began to develop. I couldn't quite place it until he brought a theretofore unnoticed instrument out, a trumpet. It was easy to miss because he was performing his trumpet solo using only his mouth. We were listening to a cover of the Van Morrison classic, "Moondance."

The show was peppered throughout with covers, including, ironically, or maybe not, "Pepper" by the Butthole Surfers, which Keller and the Keels cover on their recent release, "Thief." The song was a huge hit in 1996, reaching No. 1 on the Billboard charts. Then the Butthole Surfers fell off the face of the Earth (it's true, look it up).

Keller cherry-picked another outstanding one-hit wonder, Dee-Lite, playing an inspired version of 1990's feel-good song of the summer (I know, it was released in November, but it was so feel-good it transcended the seasons, and quite possibly space and time), "Groove is in the Heart." I'm not sure if there is truth to the rumor that he chose these two tracks in order to show off his prodigious rapping skills, but if the shoe fits...

Lest you think he was relying too much on ’90s MTV covers, he mixed in a rollicking cover of Patterson Hoods (Drive-By Truckers) southern rock anthem, "Uncle Disney," another track off of "Thief."

Later, belying his deadhead hippie roots, and to the delight of the white kids with dreadlocks contingent in the crowd (sizable), he broke into the Grateful Dead classic "Saint Stephen," which first appeared on “Aoxomoxoa,” but I remember it more from my young hippie starter kit, "Skeletons From the Closet."

As much as the crowd responded to the covers, it was the original songs that brought the crowd to it's frenzied apex. Keller’s songs are exceedingly danceable and are all marked by the songwriter’s playful sensibilities. He's a first-rate storyteller, and his stories are funny. At times, laugh-out-loud funny.

"Doobie in my pocket" is an autobiographical tale of an airport realization that "Theres a doobie in my pocket of my shirt in my suitcase," and the ensuing hysterics that said realization elicits. By the time he reaches the payoff, ("I'm wearing the shirt with the doobie in my pocket, it was never in my suitcase, I was wearing it the whole time") it's the crowd that is in the throws of hysterics.

"Kidney in a Cooler" is a song about breaking down in the middle of nowhere. The crowd can really get behind a refrain of "perpendicular teeth" repeated eight times. That's just good fun.

Perhaps the best example, especially considering the locale, was his closing song. "I love California" is what it sounds like, an ode to the Golden State. Heavy on the tongue in cheek. His love comes with caveats. For example: the lyric, "I love California, but only for a short while/If I lived there, my brain would certainly be mush, Willie Nelson-Mendocino Kush," citing a particularly potent strain of our state plant.

He goes on to poke fun at our thin skins ("I think its funny when it's 70 outside, and they grab their winter coats") and high rents, and the crowd full of Californians ate up every second of it. The duality of the song helps it go over just as well outside of the 31st state in the Union.

I had seen Keller twice before, but both times it had been at large festivals, with backing bands. In essence, I hadn't really seen him before. It was a wholly different experience to see him up-close and solo, jumping from one instrument to the next, emoting roguishly as he does so. I highly recommend it. It was the feel-good concert of the summer. (I know, I know, its November).

Images #'s 1 through 8 are the work of the supremely talented Steven Chea. The rest are the "work" of yours truly.

Keller Williams, bringing his talents to Sacto

2010-11-17T01:54:12Z

Keller Williams seemingly does it all.

And this Thursday, for the first time in over a decade, he will be doing it in Sacramento.

The multi-talented guitarist/bassist/singer/songwriter/percussionist/radio host/children's book author is coming to Sacramento on Thursday for three separate performances: The first two as part of Yo Gabba Gabba! Live at Memorial Auditorium, and the last as the headliner at Harlow’s.

As for the former, having recently released a children’s album, aptly titled "Kids," Williams was a natural addition to the concert tour based on the hit Nickelodeon TV show of the same name.

As for the latter, the Fredericksburg, Va. native is a staple on the festival circuit, known for his virtuosity and ability to enthrall a packed house (or field) all by his lonesome.

The one-man band took time out before a Yo Gabba Gabba! show in Eugene, Ore. to speak with me about his recently released albums, his upcoming appearances in Sacramento, his love of San Francisco, and my favorite spots in Eugene, among other things.

My first attempt to reach him was picked up by his voicemail ("Yo, when that beep drops ... speak!")

My second attempt was far more successful.

The Sacramento Press: Thanks for taking the time out to speak with me this afternoon. I had the privilege catching your set at The Gathering of the Vibes in 2009, and then again last month at Hardly Strictly Bluegrass with the Keels. I enjoyed both sets immensely.

Keller Williams: Thanks man.

SP: What did you think about Hardly Strictly?

KW: That was actually the second time that I've played there ... it's a great event. It pretty much just speaks volumes to that whole area and the history of the music … and how the whole idea of the free show came about. So that was a real honor for me to play both times. This last time was really cool because the stage that we were on had Moonalice, Railroad Earth, Yonder and the Avetts. It was really a special time. The whole lineup, the amount of famous people performing there, milling around was just unbelievable. I just love San Francisco and was very grateful to be a part of that festival both times, for sure.

SP: I recently tried to describe your music to a friend who had never heard you before, and I think I failed pretty miserably. I think I went with jamgrassreggaefolk, all one word. How would you describe your sound or style to someone who hasn't heard you before?

KW: I would say that your definition is pretty close. A common thing that I say is jazzfunktechnoreggaegrass ... Jazzfunkreggaetechnograss. Or to simplify you could say something like, you know, solo acoustic dance music.

SP: I wanted to ask you, since we were talking about you with the Keels, about your new album, "Thief." It's a really eclectic mix of covers. “Rehab” is one that sort of jumps out at me when reading and listening to it, but as someone who came of age listening to alternative rock in the early '90s, I love the Cracker, Marcy Playground and Butthole Surfer covers. I think those were inspired. How'd you go about choosing the songs for the album?

KW: Well the funny thing is that they kinda choose me in the sense that they creep into my psyche and they get stuck in my brain. I wake up singing them and go to bed singing them ... I have to kinda learn to play them and record them in order to get them out of my head, you know what I mean?

SP: Your other new release is "Kids." What was the inspiration behind it?

KW: I think that the inspiration behind that started with a record called "Not for kids only," by Jerry Garcia and David Grismen. I was listening to that long before I had kids, and then I had kids and listened to all kinds of kid music and get inspiration from my kids. A lot of people have told me, before I put out the kids record that my music is generally playful and their kids like it, so it’s been something I've been kicking around for a long long time. Some of the songs on the record I made up even before I had kids. I'm really happy that I finally got it out, and the response has been super positive.

SP: Is the process different when you're writing for children?

KW: My approach is pretty much to write from the perspective of the kid and kinda go in that direction. Never trying to speak down to them, trying to relate to them...

SP: I think that comes through on the album. It definitely doesn't seem like it's patronizing at all. It's fun, and it's fun for everyone.

KW: That was the hope behind it, at least.

SP: How did you get involved with Yo Gabba Gabba!?

KW: One of my good buddies who used to be a manager of mine is now the executive producer of the show, and they do so many shows all over the country, so there were lots of opportunities. I got lucky on this Pacific Northwest run.

SP: So what can fans expect at the Yo Gabba Gabba! show, from you specifically, but also just in general?

KW: Well, I am part of the Super Music Friends segment. The show runs kinda like two Yo Gabba Gabba! TV shows. I get wheeled out there about 15 minutes into the first set, and I play my one song for four minutes, then I get wheeled off, and then I'm done. The show runs like a science project. It's like a very well thought-out machine that's totally dialed-in, like second nature. The thing is, you watch the reaction of the kids in the audience, and they are totally entertained and enthralled. It's like a rock show for the kids. The kids can rush the stage if they want ... it's really interesting.

SP: So then who's the tougher crowd, the auditorium full of amped-up 6-year-olds or the club full of liquored-up adults?

KW: Well, you know the thing that I do with Yo Gabba Gabba! is only four minutes ... If I was up there for a whole hour with the kids and stuff, I'd say that would be way more difficult. I'm only up there for four minutes, and I'm doing a lot of intricate looping where I record different percussion instruments and loop it right there in front of the audience, and hopefully I can keep ’em entertained for a few minutes, which is all I have.

SP: Have you ever been to Sacramento before?

KW: I did ... I was thrown on this bill a long time ago, it was probably ’97 or ’98. I was first of like four acts at this little club ... I don't remember the name, but I haven't been back since. I play a lot all around California, some places close to Sacramento, but I haven't had the chance to do a show recently in Sacramento, and I'm looking forward to it.

SP: We're very glad to have you. We feel like we're sometimes overlooked up here, but it's a really good music town.

KW: Well good, I'm looking forward to it. It's kind of exciting to go back to a place I haven't been. When I played before, I might as well not have played. There were probably a dozen people in the room, and there were three or four other bands ... it was bizarre.

SP: After you're done with the kiddies and Yo Gabba Gabba! in the afternoon, you're doing a show for the adults at Harlow’s. What can we expect there?

KW: Well, you can expect a show that's deeply rooted in solo acoustic guitar and singing, and then there's also lots of dance grooves and songs that you have heard before, possibly done in a different way. You can expect new original songs as well as songs off my records. And you can hopefully expect young and hungry hairy people bumping into each other, singing, dancing and having fun.

SP: Sounds good to me … Would you accept a request to play "Mama Tooted" at the Harlow's show?

KW: (Laughs) You know, I try to keep the two worlds separated. If you yell it to where people can actually hear you yell it ... maybe I'll dedicate a segment of the show to requests and maybe, just maybe, I'll get to play that one.

SP: You're teaming up with Conscience Alliance for a Holiday Meal Drive. Did you want to speak on that at all?

KW: The Conscience Alliance people are great, great people. They are definitely into the music, they go to the music that they like. They feed hungry people in rural areas, they do a lot of work on Indian reservations and places like that. Now that the holidays are rolling around, they do the whole Thanksgiving dinner for many people too. It's a really great grassroots type of organization that does a lot of good for a lot of people.

SP: I've wondered about your song "Freeker by the Speaker." Was this inspired by one particular freeker, or is it an amalgam of several?

KW: Yeah, I think that was just from being on stage with my eyes open and observing what was going on in the audience. I can't really do that that often ’cause there could be some kind of drama ensuing in the audience, and I have to memorize lyrics and chords and whatnot. A lot of times I have to keep my eyes closed to focus on what I'm doing, not get caught up on what’s happening up front. I would say it's the culmination of the stereotypical young rave kid coming to a show. In the late '90s and the early 2000s when the raves weren't happening and going on, we'd get some of those kids at our shows and that's kinda where that song came from.

SP: Are you still doing Keller’s Cellar?

KW: Uh-huh. We've done about 158 episodes, and I think I'm on in about 45 cities. It's a great hobby, its a very expensive hobby, but at the same time it's really so fun to make. I do put a lot of time into each episode, and I get to be very self-indulgent when it comes to the music. I don't play anything ’cause I'm trying to push somebody. People send me stuff all the time, but I play the stuff that I want to play and I that I want to hear, which is really, really fun to do.

SP: You got back together with String Cheese Incident over Halloween. How did that go, and is that something that we can maybe hope for a bit more of in the future?

KW: No. String Cheese, they did 11 shows this year, and I think they were pretty satisfied with that. I think they might do somewhat of the same thing next year, too. We've done a lot of shows together. I guess it was probably '97, '98, '99 ... I probably did 30-plus shows with them a year, you know, opening for them, not really me being in the band. I think they are kinda moving on into new territory. They don't want to become, whats the word? Predictable. They don't want to become predictable. I'm grateful to be able to hang out with those guys whenever I can. Nothing is really on the books as far as us playing together. I think the way that they're doing it now is fantastic … They sold an amazing amount of tickets to the Hampton Coliseum for those two nights. I think it's a super-positive direction that they’re going – not playing all the time so the shows that they do play are really special.

SP: Is there anything else coming up that you wanted to talk about?

KW: No, I think you did great man.

SP: Thanks a lot. Are you in Eugene right now?

KW: I am...

SP: That's where I went to college. I don't know if you've eaten yet, but Alexander’s Great Falafel on 13th right next to campus is the best falafel sandwich I've ever had in my life. I have dreams about it. Also, if you want to grab a beer after the show, John Henry's on Broadway is a great spot.

KW: All right, John Henry's. I'll check it out, thanks so much.

Keller Williams will be appearing:

at 3 and 7 p.m. Thursday with Yo Gabba Gabba! at Memorial Auditorium, 1515 J St. Tickets are $26, $36 and $46 and can be purchased by calling (916) 808-5181.

at 9 p.m. Thursday for a solo show at Harlow's, 2708 J St. Tickets are $22.50 and can be purchased by calling (916)441-4693.

If you come to the Harlow's show, be sure to say hi. I'll be one of the (not so) young and hungry hairy people bumping into each other, singing, dancing and having fun.

Regicide at Arco

2010-11-12T01:16:24Z

In the NBA, more than any other sport, games are affected by the whims of the schedule makers.

In professional basketball, the home team wins more than 60 percent of the time, compared with about 58 percent of the time in the NFL, 55 percent in the NHL and 53 percent in MLB. (Oliver Entine, Deptartment of Statistics, Wharton School of the University of Pennsylvania).

So there's that, but then there are also the quirky irregularities of the schedule. Sometimes teams are made to play two nights in a row, while other times they'll get three nights off.

So sometimes, you'll have a team that is playing its second road game in 27 hours pitted against a team that has been chilling at home since its last game ended some 93 and a half hours earlier.

Needless to say, this bodes well for the home team.

And sometimes that road team will be the Minnesota Timberwolves, arguably the worst team in the NBA, coming off a hotly contested loss to the Lakers the night before and playing without their top two point guards.

And sometimes that home team will be YOUR Sacramento Kings.

This game, by all rights, and all measures, should have been a Kings victory.

No one told that to Michael Beasley and the suddenly game Timberwolves, however.

The former No. 2 pick of the Miami Heat, traded to Minny for a bag of rocks in an off-season salary dump that helped pave the way for Lebron’s talents to be taken to South Beach, came out on fire and pretty much stayed that way for the entirety of the Timberwolves’ 98-89 victory.

For a while he was doing it pretty much by himself. With 3:20 left in the first quarter, Beasley and the Kings were tied at 14 apiece. (The Wolves had 20).

Beasley and the Kings then traded a pair of baskets to knot it at 16 before Francisco Garcia put the Kings ahead of Beasley for good with a long three-pointer. Beasley answered with a jumper of his own to pull to within one, but after that, the Kings pulled away from the ’Wolves’ small forward.

Beasley finished the first half with 27 points (to the Kings’ 45), and the game with a career-high 42. He scored from all over the floor and seemingly at will. The Kings tried guarding him with five different players, none of which were effective.

"Obviously Michael Beasley is someone who we didn't have any success guarding against," said a very confounded-looking Kings head coach Paul Westphal in his postgame presser. "We tried everything we could try, and he had the answers."

It's a credit to how bad the Timberwolves (2-7) are that the Kings (3-4) never trailed by more than the nine points they lost by. The Kings shot 25 percent from the three-point line, 44 percent from the field, missed 12 free throws and had 19 turnovers.

Reigning Rookie of the Year and would-be Sacto savior Tyreke Evans had by far his worst game of the young season. He finished with five points on 1 of 5 shooting. He matched the points with five turnovers and trumped them both with six personal fouls, the final being an offensive foul (his third) with more than 10:30 to play in the game.

"Tyreke just had one of those games" Westphal offered by way of explanation.

With their main playmaker off the floor to end the game, the Kings appeared rudderless but somehow managed to hang in there behind the (relatively) inspired play of newcomer Samuel Dalembert, and, more to the point, the uber-lackadaisical effort by the ’Wolves. (My neighbor in the press box, a veteran of many more games than yours truly, was overcome about halfway through the fourth. "This is a horrible game" he said emphatically, shuddering).

With 5:11 to play, Dalembert made his second straight bucket and was fouled. The crowd was alive, and the center had the opportunity to make it a two-point game from the line, but he couldn't make the free throw.

Thirteen seconds later, Kevin Love was at the line completing a successful three-point play to extend the lead to six.
The next possession, Jason Thompson took an ill-advised, off-balance 18-footer that led to another quick Kevin Love basket in the paint, an eight-point Minny lead, and the game being, for all intents and purposes, over.

Now, I'm not saying that the Kings are a bad team, but good teams don't lose at home to bad teams on the second night of a back-to-back. They just don't.

You do the math.

Notes:

It was "Military Night" at Arco, among the festivities:

Before the opening tip, an Air Force airman rappelled from the rafters with the game ball.

At the end of the first quarter, the MC called for those in the crowd to recognize the veterans in attendance, which they did, resoundingly. It was a nice moment, but I found it a bit odd when he beseeched the crowd. "If you served in World War I or World War II, stand up and be recognized." If you served in either of the big ones, I think you can be recognized just fine from the comfort of your chair. (World War I ended 92 years ago. At least he didn't ask any Civil War vets to stand up. That would have been unrealistic.)

At halftime, 30 new Army recruits were sworn in.

At the end of the third quarter, an army lieutenant was given the opportunity to win a new car if he made a half-court shot. He missed. He was then given the opportunity to win $300 if he made a three-pointer. He missed. He was about to take a free throw for $100 when Joe Maloof, from his courtside seat, put the new car back on the table. He drained it, and the crowd went bonkers. By far the loudest applause of the night.

All the phots but one are the work of the supremely talented Ron Nabity. I bet you can guess which one.

If you wish to lavish praise or sling mud, feel free to drop me an email: lindol@gmail.com

One Scary Night

2010-11-02T02:18:14Z

It was December, 1991, I was an eighth grader and I had just received my winter grades. My parents had promised to buy me a CD for every A I earned, so I was especially thrilled to see four of them on my report card.
   Four A’s. Four CDs. The first CDs I'd ever own. Read ’em and weep: Jesus Jones’ "Doubt," Nirvana’s "Nevermind," Boyz II Men’s, "Cooleyhighharmony" and Bell Biv Devoe’s "Poison."
   I can't explain away the Jesus Jones decision. I wish I could blame it on the pot or the drinking, but the only pot that chubby 13-year-old me dabbled in was pies, and the only unhealthy drinking I was doing was that of strawberry milkshakes.
   Nirvana and Boyz II Men would soon become two of the biggest groups of the '90s. "Nevermind" is one of the greatest albums of all time, and "End of the Road" is still played at eighth grade graduations every spring. (I like to keep track of that sort of thing).
   That brings us to Bell Biv Devoe (now. . . you know). Of the albums I bought that day, I may have been most excited about "Poison." The title track, along with "Do Me," fully captured my 13-year-old imagination.
   Even though I had little idea what it meant, I was fairly certain that I too wanted to "smack it up, flip it and rub it down" one day.
Lest you think they were simply glorifying sex to impressionable adolescents, "Poison" made it clear that the theme park of love also had a seedy underbelly. It was practically a PSA. Without BBD, I might be walking around today, trusting a big butt and a smile.
   Bell Biv Devoe was the headliner at Friday night at "One Scary Night II," presented by Deon Taylor and 102.5 KSFM, at the California Auto Museum.
   The event was billed as "Sacramento's Hottest Halloween Dance Party," and I think that it lived up to the billing, for the most part.

There were some unfortunate, but ultimately forgivable, missteps, however:

–The event flier prominently featured Flavor Flav. I, and many other partygoers, expected the original hype man to be in attendance. He was not – he had attended the 2009 edition. (This was more of a misdirection than a misstep).

–Partygoers were promised a "HUGE celebrity guest list including Denise Richards, Stacey Dash, Bobby Jackson, Mitch Richmond, Michael Berryman and MANY more." Denise, Stacey and Mitch were all no-shows. If you’re gonna list celebrities who aren't gonna be there, you could have at least gone with some bigger names.

–The two front bars ran out of change at 9:45 p.m. The party didn't even officially start until 10 p.m. (Luckily I had $20 in ones).

–The bars started running out of booze by 10:30. The front bar had only beers and tequila by 11 p.m. They were out of beers at one of the bars next to the dance floor before Bell Biv Devoe took the stage.

–There was only one bathroom for the whole event, and the line for the women’s room was worse than the lines for the booze. The men's room soon became unisex.

Thankfully, the party was able to overcome the myriad issues, thanks in large part to a really great crowd. A few other saving graces:

–The celebrities who did attend were gracious and convivial:

–Mark S. Allen was the MC (seemingly in accordance with Sacramento law) and was his usual gregarious self. He came dressed as a Chilean miner, complete with his own rescue pod. "Are you the mistress or the wife?" was his stock line. (There were a few miners about, but he knocked his out of the park. Maybe he had the Good Day interns help him with it).

–Michael Berryman, of "The Hills Have Eyes" fame, was a delight. The first celebrity to arrive, he signed every autograph, posed for every picture and was exceedingly upbeat and positive. When asked about one of his upcoming roles, he offered simply, "I just love the craft." (I was talking to him about a movie he did, “Dirtmaster,” when he offered some sage words of advice: "Don't do steroids. That shit will kill you." I'm not sure what inspired the comment, but pretty sure it was not my chiseled physique.)

–Larenz Tate and Tyrin Turner were in attendance and "together for the first time since ‘Menace to Society.’ " Regardless if that’s true, they too were imminently approachable and spent a good portion of the evening posing for photos and talking to fans.

–The "Staff Monsters" were fantastic. They were more than 100 zombies, ghouls, monsters and crazies who wandered the party and stayed in character at all times. They really set a spooky, surrealistic mood for the evening.

–Obsidian Butterfly and Jack Sparksprovided fire and electricity-based entertainment in front of the venue, keeping those waiting in line to get in entertained and upbeat.

–Claude the Dragon. A 10-foot-tall, 20-foot-long fire-breathing animatronic dragon made from found materials? Yes please.

–The music. There were a bunch of DJs, and the dance floor was hopping all night.

–The costumes. The partygoers went all-out, and there were some outrageous getups. A few of my favorites were a "the paparazzi," Gilly, The Predator and, of course, countless sexy nurses, sexy police officers, sexy schoolgirls, sexy pumpkins, sexy orthodontists, sexy podiatrists, etc.

–Maino. Apparently he's a famous rapper, but I'd never heard of him before he walked up the red carpet. I had heard his track "All the Above" before, however, and he killed it on stage. Some rap acts struggle in live performances to measure up to the heavily produced studio sound of their albums. Maino had no such problem. I was very impressed. (I was kinda hoping that he was from Maine, and that was how he got his name, because that would be awesome. Alas, a cursory Wikipedia perusal tells me he's from Brooklyn. Maino is short for Jermaine. Sort of. The Pine Tree State is still waiting for its first rap superstar.)

–Bell, Biv Devoe. The boys didn't hit the stage till after 1 a.m., and they only played a three-song set, but the three songs they did, they did well. "B.B.D. (I thought it was me)" into "Do Me," into "Poison." They have been playing these three songs (only these three songs?) for the last 20 years, and they have them down pat. The sound could have been a little better, but their dance moves were surgical in their precision and oh-so-1991. 13-year-old me was so ecstatic he spilled his milkshake.

All of the images are the work of the supremely talented Steven Chea. With a "v".

Torture. The good kind.

2010-10-29T01:31:41Z

And so it begins.

Wednesday night, the Giants continued their amazing run through the playoffs with an 11-7 defeat of the Texas Rangers in Game 1 of the World Series.

On a night when Timmy Lincecum struggled on the mound (four earned runs over 5 and 2/3 innings), the pressure was on the Giants hitters to pick him up, and boy did they ever.

They jumped on the heretofore unbeatable Cliff Lee (7-0 with a 1.26 E.R.A in eight career playoff starts coming into Game 1) for six earned runs, and knocked him out of the game in the fifth.

In true Giants fashion, even though they won the game handily (the Giants held leads of 8-2 in the fifth and 11-4 in the eighth), there were plenty of moments of high drama (read: torture).

Sweet, sweet torture.

Giant fans would have it no other way.

"I feel like I haven't been able to breath for the last three weeks" is the way Robin, from Sacramento, put it as we sat on the back patio at the Zebra Club, watching the Giants dig themselves a 2-0 hole in the second inning.

I know the feeling.

It's the torture.

And it's wonderful.

This isn't the kind of torture doled out by a guy with no neck and a set of pliers.
This is the kind of torture doled out by a beautiful woman with hot wax and a feather.

It hurts so good.

Steven Chea and I ventured out to a couple local drinking holes (The Zebra Club and M.V.P.'s) to document Sacramento Giants fans begging for mercy.

Say uncle.

As per usual, the images are courtesy of Steven Chea, esquire.

If you look really closely, you may catch a glimpse of your intrepid reporter in one or two of them.

Ghost Tour

2010-10-26T01:09:57Z

Do you like history? How about ghosts? And puns? What about historically significant (and knowledgeable) pun-loving phantasms?

I, for one, am a glutton for punishment. In this case, incorporeal punishment.

I received all that I wanted and more on Friday night at the Old Sacramento Ghost Tour.

Put on by The Historic Old Sacramento Foundation, the Ghost Tour is an hour-long guided stroll around Old Sac that begins and ends at the Eagle Theater.

I arrived at the theater about 10 minutes before the tour was to begin and joined the crowd that was already milling about. Holding court on the theater steps with the rapt attention of a young family was a gentleman who looked eerily similar to the ghost of Charles Crocker, whom I had met on the Old City Cemetery Tour a few months earlier. He assured me that any resemblance was merely coincidental.

At 6:30 we adjourned into the theater itself, past a trio of exceedingly pleasant poltergeists seated in the lobby. One of them was kind enough to point out that the beautiful wooden bar, which he'd caught me admiring, was an original Gold Rush-era piece.

Once we were all seated in the venue, the Charles Crocker doppelganger came rushing up the aisle toward the stage, hollering for what I soon ascertained was his assistant.

It turned out that our friend sold cemetery plots in the New Helvetia Cemetery, and as he frantically informed his mortician/assistant, the New Helvetia Cemetery had just flooded. His assistant looked at him, nonplussed.

"Well, it's not like anyone's going to drown," he offered.

True enough, but it seems that, in order to save a buck, these two hucksters had been burying folks in shallow graves.

In watertight wooden boxes, in very shallow graves.

"It seems our clients have deserted us," the plot seller lamented to the mortician. The formerly (if superficially) interred had taken leave of their plots and been set adrift all over the city. It didn't take long, of course, for our unscrupulous saleswraiths to realize that this cloud had a silver lining. Uninhabited plots are far easier to sell, you see.

The flood took place in January of 1850, and many of the bodies were never recovered.

And thus, the stage was set for the tour. We took a cue from Snagglepuss and exited stage left. On our way out, an exceedingly patient young blond girl provided some further comic relief when she exclaimed to her mother, "That wasn't too long!" To her credit, she took the knowledge that the tour hadn't started yet quite well for a wee one who thinks that she’s done with something.

Outside the theater we met our young tour guide, Ashley. The ghost tour tour guide has to be equal parts historian and straight (wo)man, and belying her youth, she performed admirably on both counts. It's not easy being Bud Abbott to an ethereal Lou Costello, or Larry Appleton to a banshee Balki Bartokomous, but Ashley pulled it off.

Along the way we learned a lot about the colorful, if tragic, history of Old Sac and met myriad specters, many of whom had found their way there from the inconsiderable depths of their not-so-final resting places at New Helvetia Cemetery.

In general, the apparitions are an affable lot, although they have a lot of issues among themselves. (This is the true story...of eight ghosts…picked to haunt Old Sac…to find out what happens...when ghosts stop being polite...and start getting real…)

All in all, the tour was a real treat – fun, funny and informative. And it's a rare event that is legitimately suitable for the whole family: all ages – 3 to 103. And, of course, any family members who may have passed on are especially welcome.

You have a few more chances to catch the Historic Old Sac Ghost Tours. They are offered on Friday and Saturday, and the hour-long tours begin at 6:30 p.m. and run every half hour until 9:00 p.m. Advanced ticket reservation is required.

All images are the "work" of yours truly. If you wish to lavish praise, feel free to send me an email- lindol@gmail.com

Neo Crocker: believe it or not

2010-10-19T01:46:08Z

"Can you believe this is Sacramento?"

Saturday night, at Neo-Crocker 2010, I heard many variations on this theme, but the first time I heard it stands out.

The awestruck reveler voicing the sentiment? None other than Sacramento Mayor Kevin Johnson.

It was easy to understand his, and others’, disbelief. At first blush, Neo-Crocker certainly seemed to be a party more suited to New York or Los Angeles than our own fair hamlet, yet here it was, at Third and O, not on Fifth Avenue or Rodeo Drive.

But this was better.

It was like a New York party, but without the pretension.

It was like an L.A. party, but without the disingenuousness.

This was a party for a Sacramento all dressed up and wearing its big-boy pants.

It was certainly a feather in the cap for the "Sacramento as a world-class city" crowd.

Ultimately, the museum itself was the star, as well it should have been. I could have very easily spent the entire evening wandering the upper floors, perusing the art and enjoying the various strategically placed performers. As it was I spent close to two hours meandering through the myriad galleries, and I feel like I only scratched the surface.

The second floor, which celebrates the Art of Wayne Thiebaud, "Sacramento's most famous artist," featured Poetry Machine, by the Sacramento Poetry Center. Imagine a deli, but instead of serving hoagies, they serve poems.

As I walked by, not sure what was going on, I was shanghaied with "what do you want a poem about?" I repeated the question, stammered a bit and then replied, belatedly, "existentialism?" (I thought we left the pretension in New York?)

In less time than it took me to answer his question, the dapper gentleman at the typewriter produced this tour de force "instamatic" poem:

"Sometimes its hard to ask for the poem you want ask for.

This is why we don't get what we don't want.

Is this a song?

Is this a story?

Not sure"

I'm not exaggerating when I say this is now one of my favorite poems.

Robert Burns, Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Robert Frost – and that guy in the tux.

On the third floor, I fell in love with landscape artist Edwin Deakin, a British painter who immigrated to Chicago at the age of 18 in 1856. In 1870, he moved to San Francisco and began creating iconic images of the Sierra Nevada and Lake Tahoe Basin.

It seemed that every other painting that caught my eye was his work. I was admiring a particularly interesting piece of his, "Strawberry Creek," when I struck up a conversation with a statuesque blonde.

"This is so much better than it was before" said Autumn, referring to the museum. "This is great for Sacramento. I'm so impressed." She also said she'd just returned to Sacramento from New York and Milan, implying, I think, that she wasn't easily impressed.

In addition to art ranging from 16th-century Dutch masters to 21st-century modernist ceramics, there were several poets, musicians and "living sculptures" adding to the atmosphere.

Eventually I dragged myself away from the art upstairs to check out more of the action on the ground floor. On my way down I stopped by the drink check table (apparently they frown on carrying alcoholic beverages near the priceless artifacts) to mention how impressed I was to Jenny, one of the many volunteers on duty.

"I know, isn't it great? And it's here, in Sac. It's ours. I feel I have a certain ownership of it," she said, beaming like a proud parent.

Downstairs, the party was in full swing. On the main stage, where the Sacramento Ballet had performed earlier, fire dancers Vulcan Crew and Solar Flare were performing. The Main Stage was hosted by Taryn Thru-U, Mizz Monique Moore & Malhae, female impersonators extraordinaire.

In the Friedman Court, they were having a free-form fashion show by Miss Velvet Cream and Muse Salon. There were beautiful people, in beautiful clothes, with beautiful hair beautifully made-up, being beautiful. On pedestals.

In the E. Kendall Davis Courtyard there were all sorts of things going on – Body painting, Social Sculpture, a Wells Fargo Photo shoot, Style Inspired by Art presented by the Arden Fair Mall.

It was also the setting for my favorite musical act of the evening, Exquisite Corps, a three-piece jazz ensemble that closed out the evening.

As you went around the courtyard, counterclockwise, you could get your hair and makeup done, a professionally staged photo taken, your body painted and then made personalized pins or T-shirts...presumably with a stop at the cash bar between each station. Or maybe the smokers’ cage in the back (warning: please do not feed or taunt the smokers).

Throughout it all there were roaming performances by Santa Cruz's Nocturnal Sunshine. There is just something about stilt walkers. They add a wonderful level of surrealism to an event. And Sierra, Cindy and Karen, the girls from Nocturnal Sunshine, were great. I saw nary a stumble.

As if this weren't enough, there was also a live tattoo demo and life drawing taking place in the art studio. Alycia Harr of Leonardi Tattoo was putting her considerable talents on display, working on an arm sleeve for one person and a monumental back piece for another.

Right next door were a dozen or so easels set up around a small stage where various men and women modeled for revelers who drew them to the best of their ability. I must say, there were some supremely talented partygoers.

The headliner, RJD2, took the stage in Friedman Court at 11 p.m. to a decent crowd. He's a DJ and music producer out of Philadelphia and is well-known in hip-hop and electronica circles. You may know his track "A Beautiful Mine" as the theme song to the "Mad Men" TV series.

He started off with a lot of melodic and interesting instrumental tracks. He even dropped a caveat to the crowd early in his set. "If this is too damned artsy for you, and you just wanna dance, stick around. We'll get to that."

And he did, eventually, but I actually enjoyed his earlier stuff more than the straight dance stuff he played later. Although he was a bit more creative and eclectic in his mixes (I particularly liked his use of Desmond Decker’s "Shanty Town" and Talking Heads’ "Once in a Lifetime"), a lot of it felt like semi-generic club music. ("You got the best of my love," "She's a bad Mama Jamma" and "No Diggitty." Blackstreet? really?)

For the most part, the crowd seemed to enjoy the more elementary dance stuff, and there was a high-energy, if limited, dance floor. I guess that's what really matters. ( At one point, there was a little pushing and shoving, which looked like it was going to degenerate into a fight. Seriously, at a museum fund raiser? Who does that? Thankfully cooler heads prevailed, or this may have been a very different piece.)

Speaking of the crowd, I was struck by its heterogeneousness. It's hard to imagine a more eclectic group (at least for an event that cost nearly $100 at the door.) At one point, it may have been during "No Diggity," I was at the back of the dance floor next to two mostly naked and body-painted kids in their early 20s, when what must have been an 85-year-old woman came by with her walker, a huge smile on her face. Par for the course.

The outfits ranged from the snazzy to the absurd, black tie to sesame street. Many wore tuxes, one wore a jacket made of swatch watches. Our own editor in chief, David Watts Barton, was wearing a full red silk suit.

I'd be remiss if I didn't mention the food, provided by Bobbin and Patrick Mulvaney, who will also be operating the new Crocker Cafe. An army of servers wandered the grounds with goat cheese bruschetta with porcini mushrooms, mini burgers (so good), small chinese takeout boxes filled with delectable noodles, trail mix, Yukon gold potatoes with white cheddar and bacon, and many other yummy goodies.

Overall, the party was outstanding. It was visually stunning, artistically moving, culinarily satiating and sonically satisfactory.

"Can you believe this is Sacramento?"

I can.

All of the images are the work of the lovely and talented Kati Garner

(Not so) Red Hot Chili Peppers

2010-10-12T15:44:40Z

   Right now, I have 11 different hot sauces and a full pound of fresh jalapeño peppers in my fridge. It’s about par for the course. I incorporate chili peppers into almost every meal I prepare. For me, a really great meal is often a battle of attrition, from which I walk away sweating, with saliva flooding my mouth, tears welling in my eyes and endorphins coursing through my veins.
   To paraphrase the great George Costanza, I would drape myself in chili peppers were it socially acceptable.
   Sunday was the inaugural Roseville HOT pepper festival & chili cook-off. It is a rare event that can pull me away from the morning games on NFL Sunday Ticket, but a hot pepper festival and chili cook-off is near the top of that short list.
   What I found was equal parts street fair, classic car show, farmers market, carnival and cook-off.
What I didn't find, unfortunately, was anything that challenged my taste buds or my tolerance for pain. The "HOT" in "HOT pepper" stood for "Historic Old Town" Roseville, and little else. Although I was a bit disappointed by the misnomer, I still enjoyed the festival as a whole.
   At the heart of the festival was a beer and margarita garden that faced a stage featuring live music from local bands. While I was wandering the grounds, a two-piece band called "The Afterlife" was regaling the audience with a broad range of selections, from Stevie Ray Vaughn to Miles Davis.
Extending outward from the festival hub were four branches, each with its own distinct focus.
Pacific Street featured the classic car competition.
Church Street was chock-full of arts and crafts.
Main Street was farmers market-esque, featuring farm-fresh produce, baked goods, spices and a food court.
Lincoln Street was where the chili cook-off went down.
In addition to the four wings, the parking lot adjacent to Lincoln Street was turned into a carnival-like play area featuring a cornucopia of games and rides for the little ones.
   A few highlights:
   The Great Harvest Bread Company – from Yuba City, apparently it's a national brand with franchise opportunities, but I'd never had it before. I tried the cracked pepper and swiss, and honey whole wheat loaves, both of which were very good. I can't imagine a better base for a PB&J than the latter.
   Two Spicy Ladies – based in Roseville, they had an extraordinary selection of spices and spice blends. Plus Sher and Shane (One Spicy Lady, and her progeny) were a pleasure to talk with.
   Barbecued oysters – from Xochimilco restaurant, they were really good, and their selection of spicy toppers was to be lauded.
   The Placer SPCA – Kittens!

Snowy Peaks Christmas Tree Farm- cause it's gonna be here sooner than you think. They, more than anyone else, brought the hot. A small tree festively adorned with red and green peppers, and bags of roasted hot chilis. The chili peppers, from New Mexican seeds, were roasted on site, in a contraption that was part bingo cage, part torture device. Pretty neat.

The chili – for $5, festivalgoers got to try six different chilis, all of which were good. Unfortunately, the competition was not as fierce as it might have been. Four of the competitors chose to use ground beef in their chili. While this, in and of itself, wouldn't necessarily remove them from contention, it put them at a distinct disadvantage – a disadvantage which proved insurmountable.

   This left two contenders, both of whom had large hunks of uber-tender sirloin as the centerpiece of their respective chilis: California Transmissions, whose booth was adorned with ribbons and trophies galore from previous competitions, and, Randy, whose booth was adorned with, well, nothing.
   As much as I would have liked to vote for the unsung little guy, Randy's version, while very good, couldn't quite measure up to the tour de force bowl served up by California Transmission. They have all those awards for a reason. The meat in their chili was melt-in-your-mouth tender, and it was pretty much all meat.
   "We only put one bean in there, and you didn't get it" bellowed Gene as he served me up a heaping sample. (There was a competition requirement that the recipe had beans in it. Well, a bean, anyway).
   It was a near-perfect chili, although I would have liked the heat kicked up a notch. Or four.
My advice to Randy is to keep up the good work, but next time bring the heat. You aren't going to knock off the champ with subtle flavors.
   Overall, I'd say it was a solid freshman effort for the festival, but event planners certainly have room to improve and grow.
Diedre Trudeau, of Ezeeye Imaging, ~~organizer of the event~~, media liaison said she feels the same way.
"Our hope is to introduce the concept to the region this year and expand it from a one- to a two-day event, extend the hours and broaden the competition from just chili to barbecue, salsa, hot sauces, etc. in the years to come."
I, and my masochistic taste buds, are looking forward to the new additions. Hopefully next year will hurt a little bit.

Reefer Madness. Redux

2010-10-09T06:26:25Z

In 1936, "Tell the Children" was released in theaters. You may know it better as "Reefer Madness."
    In the film, a group of high school kids are lured into using "marihuana" by a couple of "pushers." Their experimentation immediately leads to disastrous results, including vehicular manslaughter, attempted rape, insanity, murder, suicide, and (gasp!) really, really fast piano playing.
    It ends, famously, with a high school principal pointing at the camera and suggesting that the events just portrayed are likely to happen again, except this time, to your children (won't somebody think of YOUR children!?!?!?).
 This was the first time that anti-pot activists played on parents’ fears with over-the-top, exaggerated claims about the effects of marijuana, but far from the last.
    In fact, this has been, to varying degrees, the modus operandi for the anti-pot crowd pretty much ever since.  But not anymore, right?
 I mean, our last three presidents have all admitted to smoking weed. They turned out OK – or at least turned into presidents.
    Medicinal marijuana has been legalized in 14 states, plus the District of Columbia. Eight more states have pending legislation or ballot measures to legalize it.
    Heck, right here in California we have a proposition, No. 19, that  would legalize marijuana and permit local government to regulate and tax commercial production, distribution and sale of the dastardly weed.  You would think that we could have a straightforward honest debate about the pros and cons of the proposition, without resorting to fearmongering, right?
 Not so fast, Kimosabe.
    I recently received my "Official Voter Information Guide" for the upcoming California general election. As someone who has never missed an opportunity to vote, I eagerly await Nov. 2.
  The first thing I do upon receiving the OVIG is open to the propositions section and read the arguments for and against each one. It's similar to a Cliffs Notes version of the proposition. I was especially eager to read the “Argument Against Proposition 19" section, on page 17.

Or, as I have dubbed it, "Reefer Madness, Redux."

  Now, this new version of fear peddling is much more subtle than it has been in years past. There'll be no jumping out of windows or attempted rapes – although there is implied vehicular manslaughter. (Old habits die hard).
  Inconspicuous though it may be, "Argument Against Prop. 19" follows the exact same template set those many years ago in the film by renowned exploitation film director Dwain Esper.

  Why should we vote against prop 19?

A: Because the authors made several huge mistakes in writing this initiative, which will have severe, unintended consequences.

*Scared yet? We'll let this slide. Let's even pretend that these severe and unintended consequences outweigh those severe and unintended consequences that are a direct result of creating a dangerous black market for a relatively harmless and potentially beneficial plant.

 B: Mothers Against Drunk Driving strongly opposes Prop. 19 because it because it will prevent bus and trucking companies from requiring that their drivers be drug-free. Companies won't be able to take action against a "stoned" driver until after he has a wreck, not before.

*They won't be able to take action before someone has a wreck? Even if all three of the precogs predict it, and there is no minority report? I kid, of course, but it will still be illegal to drive under the influence of marijuana, just as it is today. The only difference is you won't be able to fire the driver when he shows up on Monday because he decided to unwind on Friday night with a doobie instead of a scotch.

 C: School districts may currently require school bus drivers to be drug-free, but if Prop. 19 passes, their hands will be tied until after tragedy strikes. (won't somebody think of YOUR children?!?!?!?!?!?!) A school bus driver would be forbidden to smoke marijuana on school grounds or while actually behind the wheel, but could arrive for work with marijuana in his system.

*Same scare tactic as before, but this time . . . it’s happening to your kids! Notice, it says "could arrive to work with marijuana in his system". OMG, not in his system! anything but that! Won't somebody think of th. . . what. . .oh . . .really? I've just been informed that marijuana can stay in a persons system for as long as 40 days. Having it in one’s system by no means indicates inebriation. Of course, the driver would not be able to work while inebriated, as that’s still illegal.

 D: Public School Superintendent John Snavely warns that Prop. 19 could cost our schools as much as $9.4 billion in lost federal funding.

*Should President Barack Obama and Congress decide to cut off federal funding, which is possible, this could conceivably happen. But there has been no indication that this would be their response. In fact, Obama has taken a very laissez-faire approach to the states with regards to their marijuana laws (unlike, say, immigration). Very unlikely.

 E: Employers who permit employees to sell cosmetics or school candy bars to co-workers in the office may now also be required to allow any employee with a "license" to sell marijuana in the office.

*I actually laughed out loud when I read this. I hope it is true. "Sure, Bobby can sell his magazine subscriptions to save the rec center, but only if Moonbeam over here can slang dank and kind ganja gooballs in the lobby." Perfect.

 F: Under current law, if a worker shows up smelling of alcohol or marijuana, an employer may remove the employee from a dangerous or sensitive job, such as running medical lab tests in a hospital or operating heavy equipment. But if Prop. 19 passes, the worker with marijuana in his or her system may not be removed from the job until after an accident occurs.

*Do you see what they did here? It's the same "in his system" bait and  switch as in example C. If the proposition passes, they could still remove the employee for smelling of alcohol or marijuana if they had reason to believe he or she was under the influence. They just wouldn't be able to remove the worker for simply having it in his or her system (40 days).

 G: The California Police Chiefs Association opposes Prop. 19 because proponents "forgot" to include a standard for what constitutes "driving under the influence." Under Prop. 19, a driver may legally drive even if a blood test shows they have marijuana in their system.

*Noticing a trend yet? They didn't forget to include a standard for what constitutes driving under the influence. There is already one in place. One more time, say it with me: It is, and will continue to be, illegal to drive while under the influence of marijuana. Also, having marijuana "in your system" is not the same as being under its influence. Also, it seems to imply that those in law enforcement are against Prop. 19, which is absolutely not the case.

 H: Gubernatorial candidates Republican Meg Whitman and Democrat Jerry Brown have both studied Prop. 19 and are urging all Californians to vote no.

*This isn't really a scare tactic. I just think it's a clear argument in FAVOR of Prop 19.

 I: Don't be fooled. The proponents are hoping you will think Prop. 19 is about "medical" marijuana. It is not. Prop. 19 makes no changes either way in the medical marijuana laws.

*No. No they won't. At least not the ones that I've seen. For example, the  “Rebuttal to Argument Against Proposition 19”, on the same page 17 of the OVIG, does not mention medical marijuana once. Nor does the "Argument in Favor of Propositon 19" on the preceding page. Fascinating that the opponents of Prop. 19 would accuse the proponents of trying to mislead the voting public. Pot, meet kettle.

J: Prop. 19 is simply a jumbled legal nightmare that will make our  highways, our workplaces and our communities less safe. We strongly urge you to vote "No" on Prop. 19. 

*The high school principal is pointing at you through the camera. Tell The Children. Version 2.0.

Go ahead, vote "No" if you like. Or, vote "Yes". But don't vote scared.

Next week I am going to visit some of our local dispensaries to find out how they stand on Prop 19. You might be surprised by what I discover.

Image #1 from nocconservates.org
image #2 from godandscience.org
Image #3 from Iloveweed.net
Image #4 from 420times.com

Image #5 is the work of Brandon Darnell

Truth & Tea

2010-09-30T03:10:35Z

   I'd been in Harlow's for almost 10 full minutes Tuesday night when a fellow that I'd exchanged brief pleasantries with on the way in approached me at the bar. "Hey man, we're gonna go burn if you're interested."
   After a lengthy internal deliberation, I declined his kind offer. It was up to me, you see, to relay the evenings events to you, kind reader, and that's a responsibility I take very seriously. I wouldn't have my perceptions dulled by anything stronger than PBR. At least not until the set break.
   Truth & Salvage Co. was opening for San Francisco's Tea Leaf Green, and though I'd never seen either group live before, as the crowd rolled in, I felt a rush of familiarity – something akin to déjà vu. I may not have seen these guys before, but we certainly run in the same circles.
   Tea Leaf Green has been on my radar since it was coming of age in the burgeoning San Francisco jam scene of the late 1990s. The musicians have toured voraciously in the years since, and became known for both their improvisational acrobatics and their soulful songwriting. I'm not really sure how I managed to go so long without catching them live.
   Truth & Salvage was born in Hollywood in 2005, but the bands roots and soul lie in places as disparate as Asheville, N.C.; New Orleans; Indianapolis; Tupelo, Miss.; Atlanta; deep-southern Ohio and, I like to think, in the backseat of a Greyhound bus, rolling down Highway 41. It is an unusual six-piece band featuring four singer/songwriters, each of whom brings a unique voice to the group.
   At 8:25, I took my PBR out back to have a smoke. As the door closed behind me, I realized that the the back patio was not open. It was, instead, a de facto backstage area. To my chagrin, the door had locked behind me. To my relief, the band members out back took me in graciously.
   My happy misstep afforded me the opportunity to meet two of the four singer/songwriters. Bill "Smitty" Smith and Walker Young were gracious hosts and offered me a seat. We discussed High Sierra Music Festival(It's the best), deep-southern Ohio (Turns out that both Smithy and I are blessed, or afflicted, with roots therein), the Pacific Northwest (All agreed it's a wonderful place when the sun is shining, as it had been for the last two weeks as they toured there) and when they were going on (in two minutes).
   I walked through the backstage with the band and zigged toward the bar as they zagged toward the stage.
   They took the stage at about 8:45 and went immediately into the jubilant "Hail, Hail," the first track off their recent eponymous debut album. The song is a perfect opener, with a chorus both welcoming and celebratory ("Hail, hail, the gang's all here, with their heads full of reefer and their bellies full of beer"). It's a testament to their songwriting that, though I'd never heard the track before, it immediately felt familiar.
   This would become a theme for the evening.
   The next few songs I had listened to a couple times on their website earlier that day. If the songs that I'd never heard felt familiar, the songs that I had heard even once before felt like dear old friends. You know how a song from your past can sometimes trigger in you a flood of memories and emotion? "Heart Like a Wheel" was the third song they played, and it had that same effect on me. A song that I'd first listened to just hours earlier was eliciting a sense of melancholy for a phantom memory that never was. Powerful stuff.
   They played nearly their entire album, plus a couple extras, and there was nary a low point. It's hard to put a label on music generally, and in this case even more so, but hey, that's why they pay me the big bucks: Imagine you took southern rock, country, folk, blues, classic rock and New Orleans jazz and put them all into a mortar, and using Los Angeles as a pestle, made a musical guacamole. That musical guacamole is brought to you by Truth and Salvage Co.
Mmmmmm, musical guacamole. Eat your heart out Robert Cristgau.
   By the time the band finished up with, fittingly, the last track on its album, "Pure Mountain Angel," they had the fans who had come specifically to see them in a fervor, and they had gained at least one fan for life, although I'm guessing it's a lot more than that.
   Tea Leaf Green has a much larger local following than do the boys from T&S, so a lot of fans were trickling in during the openers' performance, and even more showed up after they had finished (gross miscalculation on their parts). By the time Tea Leaf Green took the stage sometime after 10 p.m., the crowd had more than doubled in size.
   The musicians opened with "California," a song that has been in their repertoire since the 1990s, and it set their loyal fan base into a body-twirling, head-shaking, fist-pumping, hippy-shaking tizzy that lasted the entirety of their 90-minute set.
The members of TLG are all fantastic musicians, and they have honed their improvisational skills to a fine point over the last 13 years of playing nearly nonstop. In 2007, Reed Mathews replaced founding member Ben Chambers on bass, but he seems to meld seamlessly with the original members.
   Josh Clark, guitarist and vocalist, bantered a bit with the crowd. "We're all friends here, right? Trevor needs a whiskey drink," he said, referring to keyboardist and fellow vocalist Trevor Garrod. A little while later, shots arrived on stage.
"I guess I'm gonna be drinking some whiskey here in Sac," he said. The statement proved prophetic when, moments later, to shouts of encouragement from the crowd, the band banged down the shots.
   As the set went on, It became clear that nearly everyone in the crowd seemed to know nearly every one of the words to every one of the songs. This was not their first rodeo.
   I enjoyed their set, especially several of the extended jams. A few of the high points for me were a boisterous, rollicking "Not Fit" and "Red Ribbons," both off of "Raise the Tent," their first album with Reed on bass, and one that I think I may have to invest in. Both tracks held up as songs but also served as canvases for extended jams that brought the crowd to a lather.
I also really liked "One Reason," as it was the only track that I knew well enough to sing along to, and thus, the only one where I fit in with the crowd.

Overall, it was a fantastic show. Both bands impressed, Tea Leaf Green was very good, and I would definitely check them out again. Truth & Salvage was a game changer. I think everyone should go see them, every chance they get. I certainly will be.

Saturday Night Lights

2010-09-27T04:59:06Z

Are you ready for some football?

Saturday night, professional football made its triumphant return to Sacramento. The 20,000 fans who packed into Hornet Stadium were treated to a barnburner, as the hometown Mountain Lions battled back from a 10-point fourth quarter deficit for a dramatic victory over the visiting Florida Tuskers.

For many fans, the evening was a win long before Daunte Culpepper found Rod Windsor deep down the sideline for the game-winning 33-yard touchdown pass with 37 seconds remaining.

Two hours before kickoff, the parking lots surrounding Hornet Stadium at Sacramento State were packed with joyous revelers, basking in the opportunity to cheer for professional football right here in the City of Trees.

"Sacramento is hungry for sports" Bob Rowe of Sacramento said. "This is just what we needed."

Rowe, who looked like a one-time offensive lineman and cut an imposing figure in his 1970s-era Jack Youngblood L.A. Rams jersey, had been there with his wife Annie since 4:15 p.m. They were at the head of a group of perhaps 200 revelers who had turned a swatch of grass between Lot 7 and the frontage road into a tailgating Shangri-La. It was akin to a big-time college atmosphere, and for a split second I was reminded of a pilgrimage I made to "The Grove" at Ole Miss for the Alabama game last year. The moment was fleeting, but that the thought passed through my mind at all is a testament to the festive mood.

"We've been chomping at the bit ever since we found out that Sacramento was getting a team," Rowe said. "This is what we've been waiting for."

Annie Rowe looked out over her fellow party-goers. "We don't even know any of these people," she said, a huge smile on her face. "Look at all the jerseys! It doesn't matter what NFL team you root for, everyone’s rooting for Sacramento!"

As I walked to the stadium, I was struck by the diversity of the crowd. It is hard to imagine a more heterogeneous group than the 20,000 who showed up to cheer on their Mountain Lions. Football, The Real Great Uniter.

The game was televised nationally on Versus, and it was certainly the place to be on Saturday night. Local celebrities abound. The national anthem was sung by Tesla lead singer and Sacramentan Jeff Keith. The mayor, KJ, was in attendance. Local MMA star Urijah Faber took part in an on field football skills competition with Kings star Tyreke Evans. The hoop star took it to the scrapper, kicking two field goals, each of which cleared the hospitality tent in the south endzone. They probably would have been good from 45 yards out. So he's got that going for him if the basketball thing doesn't work out.

The biggest star in attendance wasn't there in any official capacity. Roaming the Mountain Lions sidelines, a proud father cheering on his son, was Denzel Washington. John-David Washington is a back-up running back for Sacramento.

For a long while it seemed that the game itself would be overshadowed by the hullabaloo surrounding it. The first quarter ended with the Mountain Lions trailing 3-0, marred by four Mountain Lion penalties for 35 yards and a Culpepper interception.

The second quarter featured a bit of history. With 8:56 remaining, Culpepper hit Rod Windsor for a touchdown in the flat, giving the Mountain Lions their first-ever lead. The lead was short-lived, however, as the Tuskers answered with a TD of their own, a 14-yard strike from Brooks Bollinger to Cortez Hankton with 1:22 remaining.

Culpepper gave the crowd a thrill when he completed a 54-yard bomb up the sideline to Taye Biddle with 18 seconds left in the half, but they were unable to turn it into points when Culpepper was called for an illegal forward pass on the next play.

The second half started much as the first had ended, with a lot of sound and fury, signifying nothing. Aaron Woods took the kickoff 98 yards for what appeared to be a touchdown, but much to the dismay of the raucous crowd, the play was called back due to a clipping penalty.

The two teams exchanged punts until the Tuskers broke through with seven-play, 77-yard drive that culminated in a one-yard Dominic Rhodes touchdown run. The score gave Florida a 10-point lead with eight minutes and 21 seconds remaining in the third quarter.

The 10-point deficit, in combination with the cessation of alcohol sales at the start of the third quarter, triggered a fairly sizable fan exodus that continued through the end of the third. The heartier souls who stayed until the end were handsomely rewarded for their steadfastness.

Still trailing by 10, the Molos opened the fourth quarter with a 54-yard field goal attempt that split the uprights, cutting the lead to seven.

The Mountain Lions forced the Tuskers to punt on their next possession and got the ball back on their own 20. They proceeded to mount a 10-play, 80-yard drive that culminated in a two-yard TD to Derek Strong. On the drive, Culpepper completed passes to five different receivers and willed his team to pay dirt. It was the kind of performance the Mountain Lions hoped would be commonplace when they signed the three-time Pro Bowl quarterback.

The Tuskers weren't going away that easily, however. Brooks Bollinger showed the skill and grit that won him last season’s UFL MVP award while leading his team on a 10-play, 64-yard scoring drive of their own.

With just over four minutes remaining, the Tuskers had a first and goal at the Sacramento two-yard line, but the Molo defense, led by LB Zeke Moreno, would not yield any further. They held the Tuskers to a field goal, and the Mountain Lions had one more chance, trailing by three with four minutes left in the game.

One chance was all they needed.

Aaron Woods returned the Tusker kickoff 19 yards to the Sacramento 30, then Daunte took over. The QB picked up where he left off on the last scoring drive, spreading the ball around and methodically leading his team up the field.

With 37 seconds left, he had gotten them all the way down to the Florida 33-yard line, well within their kicker’s range. As the media relations director passed out the overtime rules in the press box, Daunte rendered them moot by throwing that perfect strike down the left sideline to Rod Windsor. TD, Mountain Lions.

Another bit of history in the books, the first victory for your Sacramento Mountain Lions.

If they can continue to play as they did in the fourth quarter Saturday night, it'll be the first of many.

Photos courtesy of the inimitable Steven Chea. That's Steven, with a "v".

Time travel, made easy.

2010-09-22T21:28:49Z

Drive-in movies. I have always loved them. Almost more than the movies themselves, I love my romanticized notion of them. I am madly in love with the classic Americana for which the Drive-In is so symbolic. It is hard to describe the way that drive-in movies make me feel, it's something akin to an ecstatic melancholy.

They harken to a simpler time, a time that I never really got to experience firsthand, but one that I can easily imagine while stuffing my face with popcorn and enjoying a movie under the stars from the hood of my car.

I can vividly recall the first drive-In movie I ever attended: "E.T.: The Extra-Terrestrial." It was the summer of 1982, and I had just turned four years old. It's the second-oldest memory I have that I can put a(n approximate) date to. (The first? I can remember "The Catch" that sent the Niners to their first Super Bowl. More accurately, I remember my parents’ and their friends’ hysterical reaction to the game-winning play. It was so raucous that it disrupted our game of "Hungry, Hungry Hippos." I was pissed.)

I can also vividly recall the second one I ever attended: "The Mask," starring Jim Carrey. It was the summer of 1994, and I was 16. It was the same venue: The Sunset Drive-In in Portsmouth, Ohio. I remember thinking to myself that aside from the movie playing, and the makes of (some of) the cars, it may as well have been 1974. Drive-ins are a place where time seems to stand still. So is Portsmouth, Ohio. Go to a drive-in movie in Portsmouth, Ohio, and you can legitimately claim to have traveled back in time.

Up until very recently, that was it. I was nearly 32 years old, and I'd been to Europe as many times as I'd been to a drive-in. In the Bay Area, where I grew up, "The Great Drive-In Massacre of the Late 20th Century" was as swift as it was thorough. There had been 28 drive-ins in the Bay Area in 1978, the year of my birth. By the time I was 16, there were three that I knew of – none of them near me.

Nationwide, the numbers went from a high of more than 4,000 in 1958 to around 400 today. A bizzaro-decimation of tragic proportions.

Here in Sacramento County, where there were once more than a dozen, only one remains: The West Wind Sacramento 6.

I found out about TWWS6 from my girlfriend’s soon-to-be-10-year-old cousin Anna, who was about to celebrate her upcoming birthday there.

Wait, there's a drive-In movie theater in Sacramento?" I asked, incredulous.

"Uh, yeah" she answered, looking at me askance. The "duh" was implied.

I tried not to let on just how excited this new revelation made me, but I don't think I was successful.

Needless to say, I can vividly recall my third drive-in experience. I saw "Toy Story 3" at TWWS6, and it was glorious.

I also remember my fourth ("The Other Guys") and fifth ("Inception"), and am eagerly looking forward to my sixth,("The Town") this very evening.

I may never go to a cineplex again. Here's why:

-The tickets are much cheaper at the drive-in, $6.75, except on "Family Tuesdays," when they're a 1980-ish $4.75. Kids, aged 5-11, get in for a buck a piece.

-The concessions are marginally cheaper, but you also have the option of bringing anything you can fit in your car into the movie. I've seen people on blow-up mattresses basically watch the movie from bed, lawn chairs, blankets, buckets of chicken, pizzas, beers, whatever. I even saw people with their pets and others with their barbecues. Neither of these things is allowed, per se, but they appeared to get away with it. I'd like to see you try that at the megaplex.

-If you forget to stop at Little Caesars on the way to the show, you can get pizza there. And they'll deliver it to your car.

-There isn't anyone next to you text messaging, talking on the phone, or with one of those Bluetooths in their ear flashing at you. Or if there is, they probably came with you, and you can tell them to knock it off without risk of an altercation.

-You don't have to wear pants. (you probably should, but you could conceivably go without.)

-Necking.

- Did I mention that every movie is a double feature? ’Cause it is! The first movie starts at dusk, the second 15 minutes after the first one ends. On nights when it’s not too crowded, you can even move from one screen to another. Legally.

-It's about the closest you can come to venturing into the past without bending the space-time continuum, which can get messy.

-It may not be here much longer. If we don't support it, it certainly won't be.

Losing this last bastion of Americana would truly be tragic. You don't want that on your conscience, do you?

The West Wind Sacramento 6 can be found at 9616 Oates Drive Sacramento, CA 95827-1607

This Thursday, Sept. 23rd, they are having a free movie night: Live music, and games for the kids start at 6pm. The movies start at 8pm.

Featured will be "Toy Story 3" (fantastic, bring tissues), "Grown Ups" (bring a blindfold? j/k) and "Iron Man 2"(I got nothing)

Trombone Shorty is ready. Are you?

2010-09-15T02:30:35Z

Trombone Shorty is blowing up. The onetime child prodigy (he started playing at age three, was a bandleader at age six and was touring the world with Lenny Kravitz at 18) is now 24, and he's everywhere. Maybe you saw him on stage with The Dave Matthews Band at the "NFL Opening Kickoff 2010." Or maybe you've seen him on HBO's hit show "Treme." Perhaps you caught him and his band, Orleans Avenue, on Letterman a few months back.

If you have yet to experience Trombone Shorty and his unique brand of "supafunkrock," despair not – you'll have plenty more opportunities, beginning with his show Friday night at Harlow's.

He agreed to take a few minutes out of his very busy schedule to speak with me from his Dallas hotel room.

But first I had to find him, which proved harder than expected.

I'd been told to call the hotel at 6:30 p.m. and ask to be connected to Troy Andrews' (his given name) room. At 6:30 on the dot, I made the call, and the following exchange took place:

"Can you please put me through to Troy Andrews' room?" I asked the nice lady who answered.

"It's Troy Andrews?'

"Yup."

"A-N-D-R-E-W-S?"

"yup"

"I'm sorry, there's no one here by that name."

At this point I was totally befuddled. Did I get the wrong number? I'd already had to reschedule the interview once, now this. Maybe this just isn't in the cards.

"Is he staying under another last name or another first name?"

"Well," I thought I might as well give it a shot, "how about Trombone Shorty?"

"Can you spell that last name for me?"

"S-H-O-R-T-Y"

". . . Yes, please hold while I connect you."

A moment later, Troy picked up the phone.

The Sacramento Press: First off, I wanted to say thanks, I know you're really busy. I caught your set at High Sierra Music Fest over the fourth and was floored: You guys were amazing

Trombone Shorty: Aw, thank you man. I can't even remember that far back.

SP: Up in the mountains, Northern California?

TS: I remember, I can't remember everything that happened. . .

SP: Well, you know what? Neither can I. It was a good weekend, though, and you guys were amazing. You're coming out for Hardly Strictly Bluegrass in a couple of weeks, too. Have you ever played that one before?

TS: No, I've never played that one before, but I've heard a lot of great things. My friends Galactic played it, I think last year, and they were raving about the festival. So, I've never played it myself, but I've heard great things about it, and I'm very, very excited to be able to come this year.

SP: Absolutely, It's an amazing thing that Warren Hellman is doing, putting that on for free for the fans. You actually played at Harlow's here in Sacramento earlier this year, do you have a soft spot in your heart for Sacramento?

TS: Yeah man, there's always a . . . the reception is good. It's a music town, you know? The people are great there. Whenever I come back, it always feels like home with the reception everybody gives me. A lot of love. It's a wonderful place.

SP: That is fantastic. Some people opine that we get skipped over a lot, so it's fantastic that you don't forget about us.

TS: Oh no, I can't.

SP: What can your fans expect at your show? And also, just a little something for people who maybe haven't heard you before.

TS: Well, the fans can definitely expect us to be doing a lot of material off the record ("Backatown"), also some impromptu stuff. Just high-energy funk, rock – make sure they bring their dancing shoes – it's gonna be a wonderful time. And for the new people . . . I guess they'll be a shock.

SP: I was hoping you could talk a little bit about "Treme." David Simon is amazing. "The Wire," I think, was the best show I've ever seen. What's that been like?

TS: It's been really good. When I go in and do my part, I only do my part. I don't know the rest of the storyline, and I'm not sure where I fit in at that particular moment, then when I see everything, it makes sense. David Simon, he's a great writer and producer. It's been a great opportunity for me and a great learning experience . . . learning a few things on the acting side of it. Also, it's very authentic about it. Some of the things I see is really real. It's what the New Orleansean people, what we see and what we do. They really got inside of it and found a way to translate it to TV, and nobody's ever been able to capture that. Ever.

SP: What was it like working with Wendell Pierce? (who played Det. Bunk Moreland in "The Wire" and plays Antoine Batiste in "Treme")?

TS: It was good, we're good friends. I've been knowing him for a couple years. I remember him telling me about "Treme" before "Treme" even came about. He said, "I'm working on this project we're gonna do called 'Treme,' and I gotta start playing Trombone." This is maybe two, three years before they even did it. I'm like, "Wow, we gonna have to practice together." It's been great. He always gives me some acting tips and always makes me feel very comfortable when I'm doing my scenes with him . . . very helpful, and I can't thank him enough for showing me some little tricks and different things – how to relax. He's a great person.

SP: How much of the final product have you actually had a chance to see?

TS: Well, I've only seen the first two of them. I did like four or five of them, but I've only seen two of them. From what I've seen, they did a very, very great job. Some of the things that happen on there . . . I can go right outside my house, and there's Rebirth Brass Band second lining up the street for a jazz funeral or somebody's birthday party, anything. I think they did a wonderful job.

SP: Who Dat?

TS: Who Dat?!?

SP: How'd the Thursday Night Football extravaganza go for you?

TS: Oh, it was good. To be able to come out with Kermit Ruffins and be a surprise guest with Dave Matthews in front of my hometown was a true blessing. Full of excitement, happy to be in town, happy to be able to make it work for me to be there during that time.

SP: Was the Saints championship big for you?

TS: It was big for everybody. It meant so much to everybody, people that's not from New Orleans were rooting for the Saints. It meant as much to us as those people. It was just one of those moments, you know?

SP: Are you excited to be going on tour with Dave Matthews Band this . . . ?

TS: I'm very excited. Earlier this year I was just thinking to myself, secretly to myself . . . I was like, "Man, maybe, one of these days, if we get a chance to play with Dave Matthews, open up for him, that would be amazing." Another amazing event that happened in life. I'm a big fan of Dave – I've watched his stuff. And then it came true! I've never told nobody that, and I just get a call out of the blue, and I'm like, "Whoa."

SP: You didn't make the call? Someone called you? Your wish came true?

TS: It was just me, thinking inside my head, and it came through this year.

SP: Aw man, dreams do come true. That's fantastic. How was Letterman?

TS: Letterman was good. It was fun. We got in there and did two or three minutes' worth of music. It was a great experience for us. Now that we got that out of the way, I think we'll be more comfortable on the next couple of TV runs we have. It was a great thing to be able to do that and represent my city on national TV. The whole city watched, and they were rooting for us, and I felt the energy all the way up in New York from New Orleans and around the world.

SP: Wow, that's beautiful. So you got Jimmy Kimmel and "The Tonight Show" coming coming up. You'll be ready for them?

TS: Oh, I'm ready. Ready.

SP: I know you're real busy. I'm gonna let you go. It was a real pleasure. Hopefully I'll get a chance to talk with you next week.

TS: Thank you my friend.

Trombone Shorty and Orleans Avenue are playing Harlow's at 9 p.m. Friday. Opening for him are local favorites The Nibblers. Tickets are $20 and can be bought here. It's going to be a phenomenal show. You should go. And don't forget your dancing shoes.

Photo property of Kirk Edwards

In the Meantime. . .

2010-09-10T03:13:04Z

Think back to your freshman year of high school. Imagine you just went through an especially excruciating day of what was surely an excruciating year. You slept through first period, missed a quiz, got pantsed on the green (or a comparable humiliation), your crush pointed out that you had a "bat in the cave," and everybody laughed at you . . . you get the idea.

Murphy saw your day, and was so moved, that he wrote a law to commemorate it.

Fourteen-year-old you somehow made it through this day from Hell. You got home, got to your room, locked your door and laid on your bed, overwhelmed with a soul-crushing angst that only a 14-year-old can feel.

You put an album in your CD player (In my case. Depending on your age, it could also have been a tape deck, record player, eight-track, MP3 player, or a phonograph.), and played it from beginning to end, as loud as you could get away with.

By the time the record ended, you'd steeled yourself for whatever humiliations the next day might bring.

What album did you just listen to?

I listened to Helmet, "Meantime."

Helmet, an alternative rock metal band that originally formed in 1989 in New York City, (and was pivotal in my surviving freshman year) opened its fall tour last night with a packed show at Harlow's.

When I arrived just before 9 p.m., local metalcore band Will Haven was already on stage, and the crowd was already buzzing. As the musicians filled the room with driving noisecore, I grabbed a PBR and surveyed the crowd.

The audience was skewed toward males in their 30s, tattooed and concert Tee-d, but there were enough outliers to keep it interesting. There was some light to moderate headbanging going on in the crowd as Haven played its last two songs.

Haven finished to enthusiastic cheers and applause from its hometown fans, then began breaking down equipment.

Within 15 minutes of finishing their set, several members of the band were saddled up to the bar, taking shots of whiskey with some friends in the crowd.

This would become something of a theme for the evening.

Next up was Bison B.C. from Vancouver, Canada, and they were awesome. First of all, they looked like a metal band should look – like wooly mammoths personified. With tattoos.

And worthy of a herd of their namesake, their music is thunderous, bone-shaking and most of all, heavy. Really heavy.

These cats have got their own gravitational pull.

They worked the crowd into a minor frenzy, with one particularly agitated fanatic taking headbanging to new and literal heights by banging his head into a pole.

The men from the Great White North threw down the gauntlet and could have easily stolen the show if Helmet had been anything less than stellar.

The headliners, led by recently turned 50-year-old Page Hamilton, proved ready for challenge, however.

They opened with a blistering track off their new album, which was released on Tuesday. After the opening foray, Page began chopping it up with the crowd:

"Can we put whiskey back on the rider?" he asked. "I just love scotch."

Apparently he had been on a juice fast and was only drinking beer. "It sucks" he bemoaned.

It wasn't long before a large shot glass full of a dark amber liquid made it's way to the stage. He offered his thanks before throwing it down enthusiastically.

It was the first of several. So much for only drinking beer.

Page was in a convivial mood and bantered with the crowd on a variety of topics throughout the evening. He talked about football, saying, "the Niners were the first team to win five Super Bowls." About the six-time Super Bowl champion Pittsburgh Steelers he offered, "At least our quarterback isn't a rapist."

He got raucous applause when he offered his opinion on the basketball team in his adopted home of Los Angeles: "I think we can all agree on one thing: Fuck the Lakers!"

The set was a good mix of old and new, with the highlights being tracks off the aforementioned 1992 album "Meantime" and the recently rereleased 1994 album "Betty."

The crowd, including Midtown stalwart "Ground Chuck," went ballistic when it recognized the opening drum beats and assaultive chords from Helmet's biggest hit, "Unsung." I've always considered it one of the greatest metal songs of all time, and seeing it live just reinforced that opinion.

Helmet left the stage at 11:30, but was back five minutes later taking requests for the three-song encore. Page had some idea of what he wanted to play and nudged the crowd accordingly, but it was still a treat. Like a choose-your-own-adventure, except the adventure was an encore.

The last song of the evening, as chosen by we, the crowd, was "In the Meantime". Other than "Unsung", it's my favorite Helmet song, the title track off the album that I listened to countless times those many years ago. It was the perfect way to end the night, and the crowd reacted to it's crunching power chords and crashing drums with the first and only moshpit of the evening.

I surveyed the scene with a huge smile on my face. I was ready for whatever humiliations that the next day might bring.

How to win fans and influence people

2010-09-04T00:10:53Z

Foothill High School was off the hook on Thursday night. Not only was it host to an open house for the high school (Welcome Back Mustangs!), but your Sacramento Mountain Lions had commandeered the football stadium for their second mock football game of training camp.

We arrived at dusk and found the front parking lot full and street parking at a premium. (Footballs siren song had pulled three friends into the adventure with me).

We entered the front of the campus, and I asked one of the back-to-schoolers where we could find the football field.

"Oh, it's way back there," she replied, pointing off into the distance.

We passed through the wings of classrooms until we reached the fields in back, where we found dozens of football players suited up and practicing.

"They look a lot bigger on TV," said one of my companions.

Probably because the players we were looking at couldn't have been more than 7 years old.

In order to get to the Mountain Lions practice, we passed through what looked to be a half-dozen or so youth football team practices. I'm not sure if this was planned, but if it wasn't, it was a very fortuitous coincidence.

The Mountain Lions bus was delayed, so the practice that had been scheduled to start at 7:30 p.m. didn't begin until around 8:15.

This gave the peewees time to wrap up their practices. By the time the pros took the field, the stands and track were teeming with kids from about 7 to 14 whose practices had just ended.

Every move the players made was followed by the adoring gazes of the young ballers. Daunte Culpepper had a rotating crowd of kids directly behind him at all times, with whom he engaged regularly. Between series, he would exchange fist bumps with the kids or even pose for pictures. When he was focused on the game at hand, he would still try and acknowledge the cries of "Culpepper" and "number eight" with a head nod or raised hand.

The game itself was a close, hard-fought affair. Even though the players weren't in pads, play was physical and fairly intense throughout. Play was stopped when the ball carrier was wrapped up or the coaches deemed the play dead.

After the Culpepper-led white squad stalled on its first drive, former Harvard quarterback Liam O'Hagan brought the crowd to its feet when he completed a perfect 50-yard strike to Chido Nwokocha. The black squad's drive stalled in the red zone, but they kicked a field goal to take the lead.

Culpepper's crew responded with 10 unanswered points of their own, including a beautiful touchdown pass in the corner of the end zone to local favorite Otis Amey.

In the fourth quarter, the intensity really picked up. The black team drove the field with a chance to tie the game. Some the the defensive players in white voiced their displeasure with where the coaches spotted the ball on a couple of key third-down plays, but the complaints fell on deaf ears. Team Black players kept moving the chains until they tied it up with less than two minutes remaining. (Approximately – Coach Green kept time, so it wasn't clear exactly how much remained, only that it wasn't a lot).

Culpepper took the reins and led the white team down the field in a successful two-minute drill, completing passes to four different receivers as he led his squad to a game-winning field goal as time expired.

As he left the field, the 6-foot 4-inch field general was swamped again by kids. As he signed autograph after autograph, a big smile on his face, I complimented him on the successful two-minute drill and asked him if he's developed a real chemistry with his receiving corps.

"We're getting there, we're getting there. Just wait till the first game," he answered with a confidant nod.

Then he got back to signing autographs, giving out fist bumps, and making kids' nights.

The mock game seemed go well enough. The players did some things well, other things not so well. I'm sure when they review the tape, they'll find plenty to work on.

There's one way in which it was an unmitigated success, however: There are about a hundred kids who will never forget Thursday night, and are probably Mountain Lion fans for life. No need to break down the tape on that.

And then there was one.

2010-08-30T06:20:11Z

It was a playoff atmosphere at Raley Field on Saturday evening.

The ballpark was full to bursting, over 14,000 souls braving the 50-degree near-Candlestickian weather in anticipation of an an epic battle between the top two teams in the PCL South.

Problem is, only one showed up.

For the second night in a row, the Fresno Grizzlies were totally outclassed by your Sacramento River Cats, losing 12 to 4.

After Clayton Mortenson (13-6) set down the Grizzlies in order in the top half of the first, the River Cats went to town on Fresno starter Matt Yourkin (7-8) in the home half of the inning.

In a brilliant homage to Barry Zito's performance mere minutes earlier for the parent club, the Grizzly starter came out and muffed it, laying an egg right there on the mound. It was all grooved fastballs and hanging curves until the home team had put a six spot up on the board.

The big blow was Anthony "Home" Recker's three-run blast to centerfield, his third home run of the series.

Before many of the paying customers had even gotten to their seats, the home team was up a touchdown. I suppose the Grizzly fans could take solace in the fact that they had missed the extra point.

Despite their best efforts, the Grizzlies made a half-hearted comeback in the third inning thanks to four (4!) free passes from Clayton Mortenson and a couple of singles to center. Thanks in part to a base-running gaffe by Jackson Williams, however, all that charity led to just two runs.

On the other hand, a 6-2 lead is hardly insurmountable, and when Yourkin settled in and retired the side in order for the second inning in a row, it seemed that Fresno might make a game of it yet.

But then Mortenson made quick work of the Grizzlies in the top of the fourth, the home team kicked a field goal in the bottom of the inning, and once again the game was out of reach.

The Grizz were able to tack on single runs in the seventh and ninth innings (three more walks and a hits batsman!), but those were more than negated by home runs by Travis Buck in the fifth and "Home(run?)" Recker in the eighth. Recker's home run was his second of the game and fourth of the series. It was also a gargantuan moon shot, the longest home run I've ever seen hit at Raley Field. It cleared the Jackson Rancheria Home Run Terrace in left field.

After splitting the first two games of the series in dramatic one-run fashion, the River Cats won the last two games in laughers, by a combined score of 23 to 7.

But none of that matters now. It's a new season. The two teams from either side of Highway 99 enter Sunday's game with identical 73-62 records. At stake is not only a one-game lead in the PCL South Division standings entering the final week of the season, but also the tiebreaker between the two teams.

Should Fresno win, they will have taken the season series 9-7. The first playoff tie-breaker is head to head record. The Grizzlies would be going to the playoffs if the two teams finish the season tied.

Should Sacramento win, they will have split the season series 8-8. The second tiebreaker is division record, where Sacramento is 25-16 and Fresno is 21-24. The River Cats would be going to the playoffs if they finish the season tied.

It's one game, but it counts as two in the standings. One game, for all the marbles. Hopefully both teams show up for this one.

Image number 2 is courtesy of yours truly, the rest are the work of the far more lovely and far more talented Larissa Gomez.

Highway 99 Showdown: The Battle for Central Valley Supremecy

2010-08-28T00:43:02Z

Red Sox/Yankees.

Giants/Dodgers.

Cardinals/Cubs.

River Cats/Grizzlies?

Is it crazy to compare the Highway 99 Showdown, taking place this week at Raley field, to the fiercest rivalries in professional baseball? Maybe, but all the pieces are in place for the Fresno/Sacramento rivalry to become the AAA equivalent of these major league grudge matches.

In addition to being natural geographic rivals vying for Central Valley bragging rights, the two teams are division rivals who entered last night just a game apart in the standings, fighting for a single playoff berth.

And to top it off, their parent clubs, the Giants and A's, are natural rivals at the major league level.

The second game of their key five-game series took place Thursday night at Raley Field with the visitors squeaking out a 3-2 victory. The River Cats had hoped to end the night in a tie for first, but their hopes were dashed when they were unable to hold their early leads.

The River Cats drew first blood when Anthony "Home" Recker hit a moon shot over the left-field fence in the bottom of the third inning.

The 1-0 lead was short-lived, however, as the Grizz answered by manufacturing a run of their own the next inning.

The Rivercats retook the lead in the fifth inning, taking advantage of a fielding error by left fielder Eugenio Velez, a very familiar scenario for Giants fans out there. After Velez played Michael Taylor's fly-out into a double, Recker blasted a line shot that hit Giants starter Henry Sosa and rolled off into no man's land. With runners on first and third, nobody out, and Fresno's starting pitcher dinged up and being examined by training staff, it seemed as if the River Cats might blow the game open. Sosa recovered, however, and was able to navigate out of the jam, giving up only one run on a fielder's choice before striking out two in a row to end the inning. It was a missed opportunity that probably cost the River Cats the game.

Leading off the seventh, former Stanford star Joe Borchard greeted relief pitcher Ross Wolf (0-1) with a game-tying blast that landed in the bullpen beyond the right-field fence. The next two hitters both singled to put runners on first and third with nobody out. Much like Sosa a few innings before, Wolf was able to minimize the damage, allowing only one more run to score on a fielder's choice. That run, however, proved to be the difference in the game.

Five Grizzly relief pitchers held the River Cats scoreless over the last three innings, the first of whom, Steve Edlefson (7-1), earned the victory.

Fresno manager Steve Decker was not on hand to watch the final outs, having been kicked out of the game for arguing a call at first base in top of the ninth.

Nobody has to tell Decker how much is riding on this series.

The Highway 99 Showdown is knotted 1-1 going into the weekend. The River Cats sit two games back of their rivals. The next three games are going to dictate who goes to the playoffs and who goes home. If the intensity of the last two games is any indication, it's going to be a wild weekend at the ballpark.

The first 8 images are the work of the lovely and talented Larissa Gomez. The last 7 are the work of the equally talented but far less lovely Steven Chea.

A League of our Own.

2010-08-25T23:32:57Z

Football.

It's what makes summer's end tolerable. The spoonful of sugar that helps the medicine go down.

This year, at least here in Sacramento, the medicine is gonna go down especially easy.

This year, Sacramento has a team to call it's own.

On Monday, the Sacramento Mountain Lions of the United Football League opened training camp at the Harvard Corporate Center.

Tuesday, UFL commissioner Michael Huyghue visited with the team, the first stop on a tour that will take him to each of the five cities that are currently home to UFL franchises.

I attended both afternoon practices and was among the handful of media who got to speak with commissioner Huyghue.

As far as I'm concerned, summer can't be over fast enough. I'm ready for some football. Mountain Lions football.

I hear the doubters who have seen teams such as the Sacramento Surge and the Sacramento Gold Miners go the way of the dodo. But this isn't the WFL, USFL, XFL, WLAF, ALF or any of the other many leagues that have come and gone over the years. The UFL has a really good chance of succeeding where so many other leagues have failed. Here's why:

–The UFL picked the right man to lead it.

Commissioner Huyghue spent the better part of an hour answering myriad questions. His passion and charisma were on display. He believes in this league, and you can't help but believe in him. If you aren't swayed by his words, then there is always his experience. He was the first general manager of the Jacksonville Jaguars, a team he helped lead to a 14-2 record and the AFC Championship Game in only it's second year of existence.

–They're in the right places. It was a mistake to have teams last year in New York and San Francisco. Moving those teams to non-NFL cities (Hartford and Sacramento) was a move that had to be made. When asked about his vision for the future of the league, Huyghue said that they'd hope to grow to as many as 12 teams, all in non-NFL markets. He mentioned Portland, Los Angeles, San Antonio, Salt Lake City and even Vancouver, British Columbia, and Monterrey, Mexico, as possibilities.

–They're playing at the right time. Fall is football season. If you want your league to survive, it has to play it's games in the fall. As much as we like football in this country, after the Super Bowl, football season is over. Spring is baseball’s territory.

–They're playing the right game. Football as God intended. The field is 100 yards long. Four downs to make 10 yards. Touchdowns are worth six points. The game is 60 minutes long, divided into 15-minute quarters. No scrums for the ball, no walls on the field, no gimmicks. It's the identical game to the one we grew up watching and playing.

–They're really good. The UFL has a lot of talent. The rosters are chock-full of players who starred in Division 1 college football, many of whom have NFL experience. Heck, Sacramento alone has three players who I've had on my NFL fantasy teams in years past. Daunte Cullpepper and Jeff Garcia are the starting quarterbacks for Sacramento and Omaha. You could make the argument that they are better than the guys starting for the Raiders and the Niners. The difference in talent between the last 10 guys on an NFL roster and the first 10 off is negligible at best.

In certain instances, some of the guys who don't make the team may be more talented than some who do.

–They aren't trying to compete against the NFL. The NFL is a behemoth. The UFL isn't going anywhere – competing against the NFL would be folly. If anything, the UFL will be acting in conjunction with the NFL, as a de facto developmental league.

The seasons run concurrently, with the UFL's ending in November and playing its games on Saturday evenings. Every NFL team has scouts assigned to the UFL.

Last season, 43 UFL players were picked up by NFL teams following the UFL season. Football is a violent sport, and injuries are always happening. In years past, if you were a player who didn't catch on with a team out of training camp, you'd spend your fall on the couch waiting for a call. Now there are slots for 260-odd players to spend their fall playing football, getting into game shape, learning from great coaching staffs and becoming better football players.

Huyghue asked rhetorically, "If an NFL team needs to add a player in mid-November, why would they ever pick anyone up who wasn't playing in the UFL?" Left unsaid: They wouldn't. It's in the NFL's best interest for the UFL to succeed, and even grow.

If you too are ready for some football, the Mountain Lions practice twice a day at the Harvard Corporate Center at 2241 Harvard St. Morning practice is at 8:15, and afternoon practice is at 3:15. The practices are open to the public.

Anthony Bourdain is coming to Sacramento

2010-08-21T07:19:26Z

I adore food, I love to travel, and it is my dream to write for a living.

As you might imagine, writer, chef, Travel Channel star and bon vivant Anthony Bourdain is an idol of mine.

When I saw the erstwhile chef of Les Halles Brasserie and current host of "No Reservations" would be making an appearance at the Memorial Auditorium in September, I called up my liaison at The Sacramento Press and begged her to let me cover the event.

A couple days later I got a note in my inbox:

"Lindol, they're happy to have you cover the event on the condition that you don't mind doing a preview, and interviewing Mr. Bourdain."

I've never said "yes" with more enthusiasm.

A few days after that, I got a note from his assistant, Laurie, with a phone number and time to call.

Two p.m. Monday the 16th arrived in a hurry.

I took a deep breath and clumsily dialed the number I had been given. The phone rang twice before being picked up by the man himself.

"Hello?"

And thus began my interview with Tony Bourdain.

I introduced myself and told him what a thrill it was for me to talk to him before getting down to business.

I started by asking him what his fans can expect at the show.

"Anything can happen,” he said. “It really depends on what's been bugging me that week."

It's unscripted. Although he recently released a new book, "Medium Raw," he probably won't be reading excerpts from it. ("This isn't a book tour.")

The only thing he could guarantee is that a significant portion of the show will be dedicated to questions from the audience.

So on Sept. 17, you'll have the chance to ask Tony whatever you'd like. Here's what happened when I was given that opportunity:

Have you been to Sacramento? Have you spent much time here?

I haven't spent much time, unfortunately. I've been through for one night, and didn't get a chance to see anything.

Well, we're glad to have you. I have a question about your writing. Have you always written? Did you write even in the bad old days? Is it something you were always driven to do?

No, not really, no. I've been given a chance to write, and I did. I wasn't working on unpublished manuscripts while I was cooking, I had a full-time job.

What country do you think has the best street food? That's a passion of mine.

Street food. . . . It'll probably be Vietnam or Singapore.

Since you brought up Vietnam, I read somewhere that you're gonna go to Vietnam and live there for a year?

Well, I hope so, if they ever cancel the damn show. I love it there. I just think it's a really special place, I'd love to really get to know it well, wake up there every day and go to sleep there every night, see what that’s like.

Andrew Zimmern is known as the "Bizarre Food Guy," but you often eat a lot of crazy things. I'm always intrigued by the alcoholic beverages you end up drinking. I seem to recall one that looked like Pepto-Bismol from, I think it was Peru. What's the gnarliest alcoholic concoction you've imbibed?

Ah man, there are some really strong versions, wherever they ferment stuff and then distill it. Once you get pure alcohol, theres not that much variation. . . does it have a rice aftertaste or a corn aftertaste, or whatever. It's actually the low-alcohol drinks that are actually kind of problematic, the ones that they ferment with saliva in Peru or palm wine in Africa or India. You know you gotta drink a real lot of that stuff to get any kind of a buzz, and it's not very appetizing.

I recently watched the Rust Belt episode you did, and I loved it. I like the gritty American city ones that you do probably even more than the wild tropical locales. What was it like eating lunch with Snoop? (actress Felicia "Snoop" Pearson, who played hit-woman and all around badass Snoop on "The Wire").

Oh, it was so awesome, she was really really really good to us. She was just a real joy to work with. She was really nice, funny as hell, her friends were great. I'm a huge fan of hers, I'm a huge fan of “The Wire.” She was just a delight from beginning to end: funny, warm, busted my balls in the best of possible ways. I'm a big fan of her work. (She’s) easily the most terrifying female villain in the history of television. It's one of the things that makes having my job a really good one is I get to say, hey, wouldn't it be cool if we could work with Snoop from "The Wire"? Lets see if we can do that.

For my money, no offense to “No Reservations,” “The Wire” is the best show on television, probably ever.

I would agree with you.

Another one of those, in that same ilk, which I liked was the Cleveland Episode. I wanted to say that that was a brilliant and touching eulogy that you wrote to Harvey Pekar.

Thank you.

I was wondering what you thought of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame?

I despise the whole idea. I hate it. Im waiting for somebody to be inducted into the Rock ’n’ Roll Hall of Fame and say fuck you, take your trophy and shove it up your ass. That would be Rock and Roll.

I read recently that you love In-N-Out burger. Have you had a chance to try "The East Coast In-N-Out" Five guys Burgers and Fries?

I have had a Five Guys. . . actually. . . pretty decent. . .

But no In-N-Out?

I'm all about In-N-Out.

What was the last meal that you cooked?

Let's see. . . I think I made Venetian style calf liver for my wife a couple nights ago.

I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but I have a friend who hypothesizes that sometime in the mid ‘90s you must have sold your soul to the devil ala Robert Johnson at the crossroads. You're an incredible writer, you get to travel all over the world, wherever you like, you eat anything and everything, and you never seem to gain weight. . . Is there any credence to this theory?

I'd just say it's proof there is no God.

This is one of your favorite questions. If you were going to die tomorrow, what would you have for your last meal? I don't know, lately. . . one piece of sushi, a really really good piece of toro tuna or sea urchin. Good San Diego sea urchin roe with top-quality sushi rice and really high-test seaweed.

I know you're a big Yankees fan. Have you had a chance to go to the new Yankee Stadium?

I haven't. . . I hate the whole idea of it. . . I’m still getting used to the fact that it even exists. I'm not a good sports fan because I'm never around long enough to go to a game or even stay abreast of the games.

I was wondering if you have plans for the night after your show?

I'm probably gonna crawl into bed, ’cause I believe I’m shipping out the next morning. If it's anything like all the other gigs that month, I'm up at like four in the morning and move to the next town.

Alright, well if you change your mind there's a Trombone Shorty show right up the street. He'll be playing his brand of Super Funk and you have a standing invite, you're on the guest list if you'd like to check it out.

Thanks man, I appreciate it.

Somehow, Bourdain was even cooler on the phone than he is on the show. It's a wonderful thing when your idols live up to your lofty expectations. It's even better when they exceed them.

Anthony Bourdain, author of "Kitchen Confidential" and host of Travel Channel's "No Reservations," will be appearing at the Memorial Auditorium at 8 p.m. Sept. 17. A limited number of VIP tickets will be available for $85.00, which includes a post-show meet-and-greet and book signing with him. Reserved seating is available at $46.50 and $36.50 at tickets.com.

Graveyard Shift

2010-08-09T23:44:34Z

From the time I was very young, I found myself drawn to cemeteries. It is not a creepy or morbid infatuation that lures me, but the palpable sense of history they provide.

Where some see death in graveyards, I see a connection to lives past.

I've also always been enamored by the railroad. As a child, I spent countless hours playing with the model train sets in the attic of my grandfather’s house in Portsmouth, Ohio.

From my station in the attic, I could look out the window, down the hill and see the headstones of Greenlawn Cemetery.

The Old City Cemetery offered a "History of the Railroad" tour on Saturday morning, and I was there, with bells on.

I arrived around 9:50 a.m., and there were close to two dozen people milling about waiting for the tour to start. I mentioned to a gentleman next to me that it seemed to be a great turnout. Then another couple dozen folks showed up.

By the time the tour began, there were close to 60 people looking to get their railroad history fix. I've been to A's games that weren't so well attended.

The crowd certainly skewed towards the "Murder She Wrote," early-bird-special age group, but pretty much every demographic was represented (Except for the teens. Lord knows how those ne’er-do-wells spend their Saturday mornings. Certainly not touring graveyards).

I am happy to report, however, that the 5- to 13-year-old demographic was very well represented, highlighted by the girl scouts of Del Garden Service Unit 127, Troop 74. The girls comported themselves very well, took pictures with the docents, asked questions, and seemed to really enjoy themselves. I'm not sure I'd have been so keen to spend a Saturday learning about railroad history at their age. There's hope for our future yet!

Our tour guide, Evan, was all decked out in period train engineer garb. Along the way, he introduced us to several other visitors from bygone days.

We met Edwin Crocker, of Crocker Museum fame along with his second wife, Margeret, and their daughter Aimee.

The three of them regaled us with fascinating tales of early Sacramento, and the building of the Transcontinental Railroad.

One of my favorites involved my people: the Irish. Irish immigrants laid most of the westbound track for the Union Pacific. Nipping at their heels was "Hell on Wheels," a collection of gambling houses, dance halls, saloons and brothels filled with "ladies of easy virtue" who catered to the workers’ every indulgence.

Apparently, it had a negative effect on productivity.

The Central Pacific Railroad skirted the problem by recruiting workers from China, who were far less inclined to get into drunken knife fights over hookers at gambling houses.

We met an engine room fireman named Scott, standing by the grave of boy hero William Brown. Scott introduced us to the precocious engineer, who, at the ripe old age of 23, saved the lives of a hundred troops, as well as that of our raconteur, by pulling the pin on his runaway locomotive. The passenger cars came to a stop, while William and his locomotive plunged headlong into San Francisco Bay.

The Widow Congden, dressed all in black, recounted the tragic yet heroic tale of her husband’s passing. Charles Congden died at the controls of the Oregon Express, but saved dozens of lives in doing so. The story has a heartwrenching twist, as the young fireman who discovered Charles' body was Walter Congden, the engineer’s eldest son.

All of the volunteers do a wonderful job of bringing these stories to life, embodying their long-dead personas with great enthusiasm and care.

The tour takes about an hour and a half, winding through one of the most beautiful cemeteries I've ever seen.

City Cemetery is Sacramento's oldest. It was founded in 1849, covers 44 acres and is the final resting place for more than 25,000 individuals. In recent years it has been lovingly restored by volunteers to it's present state, which is nothing short of spectacular.

They offer a wide array of guided tours, each dedicated to different aspects of the venerable old graveyard. Check out oldcitycemetery.com to find the schedule.

The Cemetery is open for self-guided tours from 7 a.m.-7 p.m. Friday through Wednesday.

I highly recommend the tour to history buffs, Sacramento lovers, cemeteryphiles or anyone else who's looking for a fun, interesting and educational way to spend a couple of hours.

I'm already looking forward to the next one.

Slow Ride. . . .Take it Easy. . . . .

2010-08-02T03:49:08Z

County and state fairs are a wonderful place to catch classic songs played by acts who may not have had the staying power of their greatest hits.

In fairs past I have caught Loverboy's "Working for the Weekend", America's "Horse with No Name", Dr. Hook's "On the Cover of The Rolling Stone", Hermans Hermits' "I'm into Something Good", Flock of Seagulls' "I Ran So Far Away" and, to a far lesser extent, Nelson's "After the Rain".

Friday, I added another one to the list.

I am no Foghathead, (Foghorn? HatHead? Foggy Bottom?) but when I saw British blues rockers Foghat on the fair lineup, I jumped at the chance to cover the show.

Why?

"Slow Ride," that's why.

"Slow Ride," Foghat's biggest hit, reached No. 20 on the U.S. charts when it was released in 1975. For what it's worth, last year VH1 ranked it the 45th best hard rock song of all time.

It has withstood the test of time, being featured in dozens of movies and television shows, most notably in the classic "Dazed and Confused." It plays when Mitch Kramer puts on his headphones when he gets home from the party at the Moon Tower, and while Pink and his "loser friends" head to Houston to get Aerosmith tickets.

Top priority of the summer.

My 30 odd viewings of the high school stoner classic probably had a lot to do with my overwhelming urge to attend the show.

I arrived early to get my credential and survey the scene. I took a seat toward the back and surveyed the crowd. There were certainly a few wild haired old rockers, but the concert attendees didn't seem all that different from the fair attendees as a whole.

Well, maybe a little older, and whiter, and drunker.

But other than that, pretty much the same.

After some fluffing by the River Cats emcee ("Who wants a T-shirt? I can't HEAR you!") who apparently holds the same position at the fair, the crowd was eager for the band to take the stage.

They took the stage to moderately raucous applause at 8 o'clock on the dot. They opened with "Road Fever," a fairly generic rocker that features the lyrics "Gonna roll 'til I'm old, gonna rock 'til I drop."

Mission accomplished.

After a little banter with the crowd ("Hello, SACRAMENTO!!!!!!!!!") they went into "Take Me to the River."

Unfortunately, they chose to play their own fair to middling version and not the Talking Heads classic.

Next up was the bluesy love song "My Babe." ("Nothing could be better than to see her in a sweater and a tight skirt that don't fit.")

Robert Hunter, eat your heart out.

They picked it up with "Driving Wheel,", a rollicking jam that really showcased lead guitarist Bryan Bassett. His slide solo was borderline epic and brought the crowd to its feet.

They continued to gain momentum with their next song "Stone Blue," the title track off their seventh album. Lead singer Charlie Huhn, formerly of Ted Nugent's band, introduced the song by asking if anybody remembered the '70s. Many in the audience did.

"Does anybody still think it's the '70s?" he asked, to possibly the most raucous applause of the night, up to that point. "This one's for you!" Apparently, quite a few people still think it's the '70s.

Coincidently, or maybe not, it was at this point in the show that I got my first big whiff of bammer weed.

I had already come to the conclusion that the lead singer was clearly not an original member of the band. Foghat formed in London in 1971. It took about 15 seconds to ascertain that the lead singer was not British.

After "Stone Blue," Huhn introduced the band. It turns out their original drummer, Roger Earle, was recovering from minor back surgery, and the skins were being played by Mitch Ryder's drummer.

He then introduced the bassist, Craig MacGregor. He was decidedly not English.

Lastly, he introduced the guitarist, Bryan Bassett, formerly of Wild Cherry and Molly Hatchett.

On this night, at least, the British blues rock band from England consisted of two guys from Detroit, and two guys from Pennsylvania.

America, f*%k yeah.

They played strong versions of "Fool for the City," the title track from the 1975 album that featured "Slow Ride," and "Terraplane Blues" a Robert Johnson track that they covered on the same album.

They really hit their stride on an extended blues jam, for which they brought out a harmonica player. They are really a blues band at heart, and they showed it during the bass-fueled, heavy, driving jam which evolved seamlessly into their 1972 hit "I Just Want to Make Love to You".

The crowd was on its feet for the closing song, which was originally recorded by blues great Muddy Waters but reached its height of popularity with Foghat's version.

The band didn't even feign leaving the stage after their "closing song." There has never been a more obvious encore in the history of live music. I had actually written down "Slow Ride Encore" in my notebook three hours before the show started.

Huhn milked it for all it was worth. "What song do you want to hear?" he inquired of the crowd.

My cry of "Dark Star!" was drowned out by a sea of drunkenly warbled "SLOW RIDE!!!!!!!!!!"'s.

Then they played it. As the signature opening chords rang out the crowd went bananas. It was everything I hoped it would be. Bow neh, bow neh, bow neh, bow ne now nahh.

In my mind, I was on my way to Houston to pick up Aerosmith tickets after an epic evening at the Moon Tower.

Top priority of the summer.

Wine at the Park

2010-07-31T01:32:18Z

Baseball has long been considered a beer drinker's game. The River Cats and Infuze Marketing are challenging that preconception with a series of wine tastings at Raley Field.

The events, which take place on game days, feature (semi) local wineries and catered appetizers, and part of the proceeds go to local charities.

The second of the aptly named "Wine in the Park" events was held Wednesday afternoon in conjunction with the the River Cats game against the Sky Sox.

An hour and a half before the first pitch, the gates opened for a gaggle of newly wristbanded oenophiles (I believe that "gaggle" is the correct term for a group of wine lovers, but "murder" is also acceptable). We headed en masse to the left-field arcade, where representatives from four local wineries were waiting, bottles in hand.

All of the wineries represented that night are within a 90-minute drive from downtown Sacramento:

Mount Aukum is located, appropriately enough, atop Mount Aukum in southern El Dorado County, 75 minutes from downtown. They were represented by a charming father/daughter duo, the brother and niece, respectively, of head winemaker and French expat Michel Prod'hon. They had five wines to taste, the most memorable being a big jammy, fruity zinfandel. Bonus points for leaving a half bottle of Syrah with me and a few fellow revellers when they were packing up.

Chateau Routon is 15 minutes down the road from Mount Aukum and 80 minutes from downtown. Routon's winemakers are known for their port, which won first prize at the Amador County Fair. I am not much of a port guy myself, but I can say I enjoyed theirs more than most, which is to say not all that much. The wine I really enjoyed was their petite sirah, which was big but not overpowering, with just a bit of tartness. It screamed for medium-rare lamb chops.

Nevada City -- I'll give you one guess where it is located: 70 minutes from downtown. They had two whites and two reds. The whites were blah; the reds were phenomenal. A caveat with regards to my feeling on the whites: one was a chardonnay, which is probably my least favorite varietal. The second was a sauvignon blanc, which is probably my favorite varietal when made in the Marlborough region of New Zealand. I can count on one hand the number of California sauv. blancs I've tried that compare favorably to even the most run-of-the-mill New Zealand offering. The deck was stacked against them.

Their reds, however were both lovely. Their cab Franc had just taken home the "Best Cab Franc of California" award at the California State Fair, and rightfully so. My favorite, though, was their syrah, which had just won "Best Syrah" at the New World International Wine Competition in Southern California.

Pilot Peak is 20 minutes southwest of Nevada City, 80 minutes from downtown Sacramento. This may have been my overall favorite. They were represented by Lynn and Jacque Wilson, who own and operate the winery with another couple. I enjoyed all of their wines, but may have enjoyed their company even more. I "tasted" their "Paramour," a lovely blend of grenache, syrah, petite sirah, and mourvedre, whatever that is, four or five times. It was outstanding. The wine that blew me away was their viognier. Oftentimes, I find viogniers to be cloyingly sweet. When I brought their version up to my nose, I was floored by its big, sweet and fruity aroma. I was sure it was going to be far too sweet for me, but I was dead wrong. It was fruity, certainly, but with a smooth, dry finish. Yumm. It turns out that the nose didn't know.

The appetizers were provided by Ovations Catering. They went two for three, a .667 batting average that, were it baseball, would be a record. They had a great crudite platter, a wonderful selection of fresh-cut veggies and a really light, creamy dipping sauce. There was an outstanding mini grilled fish sandwich on crusty French baguettes. I had two of them and could have happily eaten two more. And by "two" I mean "four to six." They were REALLY good. The third dish was an unfortunate hot dog wrapped in a flour tortilla on a toothpick with enchilada sauce. It tasted OK, but it was messy, and I didn't really get it. I would have enjoyed the hot dog far more if they'd put it on the French bread with a little mustard, onion and relish. If it ain't broke, don't fix it.

The event, was by all accounts, a big success. It sold out, and the left-field pavilion was packed with folks of all different ilks. If there's one thing that bridges generational gaps, it's wine. If there is another, it's baseball. Combine the two of them, and you can have an event with a 50-year age range where no one feels out of place.

I spent some time hanging out talking Giants baseball with Kyle, who was there celebrating his 22nd birthday, a present from his girlfriend Alecia.

I also struck up a conversation with Bill, intrigued by the "nocular" hanging around his neck. It had once been a pair of binoculars, but it had taken a spill at a 49er game 20 years ago and broken in half. Bill, who I'd put in his late 60s, was a Niners season ticket holder from 1981-1995. He also has been on "Good Day Sacramento," driving his motorized toilet, "The Flusher," around the studio.

As the game started and the tasting wound down, people took their seats in a section reserved for the Wine in the Park attendees. The section was packed at 7:30 and nearly abandoned by the seventh inning.

A group of four hearty, and I'm guessing buzzed, souls were pretty much all that was left to watch the River Cats fall 5-3 to the team from Colorado Springs.

Maybe baseball is more of a beer-drinking sport. But Raley Field is a fine spot for a wine tasting, whether you stick around for the game or not.

The next Wine in the Park takes place Aug. 25 in conjunction with a game against the Fresno Grizzlies.

Athletes > Cancer

2010-07-27T01:35:26Z

Celebrity athletes are just like you and I. Well, maybe not just like you and I, but similar. They are like richer, better-dressed, more-fit versions of us (Or, in Scot Pollard's case, just richer).

The similarities were on display at the second annual Athletes vs. Cancer golf tournament at the Woodcreek Golf Club, hosted by Matt Barnes on Saturday.

Barnes founded the AVC to honor his mother, who passed away from cancer in 2007. Their mission is to "support research, create awareness, provide screening opportunities and deliver support to cancer patients."
The tournament featured many athletes with local ties, among them former Kings Chris Webber, Scot Pollard, Bobby Jackson, Doug Christie and Brad Miller.

I'm a huge sports fan, an avid golfer and I've lost two uncles to cancer. When I heard about this event, I jumped at the chance to attend.
Heres how it worked: Teams of four paid $2,500 dollars to play in the tournament. Each foursome was joined by a celebrity. There was a shotgun start: All the teams started simultaneously on different holes. (Or almost simultaneously, as there were a few more teams than holes).

The tournament was a scramble, meaning each team member tees off, then they pick the best ball of the five. Everyone takes their next shot from that spot. Rinse and repeat until ball enters cup.
Scrambles are probably the most popular tournament format, because it's the only way your average duffers will ever see negative numbers next to their names.

And decent golfers will see BIG negative numbers next to their names.

The winning team, featuring Kings announcer Grant Napear, finished at a whopping 21 under par. For reference, the PGA record over 18 holes is 13 strokes under par.

This day was not about scoring or winning, however. It was all about fan interaction, players and fans enjoying themselves while raising money for a good cause.

I've never been to a more fan-friendly celebrity event.

At the first tee, a hopeful young lady holding a basketball politely asked Chris Webber, "Mr. Webber! Do you have time for an autograph?"
Webber, who was about to tee off, responded to the crowds delight "Sure, as soon as I hit, I'll sign at every hole, all day."
Webber, who proceeded to bring the house down by mimicking Charles Barkley's notoriously herky jerky backswing as he addressed the ball, spent five minutes signing anything and everything thrown his way. CWebb was charming and affable, telling anyone he missed to meet him at the next tee.

Matt Barnes was, if it's possible, even more accommodating. Later in the day, coming off the the 10th green, he stopped to talk to a group of 40 or so fans, many of whom were having a pool party at one of the course-side homes.
He slowly worked his way through the throng, signing every item given to him, posing for every picture request, engaging every one of his fans personally, if briefly. As he went, he deflected the thanks of the adoring spectators: "No, thank you....We couldn't do this without you. You guys make this happen."

Larry Tipper, who won the honor of caddying for Mr. Barnes through a contest sponsored by this site, was having a blast. "I'm in awe. Everyone has been so great!" said the caddy, who is currently undergoing chemo himself. The 37-year-old, who had delegated much of the caddying responsibilities to his son Jacob, nephew Justin and their buddy Brandon, is scheduled to undergo his final treatment on Friday, which also happens to be his wedding anniversary.

The 30th is a big day for the Tipper family. I have a feeling that they'll be getting good news. Remission is the perfect anniversary gift.

A few other celebrity highlights:

Scot Pollard was a walking highlight. The 6-foot 11-inch Pollard was a fan favorite during his years with the Kings, loved as much for his sense of humor, flamboyant hairstyles and outrageous fashion sense as his hard-nosed play. "Samurai Scot" lived up to reputation on Saturday.

Pollard chose to adorn himself in matching, form fitting, DayGlo floral print shorts and shirt. It was spectacular.

I came across Doug Christie on the course early on in the day. Christie was wearing head-to-toe linen, white pants and a pink shirt. I complimented him on his look and asked him if he'd seen his former teammate Pollard. He hadn't, but luckily our photographer, Steve, had plenty of pictures and was happy to share them.

"That is the worst outfit I've ever seen," Christie offered, laughing. He showed the pictures to his neighbor in the golf cart.
"Is that a one-piece?" she asked before returning the camera.

Not 15 minutes later, I watched as another former King, Bobby Jackson, addressed his ball in the tee box. I looked back and saw the unmistakable sight of Scot Pollard and his floral onesie coming up the previous fairway. He noticed his onetime teammate about to tee off. I could see the wicked look on his face from 130 yards away.

He waited until Jackson had completed his backswing before letting out a booming "BOBBBBBBBBAAAYYYYYYYYYY," which reverberated across the course. Jackson's tee shot went WAY right, and he looked back at Pollard, incredulous. After a moment, he cracked a smile, shook his head and teed up another one. Clearly, this type of high jinx was to be expected from the 10-year NBA center.

We caught up to Jason Kapono and the rest of his fivesome as they were about to tee off on a par three. I heard one of them grumbling about their dearth of beverages. They were happy to hear about the open margarita bar we'd encountered at the next tee box. "Let's get going" said one of the non-celebs.

The first to tee off was a young man of about 13 named Nick, who was clearly on cloud nine. I asked him how he and Jason were getting on, knowing full well what his answer would be.

"Awesome," he replied, grinning from ear to ear. Jason overheard our exchange and produced a large mustard-colored stain on the back of his shorts. "You see what the kid did to me?" I looked from the stain to Nick, who tried to hide a mischievous smile.

After Nick hit a line drive that never got more than 5 feet off the ground but went straight and rolled forever, the next fellow pulled his to the left. Nick's ball was still best. The third guy to hit went WAY left, square into a tree trunk, and the ball rolled back to the front of the tee box. Young Nick still had the best ball, and more to the point, guy No. 3's tee shot ended up well short of the ladies' tees.
"TDO," said one of the fellas. "Yup, TDO for sure."

"TDO" is an unwritten rule that some amateur golfers (generally those of the sophomoric male persuasion) play by, where-in should someone not hit his tee shot past the ladies' tees, it's a "Texas D*ck Out." The offender has to go to his ball, sans pants. After some good-natured ribbing and to riotous laughter, No. 3 dropped trou on the tee box. Thankfully, the underpants stayed put. They hadn't been drinking THAT much.

Kapono hit next, ending Nick's shot at finishing with the best ball by hitting a moonshot that landed softly on the green, pin-high. Jason looks like he may be able to put up negative numbers without the help of the scramble format.
On my way off the course I passed the Kapono fivesome again.

"We just had another TDO," one of the gentleman informed me.

"Same guy?" I asked.

"Same guy," he answered, laughing boisterously.

One final celebrity exchange I had was with former 49ers running back Roger Craig. I asked what he thought of the tournament and how he got involved.

"What Matt's doing is fantastic. Cancer affects all of us," he answered, then added, "I'm here for the Rocklin fans," referring to Niners training camp locale for their glory years from 1981 through 1997. "We made history together."

Twenty years removed from his last Rocklin training camp, he still carries the love from the fans who supported him at those sweltering offseason practices. Pretty cool.

If the response from fans and participants is any measure, the event was an unmitigated success. Although we won't know the final tally for a week or so, we do know a lot of money was raised for a great cause.

I highly recommend attending this event in specific, and celebrity golf tournaments in general. You'll never find athletes more at ease, happier to sign or pose or simply shoot the breeze, than they were on Saturday. Everybody I met regaled me with stories of how great this guy was, how accommodating so and so was, how friendly such and such was. There was only one celebrity who I heard anything negative about, though admittedly his name came up repeatedly.

I won't give his name, because ultimately he showed up and supported a good cause. Also, if you are rubbing people the wrong way at a love-fest like this one, I'm sure there are plenty of negative stories floating around already. Thankfully, he was the one exception that proved the rule.

Not the TDO rule, that's totally different.

All photos courtesy of the one and only Steven Chea. Praise be unto him,

Enjoy Gifts from on High. . . . for Charity.

2010-07-23T00:49:14Z

"Wine is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy" - Benjamin Franklin

"Baseball is Heaven's gift to mortals" - George Will

"Practice safe eating, always use condiments" - Unknown

Last month, I spent a beautiful Friday evening eating good food, drinking good wine and helping children in need. Three of my favorite pastimes rolled into one. What could be better than that?

I had meant that to be a rhetorical question, but then the good people at Infuze Marketing went ahead and answered it for me:

Add a baseball game to the mix.

On Wednesday, the 28th of July, Infuze is teaming with the Sacramento River Cats to put on "Wine in the Park" at Raley Field.

Tickets are $25, with a portion of the proceeds going to Acres of Hope, a long-term housing program for homeless women with children. According to the group's website, the program provides "the support and resources needed to end the cycles of homelessness in their lives."

A noble cause indeed.

"Its a great opportunity to do some wine tasting, take in a ball game and raise money for charity," said Jennifer Castleberry, who oversees marketing and events for the River Cats.

For the cost of admission, you get to enjoy the wines of four (semi)local wineries: Pilot Peak, Nevada City, Chateau Routon and Mount Aukum.

Appetizers will be provided by Ovations Catering.

It all takes place in the comfort of the VIP tented section off the third base line at Raley Field, which USA Today called one of the top-10 minor league stadiums in the country.

And, lest we forget, you get to take in a game featuring one of the hottest teams in America.

Your suddenly scorching-hot River Cats take on the Colorado Springs Sky Sox. The River Cats have won 20 of their last 25 games and are just a game out of first place in their division. On June 14, they trailed the first-place Fresno Grizzlies by 12 and a half games.

If you want to take in some good wine, good food and good ball for a good cause, you can purchase tickets online at infuzemarketing.com

Wine and Dine runs from 5:30-7:30 p.m. Wednesday, July 28. First pitch is at 7:05 p.m.

Eating, Drinking and Merriment. . . for the kids.

2010-06-29T02:28:25Z

Eating good food, drinking good wine, and keeping the kids off the streets. These are three of my of my favorite pastimes. Unfortunately, it is rare that I get to indulge in all three at once.

Every so often, however, the stars align just so, and offer up an event that allows me to eat, drink and help kids.

The food- and wine-pairing fundraiser for the VIBE Foundation at Le Cordon Bleu Friday night was one such occasion.

The gala was sponsored by Infuze Marketing, who work with local, lesser known wineries at a variety of events throughout the Sacramento area. Infuse selects a specific nonprofit to benefit from each one of their events.

The VIBE Foundation is creating a place where teens can go "to seek employment opportunities, connect to resources, complete homework assignments, socialize and have fun. . . a safe place where there are no drugs or underage drinking," according to their business plan.

What better way to raise money to prevent underage drinking than with some good old-fashioned overage drinking?

The event featured dishes by culinary students at the famed cooking school, prepared under the watchful eye of the master chefs.

Each of the dishes were paired with a (semi-) local winery, and each of the wineries were represented by their owners.

Chateau Routon Winery was the first table we hit. We found a lovely duck confit quesadilla with mango salsa which Bob Routon had paired with a very bright 2003 sauvignon blanc.

I know what you're thinking: Shouldn't that have been drunk in, I don't know, 2005? As it turned out, they recently rediscovered a whole pallet of the relatively ancient sauvignon blanc, and were pleasantly surprised to find that it had aged gracefully. It balanced very nicely with the richness of the confit.

Up next was Lucchesi Vineyards, one of two featured vineyards from the Northern Sierra Wine Country, an area which I have never really associated with wine but will now.

Lucchesi is in Grass Valley, but upon tasting their sauvignon blanc, which owners Mario and Linda Clough had paired with a pork-stuffed mushroom smothered in white truffle cream sauce, I would have sworn they were from New Zealand.

Something about the climate of New Zealand, specifically the Marlborough region, gives sauvignon blancs a wonderfully crisp, tropical, grapefruity taste that is very hard to match with California grapes. When in doubt, I'll always choose a New Zealand sauvingon blanc over its California counterpart.

However, when it comes Lucchesi 2009 sauvignon blanc, there is no doubt. It is probably as close in flavor to a New Zealand-style sauvignon blanc as I've ever had from California. I mentioned as much to the owners, who were quick to point out that their winemaker had spent a lot of time in New Zealand, and the similarities were no accident. It is fantastic. You should go buy some.

There was a second dish at the Lucchesi table: fall-off-the-bone Black Jack BBQ ribs. I would have gotten medieval on them, but seeing as I was there as an ambassador of the SacPress, I thought better of it. Plus, there were girls there.

I enjoyed one, daintily, washed it down with a very nice cab, thanked the Cloughs and moved on, ignoring the ribs' siren song.

The next winery was Pilot Peak, the second Nevada County winery featured. Located in Penn Valley, which neighbors Grass Valley, they featured a lovely tempranillo to go along with a peppery jambalaya. The big, robust red was a great accompaniment to the spicy creole dish. They also featured a viognier to go with delectable little cheesecake bites. Viognier is not really my cup of ... well, wine. I tend to find it cloying, but theirs was not overly so.

On the whole, I was very impressed with the wines from Nevada County. We really are blessed with an embarrassment of wine riches in Northern California. I can now add the Grass Valley area to my ever-growing list of nearby wine getaways.

The final winery, and the only one from Napa, was Elkhorn Peak. They featured a wonderfully silky pinot noir which was paired with possibly my favorite dish of the evening, a Moroccan spiced lamb kabob. The pairing was perfect, the cherry flavors of the pinot with the spicy sweet lamb dish. I had seconds of both. They also featured an apple and bleu cheese crostini that was pretty fantastic. It was paired with a chardonnay that I found to be very palatable, which is pretty high on my grading scale for chardonnay.

Overall, it was a wonderful event. We ate, drank and were merry, and we did it for the kids.

Infuze has an upcoming wine tasting event in July. "Wine in the Park" takes place at 5:30 p.m. on July 28 at Raley Field, with proceeds going to Acres of Hope.

River Cats Summer Rolling

2010-06-23T05:55:36Z

June 21. The first day of summer.

I, and 7,000 of my closest friends, rang in the turning of the season on a glorious evening at Raley Field, where the River Cats completed an impressive 7-1 homestand by shutting out the Salt Lake City Bees 4-0.

On a picture-perfect night for baseball, the home team bounced back from the previous day's defeat behind eight innings of shutout ball from starter Kyle Middleton. The right-hander had six strikeouts and lowered his E.R.A to 2.69, tops among River Cats starters.

A major factor in the River Cats' recent resurgence has been their vastly improved play defensively. Although individual fielding stats are not readily available for River Cats players, I don't need a stat sheet to tell me that one of the major trouble spots earlier this season was first baseman Chris Carter. So it was especially heartening to see him make a nifty unassisted double play to end the top of the first. It wasn't spectacular, but it was the kind of play that a struggling young fielder can gain confidence from, and it certainly fired up the squad.

The Cats came out swinging in the bottom half of the inning. Unfortunately for Coco Crisp, who came into the at-bat batting over .600, it was an uncharacteristic swinging strikeout, but Eric Sogard started the Cats rally, and extended his hitting streak to 14 games with an infield single.

The former ASU Sun Devil proceeded to steal second base, take third when the catcher's throw sailed into center field, and score when DH Matt Watson hit a grounder to the right side of the infield. Watson wound up on first when the Bees first baseman, Mark Trumbo, couldn't handle the ball.

Another key to the River Cats' recent success has been smart, opportunistic base-running and fundamental baseball. You're not always going to hit three run bombs. Sometimes you need to manufacture runs, and that's just what the River Cats did, scoring Sogard without hitting a ball out of the infield.

The next batter, Chris Carter, broke the outfield seal by smacking an RBI double down the left-field line. Bees starting pitcher Fernando Rodriguez then seemed to lose his composure a bit. He walked the next two Cats hitters to load the bases before getting Matt Carson to pop out to the catcher. But he followed that by plunking Adam Heether in the ribcage to force in another run.

He struck out Steve Tolleson to end the inning, but the damage was already done. The River Cats had a 3-0 lead, which the Bees would never really challenge.

Middleton allowed five singles and a walk over his eight strong innings, but he spread them out and the fifth was the only inning that the Bees managed to get more than one runner on base. After retiring the first two batters of the inning, Middleton gave up back to back singles to the Bees eighth and ninth hitters.

The first and only time that the Bees managed to get the tying runner-up to the plate, leadoff hitter Terry Evans flew out to right to end the rally.

Rodriguez settled down after the first and held the Cats in check until the sixth, when he ran into a bit more trouble. Like Middleton in the fifth, he got the first two outs before giving up back to back singles. With runners on first and third, Bees manager Bobby Mitchell brought in reliever Kevin Nabors to face Eric Sogard, the Cats' hottest hitter not named "Coco."

Speaking of Coco, he stole second with Sogard at the plate, putting two runners in scoring position with two outs.

The squeeze bunt to score a run from third is one of the more exciting plays in baseball, but it is very rarely done with two outs. With two outs, what is already a difficult play becomes infinitely more so. The bunt has to be close to perfect, because in order for the run to count, the bunter must also reach base safely.

None of this mattered to Sogard, who stepped into the batter's box and proceeded to lay down a perfect RBI squeeze bunt, reaching first well in front of the throw of dumbfounded Bees third baseman, Paul McAnulty.

It was a smart, gutsy play by a smart, gutsy player. Enjoy "Sogie" while he is here. It may not be for much longer.

Mike Benacka completed the shutout by tossing a scoreless ninth.

A beautiful start to the summer.

The last three pics are the work of the lovely and talented Larissa Gomez. The rest are the work of the slightly less lovely and talented Lindol French

If you'd like to talk balls and strikes, feel free to contact me at lindol@gmail.com

Winning, It's Fundamental

2010-06-18T06:14:51Z

Coco Crisp started his second straight game in center field for the Sacramento River Cats Wednesday night. Everyone's favorite nine-year major league veteran whose name is derived from a breakfast cereal led off the home half of the first with a sharply hit single to left center to extend his hitting streak to, well, two games.

The former Cleveland Indian, Boston Red Sock, and Kansas City Royal was pulled after the fifth inning, finishing his night going one for two with a strikeout. Though Crisp got all the fanfare, another former Cleveland Indian actually had more of an impact on the game.

Jamey Wright, signed as a free agent on Tuesday, combined with starter Kyle Middleton and reliever Edwar Ramirez to limit the Reno Aces to two hits in the 4-0 River Cats shutout.

I did a double take when I saw the 15-year major league vet take the mound to start the sixth inning. He was released by the Indians last week. Should he get called up by Oakland, they would be his eighth major league team.

Giants fans may remember Wright as the fifth starter on their 2006 squad that finished 76-85, otherwise known as "The Oldest Team Ever." Their youngest regular starter was 31-year old-Pedro Feliz. They once started 41-year-old Steve Finley in left, 41-year-old Barry Bonds in center, and 39-year-old Moises Alou in right. Hard to believe that didn't work out. But I digress.

Middleton threw four and two-thirds innings of no-hit ball before giving up a sharp single to Pedro Ciriaco. The only other Aces hit of the night was a Brandon Allen single off Wright in the seventh.

It was still knotted up at 0-0 in the bottom of the fifth when another recent River Cat addition, Adam Heether, formerly of the Brewers AAA team in Nashville, led off the inning with a double. Two productive fly-ball outs later, the second an RBI sacrifice by Anthony "Home" Recker, and the River Cats had manufactured a run. It would prove to be all they needed.

Not knowing that fact, however, they tacked a few more on in the seventh. 2004 Minor League Player of the Year Dallas McPherson led off the inning with a walk. Heether followed with a single to left. The runners advanced on a wild pitch to Michael Taylor, who proceeded to lace an RBI single to center.

Following a Recker strikeout, Corey Wimberly drove in Heether with a sacrifice fly to right, and Taylor made it all the way to third with some heads-up base running and a throwing error from Aces catcher Carlos Corporan.

Michael Affronti then capped the scoring with an RBI single to center.

Ramirez held the Aces hitless in the final two innings to preserve the shutout.

It was another great all-around game for the home team, who have been playing some of their best ball of the season since they returned home. Great pitching, good defense, heads-up base running and fundamental baseball do wonders for a team.

Keep an eye on Heether. He was leading the Nashville Sounds in home runs and RBI when the Brewers placed him on waivers. He has five hits in nine at bats on the home stand and is batting .344 in 10 games since joining the River Cats. The Sounds loss appears to be the Cats gain.

Sacramento goes for the four-game series sweep Thursday night behind veteran John Halama. The way they are playing, I expect them to get it.

The really good pics are the work of Ahsan Awan, the rest are mine.

River Cats Trump Aces

2010-06-16T02:13:48Z

There are a lot of little things that I love about baseball: the crack of the bat, ballpark dogs with extra onion and sauerkraut, the sound of the ball smacking leather, nerding out on statistics, big swooping 12-to-6 curve balls that fall off the table, monster jacks, infield hits, bleacher bums, diving catches, when infielders barehand the ball (or even better, when outfielders do it).

The list goes on and on, but there may be nothing about baseball that I enjoy more than a good manager ejection.

The "manager ejection" is unique to baseball. I mean, you see basketball coaches get tossed from time to time, and sometimes they throw a little tantrum, but it's not the same.

I don't think I've ever seen a football coach get tossed.

Hockey, I can't recall any good manager ejections, but I don't really follow it that closely, so I don't really know what I'm talking aboot. Eh?

In baseball, when a manager gets tossed, it's go time. There is no telling what could happen. Each ejection is like a work of art, or a snowflake.

Screaming? Of course. Dirt kicking? Standard. Hat throwing? Probably. Angry mimicking and wild gesticulating? Now we're cooking with gas!

Some of our more skilled "artists" incorporate props. You got your base throwers, bat chuckers, home plate coverers, and on one spectacular occasion, a rosin bag grenade heaver. Youtube "rosin bag hand grenade". You won't regret it. It's the "Mona Lisa" of post-ejection manager conniptions.

Monday night at Raley Field I saw two things in person for the very first time: a River Cats victory (they beat the Reno Aces 5-3 behind ace Clay Mortenson), and (be still my beating heart) a manager ejection. It was everything I had hoped it would be, and more.

But first, the ball game. The River Cats had been 0-4 in games I attended. They lost in every fashion imaginable. Jumping out to an early lead and coughing it up late. Giving up a bunch of runs early and clawing back into it only to come up just short. They have lost 1-0, they have lost 9-8. The one constant had been the losing. Oftentimes snatching defeat from the hands of victory.

Through four and a half innings, nothing happened. Well, not nothing, but pretty darn close. The teams combined for three hits and an error between them. From the bottom of the second through the bottom of the fourth there were five straight "three up, three down" innings.

The only runner to make it past first base was the Aces John Hester, who led off the fifth with a triple. Mortenson, who leads the PCL in wins with nine, showed real poise and pitched his way out of the jam, coaxing Pedro Ciriaco into a ground out to third, then striking out the next two Reno hitters to end the threat.

The Aces took out their starting pitcher, Zach Kroenke, after four innings of one hit ball and only 47 pitches. This was a move they would soon regret. The River Cats teed off on reliever Saul Rivera, welcoming him into the game with four straight base hits to lead off the inning. Throw in Corey Wimberly's RBI double, and the Cats finished the inning with a four-run lead.

After the inning, I made mention of the Cats less-than-stellar record in games I had attended. "I think tonight's the night they get off the shnide," I mentioned hopefully. Naturally, the first two Reno players singled and then Doug Deeds hit a moonshot over the 403 sign in dead center to close the gap to 4-3. Oh balls, not again.

Mortenson steadied himself and got out of the inning nursing the one-run lead. The inning ended with a called third strike on Aces catcher John Hester. Hester took umbrage to the call and let the home plate ump know about it. The ump took umbrage to Hester's umbrage, and tossed him out of the game. Then the fun began.

The Aces manager is former Giant and Dodgers outfielder Brett Butler. A career .290 hitter and one-time all star, he was a scrappy fan favorite everywhere he went. He was also known as a bit of a red-ass. I can attest to the fact that he has not mellowed with age.

After his catcher got tossed, the former MLB'er went ballistic. He threw a helmet in the dugout, bellowed "It's all about you," and stormed onto the field to confront the ump. For about two minutes he raged on, working himself into a lather as he gyrated and gesticulated in the face of the umpire.

For a time, he was just inches from the umpire, his arms flailing on either side of the blue's head. He then stumbled around like a crazy person. "Throw the whole ^@#%*%& team, out why don't you?!"

Once he felt that he had adequately made his point, he followed his catcher on the walk of shame out through the gate in centerfield. It was, if not on Oscar-worthy performance, certainly worthy of an Emmy. Or maybe a Tony. Bravo, Brett Butler! Encore! Encore!

The River Cats tacked on another run in the bottom of the sixth to cap the scoring. The Aces threatened in the bottom of the eighth inning, loading the bases with two outs. Fireballer Henry Rodriguez, who had spent the last week with the big club, came in and slammed the door on the Aces, striking out Carlos Corporan to end the inning.

He finished the four-out save with a 1-2-3 ninth, and for the first time all season I left Raley Field with the home crowd savoring a victory instead of mourning a defeat. But the evening belonged to Brett Butler, who did not go gently into that good night. They* are already calling it the feel-good conniption fit of the summer.

*me

We Talkin Bout Practice?

2010-06-11T04:40:26Z

After months of hard work and preparation, your Sacramento Mountain Lions took to the practice field for the first time Thursday morning.

The first day of Mini Camp, which takes place at Grant High School, started off with some stretching and calisthenics. They then broke off into smaller groups for position drills. They finished off with about 45 minutes of very high-energy seven-on-seven drills.

Some impressions from the first day:

Daunte still has a cannon. He completed a couple of really nice deep balls, including one along the sideline that was 50 yards in the air easy. He struggled a bit on the shorter routes, but that is to be expected.
The back-up QBs looked pretty darn good too. Both Shane Boyd, who I remember from his days playing at Kentucky, and Justin Goltz, who was the Mountain Lions first pick in this year's draft out of Occidental, had moments of brilliance in the seven-on-seven drills.
The linemen are big, the skill guys are fast. This is by no means a case of Daunte Culpepper and the 50-some-odd dwarfs. They have surrounded Culpepper with a lot of talent. Nearly all of the players on the roster are former Division 1 stars, and most have spent time in NFL camps. The Pac 10, in particular, is well represented, with 17 former Pac 10 stars are on the roster, by my count.

Daunte isn't the only Mountain Lion who has made his mark in the NFL. A handful of other players who you may recognize:

Doug Gabriel — the wide reciever has 1,550 receiving yards in 57 games for Oakland and New England.
Otis Amey — the former Sac State star spent part of the 2005 season as the 49ers punt returner. He had a 75-yard touchdown return against the St. Louis Rams.
Chris Perry — the former Michigan star was a first-round pick of the Cincinnati Bengals in 2004. In 2005, the running back had 51 catches and a couple touchdowns.
Dontarrious Thomas — the linebacker with 144 career tackles was the Minnesota Vikings second-round pick out of Auburn in 2004.
Zeke Moreno — the USC linebacker played five years in the NFL, four with the San Diego Chargers. He has 120 career tackles.
Antonio Chatman has played parts of six seasons with the Cincinnati Bengals and Green Bay Packers. The shifty receiver had his best year in 2005 with 49 catches for 549 yards and four touchdowns. He also spent part of that year on my fantasy team, filling in admirably when two of my starters had byes.

Overall, I was very impressed with the talent and effort I saw on the field, and I am really looking forward to seeing them grow as a team. At Wednesdays press conference, Coach Green said his goal was to bring "NFL (caliber) football to non-NFL cities". If Thursday's practice was any indicator, he's well on his way to doing just that.

Daunte Cullpepper: Here to Play

2010-06-10T03:18:43Z

I'm officially pumped for the UFL. To be exact, I'm pumped for your Sacramento Mountain Lions.

The Mountain Lions introduced their most recent signee, Daunte Culpepper, at a press conference at the Hilton Hotel Wednesday morning.

They also unveiled the team's new logo, a ferocious-looking saber-toothed fellow forming a sleek and dynamic "S". The logo is solid, and will look good on UFL-licensed merchandise. The Mountain Lions will have sweet hats.

Of course, it doesn't matter how cool the logo is. If the team and the league aren't a success, the merchandise won't sell.

On that front, both the team and the league took a major step in the right direction by bringing in the 6-foot 4-inch, 260-pound three-time Pro Bowl QB.

At 10 a.m., following the unveiling of a large banner bearing the new team name and logo, Culpepper and his wife Kim joined Coach Denny Green and Director of Business Management Joe Wagoner at a table below the banner.

Green walked up to the Hilton podium, grinning widely, and began his spiel.

Now, I suppose that all head coaches have to be part salesmen, but as a head coach in a league as new as the UFL, the sales ability becomes paramount. The UFL is a pretty new entity, and the Mountain Lions are brand new.

There is no body of work to fall back on, no built-in fan base. There is a room in the Pro Football Hall of Fame dedicated to the various pro leagues that have sprung up over the years as alternatives to the NFL. AFL, WFL, USFL,WLAF, ALF and XFL are just a few of the acronyms which have preceded the UFL in their attempt to be a profitable, successful complement to the NFL.

We, the would-be consumers, need reason to believe that the UFL is going to succeed where so many others have failed. We need to be convinced that this time is going to be different.

Denny Green is pretty darn convincing, and one heck of a salesman. I, for one, am drinking what he's pouring.

Before introducing Culpepper, he addressed the room with conviction.

"This is the beginning of a new era," he said, glancing at his new QB. "It's here now."

When Culpepper took the podium, he did so looking every bit like the superstar he once was. He spoke with a quiet confidence that belies his recent NFL struggles.

"I feel like I've got a lot more years ahead of me," the 33-year-old QB said. "I'm here to play."

He spoke of rejoining people that he knows and loves, and who know how to bring out the best in him. He had his best years in the NFL under Green's tutelage, and Mountain Lions offensive coordinator Mike Kruczek was his college coach at Central Florida.

Culpepper was not just paying lip service. I would have understood if he had seemed less than thrilled to be in the situation he is in. This is a guy who was at one point a top three quarterback in the NFL, and here he is joining a fledgeling league at the relatively tender age of 33. This wasn't the case at all.

He spent the vast majority of the press conference with a comfortable smile on his face. At no time during his statement or the question-and-answer period did he sound the least bit disappointed or embittered. And there were plenty of opportunities during the Q&A for him to vent his frustration or disappointment.

"I could have settled for a backup job somewhere, but that's not where I'm at," he said of NFL opportunities.

When asked why no one would give him the opportunity to win a starting job in the NFL, he joked that "people assume I'm 40."

When asked about his NFL aspirations, he responded that his goal was to help the Mountain Lions win a championship. It's not about getting back to the NFL, but "what I can do for the UFL."

Would he rather be starting in the NFL? I'm sure, but that wasn't in the cards for this season. For the time being, the man is clearly happy to be here, happy to have the opportunity to play in this system again, happy to have the chance to prove himself one more time.

The NFL's loss is our gain. Culpepper was asked how his surgically repaired knee felt.

"I feel great," he said with no hesitation. "I'm 100 percent healed from my knee surgery."

He went on to elaborate that when he had the surgery in 2005, his doctor told him it would take two years to recover. Culpepper was back on the field in nine months, before he had a chance to get fully healthy, and his play suffered.

With the knee no longer a concern, and Culpepper reconnecting with the men under whom he achieved his greatest successes, all of a sudden this is a captivating Mountain Lions team. Green raved about the talent and speed that they had brought in to camp. Green ended the session with a comment that, if it holds true, will guarantee the success of the UFL.

"We're bringing NFL (quality) football to non-NFL cities," he said.

A month ago, I would have scoffed at the notion. With the addition of Daunte Culpepper, all of a sudden it seems plausible. Pass me the Kool-Aid. . . and a Mountain Lions hat.

River Cats get Spayed

2010-06-04T03:29:35Z

The first two innings of Wednesday morning's River Cats 9-7 roller coaster loss to the Tacoma Raniers were very uneventful. The only man to reach base was Matt Watson, and he did so on a walk. Everyone else from either team who stepped to the plate was set down with alacrity. There was no sign of the slugfest to come.

Four pop outs, two fly outs, a couple ground outs, three K's and a line out. The innings flew by. By 11:50, a mere 15 minutes into the game, it was 22.22 percent over. If they'd kept up that pace, they may have set some kind of record.

The first two outs of the top of the third came nearly as quickly. I was beginning to speculate as to the length of the shortest game in professional baseball history and what to do with the rest of my afternoon. It turns out the record was never in jeopardy. On September 28, 1918, the New York Giants beat the Philidelphia Phillies, 6 to 1, in 51 minutes.

Eziequiel Carrerra ended my reverie when he crushed a double to center field. The next batter, Ramon Vazquez, hit the ball sharply to the left of first basemen Chris Carter, who gave a halfhearted swipe at the ball before watching it roll into the right field corner.

The official scorer originally deemed it an error, and it certainly appeared to be an E3 from my vantage point. I was reminded of Corbin Bernson's character in "Major League," Roger Dorn. More specifically, his tendency to swipe at balls that he should have gotten in front of. Which led coach Lou Brown to exclaim in a voice that sounded like whiskey-soaked gravel, "Get in front of the damn ball! Don't give me this ole' bull#$%$"

Carter would be well served to follow coach Brown's advice if he hopes to play first base in the majors. The play now shows up as an RBI double in the box score, but that is being exceedingly generous, or forgiving. The play should have been made, and the inning should have been over.

The next batter, Jack Hanahan, took a walk, but not before his batt slipped out of his hands on a mighty cut and ended up nearly braining a waitress in the front row, behind the Raniers dugout. It buzzed the servers tower and clipped a gentleman in the back. Luckily, Alex saw the bat coming and protected his young daughter Frida from the projectile.

Alex passed the bat around. It was a Josh Bard San Diego Padres signature model. I'm not sure how that works. The Raniers are the Mariners' AAA squad. But soon, he received a visit by a River Cats staff member. It turned out Hanahan was fond of the Louisville Slugger he'd donated to the crowd, and wanted it back. It was switched with an Adrien Cardenas model, and everyone was happy.

The next batter, Brad Nelson, hit a legit double to deep center that cleared the bases. The damage was done. When the River Cats came to the plate in the bottom of the inning, they trailed 3-0.

The Cats were able to answer, however, owing in large part to their sparkplugs at the top of the order, Corey Wimberley and Eric Sogard. I continue to be impressed by these two high-energy guys. They never give up at bats, they work hard, and they go full speed, all game. If Carter and Michael Taylor played with the passion, consistency and drive of these two kids, they'd be playing their ball in Oakland.

The rabbits put together three singles before recent addition Matt Watson cleared the bases with a game-tying double. The next batter, catcher Josh Donaldson, crushed a ball to right field that Tacoma's right fielder, Mike Wilson, caught before crashing violently into the fence. Matt Watson was able to tag up and score from second as Wilson recovered from the collision.

The next batter, Carter, made amends for his earlier miscue by hitting a mammoth shot over the 403-foot sign in centerfield. 5-3, River Cats

After a few uneventful innings, the home team tacked on another run in the bottom of the sixth on Taylor's RBI single. He also showed his athleticism by stealing second to get into scoring position, but was left stranded when Brett Harper struck out.

It remained 6-3 in the top of the eighth, when I allowed myself to consider, briefly, the possibility of a River Cats victory. This was the fourth game that I'd attended, and they'd lost the first three. Surely, this would be the game where they get off the schnide!

The Rainiers proceeded to put up four runs in the inning to retake the lead, never to trail again. An error and a walk put runners on first and seconded with nobody out. Tommy Everidge singled sharply to Carter's right. The first baseman made a less-than-heroic lunge for the ball, and the big inning was under way.

Now, I'm not saying that he should have made the play, or even could have made the play. But it certainly seemed like he could have gone after it with a little more gusto. He could have gotten dirty at least. In the next inning, on a similarly hit ball that was farther out of his reach, he decided to dive. I'm guessing I wasn't the only one who felt his effort had been lacking.

The Cats went down with a whimper in the eighth.

Tacoma added two runs in the ninth on a two-run blast from Hanahan. When he returned to the dugout, I asked him if he'd hit it with the bat that had spent most of the third inning in the stands.

"Nah, it was another one" he answered, with a sheepish grin.

Those two runs proved to be the difference in the game when the Rivercats staged a two-out rally after the first two batters went down meekly. The rally was keyed by Cardenas, Wimberley and Sogard ... who else? They managed to plate Cardenas and get the would-be-winning run to the plate, but Watson popped out to second to end the game.

The home team is now 0-4 in games I've attended. At least baseball players aren't superstitious. Oh, right.

Fifth time's a charm!

Most of the pictures are mine, but the good ones (#'s 17-20) are the work of Ahsan Awan

If you'd like to discuss outfield shifts or infield flies, I can be reached at lindol@gmail.com

Classic Rock Lives! . . . in bed by 11.

2010-06-01T02:48:42Z

Heart and Sammy Hagar. Between them they have sold nearly 100 million albums, not one of which was sold to me.

I knew Heart was from Seattle, and was famous for such hits as "Barracuda," and "that one song" and "you know that other song, the one, with the singer."

Hagar, "The Red Rocker," I knew from Van Halen, of course, but I have always been more of a Metallica guy. I can honestly say that I liked the Hagar incarnation of VH more than the David Lee Roth incarnation, but that isn't really saying much.

Sammy seems like he'd be a lot of fun to hang out with. Diamond Dave seems like he'd do all your drugs then leave with your girlfriend.

Heart and Sammy "co-headlined" a benefit show at Raley Field on Sunday night, and I decided to check out these two rock icons firsthand, and to see who's been buying all these albums.

I got to the show around 7 p.m. and surveyed the scene. And what a scene it was. I'd say the demographic was 85 percent 40 to 60 years old, all dressed as they would have been 25 years ago. Maybe the highlight was being on hand to witness a Sammy Hagar look-alike meeting a Brett Michaels look-alike. It was a powerful moment. Like the meeting of two heads of state. Except very, very different.

The rest were mostly the children of the 85 percent, and, to their credit, none of them seemed at all embarrassed by their parents outfits.

The vibe was overwhelmingly positive. The entire show I only saw one negative interaction: A woman cut in front of about 40 people in line for cocktails. When a man in front of me confronted her about it, she said that for 20 dollars a drink, he could cut in line too. He offered a guess at what she might have done to procure that 20 dollars. For her sake, I hope he was wrong.

Other than that, people could not have been friendlier or more upbeat. While the opening act played, I struck up a conversation with a woman and her college-age son. I asked Tammy and Wes if they had seen Hagar or Heart before. Turns out they had seen Sammy a half-dozen times, including twice in Cabo.

"You just happened to catch him in Cabo twice?" I asked.

"Nope," Tammy said. "We went to Cabo twice specifically to see him."

To say that The Red Rocker has devoted fans would be an understatement. I met another gentlemen named Jim who estimated he had seen Sammy 35 times, with and without Van Halen. He was there with his 12-year-old son. It was his first concert.

"This is a day he'll never forget," I offered, thinking back on my first concert. I saw the Red Hot Chili Peppers, Pearl Jam and Nirvana at the Cow Palace in 1992. I went with my mom and stepdad. Never were my parents cooler than they were that night.

Heart took the stage to raucous applause at 8:10 p.m. They received immediate bonus points from me when Ann Wilson came out playing a mean flute. Heavy metal flute is a powerful instrument when in capable hands. Ann proved more than up for the challenge. Ian Anderson would be proud.

The song was also noteworthy for being the only one in Heart's 70-minute set that I didn't immediately recognize, other than two songs from their upcoming album, "Red Velvet Car."

I could only name one song from the Seattle rockers going into the show, but it turns out I could sing along with just about every song they played.

They followed the flute song with "Heartless," (hey, I know this song!) "Never," (oh yeah, they play this) and "Straight on For You" (how did I forget this one?) before bringing the house down with Ann's sister Nancy on lead vocals for "These Dreams."

The beautiful love song was played in honor of Robert and Juanice. Or possibly Robert and Lanice. For Robert and his lovely date.

They followed that with the two songs from their new album. Otherwise known as "the bathroom/beer-run break." I hung around for both songs and thought they were quite good. The album drops Aug. 31.

Then they started playing their big hits. "Magic Man" into "Crazy on You" into "Barracuda" to finish off the set. Hit after hit, the crowd loving every second of it. They sounded great. The band was tight. Nancy displayed the chops that have made her one of hard rock's most formidable guitarists, and Ann belted out song after song, sounding just as she had in the band's mid-'80s heyday.

When they exited the stage, I mentioned to a fellow audience member that as co-headliner, Heart would probably come out for an encore.

"But they already played "Barracuda." What would they encore with? I think they're done."

Though he made a good point, I was soon proven right when Heart retook the stage to thunderous applause. And to answer his question, they opened with a Led Zeppelin cover, "What Is and What Never Should Be," which soon turned into "What About Love," finishing it off with another familiar hit.

The lights came on and the crowd prepared themselves for the Rooster's arrival (read: ordered drinks, two at a time).

At 9:45 p.m. the lights went down and the big screens on either side of the stage awoke. A video montage began playing, party scenes in both Mexico and the United States, with a variety of stars welcoming us to Cabo Wabo. ("This is Toby Keith... welcome to Cabo Wabo!" "This is Kenny Chesney... welcome to Cabo Wabo!" "This is Emeril Lagasse... welcome to Cabo Wabo! " Wait... what?)

The former Van Halen frontman took the stage, and the crowd went bananas. He opened with "There's Only One Way to Rock" and then brought his fans to a fever pitch with "I Can't Drive 55" and "Why Can't This Be Love?"

After the opening stanza he bantered with the crowd and with a host of waitresses who were on stage with him. "Waitress, I need a drink! I drove here, but I got someone else driving me home!" Throughout his set he had waitresses bringing him cocktails, many of which he shared with folks in the crowd.

He is a quintessential frontman, and I can now see how he has developed such an adoring fan base. His charm resonates to the back of the house, and that's no mean feat when you're playing a packed baseball stadium.

After a song I didn't recognize, he went into my favorite portion of his set. Meaning, he played songs that I both knew and liked. Following Heart's lead, he covered some Zeppelin, playing "Whole Lotta Love" into "Kashmir" back into "Whole Lotta Love." He then played probably his biggest Van Halen hit, "Right Now," which I remember as the music video that made me read. If I wanted to read, I wouldn't be watching music videos, now would I?

After politely requesting a refill ("Waitress, can I have another cocktail please? Make it a double!"), he continued with a bunch of songs that sounded vaguely familiar. "Best of Both Worlds," "Mas Tequila," "Heavy Metal" and a few others that I'm not sure of. He commanded the stage with a youthful exuberance that belies his age. The cat is 62 years old, parties, well, like a rock star, but he looks and acts on stage like he's in his 30s.

Someone should do a study on the age reversing properties of Cabo Wabo tequila. All I'm saying is that if one were going to go looking for the fountain of youth, they might want to start in Guadalajara.

He closed his set with Van Halen's ode to sexual frustration, "Finish What You Started," and thanked the crowd for a great night. There was an 11 o'clock curfew, and he followed it to the letter. It was the only time he acted his age all night.

Saigon Bay. . . Pho Ga for the soul.

2010-05-29T03:18:07Z

Used to be, when I thought of Vietnam, I would think first of the war, and my stepfather Pieter, who spent two tours of duty in the Vietnam War in the Marine Corps special forces. Actually, Vietnam conjured up visions of a parade of Vietnam vets who came through my house and my life while I was growing up in Menlo Park.

My father specialized in treating Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, and it seemed that in the 80's and 90's, Vietnam vets had cornered that market. We had a guest room out back where many a traumatized vet stayed while under my fathers tutelage. I had a lot of questionable male role models stay in "the study" for varying amounts of time, every one of whom had lost some or all of their $#!% in Vietnam. My future stepfather was my dad's star pupil, but that is a story for another time.

In 2003, I began working as a waiter and sometime bartender at an upscale Vietnamese restaurant in Palo Alto. I ended up staying there six long years (5 tours of duty?). Six years is a long time to spend working anywhere, but there were several contributing factors to my longevity at "Three Seasons."

* The pay was good.

* Many of my co-workers were very good friends, I had a lot of fun at work.

* I was able to drink on the job. Not allowed, but able. A lot.

* I was good at my job in spite of the imbibing. Although I'd argue that a small amount of drinking can be a performance enhancer in that line of work.

You know how an object in motion tends to stay in motion? Well, an object at rest tends to stay at rest. And I, my friends, was comfortably at rest.

But I would have broken free from the chains of inertia far sooner than I did had it not been for the food. The wonderful, mouth-watering, soul-filling Vietnamese food.

I probably averaged -- conservatively, counting vacations -- four shifts a week for those six years. That makes 1,248 shifts over my career at "Three Seasons." And for nearly every one of those shifts, I ate a meal, sometimes two: 1,248 meals, and I enjoyed almost every single one of them.

Vietnamese food was an epiphany. The fresh herbs -- mint, cilantro, lemongrass and basil -- brighten nearly every dish. The heavy-handed use of hot chilis and peppers and Sriracha hot sauce appealed deeply to my love of all things spicy.

I had honed my iron tongue on street tacos and jalapenos as a youngster, and by putting Tabasco on everything my college cafeteria had to offer. But I didn't find my food soulmate until I discovered Vietnamese food.

Now, when I think of Vietnam, I think first of Bun Thit Nuong ,cool noodles topped with assorted grilled meats; Bo Luc Lac, cubed sirloin steak wok tossed with peppers and onions; and Pho Ga, chicken noodle soup, and start drooling. Then I think back to the lunatics living in my study. But first the food.

When I relocated to Midtown, finding a new place to get my Vietnamese grub on was high on my list of things to do.

I tried Pho Bac Hoa Viet on Broadway, and it was good, but the search continued.

Then I tried Pho Saigon on Stockton, and it was even better, but the search continued.

Then I tried Saigon Bay, and I knew the search was over

Saigon Bay is at 1407 Howe St., and doesn't really look like much from the outside. Set back from the road and flanked by AT&T and Verizon stores to one side, and a business park to the other, it would be easy to miss.

I have eaten at Saigon Bay a half dozen times now, and have left exceedingly happy on each occasion.

By the time you read this, I'll have visited again. In fact, I'm probably there right now, as you read this.

Every time I go, Jess and I split one of their fresh spring rolls. The appetizer, common to Vietnamese restaurants, is rolled in rice paper and filled with lettuce, vermicelli and herbs.

Saigon Bay's lean pork and shrimp roll with peanut sauce is much like any other, but its lemon grass beef and pork spring rolls are something else all together. Meats are grilled to perfection and seasoned just as well. Served with peanut and the ubiquitous nuoc mam, or fish sauce, spring rolls are a fantastic way to start your meal.

From there, you can go in several directions, all of them delicious.

Jess usually gets the Pho Ga, which has white meat chicken and a light, yet soulful, broth with just the slightest hint of cinnamon. The soup is served with fresh bean sprouts, herbs, jalapenos and lime. Couple this with the two types of hot sauce, pickled jalapenos, hoisin and soy sauce that sit on every table, and you can get all mad scientist and doctor it up to your heart's content.

I usually get the shaking beef, a wonderful dish that I fell in love with at Three Seasons, but rarely ordered because it cost $22. At Saigon Bay, it's $7.95, and that includes rice and a small cabbage salad. Winner, Saigon Bay.

My other mainstay is the Bun, or Cool Noodles. This dish is almost a salad: cool vermicelli, shredded lettuce, cucumber and herbs, all topped with grilled meats of your choosing. The lemongrass pork and steak of the spring roll fame are my favorites, but you also can get other toppings like chicken, shrimp, egg rolls and shrimp cakes. The Bun is served with nuoc mam, which you pour over the top of the dish, much like you would a salad dressing. I, of course, add a healthy squirt of Sriracha before going to town.

Every time we have eaten at Saigon Bay, Jess and I have left totally satisfied. And we've left for under $28, including tip. And the only time it got that high was yesterday, when I decided to order an extra spring roll . . . you know, for research purposes. Jess ended up taking half her soup home. I ate it as a 4:30 meal; linner, I've taken to calling it.

When we go tomorrow, we'll be out the door for under $24. See you there.

Mountain Lions stalking a quarterback.

2010-05-20T05:52:32Z

The Sacramento Mountain Lions are about to receive a large dose of credibility and star power. According to ESPN's Adam Schefter, the UFL's Sacramento franchise is in the process of finalizing a contract with former NFL quarterback Daunte Culpepper.

The erstwhile QB, who played in eight games last season for the Detroit Lions, will try to prove that he has still got something in the tank after spending the past five years as an NFL journeyman.

A three-time Pro Bowler and one-time Madden NFL cover boy with the Minnesota Vikings, the 6-foot 4-inch, 260-pound quarterback put up huge numbers in 2004, throwing for 39 touchdowns and nearly 5,000 yards. He set a record for most combined yardage passing and rushing that still stands. If it weren't for Peyton Manning and his record-setting 49 TDs that year, he most assuredly would have been voted the leagues Most Valuable Player. He was one of the league's biggest stars, and it seemed he would be for quite some time.

Then 2005 happened.

The Vikings got off to a slow start, due in large part to Culpepper's struggles. They were just 2-4 when he tore his ACL, MCL and PCL in a game against the Carolina Panthers. He was done for the year, and he had six touchdowns, 12 picks and a passer's rating of 64.4. A far cry from the gaudy 110.9 from the previous season.

To add insult to injury, literally, Culpepper was at the heart of a sex boat scandal involving 17 Vikings, two boats and a gaggle of strippers and live sex acts. Culpepper was one of four players charged with three misdemeanors. It really amounted to immature antics and boys being boys, but coupled with the injury, his deteriorating play and some contract issues, Daunte was on his way out.

Since that time, he has been a part-time starter for the Detroit Lions, Oakland Raiders and Miami Dolphins, but has never appeared in more than eight games in any one season.

The signing makes sense for everyone involved. In Culpepper, the Mountain Lions will be getting the kind of big name who will put butts in the seats. Up until now, the biggest names in the UFL have been the coaches. Dennis Green hands over his "face of the franchise" tag to Culpepper the moment he signs. Culpepper also may open the flood gates for other old or troubled stars to join the league.

In Sacramento, Culpepper will get a chance to play once more for Denny Green, under whose tutelage he had his greatest success. He will have a chance to start and prove himself on the field, an opportunity he would not have had in the NFL. If he plays well enough, he may earn his ticket back into the League.

It remains to be seen whether the UFL will survive where the XFL, World League and others have failed. Moving the franchises to cities that don't have NFL teams was a very good start. And bringing in quality name talent like Daunte Culpepper is another step in the right direction. Keep this up, and the NFL will find itself with something it has never really had before, a viable minor league.

Either way, the Sacramento Mountain Lions just got a lot more interesting.

Jazz Appreciation, 2060

2010-05-14T02:33:42Z

When I was at school at the University of Oregon, I took a lot of classes. There were history classes, journalism classes, english classes, a lot of political science classes, a few science classes, even an art history class (Chicks, man!). To be honest, 10+ years removed from the experience, most of them have bled together in my memory.

A few stand out, however. An astronomy course where in a friend of mine cheated off me on the final and got a better grade. A sociology course where the professor offered extra credit to students who skipped class to join the WTO riots inSeattle. A military science course that I took along with a future NFL 1,000-yard rusher and a future NBA slam dunk champion. We learned to rappel…down the bleachers.

But possibly my single most memorable class at the U of O was an awesome jazz appreciation course I took my sophomore year. We learned about and listened to jazz greats like Thelonious Monk, Charlie Parker, John Coltrane, Count Basie and many others.

I probably listened to Miles Davis' “Kind of Blue" 50 times that semester, from start to finish. There is no question that I'm a better man for having done so.

Never has a college course been more aptly named. That semester, I developed a great appreciation for "the only true American art form."

Now, I realize that not everybody has the time to take a semester-long jazz appreciation course, and besides, its 470 miles to the University of Oregon. But I have some good news: The same effect can be achieved with a library card and a ticket to a Charlie Hunter show.

Charlie Hunter is a jazz guitarist extraordinaire, a truly one-of-a-kind performer, and he brought his unique seven-string stylings to Harlow's Wednesday night.

But first, the audience was given a crash course in classical music appreciation. To open the show, we were treated to a 30-minute set from onetime child prodigy and current violin virtuoso Rachel Barton Pine. The soloist, in town for a show with the Sacramento Philharmonic Orchestra this Saturday, was an epiphany.

She came out playing a 1742 "ex-Soldat" Guarnari, which she prefers to the Stradivarious, although she said it's simply a matter of taste. She compared the two different violins to red and white wine, although I don't recall which was which. I do remember that her violin had once been the property of Marie Soldat, a female virtuoso who had been discovered by Johannes Brahms at the age of 15 in 1878.

The legendary German composer even picked out the young Soldat's violin for her, and by extension, Barton Pine's for her. How cool is that?

She played a variety of songs, including one she described as "Chamber Blues," where the violin mimicked the sound of a blues harmonica, before finishing with a gypsy violin piece.

I was standing at the far end of the stage, next to the backstage door. At one point during her performance, Charlie himself popped out to take some of her in. "She's spectacular," I offered.

He gave me a wry smile and responded, "Yeah, I know."

I suppose he would. . . .

She stepped off the stage to surprisingly raucous applause just after 9:30. Ten minutes later, she was back, this time at a table to the side – a fan like the rest of us.

At 9:45, Charlie Hunter took the stage, joined by Eric Kalb on drums and Ron Miles on trumpet. Kalb has played with such R&B luminaries as Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings, The Greyboy All Stars and John Scofield. The Jazz Times calls Ron Miles "one of the finest trumpeters in jazz today." And Charlie Hunter is, well, Charlie Hunter.

Charlie has been described as a "guitar wunderkind," and his playing is truly mind-boggling. He plays a custom made seven-string guitar, which has three bass strings and four guitar strings. He is his own bass player, and it's truly a sight to behold.

Listening with your eyes closed, or from another room, you'd bet anything that you were listening to a four-piece. Though the bass line and guitar sounds meld perfectly together, they are also totally free of one another, unencumbered in any way. Even upon re-entering the room, or opening your eyes, it’s still hard to believe that all that sound is coming from just the one instrument.

But Hunter is not some gimmicky virtuoso, he is one of the finest improvisational musicians of our time, and Kalb and Miles are more than worthy collaborators. The three men played for more than 90 minutes, alternating between jazzy, funky and bluesy, but remaining masterful throughout.

The only problem I had with the show, as is often the case when I attend shows where the vast majority of the audience is seated, was an inability to keep my dancing, well, er, restrained. My musical enjoyment center is connected directly to my "get up and boogie" bone. I am forever teetering on the brink of becoming "that guy," jitterbugging furiously while the rest of those in the crowd remain seated, nodding their heads or tapping their toes.

I can sit down for a moment, but what starts as a toe tap can rapidly degenerate into "the sprinkler," or, in some cases, even "the worm."

I had to find myself a spot off to the side of the stage where I could dance to my heart’s content without upsetting the more upright members of the crowd. A few kindred spirits joined me during some of the more up-tempo jams.

Finally, during the feverish encore, one brave soul stood up directly in front of the stage and began cutting the rug. Now, I have seen this move spark a feud between the seated and the dancing that would make the Hatfields and McCoys blush. But there was no such issue on this fine evening, and soon there were a couple dozen dancers near the front of the stage, peaceably intermingling with those who remained seated. Dogs and cats, living together. A wonderful end to a wonderful show.

I will never have the opportunity to see Thelonious Monk, Charlie Parker, Miles Davis or John Coltrane perform live. But I have seen Charlie Hunter, and so should you. Sure, it's not the same as seeing one of the greats who I learned about in jazz appreciation class so many falls ago. But 50 years from now, when they're teaching jazz appreciation at the University ofOregon, Outer Space Extension, you can bet they'll spend some time discussing Charlie Hunter. That's good enough for me.

Charlie and the boys are playing the Freight&Salvage in Berkeley at 8 p.m. tonight. If you leave right now, you might make it.

They are also playing Friday at the El Rey Theater in Chico.

Rachel Barton Pine is playing with the Sacramento Philharmonic on Saturday.

If you wanna catch a show, hit me up at lindol@gmail.com

Third time is not a charm. . .

2010-05-12T15:25:41Z

It was a dark and stormy night. Well, not really. It had been a dark and stormy afternoon, however, and about 4 p.m., I thought the River Cats series finale against the Colorado Sky Sox was in jeopardy of being rained out.

Fortunately, the storm broke around 5 p.m., and by game time there were only a few clouds in the sky. I arrived about 6:30 and was pleasantly surprised to find a press pass waiting for me at Will Call. I'd thought that ship might have sailed after the "flip flop incident," but apparently not.

I felt like a good cop, though somewhat of a loose cannon, who'd lost his badge and gun because of his erratic behavior. Like Mel Gibson in "Lethal Weapon". On Monday, I got my badge back. .

Many factors -- the pouring rain a few hours earlier, the fact that it was a Monday night, the record low temperatures (39 degrees at the Sacramento Airport) -- resulted in a sparse but hearty crowd. The listed game attendance was 6,169, but if there were 2,000 people there, I'll eat my hat.

There were plenty of good seats to be had, and I had several of them.

I started the game two rows behind the River Cats dugout, behind a group of rambunctious middle schoolers and their chaperone. The catcalls were flying, although most of their hooting and hollering was of the positive variety, and directed toward their hometown heroes.

They took a particular liking to catcher Anthony Recker, who seemed to be their favorite. When Kyle Middleton threw a close strike in the first inning, the kids credited it to the catcher. When Sky Sox leadoff hitter Cole Garner, who had reached base on a walk and advanced to second on a wild pitch, tried to steal third, Recker hosed him. He threw a perfect strike to Steve Tolleson, beating the runner by two feet. The kids went buck wild. "No one runs on the Recker!" (I can't be the first person to propose his nickname be "Home," can I?)

Corey Wimberly, who continued to impress, led off the home half of the first, but was left stranded. This was the first of four times that the River Cat catalyst (River Catalyst?) would reach base, but to no avail. It was a frustrating evening for the men in white.

The second inning was memorable only for a catch made by Jack Cust on a ball crushed by former MLB'er Jay Payton. The blast tied up the erstwhile Athletic, and he ended up doing a full 360 pirouette before making the catch. I'd always heard he wasn't much of a fielder, but he performed admirably in left this night.

The third inning again had Wimberly's fingerprints all over it. He made a diving catch to rob Sky Sox Warren Schaefer of a hit in the top of the inning, then had a single and was caught stealing in the bottom. "The Recker" isn't the only one no one runs on.

At this point, I decided to switch vantage points, watching the next two innings from about six rows behind home plate. Just as I sat down, Matt Miller smacked a single to right, then advanced to second when Michael Taylor threw a missile about 10 feet over the shortstop's head. It would be a tough night for the big right fielder from Stanford.

After Miller advanced to third on a groundout, Chris Ianetta roped a line drive single to right. Miller had to wait and see if the ball would be caught. Taylor was not able to catch it, but he grabbed the ball on one hop and immediately let sail a perfect strike, on the fly, to the catcher. It was a bang-bang play at the plate, but Miller slid in just under the tag. Almost a spectacular play but, unfortunately, this is neither horseshoes nor hand grenades. 1-0 Sky Sox.

The next few innings were fairly uneventful with a few highlights:

I wandered back over to the Cats' dugout and met a couple of huge A's fans, Jan and Adam, who were keeping score, right down to whether the strikes were swinging or looking. So what, you say. Well it wasn't so much what they were doing, but how they were doing it: on an iPad. There is an app for that, and it's pretty incredible. They showed me the scatter grid for Eric Sogard's last 10 hits. Incredible; a couple of fans doing statistical analysis that MLB scouting departments weren't capable of 30 years ago.

Wimberly got on base again, and got caught stealing again. No one runs on Michael McKenry, apparently.

I headed down to the dugout press area to finally meet the man who provides the fantastic photographs for my stories, Ahsan Awan. He invited me to watch the last couple of innings with him from the dugout, which was pretty awesome.

The kids by the dugout are ball crazy. A particularly rambunctious young man named Darren kept asking me for a ball. I told him I didn't have any and to "try the guys on the field." Then he asked the Sky Sox third base coach. "Do you have any balls?." When this elicited no response, he tried again: "How much balls do you have?" The kid had gumption, I'll give him that.

A couple of minutes later, he was eying my program. "Where'd you get that? I want one." I handed it over, knowing that it meant far more to him than it did to me. This led to one of the more surreal moments of my life. He ran off, only to return a moment later with a pen. "Can I have your autograph?" Ahsan was dying: "Hold on, I want to get a shot of this." After he had changed lenses, I obliged the precocious youngster with my signature. Anything for the kids.

In the bottom of the seventh, Taylor hit a one-out double, and advanced to third on a wild pitch. Tolleson hit a slow grounder to the third baseman, Taylor broke on contact. When the Sky Sox third baseman decided to throw home, it looked like the ball would beat Taylor there by a half step. This was going to be a great play at the plate. Then Taylor stopped in his tracks, maybe 10 feet from home plate. It could have been a bang-bang play at the plate or a monumental collision that Sky Sox catcher McKenry wanted no part of. Taylor is 6 feet 6 inches, 260 pounds and had a full head of steam, McKenry is 5 feet 10 inches, 200 pounds, and was standing in place. Advantage, Taylor.

It became an easy tag out. Taylor was fully pot committed and had the better hand, but he folded to a weak bluff. Rally killed.

The Cats had another scoring opportunity in the bottom of the eighth, when Wimberly, who finished 3 for 3 with a walk, hit a two-out double. Sogard followed it with a walk. Cust came up with a chance to tie the game or give the Cats the lead, but he couldn't pull the trigger on a close 3-2 pitch and struck out looking.

The Cats kept scrapping in the ninth. Carter struck out swinging but reached first base on a wild pitch by longtime Minnesota Twin Juan Rincon. Taylor continued his rollercoaster evening with a sharp single to center. All of a sudden, there were runners on first and third, nobody out. The spattering of fans who remained on this frigid evening reminiscent of Candlestick were on their feet and could smell a victory. Tolleson hit a swinging bunt, advancing Taylor to second. Rincon then intentionally walked Adrian Cardenas. The stage was set.

Bases loaded, one out, Recker stepped into the batters box. I looked over at the kids behind the dugout and they were going bananas. Recker worked a full count from Rincon, fouling off several tough pitches. Unfortunately, the last one just barely stayed in play and was caught by McKenry against the backstop. Michael Affronti was the Cats' last hope, but he went down swinging.

Game over, another heartbreaking defeat for the good guys.

To sum it up, I attended three games during the recent homestead. The home team lost all three games by a total of three runs. The kicker is that they gave up unearned runs in all three games: 4 of 9, 4 of 5, and 1of 1. And that doesn't include several baserunning mishaps. It's a shame, because it seems like they have the talent to win the division if they can just get out of their own way.

BLVD, Face Melters Incorporated.

2010-05-08T06:24:44Z

Last summer, I went on a road trip of epic proportions. I traveled 22,000 miles over the course of 139 days, hitting 36 states along the way. During my trip, I went to a variety of music festivals, including some of the monsters, such as All Points West, Lollapalooza, Gathering of the Vibes and Phish 8.

My favorite of them all, though, was probably a smaller one called Camp Bisco, in Mariaville, N.Y. Camp Bisco is put on by The Disco Biscuits, and though I really enjoyed the headliners, what set the festival apart was the smaller acts playing throughout the day and late into the night.

That weekend was my first exposure to many acts that I now love: Dr. Dog, Brother's Past, K'naan, Chromeo, Bonobo, Pnuma Trio, Pretty Lights.

One of my favorite "discoveries" at Camp Bisco, BLVD, played at Harlows on Wednesday night.

BLVD's music is tough to categorize. Their Myspace page describes the music as electro/electronica/breakbeat. I've heard the group alternately described as "urban," "livetronica," "electronic rockers" and "electro dance rock." If I had to put a label on it, I'd probably just go with "freaking awesome" and call it a day.

I arrived at Harlow's at 9 p.m. Wednesday, and immediately was struck by the crowd, which appeared to be mostly tatted-up, Affliction-wearing cage fighters and scantily clad ring-card girls. This wasn't what I'd imagined BLVD's fan base would look like, but, then again, you never know. Maybe this was one of those unlikely fan phenomena, like Morrissey's popularity with teenage Latinos. As I got settled, however, I realized that a good portion of the crowd were Cinco de Mayo revelers, who had, unbeknownst to them, stumbled into the best show in town.

I sat down at a table close to the stage and watched as the chairs around me began to fill up with people who were here specifically for the show. By the time that opening act Vokab Kompany took the stage, the tables were full and the crowd was ready.

Vokab Kompany is another act that refuses to be pigeonholed. Two MCs might lead you to believe that it's hip hop, but that doesn't begin to tell the story. The seven-piece band from San Diego played for more than an hour, a set that was at times funky, jazzy, heavy, bouncy, even bluegrassy. At one point, it eased comfortably in and out of Stevie Wonder's "Superstition." A moment later, during a long electric fiddle solo, a young lady joined the fiddler on the floor and did her best "Lord of the Dance." And it all made sense. Through it all, the crowd was treated to microphonic gymnastics of the dueling MCs, Rob Hurt and Burkey. The group is legit; see them.

Vokab Kompany set 'em up, BLVD knocked 'em down.

BLVD came out a bit before 11 and wasted no time getting the crowd, properly fluffed by the openers, into a tizzy. The driving beats and pulsing bass laid down by Dylan Mcintosh and Tripp Bains demand your respect. Curtis Sloane's guitar stylings make ... look, the point is they'll melt your face off. And put a party in your pants.

In the past, BLVD also played with an MC, but they recently parted ways amicably. While not having a singer may make its music a bit less accessible, it had very little effect on the quality of the band's performance.

All of the musicians in BLVD are very talented, but they have become festival staples because of their ability to work a crowd into a frenzy. Their music builds into a crescendo until you think they can't go any longer, at which point they just keep right on going. For an hour and a half at Harlows, to the delight of their fans and a lucky few who happened to be in the right place at the right time, BLVD just kept building those crescendos, taking the crowd to the brink and beyond, into the throes of musical ecstasy. It happened over and over, until those of us who spent the whole set dancing were ready to collapse. It was 1 a.m. I exchanged sweaty high fives with some of my fellow dance-floor warriors, and basked briefly in the afterglow of the evening's festivities.

It had been a fantastic evening with two great groups that want you to get up off your butt and tear the dance floor a new one. Really, the only thing missing from Wednesday night's show was you. You like to dance, don't you? Sure you do. Next time you see Vokab or BLVD is coming to town, throw on your favorite pair of dance pants -- mine happen to be silver -- and get to that show. You can thank me later.

If you know what's good for you, you'll head up to The High Sierra Music Festival for the Fourth of July weekend. BLVD is playing the 1:30 to 4:00 AM Thursday set, otherwise known as the gamechanger. Do it, it'll blow your mind.

Booo! Bee's!

2010-05-08T06:03:28Z

Let's try this again. Thursday evening I attended my second River Cats game as your intrepid sports reporter. This time, instead of the press pass around my neck, I held a ticket in my hand.

The split between the press pass and me was amicable and mutual. The morning following my first foray into sportswriting, I was asked, very cordially, to "please dress appropriately and professionally when covering any games at Raley Field, i.e., no shorts, T-shirts or flip flops."

The outfit I wore into the press box Monday evening? You guessed it, shorts, a T-shirt, and flip flops. The hat trick. Oops.

In accordance with this request, I decided to wear pants, a collared shirt and close-toed shoes to Thursday night's game. Granted, they were jeans, Adidas, and an extra-medium pink polo, but hey, baby steps.

I started Thursday's game in Section 119, row 15, seat 4, and couldn't have been happier.

The top of the first was over in a blink of an eye. Two pop-ups and a ground-out, and the home team was up to bat. Corey Wimberly reached on an error by the first baseman to lead off the inning. This would be the first of six errors between the two teams during a very sloppily played contest. A moment later, he advanced to second on an errant pick-off throw by Salt Lake Bee pitcher Sean O'Sullivan.

Unfortunately, Jack Cust and Chris Carter were unable to knock the runner in from scoring position. Both of the sluggers struck out, stranding the leadoff hitter at second base.

The second inning came and went. I noticed that it was Thirsty Thursdays, $2 12-ounce Millers until the top of the sixth or 8:30 p.m. A guy in line next to me asked, "It's whichever happens later, right?" That, my friends, is an optimist.

The third inning, well, the wheels came off. Two walks, followed by two errors, followed by two singles. All told, four runs scored in the top of the third and nary a one was earned. One ugly half inning and the River Cats all of a sudden had dug themselves a four-run hole that they would spend the rest of the game trying to dig themselves out of.

The River Cats were unable to answer in the bottom of the inning, O'Sullivan striking out Chris Carter for the second time, stranding Steven Tolleson at first.

Right about here, I decided to join a few friends on the lawn by the right field foul pole. I can't think of a better way to spend $8. What a great vantage point from which to watch the game. I made it out to right just in time to watch Web-gem-caliber catches by River Cat outfielders.

Leading off the fourth, the Bee's right fielder crushed the ball nearly to dead center. Corey Brown chased it down and leapt to make the catch on the warning track before crashing into the centerfield fence. The next batter, the Bee's shortstop, popped a ball up to shallow left, right in between Wimberly and shortstop Michael Affronti. It looked like they were going to run into one another, until Affronti peeled off at the last second and Wimberly dove and made the catch.

The teams switched off getting very little done at the plate for the next three innings. At one point, my friend Jacqueline was heckling Salt Lake. "Boooooo," she yelled, "booooo, Bees."

"Boo, Bee's". Ha. Sometimes it's the little things.

Finally, in the bottom of the seventh, Wimberly crushed a ball that landed in the bullpen in right field, cutting the Bee's lead to 4-1. He has stood out in the two games I've attended. He's a high-energy kid, good base runner and a scrapper. He really breathed some life into the stadium with the blast, and the good guys were on the board.

The team gave the run right back in the top of the eighth, another monster rally consisting of a walk, a stolen base, a flyout and a bunt single.

As the River Cats came up to bat in the bottom of the ninth, a fair amount of the "Thirsty Thursday" crowd still was hanging tough, many of them wearing sweaters made of Miller Lite. When Cust got on base and the the rallying cry "We will, we will, rock you" played, the crowd was as loud as it had been all night. When Eric Sogard hit a single to center, the stadium was buzzing. Brown tattooed a ball into the bullpen and what was left of the crowd erupted. Could it really happen? Can they come all the way back?

Nope, not this time. A couple soft groundouts later, and the game was over. They made it interesting, but in the end it was another disappointing loss to the team from Salt Lake. I'm 0 for 2. Hopefully, the third time will be the charm. Until then, boo, Bees.

Matisyahu, Grandpa. Grandpa, Matisyahu.

2010-05-06T03:20:10Z

The world’s most popular reggae singer came to Sacramento Sunday and played a show in front of 4,000 ecstatic fans.

This, in and of itself, doesn't seem like it would be all that noteworthy. Big stars play shows in Sacramento, if not all the time, at least semi-frequently. I mean, John Mayer is coming to the Sleep Train Amphitheater in August, right? And Carrie Underwood is coming to Arco in a couple of weeks.

But Matisyahu, the Jewish reggae artist whose album, "Bright Side of Life," has been at the top of Billboard’s reggae charts for six weeks, didn't play at Arco for $45 a seat, or Raley Field for 35 bucks a pop, or even Harlow's for 18 a ducat. He played for free, on the Capitol steps, at the Jewish Heritage Festival.

His opening acts? An eco-friendly fashion show, the L.A. Israeli Youth Dance Team and a raffle drawing. To be fair, a juggler, a face painter and Kings’ Mascot Slamson were also running around, but they spent most of their time in the Kids Zone, so I don't really count them as openers.

When I first heard that Matisyahu would be playing a free show on the Capitol steps, I flat-out did not believe it. "You're lying," I commented on a friend’s Facebook post. The man is an international superstar. He's gonna play a free show at a small heritage festival? Yeah, right. Weird Al Yankovic, maybe, but Matisyahu? Not a chance.

I arrived around 1:15 in the afternoon and got confirmation that the Hasidic beatboxer was, in fact, coming, and the performance would start at 3:15.

My next thought was that someone in Sacramento must have compromising photos of the reggae star. Now, this theory is still entirely plausible, but I no longer consider it likely.

I wandered around the west steps of the Capitol, taking in what was an otherwise average heritage festival:

-Informational booths for places like Hillel, Chabad, Knesset Israel Torah Center, European Wax Center and, of course, The Sacramento Press.

-Food carts, heavy on the falafel.

-A street market featuring vendors selling arts, crafts, clothing and specialty foods, including 2 artisan honey vendors.

-A rock climbing wall, bungee basketball, a blow-up slide and other carnival-type attractions in the kid zone.

When I got there, the crowd was about what you'd expect at a Jewish heritage festival. There were a lot of families, a fair amount of seniors and a gaggle of kids. Nothing out of the ordinary. Everybody was in a celebratory mood, smiling and happy. I was often asked enthusiastically about my shirt, which spelled out "Temple Alameda" in Hebrew. No one seemed the least bit disappointed when I explained sheepishly that I was, in fact, a goy, and wore it for solidarity. Actually, I ended up being invited to more than one upcoming Shabbat dinner.

The only inkling of the concert to come was a smattering of hippy-looking kids and a few dreadlocked truststafarians floating around. But as 3 o'clock approached, the demographic began to shift...dramatically.

Kids on skateboards and BMX bikes started streaming in around 2:30 p.m. Next came the beer-soaked college kids and 20-somethings. The main contingent of the Rastas and 4:20 crowd rolled in in a haze of smoke just before Matisyahu was set to hit the stage

"If my boobs had mouths they'd be so drunk right now!" said a particularly buxom young lady who had apparently been spilling most of her drinks down her shirt.

By 3:15, the west steps of the Capitol were overflowing with one of the strangest, most incredible hodgepodge of people you could ever hope to see. From babies in Pampers to octogenarians in Depends, this truly was an all-ages show. Hasidic Jewish rabbis intermingled with high school punk kids and 30-something hipsters, all of whom wore big smiles on their faces.

It was a beautiful day. Nobody seemed to mind much that the star didn't arrive until close to 3:45. When he did show up, his only accompaniment was a buddy on an acoustic guitar. He had a mellow, conversational tone that he maintained throughout the performance. At one point, his cell phone rang. "Should I answer it?" he asked the audience. He did, on speaker.

"Even if I weren't in front of 4,000 people, I couldn't understand you," he said to the guy on the other end of the line. "This guy’s from Long Island. Even New Yorkers don't like Long Island...except Jones Beach," he joked before hanging up and getting back to the music.

His performance was great – a full hour-and-45-minute set without breaks (not counting several interludes to banter with the crowd and one giant hugging session).

He played a bunch of his hits, a cover or two, and some new stuff. He discussed his newly adopted veganism, his guitarist’s upcoming foray into "master cleanse," lamented that he never got to play football ("I had to go to Hebrew school"), recommended a book (“Eating Animals,” by Jonathon Safron Foer) and queried us on our local rivers. He named both the American and the Sacramento, and he even went for a swim in the former!

The show was set to end at 4:30 p.m., but he stayed on a full hour past the scheduled end time. It would have been totally understandable had he decided to blow through a 30-minute set of a few of his hits and ditched town. I half expected it.

But he did nothing of the sort. He put on a fantastic show and really endeared himself to the crowd with his playful engagement. He seemed genuinely happy to be here, playing a free show at a heritage festival. There aren't many artists of his ilk who'd do the same, let alone be happy about it. But Matisyahu isn't just any artist.

Toda, Matisyahu.

As always, the high quality, professional looking shots are the work of my good friend Ahsan Awan. The others are yours truly throwing darts with a point and click.

If you have any thoughts, questions, or angry diatribes you'd like to direct at me, lindol@gmail.com should do the trick.

Take me out with the crowd. (not the press)

2010-05-05T03:00:43Z

I love baseball. I love watching it, playing it, listening to it on the radio – whatever. So when the Sacramento Press editors asked me if I wanted to cover any games, I jumped at the chance.

All right, maybe they didn't so much ask me as I harassed them until they gave in. They finally tired of the flow of sad, slightly creepy voicemail messages I'd been leaving on their machines:

"Hi, it's Lindol. I just wanted you to know that I'm free for every River Cats home game, and if you want, I could, maybe, I don't know, go and write about it?"

“Hey, Lindol again. I just wanted to say that I had a really nice time at the Kings game, and I really like baseball, and if you wanted I could, you know, help out..."

"Hey, Lindol here, I don't know if you got my last three messag..."

"Lindol, it's Casey. We got you a couple press passes. Now, please, never call here again..."

Long story short: Tonight I attended my very first River Cats game, and I did so with a press credential hanging around my neck. I asked the gentleman who gave me my pass where I should sit. He looked at me like I was I from Mars.

"Uh, the Press Box?" Me, sitting in the press box? Be still my beating heart!

I must admit, I had a highly romanticized idea of what the press box would be like. And it did not live up to the high standards I set for it in my fantasy world. There was not a single person wearing a fedora with a piece of paper reading "press" shoved into the band. Illusions shattered.

There was, however, a full catered spread with three salads and two types of meat, rolls, cookies, sweets and all the coffee you can drink. I grabbed a cup of coffee and took a seat at the front table in between three far more professional scribes (I could tell ’cause their credentials were laminated). I offered a, "What's up fellas?" The response was less than warm.

As I recall, it was one low-key, "Hey guy," and two that went something like, "Please, no eye contact."

I hung out for almost the whole first half inning, at which time I came to the realization that baseball is not meant to be watched from on high with a bunch of high-faluting mucky mucks. It's meant to be watched from down below, with the hoi polloi. I excused myself, grabbed a small plate of pulled pork and potato salad and joined the unwashed masses for what turned out to be a remarkable ball game.

The River Cats jumped out to a 3-0 lead the first time through the lineup, without an extra base hit. They scored the three runs on four singles, some heads-up base running and some less-than-stellar fielding by the Bees.

Meanwhile, Clayton Mortenson retired the first 11 Bees he faced, losing his no-hit bid when he miffed fielding a swinging bunt so badly that the scorekeeper called it a hit.

Chris Carter followed that misplay with an error of his own as the Bees cleanup hitter smacked one right between the first baseman's wickets. E3, and the Bees were on the board.

The good guys answered with four runs in the bottom of the fourth on two monster home runs – one by Corey Brown to lead off the inning and another, a three-run shot by Carter, making up for his earlier miscue.

At this point, it was 7-1, and I set about enjoying the atmosphere more and keeping track of things like “who did what,” less. I grabbed a hot dog and may or may not have grabbed a beer, depending on what the policy is on people with press passes having a Tecate with their dinner. It's anybody's guess really.

I love that it is a minor league game and atmosphere, but there is nothing "minor-league" about the stadium. The facilities are absolutely top-notch. It feels a bit like a smaller version of PNC park in Pittsburgh, and that is high praise indeed.

In case you forgot that it was a minor league stadium, you had these nuggets:

-The "K batter" on the Bees striking out and winning everyone in the stadium free sushi.

-The "Senior Dance-Off"...a dance-off...between seniors. It was hotly contested, but I think everybody won.

-The hot dog gun.

-The T-shirt gun.

-A lone, tatooed super-heckler, whose booming catcalls resonated throughout the entire stadium.

-One of the weakest "Sweet Caroline" sing-alongs I've ever seen – and I've seen some awful ones, most started by me.

So then it was 8-3, and I moved up to the front row behind the Bees’ dugout. I met a couple of fifth graders, Dakota and Adam, who were there on a VIP package. Dakota had won said package, which included being "the lineup card kid" before the game started. He had the Bees’ original lineup, signed by the River Cats coach, whom he'd met. Both of the kids were clutching newly won PCL baseballs and exceedingly happy about the development.

I asked Dakota how he'd won the package.

"I wrote an essay about what the YMCA means to me."

"Very cool," I responded, thinking that it was, indeed, very cool. "What did you write?"

He looked at me a bit quizzically at first, then smiled sheepishly and offered, "To be honest, I don't really remember. I won though!"

You certainly did, my young friend, you certainly did.

So right about there, the score went from being 8-3, to being 8-9. It was brutal. The Bees put up six runs in the top of the seventh.

Marcus Mcbeth came in with two men on and an 8-4 lead. He didn't record an out, and by the time he was finally relieved, it was too late.

In his defense, he did form one half of possibly the best-named pitcher/catcher battery of all time: Marcus McBeth was pitching to none other than Dusty Napoleon. Ladies and gentlemen, I defy you to make up something like that.

So the River Cats lost, but the point is, everybody else won, in both the whimsical "We're all winners at the ball game sense" and in the "We all get free sushi from Sushi Unlimited" sense.

Winner, Winner, Sushi, Dinner.

The really good pics (7-11, 16, like I need to tell you. . .) are the work of Ahsan Awan, those of lesser quality are the "work" of yours truly.