Filmmaker Abel Ferrara is the raspy-voiced, wild-haired rascal of an uncle that you wish you had -- though you’re probably glad he wasn’t around to recklessly rock your cradle in his crazed, distracted youth.
‘Hopelessly Devoted’: Gimme That Sing-Along ‘Grease’
Grease is the word -- have you heard? And now its also a Rydell High-rockin’ sing-along, courtesy of SFFS Film in the Fog, which kicks off Saturday, Sept. 26 on the Presidio Main Post Theatre Lawn with Grease, that fun-loving paean to fifties nostalgia by way of the ‘70s.
It’s always intriguing to see what three distinctive visual sensibilities might dream up in collaboration, jamming on the same page or, in this case, the same wall space. The latest collabo can be found at Park Life Gallery, which brought together Andrew Schoultz, Chris Ballantyne and Mark Mulroney, three painters with local connections, for a site-specific mural that touches on our breezy Bagdad by the Bay.
The brass blares, the bass percolates with merry abandon, and Nick Diamonds bubbles and bounces as if he’s in an indie-pop dance-party wonderland -- so goes the title track of Islands’ new Vapours (Anti-), out today and already establishing a major beachhead on my player. “It’s the bass line in your mind,” drawls Diamonds sweetly. “It’s a sexy way to cry / You know I had my share of doubts / Until I saw the vapours in your eyes.”
O what sweet, fierce music the Drones make -- children of the night, dark denizens of the valley. The Australian group fielded much acclaim for its 2006 album, Gala Mill, and now the band, led by vocalist and guitarist Gareth Liddiard and partner and bassist Fiona Kitschin, are back by the Bay. In hand is a new fourth Drones full-length, Havilah (ATP Recordings) -- a disc spilling over with spaghetti western guitar, moody musical textures, loping and stumbling rhythms and a distinctly Oz-based stark poetry. I caught up with the droll Liddiard via email this week, on the brink of the Drones’ Friday, Sept.
“Damn it! Why the hell do I live on the East Coast?? And why is this in September??” was one comment on the SF experimental-music label Root Strata’s blog, trumpeting the humble On Land Festival (Sept. 19-20 at Cafe du Nord) hailing from the outside edges of a sprawling Left Coast noise and experimental music scene.
Poor Kate Beckinsale, mired in a raging secretarial nail-biter involving swirling fields of correction fluid. All kidding aside, Whiteout kicks off promisingly enough -- imagine the cool snowstorms of potential inherent in a thriller set in the mysterious no woman’s land of Antarctica.
As the gloom lifts, so do such intriguing musical projects as Monks of Doom. You can practically sense them perking up, blinking, and crawling toward the light, ready to stretch your ears, your minds once more. The Bay Area psychedelic-prog/art rock band began life in the ‘90s as a loose but oh-so-creative side project to Camper Van Beethoven – the initial lineup included CBV guitarists Greg Lisher and Chris Molla, bassist Victor Krummenacher and drummer Chris Pedersen – and later added David Immerglück of the Ophelias and Counting Crows. After breaking up in 1998, the band re-formed in the same spirit it began -- with a 2003 album of cover songs.