For more:

Support Catholicism’s fight against mandated birth-control

van der Plaat’s Letter to Branstad

Direct Link: American Reason on KRUI: February 19, 2012

Subscribe: iTunes

Direct Link: American Reason Web Exclusive: February 18,2012

THURSDAY

Gaelic Storm // Englert // 9:00 PM // $25-35

Gaelic Storm is perhaps the biggest name in the Celtic music world right now. Their fusion of traditional Irish folk and modern alt-rock has drawn a huge and loyal fan base, largely in the U.S. but extends across the globe. The group began to take its shape in the mid-90s and they continue to pursue their project in full force; according to their website these guys spend over 200 days out of the year on the road and have still managed to crank out eight full length albums. What is especially interesting and admirable about Gaelic Storm is that they’ve pretty much gone 100% DIY. After three releases on a major label (Virgin/EMI), the band dropped out, formed their own label (Lost Again Records) and have released every subsequent album by themselves. From their web page: “Gaelic Storm is a truly self-contained entity; an indie model for the new music industry that knows its identity and audience, and stays in close contact with its fans.”

Stacy Earle & Mark Stuart w/ Tim Krein// The Mill // 9:00 PM // $10

We got to see Steve Earle in September and we’ll get to see his son, Justin Townes in March for the Mission Creek Festival, but tonight we are graced with the presence of Steve’s sister, Stacy and her husband, Mark. Stacy Earle and Mark Stuart married in 1993 and performed together in her brother’s backing band for a while before splitting off to pursue a musical career with just one another. The adorable duo keeps it simple with songs about life and love while following traditional American folk/blues harmonies and song structures. It  doesn’t get much more authentic than this. Opening the show will be Iowa City’s own singer/songwriter, Tim Krein.

FRIDAY

The Tanks Record Release w/ Jabberjosh, Los Voltage // Gabe’s // 9:00 // $3

It’s about time for a new Tanks release. Come to think of it, they’ve been overdue for even a live show for quite some time now. Breathe easy, my friends, for The Tanks have a fresh batch of tracks for y’all on Friday. The Tanks might like you to believe that they’re all about screwing around, which may generally be true, but there’s nothing screwy about the musical talents of bassist, Adam Luksetich, drummer, Joe Ross, and presence/lyricism by singer, Kevin Koppes. Fellow local rockers, Jabberjosh and Los Voltage open. A more in depth preview of the show here.

Anna Vogelzang w/ Douglas Kramer Nye, Rachel Marie // The Mill // 9:00 // $6

I found myself at Anna Vogelzang’s show at The Mill in October. Having never hear her music before the show, I threw my name into the raffle she was having for her latest album, Canary in a Coal Mine because, why not, right? Well her performance was fantastic and I ended up winning that CD. After making me promise not to pirate it (the album doesn’t even officially release until 2/28), she sent me on my way and it’s been in steady rotation ever since. If that all means nothing to you, consider going to see the Madison-based, Carnegie Mellon-trained songstress because of her eloquently crafted songs that range from incredibly heartfelt to covers of pop songs. And who knows, you might win something along the way. Local solo acts Douglass Kramer Nye and Rachel Marie open.

SATURDAY

Archie Powell & the Exports w/ Morning Exit // Gabe’s // 10:00 PM // $5

Chicago’s Archie Powell graduated college with an art degree and was subsequently left jobless and debt-ridden. As it turns out, the angst of being a poor 20-something makes for a good jumping off point when writing a pop-rock record and that’s exactly what he and his band, “The Exports” did. With a superb sensibility for rock song arrangement and lyricism, their tunes are short, witty and polished. One article likens Archie to Elvis Costello, and I can’t say I disagree. With song titles like, “Piggy Bank Blues”, “Loose Change” and “All Tuckered Out” their 2010 debut, Skip Work is an anthem for young folks who might be down on their luck at the moment. Iowa City pop-punk group, Morning Exit open.

The Tree of Life // Englert // 8:00 PM // $5 adv., $8 Day of

Terrence Malick’s 2011 drama, The Tree of Life has garnered some serious critical acclaim, most notably the Palme d’Or at last year’s Cannes Film Festival. The story follows the life of Jack, whose journey leads him to a mission of  reconnecting with his father all while challenging faith and confronting life’s biggest questions. The film is artistic and even a tad experimental at times. Starring Brad Pitt, Sean Penn and Jessica Chastain.

And don’t forget to get down with some college, drinkin’ and women with Asher Roth on Sunday. If that’s your thing, word, but I’ll let you figure out those deets.

Have a good one,

~LV

Do you have an event that you want to see here? Email dates and details to Weekender@LittleVillageMag.com

Have nothing planned between Valentine’s Day and Sunday Feb. 19, the night of WWE’s Elimination Chamber pay-per-view? And were you just planning on spending Valentine’s Day home alone anyway, eating a quart of Blue Bunny and watching Maximum Overdrive? And do you like headbanging?

Local bass/drum/vocal power trio The Tanks have been around town since 2004, playing rhythmic, loud, riff-heavy rock that’s reminiscent of a lot of heavy indie rock from the late-‘80s/early-‘90s (e.g., KARP, Unsane or Jesus Lizard). They’re too heavy for the epicene indie-rock blog circuit, and too into pro sports and WWE for the experimental/noise crowd (in the liner notes of their previous album, 2008’s Keep Breaking Down, they included the first names of all the WWE McMahon family in the “thank you” section).

The Tanks are definitely having fun. Singer Kevin Koppes has done at least one show in character as a Slavic physical fitness enthusiast, and used to regularly dress like a bear. But that silliness is buttressed by his thoughtful lyrics and some serious-as-shit musicianship from bassist Adam Luksetich and drummer Joe Ross. Like the gifted class clown/slacker from high school, you sometimes wonder if The Tanks put up a silly front in order to distract people from realizing how smart, talented and well-honed they are.

They’ve been doing what they do for a long time and doing it really well. A new Tanks release comes about as often as a cicada cycle, and they’re careful not to overplay locally. So go to Gabe’s, jump around, have fun and buy their new LP. In support are the excellent local punk group Los Voltage, and Jabberjosh. This will be more awesome than whatever else you had planned for Friday, Feb. 17.

For more:

Johnson for State House

Direct Link: American Reason on KRUI: February 12, 2012

Subscribe: iTunes

Kevin O'Connor and Lisa Molinaro of Talkdemonic, photo by Ben Moon

There is something eerie and compelling about wandering through ruins when the
day turns gray and the earth is still. This is the feeling you get upon the first listen of
Talkdemonic’s newest LP, ‘Ruins’-an amazing concoction of synthesized and acoustic
sounds, melodic viola, and fluttering melodies. Ruins, the fourth album from Talkdemonic
finds the band in peak form. Having honed their craft for nearly a decade, it compiles
everything they’ve learned and the result is a darker, more refined album than those
previous.

Since forming in 2002, Kevin O’Connor expanded his membership to Lisa Molinaro, whose
novel approach to the viola, incorporates an arsenal of processing pedals and creates large
walls of orchestration. In collaboration with O’Connor’s synthesizers, drums and ability to
play a host of instruments, Talkdemonic has been able to expertly craft sonic soundscapes.
Talkdemonic’s music is characterized by drawn-out crescendos and diminuendos, and
depends on the lyricism of the instruments.

Coining the term, folktronic hop, Talkdemonic has taken O’Connor’s obsession with
instrumental hip-hop and electronic music to new heights. Shortly after their first
release, Mutiny Sunshine, they were named Williamette Week’s best new band of 2005, and
this album has been lauded a classic amongst their fans. Their sophomore album Beat
Romantic thrust them into the indie spotlight and in 2008, they came back and released
Eyes At Half Mast, a haunting album that utilizes lush synth layers and groovy drum beats.

Talkdemonic has toured several times nationally and has opened for The National, Clap
your Hands Say Yeah, and Modest Mouse. They will be playing the Englert Theatre
Wednesday, February 15, 2012 at 8pm, with supporting act and local favorite Skye
Carrasco.

First off, there are no good cab stories.

“I know that’s bullshit. Tell me what’s the weirdest thing that’s ever happened in here.”

“First tell me where you’re going.”

Everybody’s curious, especially this guy.

“Tell me the weirdest. I can take it.”

I was in court earlier this week pressing assault charges on a fellow citizen and the responding officer pulled me aside: “Jesus H. Christ, did you get a look at her bar?”

The cop was referring to a bar unit built into the garage of the defendant’s home, the whole of it veneered in white Formica and matched with white barstools, the floor decorated with mannequins clad in shining black leather. A sex swing hung from the rafters. I had hauled said defendant home many times previous to the altercation bringing us to court. Too hammered to use the front door, she carried the garage opener in her purse. So yeah, I’ve seen the bar. This is perhaps why I’m playing Peaches on the pleasure-radio tonight.

But try relating any of this to the kid who wants to know, so drunk already he’d practically fallen into the backseat, his eyes shining, his maw sucking in the drool to declare, “You know some fucked up shit. Out with it, c’mon.”

In an unrelated inquiry, my dispatcher called me to the taxi shack where a reporter was waiting. Let’s call him Skip.

“Talk to this guy,” orders dispatch. “He’s writing a story about us.”

So I talk to Skip. He’s writing for Little Village and wants an inside feel for taxi work. I drive us around downtown, we follow the One-Ways, we squirrel through shortcuts. I introduce Skip to fares as a driver in training, alternately as my life-partner. Skip doesn’t see how these intros play into my tips.

“I’m all wrong for this,” he says at once. “Maybe you ought to write this story.”

You go to hell, I tell him. Really.

He presses me, I decline. I make him buy pitchers as we argue it out. I say he could write it all with the letter D: “It’s all disagreements, drama, dereliction, drunks, drugs, drop-outs…dope-fiends….”

As I struggle for another word, Skippy gets helpful: “Dildos?”

“Dull. Dreary. Dead issue. Don’t even ask. There’s nothing to see here.”

Not unless you’re getting paid for it, of course.

Aye, the rub: The angles that amuse most fares glare as pedestrian for most cabdrivers. In other words, people mostly want to hear about lesbos making out, or pukers or what kind of creepy shit goes on. They want to hear the worst about themselves.

Cabdrivers, on the other hand, share stories about tricks of the trade and basic survival tactics, aspects that don’t have truck for most people. Not unless you are a hooker or a mercenary.

True example: I once got choked by a passenger sitting behind me. He and his pal had climbed out from under their bridge, grizzled white boys high on crystal meth, “How are ye, pal?” as he reaches around the headrest to pat my shoulder, this same hand then latching on my windpipe, and this while I’m piloting traffic.

You’d be pissed too, guaranteed. You’d stomp the brake and break his choke-hold and twist around in the seat so fast, swinging your Maglite and hoping to crush his skull like a fucking piñata.

And there you go. Most would say the action is all the bad-ass hand-to-hand combat.

“But did you get paid?”

That’s the bottom line for cabdrivers. The real hand-to-hand occurs when you get paid. Twelve hours, no hourly wage and what you take home is a 60/40 split with the boss. Or even less. So always get paid, even if it means checking your swing.

The drunk kid still wants to know, “C’mon, biatch.”

Likewise, always gauge your clientele. You might not be able to tell right off but the evidence is everywhere, like fingerprints. How drunk? How stoned? A notion of other filters comes with a feeling, like the whiff of a peculiar fragrance. Are they huggy? Frothing in rage? How weird is the shit coming out of their head? Is oil paint dabbed around their muzzle? Know the animal because everything depends on it.

“I know you want to tell me, braugh.”

I’ve gotten the sense this one will dodge on the fare so I ask for my cash two blocks from the drop. He lazes into a classic stall, fishing pockets and coming up empty. He had a plan in mind to what brought him here, to this moment.

I’m rolling into a stop when he tosses the trash in my face and without further warning opens the door to bail from the cab, yelling most of the syllables of “Geronimo, motherfucker!” before face-planting in the parking lot.

Then he scrambles off like a deer.

Let’s look at what he’s left: Cocktail napkins, tobacco cellophane, a number in a matchbook, an empty mini-Ziploc of what appears to be a finely grained white powder, an outsized condom.

But even before he’d left the vehicle I saw the fold of cash, choking down the voice inside wanting to cry out to him, to call him back into the fold. I count it out and find he’s left me $106. It’s sweaty from being in his pocket, shoved in there with the trash, forgotten.

So I got paid. Nothing to write home about.

Skip is nevertheless impressed when we meet in the blue ramp across from the cop shop where he makes good on his delivery of a pound of fresh okra.

“So we’re good?” he asks needlessly. “You’re going to write this thing?”

Always have a price and you’ll never pay with your life.

Then it’s good night, get the fuck out, and back to the business-radio for the what’s next. Clear #202, headed back downtown.

Vic Pasternak has made your food, poured you drinks and driven you home. If he’s cranky, you probably deserve it. Or maybe not.

In first grade, during bathroom break his friend had pushed him while he was going. A warm and darkening flow crossed his pants before his balance was corrected. Hilarious for all concerned. The shame like coals upon his heart. Though water might wash off the pee, it makes everything look worse. Emerging last into the long cold hall where all were waiting, he saw with terror that they could see him plainly. But now, not a peep from anyone, not a titter or a sneer. Pure quiet–a round silence in their mouths like candy. Back in class, the wetness chapped and stung him while it dried. For the next few hours he could have flung himself into black holes, volcanoes or a deep sea chasm’s crushing pit. For the next few weeks he was timid, locked the bathroom’s stall behind him, only spoke kind words. And then it was like it never happened, a stain one hundred generations old and far behind, chased off by circling days and nights of sun and moon. The casual cruelties of his age returned; he would as soon tease or push as run or laugh. His moments were so full he could not count them.

Days and years sped up as he got older, as if he built immunity to time, a tolerance for life’s strong drug. When he was in middle school, he kissed a girl for the first time–in a graveyard near the boy-girl party they had left–and bit her lip by accident. He did not care. They walked back and did not say a word, she with a splotch of red upon her mouth, he with the taste of iron on his tongue, flavor of wrought fences and their rust.

In high school he played football just to get the violence out. Crunch of pad and helmet. Ringing head and appetite. And then there was desire. What was he made for but these girls? All day he watched them, their hair and smiles. Distracted up and down, always jilted or afire.

His first time was in a dingy van parked in his parents’ driveway. Moldy carpet, cracked fake leather. The girl was as unimpressed as he was and he took comfort in this. She was just another soul like his, balled up and scrunched into its fitted skin beside him. The windows misted up with condensation, the wetness from their bodies flown to fog. That part was like movies. They left their handprints in the damp before they left, ten fingers his and hers upon the windows streaked with drops of rain that they had made, traces of their entrapped breath.

Outside, there was no one. He walked the girl home, a couple blocks of strolling without talking. The night was cool and empty, streetlamps blotting out the stars. At that very moment, her smooth hand and pulse inside his palm, he felt himself to be finishing his teenage years, cusping toward the fullness that would hold his name until decline. All of it was there, rolled up before him. He’d heard adults talk about their youth, memories softly blurred and tinged with brightness, glittered-up like ornaments or things for sale. The future would be no more difficult than what he’d lived already. The strongest thing we learn is our forgetting. He let her go and watched her take the steps up to her door. And then he turned around into the night.

Direct Link: American Reason Web Exclusive: February 10,2012

Korla Pandit

Korla Pandit’s Adventures in Music was the first all-music show on television and it was an instant hit after debuting in 1948, airing five days a week for over 900 episodes. TV Guide named it the “Best Show” in Los Angeles, Pandit won the magazine’s “Top Male Personality” honors and for the next couple decades he released over two dozen records.

Even though Pandit was silent on camera, friends joked that he couldn’t shut up in person. He loved to talk about his privileged childhood in New Delhi, where his father was a government bureaucrat and friend of Mohandas Gandhi. The musician also claimed that his mother was a French opera singer, though the truth was more mundane: Pandit was actually a black man from the Midwest. “He was light-skinned, about the color of General Colin Powell,” said Stan Freberg, who worked with him at KTLA. “To tell you the truth, I think Korla Pandit invented himself.”

Pandit was born in 1921 as John Roland Redd, a native of St. Louis who began his radio career at a CBS affiliate in Iowa. In the late-1930s he followed several of his sisters out to Southern California, where he worked as a staff musician on network radio shows. Redd first took the name Juan Rolando and performed everything from country and western to big-band jazz. Then, in 1948, he dropped his Mexican identity for something more unique, changing his name to Korla Pandit. That year he recorded “Stampede” with Roy Rogers and Sons of the Pioneers, who dubbed him “Cactus Pandit” (it was surely the first—and last?—time an African-American man passing as turban-clad Indian ever played on a country record).

Korla’s beautiful blonde wife Beryl Pandit was instrumental in crafting his persona: a TV swami with hypnotic musical powers. The former Disney Studios airbrush artist designed the sets, worked with lighting technicians and costumed her husband. Outside of the television studio, he remained a seasoned jazz musician who occasionally sat in on jam sessions with his idol Art Tatum, who took a liking to the organist. But when playing as Korla Pandit, he stripped any trace of African-American musical styles from his repertoire to deflect unwanted scrutiny into his background. He died in 1998 having never told his two sons, Shari and Koram, the truth about his past.

Korla Pandit remained silent on camera in part because his Indian accent didn’t really pass muster, nor did his outfit. Hindus typically didn’t wear turbans—those were Sikhs, and they didn’t put jewels in their headdress—but most Americans were not particularly attuned to these distinctions. He complemented his foreign headgear with a coat and tie, personifying the post-war stereotype of an Indian: a blend of mystical and modern. Pandit believed in music’s potential to communicate across racial lines, but this utopian impulse was undermined by colonialist clichés. Adventures in Music presented Pandit as an unspeaking “Other” placed on display for the voyeuristic pleasure of Western eyes. He subverted these ideological constraints to a certain extent by staring back at the viewer, sometimes looking into the camera for minutes at a time without blinking.

An entire program with no talking and only organ music surely would not fly today, but the rules of television were still up for grabs back then. No one really knew what TV was supposed to be. KTLA’s eclecticism can also be explained by the fact that it was an independent broadcaster, which gave it a flexibility its larger network competitors lacked. Shows were live, rough around the edges and offered a dizzying variety of entertainment. Music was popular, and the station’s biggest shows included Liberace, Harry Owens and His Royal Hawaiians and Ina Ray Hutton and Her All-Girl Orchestra.

There were also cooking programs, puppet theater, a variety show on ice and a strange comedy named Yer Ole Buddy, where a flustered man tried to explain the machinations of a television studio to curious viewers. Oddest of all was KTLA’s decision to broadcast an atomic explosion live from Nevada. “All this was done without any advance publicity,” said Johnny Polich, who worked at the station. “Thirty seconds before the blast, we cut the food show off the air and just went on.” That must have made for some jarring viewing!

Early television created a semi-anarchic opening for pop-culture trickster figures to slip through the door and shape this new medium in their own image. With enough luck, and pluck, border crossing outsiders could become insiders. This gave a Jim Crow-era black man access to the nation’s airwaves, enabling Korla Pandit to broadcast from an alternate universe located within his own imagination. “To have seen him on television,” biographer R.J. Smith noted in The Great Black Way, “was to inhabit a perfumed realm.”

Room for improvement: West Branch children are often seen using the vehicle portion of the College St. Bridge on their way to school.

Where the sidewalk ends is, apparently, in West Branch.

At least for now. In the meantime, the seemingly innocuous issue of sidewalk improvement has become the most contentious issue in West Branch politics.

In December the West Branch city council voted against beginning construction on five new sidewalks, despite a $250,000 grant awarded to the city from the state’s Safe Routes to Schools initiative.

All it takes is a look at the grant’s target areas to see the necessity of the safety measures. A wide gravel road leads from Orange Street to the middle school, but there is no delineation between the areas reserved for pedestrians and those for vehicular traffic. A worn-down trail reminiscent of Frost’s road less travelled is the only pedestrian connection between the neighborhoods of Greenview Circle and Bickford Drive and the rest of West Branch. Poplar Street experiences a heavy traffic volume, particularly during school hours, but there is no sidewalk. According to residents, school children often walk on the automobile portion of the College Street Bridge.

So why did the city vote down the grant?

Bears Crossing: The West Branch City Council raised eyebrows when it voted down funding for sidewalks.

“To turn down money from the state, especially in an economy like this, makes no sense to me,” Embree said.

The issue is not dead yet: The city has until Jan. 1, 2013 to show proof of forward progress before it risks losing the grant money. Those who currently oppose the project cite the long time-frame and the need to research other options.

Just because the city’s been given the money, doesn’t mean it should take it, even for a worthwhile project, said Councilman Dan O’Nil, who voted “no” to moving ahead with the project.

“No one is against the sidewalks. We need the sidewalks, and it’s awesome that we got this money,” O’Neil said. “We aren’t saying to the state, ‘we don’t want your money.’ We’re saying that we need more information before we can make a decision.”

The real issue, according to O’Neil, is whether the city can afford the project if its costs exceed the $250,000 grant allotment. In a recent op-ed in the West Branch Times, O’Neil states that the city engineer estimates total costs will exceed the grant by as much as $140,000. In addition, before the city can seek bids, the council must approve spending $40,000 on an engineering firm to review the project.

“If money was no object every street in town would be perfect, but you have to live within your means,” O’Neil said. “I don’t want to do something that puts us behind or puts us into debt.”

Other municipalities in Iowa that have received grants from Safe Routes have completed their projects at or under budget, including Mechanicsville ($240,105); Dexter ($241,507); Marshalltown Community School District ($150,000); New London ($145,500); Howard County ($250,000); Perry ($169,588).

City Administrator Matt Muckler said he has been researching alternative options to the grant’s plan. One option, suggested by O’Neil, is to prioritize the routes and do them in stages. The city’s engineer estimated the city could complete the Poplar Street and middle school routes and the sidewalk from Orange Street to Crestview for $48,545. The proposal also includes repairs to the College Street Bridge.

If West Branch does indeed reject the funding it will become the latest governmental body to decline state or federal money to fund a local project. The governors of Wisconsin and New Jersey and city officials in Troy, Mich., all rejected federal stimulus funding for transportation-related projects in their jurisdictions last year, in what some call a trend toward Tea-Party ideals.

The council meetings held to discuss the sidewalks project have been tumultuous.

Embree said the meetings have been particularly unfriendly to women who come before the until-recently all-male council (Jordan Ellyson was recently seated as a new council member, but she has yet to say which side of the issue she falls on).

“If this proposal had been brought forth by a bunch of men who are part of the boys’ club—instead of young families who are new to West Branch—would the response have been more favorable? I don’t know.” Embree said. “You hate to think that this has something to do with it but you can’t help but wonder.”

During the Dec. 22 meeting, Councilman Mark Worrell told Councilman David Johnson, Embree’s husband and a supporter of the grant, to “shut up” when he spoke in favor of the project because he would no longer be on the council when the vote came up again.

“The fact that my wife was the person spearheading this effort may have tainted not only the council’s feeling on this matter but also the City Administrator’s. I have often found myself in the minority on council votes, and have made no bones about articulating to the public the errors the council has made,” Johnson said. “Suffice it to say, there was a lot of animosity in the city government towards me.”

O’Neil conceded that some meetings have gotten “out of hand” but that he doesn’t feel gender has played a role in the council’s decision.

“There have been instances where emotions have run high and things have been said that were uncalled for,” O’Neil said. “We’ve taken measures to ensure that those outbursts won’t happen again. We want our meetings to feel open and welcoming to men and women, regardless of their stance on an issue.”

On Jan. 20, the city council passed a revised “Council Code of Ethics and Code of Conduct.” One controversial proposed item, which was dropped from the final code for legal reasons, would have forbid recording devices at council meetings without prior permission.

Muckler said emotions have run high regarding this issue because residents wanted but did not receive immediate action from the council.

“Everyone wants kids to be able to travel safely to school,” Muckler said. “We’ve been working very hard for a very long time to try and make sure that this project is done the right way.”

Until a decision is made residents are hoping that December’s vote by the council is not just the latest in a series of road blocks that have been plaguing sidewalk improvement plans in West Branch for more than two decades.

“We have kids walking on a dirt path to get to school,” Embree said. “It’s crazy. It’s the epitome of poor planning.”

THURSDAY

Iowa Opera House Project ft. Sam Knutson // Englert // 8:00 PM // $10

The Iowa Opera House Project, which showcases Iowa singer/songwriters performing in historic theaters and opera houses, visits the Englert tonight and features Iowa City musical staple, Sam Knutson. You know Mr. Knutson from his lauded rock band, Shame Train and you’ve likely seen him running the sound board at The Mill. Knutson is currently working on a new record and is performing his songs sans backing band. This event will also be filed under the Intimate at the Englert series, a project in which the artist and the limited audience (75-100 people) share the stage, creating a, well, super intimate experience. John Waite will open the show.

Soul Dance Party // Gabe’s// 10:00 PM // FREE

I am aware that I am writing about the soul dance parties quite frequently here, but that’s just because they’re super fun. There is also a part of me that wants to relive the madness that occurred on Thursday nights at the Picador. I feel like the recent push for free Thursday night dancing is capable of capturing that very spirit. Four DJs will be spinning all vinyl from funk to soul to R&B. You down to get down? Get to Gabe’s.

colLAB: The Prequel & Small Businesses Have Big Hearts KICKOFF // RSVP // 5:30 PM // Donations

This event just popped up on my Facebook feed late last night. It’s too cool not to cover, but I have a deadline to meet, so maybe you ought to just check out the event page. For the lazy:

Join local poets, artists, and filmmakers (collaborating towards an exhibition at PS1 in April) for a semi-impromptu reading/event [TONIGHT] at 5:30 at r.s.v.p.!

But wait! There’s more: This event is part of the third annual “Small Businesses Have Big Hearts” campaign. Small businesses (like r.s.v.p.) across Downtown Iowa City will be offering in-store specials to patrons who make a cash donation beginning February 8th and concluding on February 18th. All donations will support the “Make Change with Your Change” parking meter donation program which supports local social service agencies. Over the past two years, Small Businesses Have Big Hearts has raised more than $4,000 for charitable causes. Participating downtown businesses will remain open until 8:00 p.m. on Thursday, February 9th to help kick off the 2012 campaign.

FRIDAY

Iowa City Pride: Music Showcase // 7:00 // $7-∞ (Give what you can)

The Iowa City Pride Committee will hold a showcase of local musicians in support of this year’s Pride festival. The cause is great and the talent ain’t bad either (it freakin’ rules). Here’s the lineup:

• Songbird Bethann
• Skye Carrasco
• Nic Arp & Trio
• Natalie Brown
• Organic Underground

Cover is $7, but go ahead and give as much as you’d like. It all goes to the cause, as does a portion of food and drink sales.
Cop Bar, Los Voltage, The Mighty Accelerator, Fetal Pig, 100 Degrees Centipede // Gabe’s // 9:00 PM // $5

Sam Locke Ward and his band, Cop Bar are going at it again with their brand of spastic thrash metal alongside four other heavy hitting acts. Cop Bar released their album, No Justice Just Law in October and it’s everything that’s right with hardcore music. 25% of the album art is a handwritten advertisement, “20 SONGS 20 MINUTES $3!!!WHAT A DEAL” and the album itself is a reminder that a song really doesn’t have to be any more than 16 seconds long. I would also like to mention that just yesterday Los Voltage packed the house down at Public Space One for Little Village Live and they totally killed it. The Mighty Accelerator, Fetal Pig and 100 Degrees Centipede also gather from around the state of Iowa to make some noise.

SATURDAY

Split Lip Rayfield w/ Head for the Hills // Yacht Club // 9:00 PM // $10

With song titles like “How Many Biscuits Can You Eat?”, “Drink Lotsa Whiskey” and “Redneck Tailgate Dream” you know that Split Lip Rayfield is straight out of the heartland. Wichita, Kansas to be exact and they’ve been playing their quirky, fast paced bluegrass for over a decade. The trio’s instrumental arrangement includes banjo, mandolin and a home-made gas tank bass (instructions for building your own are even included in the liner notes of the latest album) and they’re all impeccably talented at their respective folk instuments. Their most recent release, I’ll Be Around (2008) is dedicated to the memory of Split Lip’s former guitar player, Kirk Rundstrom who had lost the battle against cancer just a year prior. The loss continues to resonate in their music as the band dedicates every live show to Rundstrom as well. Acclaimed Colorado pickers, Head For the Hills open.

Midnight Movie Series: Casablanca // Englert // Midnight (duh) // $3 (FREE for students)

The Midnight Movie Series at the Englert hits us with another staple in American cinema this weekend. I put off watching Casablanca for far too long, mostly because it was my mom’s favorite movie which meant it was probably totally lame. When I finally grew out of my youthful defiance, I sat down, popped in the VHS and got schooled in why this film is a classic. The 1942 film follows the story of a reunited couple attempting to run off together in a dangerous African backdrop during WWII.

SUNDAY

The Rap Guide to Evolution // Englert // 7:00 PM // FREE

Canadian rapper/playwright, Baba Brinkman began with a one man rap show about Geoffrey Chaucer’s The Canterbury Tales in 2004. The show was a success and he was subsequently commissioned to do a show about Darwin’s theory of evolution which is what he is performing on his current tour. All lyrics in the show are fact checked by scientists, but goes beyond the realm of science, covering the history of hip hop, human nature and can often get very self referential. The show is presented by Iowa City Darwin Day in collaboration with the University of Iowa Pentacrest Museums, University College, College of Liberal Arts & Sciences, University Libraries, and the Englert. For more information visit iowacitydarwinday.org.

That’s all for this week. Take ‘er easy!

~LV

Do you have an event that you want to see here? Email dates and details to Weekender@LittleVillageMag.com

In defense of funky: Nialle Sylvan entertains patrons at The Haunted Bookshop. Photo by Derek Laughlin

Carpetbaggers to Iowa City have had a bit of fun with us lately after skulking away to Michigan. Stephen Bloom, who embarrassed himself in The Atlantic’s formerly admirable online presence, and Nila Haug, who sources tell me was something of a grumpy slumlord, each left our fair city with a steaming pile of thanks on the doorstep after heading off to the land of malaria, blight and the Nuge.

Confidential to Bloom: We don’t mind Iowa jokes—Raygun’s even made money on them. We don’t, however, like bad work.

Like Bloom, Haug also lived here for 20 years, in her case following a move from South Bend, Ind. Indiana must’ve been good to her—she bought a few rental properties upon arrival before starting the Golden Haug on Washington Street—but Iowa City was better: Haug and hubby Denny Nowotny owned much of the 500 block of Washington by the time they sold out to a developer and ducked off to Michigan late last year. The developer plans to demolish the existing structures and build a mixed residential/commercial space. According to a Jan. 5 Press-Citizen article, Haug “didn’t know about the plans for the new building at the time, but said she’s excited about the proposed development, which she said she thinks will revitalize the neighborhood.”

When you own most of the property in a neighborhood and leave it in need of revitalization, that’s evidence enough of bad stewardship. When you sell that property without any idea as to what will be done with it, and endorse its new owner’s plans for it in retrospect, that’s just shittiness.

Much of which was in evidence during a 2005 zoning commission meeting devoted to the status of several blocks, including Haug’s. The commission was to decide whether to rezone the parallel 500 blocks of College and Washington Streets as “MU,” or lower-density mixed-use (which would diminish the extent to which commercial value was placed on property assessments, and therefore threaten to diminish property values), or to retain it as CB2 (mixed-use with allowances for larger structures). Haug spoke in favor of retaining the contemporary designation because a change might lower her property’s value if she wanted to sell it. Nowotny offered a bizarre ramble to the same effect. Even the executive director of Community Mental Health Center for Mid-Eastern Iowa promoted, however faux-apologetically, the same line.

The only resident who spoke in favor of the lower-density designation just happened to be the only one who held no commercial interest in the neighborhood; she spoke movingly of the benefits of fostering cottage industries in a neighborhood that represented a transition between downtown and the residential areas to the east. And was ignored. Everyone else who spoke at the meeting, aside from the CMHC director, has since sold their properties to developers.

Among the displaced following Haug’s sale, you might have heard, is The Red Avocado, founded in 1999. Among the concerned citizens who spoke up at the 2005 zoning commission meeting was no one representing The Red Avocado, whose owners have sighed along with those protesting the building’s demolition, but haven’t said much regarding the restaurant’s future.

Businesses lose their leases all the time, but it doesn’t mean they have to stop serving their customers. They can take their brand into grocery stores and when opportunity knocks, they can relocate and make a go of it once again. Take the case of the brothers who own the newly opened Giardiniera on S. Gilbert. They’re the same gang who owned Terrapin Coffee in Coralville before the flood took them out. Their business was barely accessible to customer traffic and was bracketed by dry ground, on which two coffee shops were doing all right. So they sold the shop but retained the name, focusing for a while on distribution rather than retail. A few years later, they’re back, this time as the owners of the most painstakingly epicurean Chicago sandwich joint I’ve ever enjoyed.

The Red Avocado occupied a terrific location and a warm spot in the hearts of some Iowa Citians. If its owners are interested in continuing their service to the community and honing their craft at a new location, that’s great. But sanctimony isn’t a saleable commodity, even in Iowa City, and it’s not a solid foundation on which to mount a pushback against our town’s increasing suburbanization.

Speaking of Pushback

It was a busy stretch for The Haunted Bookshop’s Nialle Sylvan, who organized a petition to save The Red Avocado’s current location. She also spearheaded a recent effort to keep Jesse Allen—whose Allen Homes bought much of the 500 block of Washington from Nila Haug—from building a mixed-use commercial/apartment building near her store on the Northside. Good on her for asserting her right as a neighborhood stalwart to influence the nature of future development there. And good on Allen for stepping back when the neighborhood raised its voice.

DTA is Dead, Long live the SSMID?

Back to Washington Street. After the 2005 meeting when the city declined to rezone the neighborhood, it remained officially a part of downtown, which might invite its future commercial tenants to join the Self-Supported Municipal Improvement District, or SSMID, recently approved by the city council.

The SSMID will assess a 5% surtax on all downtown commercial property and use the proceeds to hire and support a downtown business development manager. Though it’s been in the works for a year, two things already threaten the SSMID’s fortunes.

On the legal front, property tax reform could smack the SSMID. The SSMID’s leadership figured that a 5% surtax would be enough to generate nearly $300,000 for its budget. Terry Branstad’s recently announced property-tax reform initiative could trim more than $120,000 from that total, leaving the SSMID to scramble for a Plan B.

Internally, there’s dissension in the ranks. The SSMID barely made it this far: a petition to kill the idea earned the signatures of 24.5% of downtown business owners representing 19.5% of downtown commercial property values; at 25% and 20%, respectively, it would have succeeded.

The organization’s board originally declined to include a single bar owner. A late decision to add two seats for liquor-license holders didn’t do much to smooth things over—Short’s and Stella Co-owner Kevin Perez announced plans in the Jan. 10 Press-Citizen to form his own group representing bars and restaurants. Two more seats would bring the board up to 26 members, seven more than the 19 authorized by the city.

Downtown Iowa City’s commercial fortunes changed when Coralville erupted. It’s worth remembering that Coralville once tried to compete with Iowa City on I.C.’s terms. But “Just Can’t Hide That Coralville Pride” has given way to “Fuck You, We’ve Got a Mall and We’re Taking Your Stores.” For which Iowa City hasn’t had a ready answer. It’s up to the SSMIDites to come up with a similarly compelling unanswerable, or all the special taxes and fancy plans in the world won’t save downtown.

Ironically, a beer once brewed by celibate monks is an ideal beer for Valentines Day: Maredsous Brune 8.

Though it is now contract-brewed by Duvel, Maredsous Brune 8 is still a showcase of Benedictine abstinence. It is a dubbel that can be served in a tulip glass or chalice. The color is very deep brown. Three fingers of slightly tinted, thick head will settle to a thin lacing. It smells a little wine-like, but thankfully it is all beer with scents of yeast, caramel, toffee, fig, plum, apple, red grapes, brown sugar, spice and molasses. The taste is surprisingly dark and roasted with flavors of caramel, toffee, brown sugar and molasses. An earthy hop bite lingers on the cheeks and tongue after each sip and black pepper spice eventually emerges. The dark fruits, especially the red grape flavor, sneak in as the beer warms, but they are not as prominent as they are in the smell.

As excellent as it is, Maredsous Brune 8 has one downside: It can be really hard to find. So a very worthy (and widely available) substitute is Ommegang Abbey Ale. A dubbel brewed in Cooperstown, New York by Brewery Ommegang, it is ruddy, dark caramel brown and offers scents of caramel, toffee, a little chocolate, fig, plum, Granny Smith apple and a touch of molasses, all of which are tinged with an inviting brandy booziness. For the taste, the sweet fruits take a backseat to caramel, toffee, fig, plum, yeast and the brandy sharpness.

The catharsis of remembering can only slightly soothe our collective dismay that this landmark has been reduced to the rubble-pile after 12 years in business. But in spite of our feelings of loss, it is well worth acknowledging all that Owners Dave Burt, Katy Meyer and Rachael Langin have given to the Slow Food, locavore, vegan and vegetarian communities throughout the years.

There is a time for every purpose … and for the three owners of The Red Avocado, the purpose arising from these ashes is the continuation of a movement they helped found.

“I feel like Slow Food will continue to gain support over the next few years. It is just one of those things that makes too much sense,” says Rachael Langin, co-owner and pastry chef. Although she’s uncertain of her immediate plans for the future, she’s glad to have had the chance to work in local, sustainable, organic food.

For Co-owner David Burt, who was among three original founders of The Red Avocado, education is the logical next step in his career as keeper of the local food flame. “Cooking classes have been more and more popular, and I will be building on that,” he says. He also hopes to become more involved in local schools and to start an educational blog where friends and fans can learn about the monthly farm dinners he plans to host, the veggie burgers he distributes to local grocers and the continuation of The Red Avocado’s weekly meal plans.

Co-owner Katy Meyer hopes to open another vegan restaurant in Iowa City, which is good news for all who’ve tasted her incredible dishes. “I’m most proud of the work I’ve done utilizing our local food chain,” she says, “Building relationships with amazing local growers, purchasing their products, and then creating meals on a daily basis using their beautiful food and sharing my creations with our customers, with whom I’ve also formed cherished connections.” She hopes to continue to grow these relationships in her future endeavors.

For most diners at The Red Avocado, be they vegan, vegetarian or omnivore, the main attraction was the fabulous food. Diners could feel the chef’s appreciation for fresh local ingredients in the way they coaxed each flavor to peak performance; in their kitchen even the humble turnip could be elevated to a queen’s status–each earthy, bittersweet note played in full.

It is the place where my palate officially grew up, the beginning of my education in food. Not only did The Red Avocado celebrate the local, they promoted organic, sustainable agriculture well before it was trendy to do so. Elizabeth Cummings, local animal advocate and regular customer remarks that “for someone like me, who has compassion for all … it’s good to be able to go somewhere and have a really good meal and know that animals, farm workers and the environment weren’t harmed in any way.”

We will probably never understand the secrets of how the generations of owners and staff at The Red Avocado were able to transform a damp, cinder-block-walled basement into such a unique, inviting space. “The experience here is appropriately funky for Iowa City,” remarked customer Tom Yates on one of the Avocado’s last days. From their cramped kitchen such magic emerged–the fruits of our local farms transformed into high culinary art, each plate garnished with an elegant swirl of sauce, every sprig of cilantro carefully placed.

Their mission could have ended with the food, but they promoted the local in every possible way, from photography and pottery lining the walls to live music performances both indoors and out. They transformed a quirky basement into a community of friends and foodies. It was a place to gather, a place where your neighbors sat so close you may as well be having dinner together … and sometimes you inadvertently did.

Even through the grief and anger, as I spoke to customers on one of the restaurants final days in business, a consistent appreciation emerged for the transformative food experiences The Red Avocado has given us over the years. To Dave, Katy and Rachael, this message remains: Wherever you go, those of us who love your food, and respect your mission, will follow.

Once golden: The Golden Haug B&B is now gone. How many others will share its fate?

For the last month or so, the talk of the town has moved on from Stephen Bloom to Washington Street. By the time you read this, the houses in the 500 block of Washington Street that housed The Red Avocado restaurant, Defunct Books, and the Golden Haug Bed and Breakfast may very well be dust. Yet another multi-story apartment building with ground-floor retail space will soon arise. At deadline, Defunct Books announced they were moving to Sycamore Mall. The fate of the Red Avocado is still highly questionable.

From a personal perspective, I grieve what has been lost: 1) Old, attractive houses (technically “historic” or not being beside the point) that provide visual and aesthetic variety and an appropriate scale to the neighborhood; once these are gone, they can never be replaced. And 2) unique, locally-owned businesses offering products and services that contribute significantly to the special character of Iowa City; similar businesses will likely not occupy the new building. Iowa City staked at least some of its reputation as a UNESCO City of Literature on its wonderful bookstores. One of those is now gone from the downtown area. Our community is arguably “ground zero” for local, organic foods in the state of Iowa and even the Midwest. One of the major contributors to that status may never open again, anywhere.

Rising out of the discussion is a sense among many Iowa Citians that this kind of development is going too far. There are also many voices on the other side of the debate, including the former owner of the Washington Street properties, asserting that this is the kind of development that Iowa City needs. I am of the former camp.

Bitter goodbyes: Unhappy residents make their mark on the 500 block of Washington.

The College Green area to the east of Red Avocado/Defunct Books is more mixed-used in its zoning and does enjoy some historic, neighborhood stabilization and conservation district protections. However, as the current controversy over the proposed apartment building development on the former Agudas Achim synagogue site illustrates, zoning changes often seem to be easier than some would think, and the “protections” of special districts only hold so much teeth.

Who's Next? The United Action for Youth building (410 Iowa Avenue) is zoned CB5.

Some might say, a building here, a building there, what’s the difference? But do a mental inventory. Off the top of my head, I can list the loss in recent years of Eastlawn, the original Cottage cottage, and an older commercial building for the Tower Place parking ramp; the old house (one of the oldest in Iowa City) behind the Burlington and Gilbert Kum & Go for a Papa John’s Pizza/apartment building; the Vogel house for the Vogel House apartment building; and of course the recent fire loss of the Bruegger’s building and the Van Patten House. Go back further and remember—or look up—what formerly stood where the monstrous Old Capitol Mall brown brick box sits, where the US Bank parking lot provides not even a shadow of the old City Hall, where the blank Plaza Center One stands stonily silent instead of the truly odd Odd Fellows Hall, where the unfortunate Sheraton building wasn’t even able to afford its planned brick façade. It’s hard to argue with a fire, and arguments abound that some of the old buildings we’ve razed were beyond repair. Still, add the historical heritage, character and architectural variety we’ve lost in recent years to what’s been lost in decades past, and we’re getting closer to a civic heritage death by a thousand cuts than one might think.

It seems we’re becoming aware of how truly fragile the character of the near-downtown area is. So what do we do about it? As many have said lately, raising our voices towards the city to address and strengthen zoning is very important. But ultimately, whatever conversation—or conflict—that we have will be about values, and those can be even more difficult issues to resolve. Even above and beyond the values struggle between modernization and historic preservation, between maximizing public revenue/private profit and maximizing community character, and between expansion and preserving smaller scale, the values that overlay everything are the values of community—who and what we are to be as a people and what we decide to share in common. And that’s what I’ll pick up on next month.

Direct Link: American Reason on KRUI: February 5, 2012

Subscribe: iTunes

Direct Link: American Reason Web Exclusive: February 4,2012