Another Double-Take

Speaking of doppelgangers...oh no, wait, that actually is Tyson of Two Gallants (on right) appearing for his court date in Houston -- not his doppelganger, the old-time Southern lawyer. Actually sort of reminds me of when Mel Gibson played Frankenstein's evil twin with the pencil-thin mustache and effete British accent on Saturday Night Live. 'Poppycock! Of course I'm Frankenstein!"

Doppelganger

Someone named Chad Pickett from the Chicago satellite office of Haggin Marketing, my main source of income.

Neo-Hippies Lounge by the Lake

There was a time a few decades ago when San Francisco was teeming with hippies, folkies, eccentrics and exhibitionists of all stripes. You couldn't walk a block of Haight Street without catching a waft of patchouli or picking up on the beat of mini bongoes. Over the years, the numbers of this contingent have dwindled so as to be almost just a memory, but recently they seem to be cropping up all over the place once again -- as evidenced by the turnout to this past weekend's Mission Lake Project Bike Race and BBQ.

The event was an effort by local art gallery Southern Exposure and some artists/organizers to raise awareness about the natural history of the Mission District. The centerpiece of the project, a large blue line traced the border of what used to be Lago Dolores, served as the route for a bike race, interrupted by scavenger hunt-like stops at key historical and geological sites.

When I arrived for the event, there they were, thronging in the Mission Playground on Valencia and 20th.

Hippies.

Or rather neo-hippies. Dozens of them. Expressing their individuality. Some half-clothed. Some with bulky backpacks. Some with children in tow. All bemoaning the onslaught of urban development.

I had been feeling the resurgence of the hippie in the last few years what with the renewed popularity of folk music brought on by Devendra Banhart, Vetiver, Espers, Joanna Newsom and others. But never before had I gazed in the face of the neo-hippie so directly.

There were the bicyclists clad only in tightie-whities who went by the tongue-in-cheek moniker Critical Ass. There was the hulking goon of a man -- who bore a striking resemblance to the mute sidekick of General Zod in Superman II -- all done up like a pompadoured bumblebee. There were the pair of Method-acting 'real estate agents' hawking fictional lakefront property. There was music, games for the kids and BBQ.

There was also, however, a noticeable dearth of pot-related odors, but no shortage of high spirits, Merry Prankster-esque behavior and general love and concern for one's brother -- the prototypical cornerstones of hippiedom that can so easily get under the non-hippie's skin. But strangely enough, it worked. It was a good time. A tasty one-dollar cheeseburger, cold beverage and long lounge on the grass later and I felt satisfied. Dead lake or no dead lake, it had been a pretty good day.

The Hold Steady vs. Lightning Rod

If it's physically possible for an indie rock band to draw energy in on themselves, I'd wager that The Hold Steady hold the patent for the technology.

What started out a typical Tuesday evening performance at Great American Music Hall quickly became an electric night of stage diving; climbing all over equipment; pounding whiskey, wine and beer; welcoming half the audience to the stage to play instruments and dance, and finally loading their equipment, heading to the Hemlock, and closing down the joint as fights broke out on the sidewalk.

All the while, the night seem to be hurtling forward on the kinetic fuel supplied by the band. I'll admit, I'm merely a casual fan of their music. They don't fall anywhere near the top of my bands-to-see list. But by 2 a.m., I was buying into the whole deal.

In the course of four hours, we watched guitarist Tad Kubler dive into the crowd, get handed a beer by someone in the balcony as he stood atop the speaker system, and later help singer Craig Finn pull dozens of people onto the stage handing several of them guitars to play. My good friend out at the beach managed to get in a few licks before all was said and done. We then learned that the spastic energy on stage came from a laid back and down-to-earth group of guys who invited a few of us over to the Hemlock to get some drinks with them, where finally we got to break up a real knock-down, drag out fight while closing down the joint.

What more can you ask for from a night of rock 'n roll? I can think of a few things, but we'll leave those for another Tuesday. Maybe next time The Hold Steady come to town.

Well, they can't say that Two Gallants have had it easy their whole lives anymore. Having once been ridiculed by some terrible hack of a poet on Pitchfork Media as pretentious West Coast indie rockers who knew nothing of the 'enraged sheriffs' and 'luckless roustabouts' about whom they sang, the SF indie punk/folk duo gained a measure of street cred in Houston last Friday. Street cred they'd probably rather have left for someone else.

Seems an out-of-control, chip-on-shoulder law officer decided to treat a routine noise complaint more like a kick-in-the-door drug factory raid. Somewhere in the midst of getting accosted on stage for no apparent reason, taking the brunt of excessive force (including a few doses of a taser gun), being cuffed, and being thrown in jail along with several fans and friends on trumped-up charges, I have a feeling that the Gallants might have picked up a few more insights about the plight of oppressed minorities in the South. Perhaps Mr. Howe will keep that in mind if and when he reviews their next album.

But seriously. The video of the incident is evidence of what a bizarre and disturbing scene it was. One cop trying to show a whole crowd of college students and skinny, twenty-something indie rockers who was really running the show. There was the requisite defiance in the face of authority and cursing out the pigs, but that not withstanding, Officer Rodriguez had no business making like Patrick Swayze in Roadhouse and trying to take on the whole room himself. Dealing solely with management surely would have sufficed.

But he may learn that the hard way as he mistakenly tasered a fourteen-year-old boy who was at the show with his father and 12-year-old sister, something which generally doesn't go over well with the community at large, the media or the legal system for that matter. A few publications seem to buy the police department's story that the officer was in danger, but the vast majority of outlets seem to side with the band. This time the enraged sheriff might just get his due.

Publications of all stripes have picked up the story. For God's sake, even the right-wing nuts over at Free Republic seem sympathetic with the band. That can't bode well for the Houston Police Department.

Meanwhile, in what must have been a stab at ironic humor, Pitchfork followed the news of the Friday's chaos with an MP3 of Two Gallants' Las Cruces Jail.

Milton Bradley Has Game

The Bossman had a feeling before the beginning of the ALCS that Milton Bradley would figure prominently for the A's. Too bad he also didn't have a feeling that Bradley's contributions would also lead to the A's actually winning a game or two.

Bradley had a monster day yesterday. The volatile but charismatic right fielder went 4 for 5 with 2 long balls and 4 RBI. Eric Chavez also contributed a solo homer, and Mark Kotsay had a good day at the plate with three hits and two runs.

But the highlights of the game would almost all involve Bradley, who really kept the crowd in the game with his timely home runs, a fourth-inning chest thumping when the crowd saluted him upon his return to right field, long-ball jigs with Swisher and a clutch single in the bottom of the 9th. If only some of that energy could have been transferred to the Big Hurt's bat or Loaiza's psyche.

It was a rollercoaster day at the park, to be sure. Loaiza looked good out of the gate, throwing strikes, keeping his pitch count down and making fairly quick work of the Tigers lineup. But like Zito the other night, when he made a few mistakes, he couldn't hold it together and suffered what seemed like a mental collapse in the fourth.

To be fair, the A's defense was about as reliable as a PG&E technician scheduled for an afternoon appointment. D'Angelo Jimenez should really get 10% of Mark Ellis' next contract for making it so glaringly obvious how much Ellis flawless defense is worth. And even our gold Glove third baseman flubbed an admittedly tough ground ball to the gap between short and third.

And so, as we head into Game 3, the A's have failed precisely where one thought they would thrive -- defense and pitching. It's odd to see the bats cracking and the A's not coming out on top. Here's to hoping that Harden and Haren can turn that around and silence the thunderous (underground) crowd in Detroit.

MTV Turning a Corner?

MTV has shown a surprising amount of taste and foresight by inking a deal with Human Giant, a comedy team consisting of Bossman-favorite Aziz Ansari, Paul Scheer, Rob Huebel and director Jason Woliner, to create a new series for the network. Word is that the series will premiere in early 2007 and the first season will be comprised of eight half-hour episodes of short films, like those already found on their site.

Anyone who hasn't already checked out Clell Tickle: Indie Marketing Guru, Other Music or Shittiest Mixtape Boombox Blast should do so post-haste. And apparently, they have another short, called The Illusionators, coming up.

I'm hoping that the boys won't be too busy to perform at SF Sketchfest this year. The festival lineup will be announced in mid-December.