Philadelphia City Paper, August 28th, 2014

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Philadelphia Ceili Group 40th Annual Traditional Irish Music & Dance Festival

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Associate Publisher Jennifer Clark Editor in Chief Lillian Swanson Senior Editor Patrick Rapa Arts & Culture Editor Mikala Jamison Digital Media Editor/Movies Editor Paulina Reso Food Editor Caroline Russock Senior Staff Writers Daniel Denvir, Emily Guendelsberger Contributors Sam Adams, Dotun Akintoye, A.D. Amorosi, Rodney Anonymous, Mary Armstrong, Meg Augustin, Bryan Bierman, Shaun Brady, Peter Burwasser, Mark Cofta, Alison Dell, Adam Erace, David Anthony Fox, Caitlin Goodman, K. Ross Hoffman, Deni Kasrel, Alli Katz, Gary M. Kramer, Drew Lazor, Gair “Dev 79” Marking, Robert McCormick, Andrew Milner, Annette Monnier, John Morrison, Michael Pelusi, Sameer Rao, Elliott Sharp, Marc Snitzer, Tom Tomorrow, John Vettese, Nikki Volpicelli, Brian Wilensky, Carolyn Wyman Editorial Interns Maggie Grabmeier, Jim Saksa, Lauren Clem, Katie Krzaczek, Indie Jimenez Production Director Michael Polimeno Senior Designer Brenna Adams Designer & Social Media Director Jenni Betz Contributing Photographers Jessica Kourkounis, Hillary Petrozziello, Maria Pouchnikova, Neal Santos, Mark Stehle Contributing Illustrators Ryan Casey, Don Haring Jr., Joel Kimmel, Cameron K. Lewis, Thomas Pitilli, Matthew Smith Human Resources Ron Scully (ext. 210) Circulation Director Mark Burkert (ext. 239) Account Managers Colette Alexandre (ext. 250), Nick Cavanaugh (ext. 260), Amanda Gambier (ext. 228), Sharon MacWilliams (ext. 262) Classified/Adult Advertising Sales Alexis Pierce (ext. 234) Editor Emeritus Bruce Schimmel founded City Paper in a Germantown storefront in November 1981. Local philanthropist Milton L. Rock purchased the paper in 1996 and published it until August 2014 when Metro US became the paper’s third owner.

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Saturday September 13, 2014 9:00 am

Philadelphia City Paper is published and distributed every Thursday in Philadelphia, Montgomery, Chester, Bucks & Delaware Counties, in South Jersey and in Northern Delaware. Philadelphia City Paper is available free of charge, limited to one copy per reader. Additional copies may be purchased from our main office at $1 per copy. No person may, without prior written permission from Philadelphia City Paper, take more than one copy of each issue. Pennsylvania law prohibits any person from inserting printed material of any kind into any newspaper without the consent of the owner or publisher. Contents copyright © 2014, Philadelphia City Paper. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced without written permission from the publisher. Philadelphia City Paper assumes no obligation (other than cancellation of charges for actual space occupied) for accidental errors in advertising, but will be glad to furnish a signed letter to the buying public.

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CP’s Quality-o-Life-o-Meter

[ + 3]

Philadelphia Theatre Company could be rescued from financial ruin by a reorganization plan proposed by Suzanne Roberts and Comcast exec David L. Cohen. The downside? From now on they’ll only be performing triple plays.

[0]

A judge rules that cash-strapped Girard College is not allowed to cease its high school and boarding programs. Well, until it actually runs out of money, rather than coming perilously close to running out of money.

[0]

The planned W and Element hotels will add 755 hotel rooms to Center City.“Good,” says the pope. “I roll with a pretty big crew.”

[-1]

So far, efforts to have Joe Frazier’s Gym on North Broad Street declared a historical landmark have been unsuccessful. Sorry, Joe. We like our legendary boxers fictional.

[ - 2]

NBC-10 warns about web-based rumors of a “Philadelphia Purge” — a night of murder and mayhem — inspired by the horror movie series. Not to be outdone, CBS-3 does a story about the dangers of adolescent tortoises with martial-arts skills menacing the city.

[ 4] -

A caption in the Philadelphia Public Record refers to Asians photographed at a fundraiser as “Chinky Winky” and “Dinky Doo.” “On the upside,” says publisher Jimmy Tayoun, “we finally got some people I don’t know personally to pick up the paper.”

[0]

After first calling the racially insensitive caption in the Public Record a “proofreading error,” Tayoun announces he has fired the employee responsible. “It’s a shame. Cracker T. Whittington was one fine copy editor,” sighs Tayoun. “Anyway, we expect good things from the new guy, Honky McKlansman.”

[ + 1]

According to a new study, Philly has more bicycling commuters than any other big city. Joey Vento spins in his grave, then resumes reading the most recent issue of the Philadelphia Public Record.

This week’s total: -3 | Last week’s total: -1

FIGHT LEADER: Tiffany Thompson directs Philadelphia FIGHT’s Youth Health Empowerment Program. She says, “You’d be surprised at what people don’t know.” MARIA POUCHNIKOVA

[ health ]

THE OTHER BLUE PILL A non-profit administers a drug that can greatly reduce the risk of getting HIV. Why aren’t there more takers? By Natalie Pompilio

T

he guy lied. Marcus Berry didn’t mince words. Before the two lay down together, he asked, “Do you have HIV?” And the guy, a friend, someone Marcus thought he could trust, just lied. “No.” Only later, after the pair had had sex, did the truth come out. Berry, now 23, remembered the anger and fear that shot through him. “I said, ‘Why didn’t you tell me and give me a chance to say no?’” said Berry, who lost a cousin to HIV, the virus that causes AIDS. “I got tested. I was OK, but everybody said, ‘You got lucky.’ And yeah, I knew it. I was really, really lucky.” A short time later, Berry began taking a daily pill that can reduce the chance of being infected with HIV by more than 90 percent when taken regularly. The blue pill, sold under the brand name Truvada, has long been used to treat those who are HIV positive. The Federal Drug Administration approved its use as a pre-exposure prophylaxis, or PrEP, in 2012. Only this year were comprehensive clinical-practice guidelines for PrEP released. In May, the Centers for Disease Control announced it was monitoring the drug’s use in four cities — Philadelphia, Chicago, Houston

and Newark, N.J. That resulted in a burst of news reports about the drug, but not the expected rush of new prescription requests. “It’s the history of HIV. It was pushed aside. It was stigmatized. It was something other people had to worry about, so not enough resources went into it,” said Tiffany Thompson, who directs Philadelphia FIGHT’s Youth Health Empowerment Program (YHEP). “It’s easy for me and other folks in the bubble who are aware, but go into certain communities in North Philly or South Philly. Go into a bar in Rittenhouse. You’d be surprised at what people don’t know. That’s why we’re still struggling.” Truvada, which generally has few side effects, is the most effective tool yet developed against HIV, which infects 50,000 Americans each year. Its California-based manufacturer, Gilead, offers financial-assistance programs covering the entire cost of the pills for the uninsured or the co-pays of those with insurance. (Purchased outright, the drug can cost as much as $1,000 per month.) The drug could have a huge impact in Philadelphia, where the HIV infection rate is five times the national average, according to AIDS Fund Philly. And yet two years after the FDA gave the drug the go-ahead, Truvada is still not in wide use here or elsewhere. The non-profit AIDS service organization, Philadelphia FIGHT, which has been administering a PrEP program since January 2013,

The CDC is monitoring the drug’s use in Philly.

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✚ The Other Blue Pill

[ the naked city ]

<<< continued from page 5

estimated that about 50 clients have stuck with the program thus far, regularly picking up medications at the organization’s Center City offices and getting tests every three months to make sure their kidney functions are normal. And while it’s a good thing that those 50 clients — most of them males between the ages of 13 and 24 — have kept themselves and their partners safe, PrEP advocates say the drug has huge potential to save even more lives if properly promoted. “There was a lot of initial skepticism about PrEP in the medical community and so it did not have a quick uptake. It’s only now starting to get attention,” said Helen Koenig, a doctor with Philadelphia FIGHT. For some, it’s already too late. The week before the nonprofit began to administer PrEP, four of its clients learned they were HIV positive. “That Monday, in each one of these rooms, as you walked down the halls, you could hear a kid crying as they were told their diagnosis,” Koenig said. “We’re trained to care for them and get their HIV under control, but part of you wishes that big conversation you’re now having about risk reduction had happened a year earlier or two years earlier. Because that could have changed the course of their lives.” Though HIV and AIDS were once written off as a disease only gays needed to worry about, it has become a disease of the poor, Koenig said. “It’s a sign of a forgotten people,” she said. “If someone becomes HIV positive, it’s because that person has been pushed aside.” The more HIV in a community, the more likely it is that somebody will encounter it, said Robb Reichard, Executive Director of AIDS Fund Philly. Some Philadelphia neighborhoods, including pockets in the north and southwest — have extremely high infection rates. These are usually communities that also have more violence. Being surrounded by so much death and pain can make some feel their destinies are pre-determined. “We need to make sure they understand that it’s not inevitable and they do have options out there,” Reichard said. While Jane Shull, executive director of Philadelphia FIGHT, believes the city’s HIV transmission rate is actually more in line with other large cities, the continued spread of the disease is a problem. Some people who would benefit from PrEP or HIV treatment won’t seek help because they have outstanding arrest warrants and they don’t want to go to jail. They’re afraid their children will be taken away from them. They could lose their jobs. “The reasons people don’t seek care reflect profound social realities,” Shull said. “You can’t expect an extraordinarily under-funded network of nonprofits to be able to overcome that.” Backed by funding from the CDC, Philadelphia FIGHT’s I AM program seeks to engage gay or bisexual men of color with HIV or a high risk of 6 | P H I L A D E L P H I A C I T Y PA P E R |

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getting the disease. Last year, the program provided more than 600 men with HIV testing, then offered them treatment or prevention options. “I’ve seen a handful of really bad outcomes. Young people who are non-adherent to medical care or non-compliant patients, but those are the medical terms. Underneath all that, many of those engaging in high-risk sexual behavior are just young people in a lot of pain,” said Noel Ramirez, the program’s coordinator. Some clients, like Berry, have become Truvada’s ambassadors, spreading news of its possibilities. “As word about PrEP gets out, we have local college students and partners of HIV positive folks coming in, doing what they can to stay negative. Our guys talk about PrEP to their friends. It’s a really wide spectrum,” said

Underneath it all, are young people in a lot of pain. Caitlin Conyngham, practice coordinator for YHEP’s health clinic. “We really support people engaging in their health in a broad way. We have a run club and groups to talk about other experiences in their lives.” Berry was the second person to take part in Philadelphia FIGHT’s PrEP program. The first was Chris “Dash” Hall, 23. He remains free of infection, but he knows many peers living with HIV as well as those who ignore the risks. “Some people don’t protect themselves.They don’t want to get tested. They’d rather not talk about it,” he said. “A lot of my HIV positive friends say they wished they’d known about PrEP. … Sometimes I feel helpless, but all I can do is offer love.” ✚ Contact Natalie Pompilio at natalie@ nataliepompilio.com.


[ history ]

THE RIOTS OF 1964 Lessons from the looting of Columbia Avenue. By Jake Blumgart

T

he weekend of Aug. 28, 1964, marked Philadelphia’s only experience with the violent street protests that swept many African-American neighborhoods in the nation’s industrialized cities during that decade. The legacy of the Columbia Avenue riots 50 years ago will no doubt be endlessly debated, but there is no argument about the incident that sparked the upheaval. About 9:30 p.m. that Friday, two cops, a black officer named Robert Wells, and a white officer, John Hoff, caught a call about a car obstructing the intersection of 22nd and Columbia (now Cecil B. Moore Avenue). They found Odessa and Rush Bradford in the midst of a drunken marital spat. As Wells argued with the uncooperative Odessa, eventually pulling her from the vehicle, onlookers gathered along the bustling commercial thoroughfare. Then James Mettles emerged from the crowd and struck Hoff. Police reinforcements were called. As Mettles and Odessa Bradford were driven away, the jeering crowd threw bottles and rocks at police. A rumor circulated that a white police officer had killed a pregnant black woman. By 11 p.m., angry crowds began smashing windows on Columbia and 23rd. Looting quickly spread. Thousands of residents poured into the streets, ignoring pleas for peace from black civic leaders. “There were so many rioters. Most of them women, teenagers, or even younger,” said Officer James McCade, who was quoted in

a 1965 report on the violence. “We’d chase one away and another group would come on us from another direction throwing bricks, trash cans, anything. The situation was completely out of hand.” The afflicted area lay in North Central Philly — the poorest, most segregated part of the city — and mainly concentrated on manifestations of white power in the neighborhood: Property and police. That Saturday, Mayor James Tate enacted a curfew and all liquor stores, bars and movie theaters were shut down. Crowds surged into the streets again that night, but the fury had already begun to slacken. Sunday saw sporadic clashes with police and what would be the only death: Officer James Miller shot and killed Robert Green, claiming the young man charged him with a 7-inch knife. By Monday morning, the disturbance was definitively over. Contemporary accounts put property damage at $3 million (or more than $23 million in today’s dollars). In one five-block area, only 54 of 170 properties escaped damage. All of them were easily identified as black-owned. Spared, too, were a Chinese restaurant with a sign reading, “We Are Colored Too,” and the office of an osteopath who performed clandestine abortion services. Among the storefronts that survived unscathed was that of activist John Churchville’s Freedom Library, located in the heart of the riot zone at Ridge Avenue and Jefferson Street. Churchville remembers that weekend as a communal moment of reckoning for a grossly underserved population with few means of expressing their grievances. “I saw a spirit of camaraderie that I haven’t seen before or since in North Philly,” he says. “I saw neighbors helping each other. Old ladies trying to carry stuff from the stores and young guys saying, ‘Mrs.,

“People saw their own self-worth.”

[ the naked city ]

let me help you. I got two [T.V.s] here, you can have one.’ It was a human event, where people saw their own self-worth.” Philadelphia's experience was substantially less bloody than similar conflicts in, to name a few, Watts (1965, 34 dead), Newark (1967, 24 dead), and Detroit (1967, 43 dead). Here, 339 people were wounded, 308 were arrested and Robert Green was killed. The tactics ordered by Philly’s Police Commissioner, Howard Leary, are credited with the low toll. He ordered police to keep their guns holstered unless attacked and forbade the use of horses, dogs and tear gas. Leary’s decisions were unpopular among area storeowners and the rank-and-file cops. A reporter from the Philadelphia Bulletin spied Deputy Commissioner Frank Rizzo in the riot zone arguing with Leary against the no-guns order. Years later, Rizzo described his former boss as “a gutless bastard.” Rizzo traded on white fears of that August weekend to build political support, eventually becoming the city’s notoriously hardline police commissioner and mayor. ✚ Contact Jake Blumgart on Twitter @jblumgart.

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Of a life spent on call, truly at the whim of fate — other people’s — he says simply, “There’s not a lot of down time.” Not that he’s cavalier. He used to say “Hail Marys” in what funeral directors call “the preparation room,” and considers the job that became his life’s work “a calling.” “I feel like I’m a servant. I’m there to get people through one of life’s tougher times, to soften that journey and make it more tolerable.” Still, one senses that he’s aware his life could have gone another way. “I don’t picture myself a funeral director,’’ he says softly. “I’m Bill Shea.” Shea’s Aunt Mary took the reins of the business after her brother’s death. Young Bill attended Villanova University, receiving a bachelor’s degree, majoring in business. He did the customary one-year of mortuary school before taking the state boards to get his funeral director’s license. He was brought on board. He points out that the apprenticeship that aspirants go through is supposed to help them see if they like the funeral business. For him, interested in keeping the family business going per his father’s wishes, “Like had nothing to do with it.” But it soon became apparent that he had a natural ability to comfort people. Courtly, intelligent, and organized, he inspired trust. He both took care of the practicalities — “the business of having somebody die” as Mary Burke puts it — and offered a firm shoulder to lean on. That talent is spoken of by generations of Grays Ferry residents. Patrick McCann, 43, became one of Shea’s assistants in 1986. In sales now, he continued to help out — picking up the deceased, greeting people at the door during wakes — pretty much until the home’s closing. McCann’s brother Joe began

PICKS AND SHOVELS: Parish members dig the foundation for St. Gabriel Church, a magnificent structure now often called “the cathedral of South Philly.”

working for Shea about 15 years ago, full-time at first, and then occasionally, until the closing. The brothers reminisced recently. “My brother and Bill went to the home of a little girl who had died of leukemia,” Patrick says. “There were relatives there, and they wanted to help” with the removal of the girl’s body, he explains. Shea got them involved. “This was a house filled with men, 9 or 10 strong men, who were all crying,” Patrick says. “My brother stayed back, just beyond the door. Bill Shea walked that room and comforted every one of those men. How many people could do that?” Joe McCann, 51, confirms the story and adds, “What I learned from Mr. Shea, that respect for people, I try to bring to my profession now.” Joe is a police officer and currently drives what is called “the wagon,” an assignment that frequently involves removing and transporting the bodies of people’s loved ones. Joe McCann points out that Shea is known for not up-selling. That was the experience of this writer, who grew up in Grays Ferry and St. Gabriel Parish. When my father died in 2010, my sister and I called on Bill Shea. There didn’t seem to be any sales tactics. And he kept us on track with grace, humor and professionalism.

Pushing Caskets Through Windows

It’s been a long time since 22-year-old Bill Shea arrived to help his aunt, who died in 1983, with

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the family business. The business has changed, certainly: It’s been decades since Shea Funeral Home has organized and held services from someone’s home, pushing caskets through living room windows. And cremations are fairly common where they were unheard of before. More often, services are held in the church, including the viewings. Shea remembers the grumbling that went on when he stopped allowing smoking in the funeral parlor. The neighborhood has changed in ways both subtle and dramatic. People who grew up here, from the ’40s to the ’70s, remember lawyers, dentists and several doctors practicing here. And the doctors made house calls. There were beer distributors, gas stations. “You never had to leave,” says Eileen Kirk Moran, 67, who was raised, and still lives, here. Those businesses gradually left. Burke attributes that change as one that began with “the ubiquity of the automobile.” She feels it has negatively impacted the neighborhood’s youth. “Back in the day, all the professions were around,” she says. “Kids could see what you could be.” Less gradual changes were in store. There were racial confrontations in the ’70s, ’80s and ’90s that received a lot of local press. When white residents began leaving the area in the ’80s and ’90s, outside investors bought up homes, and along with The Philadelphia Housing Authority, began flooding the area with Section 8 tenants. The program’s absentee landlords allowed houses to crumble. House values plummeted, drug use and violent crime rose. The two other parishes in the neighborhood, St. Aloysius and King of Peace, closed as the Archdiocese of Philadelphia downsized. The racial make-up of the neighborhood now includes Asians and Latinos, and blacks and whites live on many of the same streets. There are far fewer parishioners, and St. Gabriel School is no longer affiliated with the Archdiocese of Philadelphia. In a bid to keep it open, a team of parishioners got it declared an Independence Mission School in 2013. The past 20 years have seen scores of drug overdoses, and in the late 1990s, a spate of drug-related suicides, in the area. Drug addiction and violence are still rampant problems there. Though Shea had his head down running a business all those years, the nature of that business meant that he was privy, in an intimate way, to the loss — and tragedy — that beset Grays Ferry. Joe McCann recalls Shea meeting with the pastor of St. Gabe’s during a rash of Oxycontin overdose deaths, to try and make a plan for assisting youth and preventing the tragedies. “He knew what was happening, ’cause he was burying them,” McCann says. Shea was the Chair of the Grays Ferry Community Council’s Education Committee before being elected its president in the late 1980s. “My goal was to make Grays Ferry a drug-free zone,” he says with perhaps a little frustration. Though Shea is not indiscreet, there are flashes of recognition in his eyes when names or incidents are mentioned. If anyone in this neighborhood has seen it all, it’s him. In the late ’90s, amid lots of coverage by local media on Grays Ferry’s racial problems, a white teenager was shot to death by two black men in a corner store. Shea says, “It was a horrible time. The neighborhood was alive with animosity.” There were media cameras across the street from the funeral home all the days leading up to the funeral. Shea recalls crossing the street to ask the reporters to respect the family’s privacy. “They never pulled back the cameras,” he says. “It was a challenge to me.” >>> CONTINUED ON PAGE 12


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The Pressure’s Off

A few weeks after closing, Shea says of doing so, “A whirlwind? It was more like a tornado. It was a lot of work.” But now the pressure’s off. There’s more time to read books, “a joy,” he says. He and Grace will be spending more time with family at their Jersey shore house. Shea’s middle daughter, Susie Miller, says she’s relieved her dad “is able to stay involved” at Deady Funeral Home. As for what it meant for her and her sisters to be brought up as the daughters of Bill Shea, funeral director, she says, “It made us not afraid of death, because we saw how it was handled. You just hope that someone does the same for you.”

ministers to people in the neighborhood with substance addictions as well as recovering addicts. He prayed with the Sheas over the decision to close. “It was very difficult for him,” McKay says. “He didn’t want to leave.” Bill and Grace Shea say that the use of the buildings that were Shea Funeral Home is important to them and that Father Doug’s mission has made it easier to let go. McKay says, “I told them, ‘You buried the dead. We’re raising the dead.’”

Those Golden Gates Father Douglas McKay says his mission of helping people in the neighborhood with substance addictions made a difference to the Sheas. “I told them,‘You buried the dead. We’re raising the dead.’

A New Mission

As a searching young man growing up in Grays Ferry, Douglas McKay, now 62, used to chat up Bill Shea. He paid particular attention to Shea’s “gentleness.” McKay says, “He brought comfort and peace to people going through the toughest times. He impressed me so much that I wanted to be a funeral director — I didn’t think I was smart enough to be a priest.” McKay was smart enough to be a priest (as well as an eloquent storyteller and writer of a book or two) and this past June, 32 years after his ordination, Father Douglas McKay signed paperwork transferring the buildings that housed Shea Funeral Home to Our House Ministries. A secular priest, he

Bill Shea is on the phone with this writer and he seems to want to tell a story. “You know, the guys around here have a reputation for being rough and tough — and drinkers,” he begins. “One day there’s a knock on the golden gates. St. Peter comes out to find seven or eight guys there. ‘We’d like to meet the Lord, say hello to Christ,’ they tell him. St. Peter goes back to God, and says, ‘We have a bunch of characters from Grays Ferry here.’ ‘Sure. Send them in.’ St. Peter leaves and comes running back. ‘They’re gone!’ God says, ‘They’re gone? Why didn’t they wait?’ ‘No, the golden gates — they’re gone!’” Shea pauses for a moment for a laugh. Then he has to go. A family is waiting. Jenn Carbin is a former Philadelphia City Paper staff writer. Contact her at jenn.carbin@gmail.com.

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19102review The review of Philadelphia books

WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? ³ IT ISN’T EASY to pin down Stephanie Feldman’s debut novel, The Angel of Losses. Part fairy tale, part family drama, the novel swirls bits of forgotten folklore with ancestral gossip and relies on a heft of real and invented literary academia. What’s easier to say is it’s a good read. Feldman’s approach allows for an escape into cultural legend within the structure of a contemporary tale. Feldman, a Fort Washington native, focuses her story on a New Jersey family with a hushed-up immigrant past. Academic researcher Marjorie Burke prefers the company of books to keep her sister’s abrupt marriage and her grandfather’s mysterious World War II childhood at bay. She spends her days studying the Wandering Jew, a literary archetype that makes appearances in Western folklore.When the character starts showing up in her grandfather’s bedtime tales, her brotherin-law’s religious observations, and even her pillow talk, Marjorie realizes she can’t keep fiction and family apart for much longer. The novel draws heavily on Jewish folklore, filling in the gaps with history in a way that recalls the immigrant experience and allows readers to question their own family’s cultural identity. Feldman’s research-driven plot twists and turns and at times threatens to break loose of the modernday storyline. Despite the lack of structure, Feldman manages to pull most of the loose ends together by the big ending scene in a New Jersey diner. The Angel of Losses reminds us that though you may experience an intercultural, time-transcending journey, in the end you’re never too far away from your East Coast home. —Lauren Clem

✚ The Angel of Losses,

Stephanie Feldman (ECCO, 2014, 288 PP.)

✚ If you know of any really good books to review please email mikala@citypaper.net.

NO SKIN IN THE GAME: Tendinitis cut short Peter Gaudioso’s drumming career. MARIA POUCHNIKOVA

[ jazz/singing ]

HAND TO MOUTH Philly jazz guy Peter Gaudioso’s move from drumming to singing came with its challenges. By A.D. Amorosi

W

hen Peter Gaudioso introduces his “Crooners” showcase to the Art After 5 crowd on Friday, it’ll feel pretty natural. “Singing has always been as much a part of my life as drumming,” he says. But ditching the drum kit for the mic didn’t come easy. The now 40-year-old lifelong drummer made his name playing post-Bop with Keith DeStefano’s Puzzlebox and Matt Davis’ Aeriel Photograph in the late ’90s. By 2000, Gaudioso added open-mic host at Fergie’s Pub to his resume, playing behind a rogue’s gallery of Philly singer/songwriters. The versatile rhythmist had a way with the acoustic cats, just as he had the jazz-bos. “My forte then was playing brushes and soft jazzy backbeats,” says Gaudioso. No matter what music he was playing, Gaudioso always sang — not sneakily in the shower, but out loud as a serious form of practice. “I used that as a method to learn bebop tunes and standards, to ‘keep the form’ in my head while the soloist was stretching. I sang back-up in a cover band for four years, too. My voice was always well received, but drumming dominated.” It’s a good thing Gaudioso kept his vocal cords limber, because

by 2007 his left hand was declining in dexterity and control due to tendinitis. “Finally, it just stopped being worth it,” says Gaudioso of the pain that came with drumming. “That was 2008, into ’09.” After the tendinitis diagnosis, he threw himself into yoga every day of the week, both for his physical form and for his sanity. “I was crushed thinking that my art and career were being taken from me.” Things didn’t get easier for Gaudioso in 2010, an emotionally charged year due to the death of his father and a bad relationship break up. With drumming off the table, all he could do was sing. And that became his savior — before it became his new calling. “I sang my way through it all,” he says. “I was a social recluse, listening to music all day, feeling my heartache matched with the characters in song.” Sting, Bobby McFerrin, Jon Hendricks, Paul Simon, Johnny Hartman, Bjork — these were Gaudioso’s influences. “All extremely rhythmic musicians with expressive, ethereal and magical songs — the kind of music I most enjoy creating. Soundscapes that invite and enthrall the listener.” After getting his yoga teaching certification, Gaudioso did one other thing to stretch his potential: In 2012, he sought the instruction of McFerrin, the improvisational vocal legend (with a suburban Philadelphia address) who teaches singing skills in workshop settings. From McFerrin, Gaudioso learned consistency, creativity, endur-

He studied under Bobby McFerrin.

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[ arts & entertainment ]

✚ Hand to Mouth <<< continued from page 13

“I sang my way through it all,” he says. ance and freedom in improvisation. “Studying with Bobby in the Circlesongs Vocal Retreat was an eye opener, or should I say ‘ear-opener?’” teases Gaudioso. “We would sing 30-minute pieces with 200 people, hypnotic lines, repeatedly, with focus on intonation while maintaining a freshness. We concentrated on improvisation, something I had forever on drums. Switching to my voice, it took some time.” Gaudioso was a Tenor 2 to begin with, a good high range with a nice round bottom. Studying with McFerrin gave him an extension of “two steps down in my low range,” he says. “But mainly I have to say improving my intonation has been the victory.” He also learned about sound and breathing (especially when beat-boxing) from Dave Worm, one of McFerrin’s Voice Orchestra members. “I’ve been vocalizing rhythms my whole life. When I couldn’t be near a drum set, I thought it was the next best thing. Now it’s the best thing.” For the last five years, Gaudioso has been singing (and playing conga so that he doesn’t reinjure his hand) for his supper during weekend dinnertime and happy hour at TIME Café on

Sansom Street, using a loop station, layered vocals and beat-boxing. “This is where years of drumming has informed my singing,” he says. Gaudioso likes to mix the slow with the sophisticatedly sprightly — the familiar songs of Cole Porter, Lerner and Loewe, Jimmy van Heusen, Gershwin, Rodgers and Hart — along with something somber and sad from Billy Strayhorn. His “Crooners” show features classics from the Great American Songbook. “I’m also being careful with oversinging,” says Gaudioso. He takes a break from speaking once a week. “I don’t want to damage my voice the way I did my hand. It’s only getting stronger.” (a_amorosi@citypaper.net) ✚ Fri., Aug. 29, 5-8:45 p.m., free with muse-

um admission, Philadelphia Museum of Art, 2600 Benjamin Franklin Pkwy., 215684-7506. philamuseum.org/artafter5.

2014 FRINGE FESTIVAL SEPTEMBER 5 TO 21

150+ shows all over Philly! Get tickets now at FringeArts.com or call 215.413.1318

THEATER I RESTAURANT I BAR I BEER GARDEN I LATE NIGHT FringeArts & La Peg Tickets/Info/Directions/Parking Reservations/Menu

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140 N Columbus Blvd at Race St (Less than a mile from the Liberty Bell) 215.413.1318 • FringeArts.com 215.375.7744 • LaPegBrasserie.com


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The November Man

✚ NEW LIFE OF CRIME | C+ Cutting the calculated period style of American Hustle with the kidnapping-as-therapy function of The Ref, Daniel Schechter’s staging of late-inning Elmore Leonard novel The Switch has all the looks and many of the inveterate laughs. But it’s prevented from capturing a proper pace by one-note players and a nagging immobility, deadly problems when you’re attempting to adapt the two-parts-crime, one-part-comedy cocktail Leonard’s legendary for pouring. Antsy hoods looking for a big score in a snowy, slushy 1970s Detroit, Ordell (Mos Def) and Louis (John Hawkes) set sights on Frank (Tim Robbins), a hard-drinking country club type who’s made his fortune as a shady slumlord. Wise to the fact that he’s squirreling cash away in a Bahamian bank account, the pair nabs Frank’s long-suffering wife, Mickey (Jennifer Aniston), with the aim of leveraging her life for a cool mil. But the straightforward scheme goes crooked quickly, complicated by a hapless philanderer (Will Forte), a conniving mistress (Isla Fisher) and a heavily armed neo-Nazi (Mark Boone Junior), who can’t keep the plan straight. Hawkes, as he is wont to do, is strong as the secretly sensitive point man whose feelings for Mickey muck up the money grab, but the script does very few favors for anyone else. Many of the characters seem to be talking simply to fill up time. —Drew Lazor

THE NOVEMBER MAN | CIf someone were to make a mixtape of espionage thrillers’ greatest hits, it would look something like The November Man. You could rattle off the genre’s best-loved moments

like the announcer in a K-Tel commercial, and they’re all here: the retired spy dragged back into the game, the student turned against his teacher, the emotionless female assassin, chases through restaurant kitchens and fruit markets, even the crash into a truck carrying plate-glass windows and the rendezvous in a strip club. Under Roger Donaldson’s uninventive direction, though, they all tend to feel like second-rate cover versions. Based on There Are No Spies, one in a series of novels by Bill Granger featuring a CIA agent named Devereaux, The November Man has been a pet project of Pierce Brosnan’s for years. It’s a chance to see the actor flex his old Bond muscles in a Bourne setting, but this territory has been explored by too many others for his usual charm to make the landscape seem unfamiliar. Whatever Brosnan saw in the source material, there’s nothing fresh to be found on screen, with every twist telegraphed by not only the leaden script, but also by the sheer familiarity of the story. —Shaun Brady

TRIP TO ITALY | BThey say travel is the surest way to get to know someone — but how do two wanderers pass the hours once they can read each others’ neuroses like a roadmap? That’s the main problem mucking up Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon’s second Michael Winterbottom-booked sojourn together, a question of retread that negotiates the tricky line between giving the people what they want and giving them something new. Just like the initial BBC series that Winterbottom converted to a full theatrical feature, this Trip sees exaggerated versions of Coogan and Brydon on the clock, eating their way through high-end restaurants as research for a piece on regional dining. While the first C I T Y PA P E R . N E T | A U G U S T 2 8 - S E P T E M B E R 3 , 2 0 1 4 | P H I L A D E L P H I A C I T Y PA P E R |

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journey placed them in the misty north of England, this sun-kissed assignment spreads them across Italy’s boot, where they down plates of incredible-looking pasta and lightly trace the movements of the Romantic poets. Bargain-brand Byronic heroes both, the actors’ appetites and insecurities get them into plenty of shit, but there aren’t many characters or devices driving them, or the narrative, in one direction or another. This laissez-faire approach to storytelling, ballasted by Coogan and Brydon’s impression battles and tedious arguments, is a large part of what made 2011’s Trip so odd and compelling. Coogan, as the mega-jaded thesp frustrated by his lot in Hollywood, and Brydon, as the lower-brow but commercially virile UK small-screener, revealed much of their nature, and the nature of their business, in tête-à-têtes over three square meals. Very little has changed this time around — fine if you’re still hungry for more drawn-out Michael Caine goofs, but redundant if you’re looking for the fellows to play it something other than safe. Their fleeting references to Bryon’s wanderlust-y “Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage,” plus the sophomore-slump “second album syndrome” suffered by musicians, are quite on the nose. Nearly Seinfeldian in their dedication to minutiae (not to mention their hard-to-buy ability to infiltrate the graces of women far out of their league), Coogan and Brydon’s squabbles, especially when they’re be-

ANYONE FOR SECONDS? “THE ‘GODFATHER 2’ OF ROAD MOVIES.” -THE HOLLYWOOD REPORTER

BRILLIANTLY FUNNY. HI�RIOUS AND TOUCHING.” -ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY

ing their half-fictionalized selves, are still tremendously funny. They both possess the ability to turn a silly scrap bilious and cruel with the addition of a single line, and neither misses an opportunity to do so. —DL

WHEN THE GAME STANDS TALL | D If you’re the type who doesn’t recognize the evil inherent in rooting for soulless athletic automatons (hey Yankees fans!), you might glean pleasure from When the Game Stands Tall. Based on California’s De La Salle High School, whose 151-game string of victories is the longest winning streak of its kind in football history, it’s the rare sports movie that sidesteps the underdog ideal completely, insisting that a team that never loses — the faceless lugs across the line of scrimmage, in most gridiron flicks — is a team worth rooting for. It’s a risky point of view that’s more bizarre than compelling, and the cardboard cutouts filling out the roster don’t split the difference. As head coach Bob Ladouceur, Jim Caviezel spouts light Christian rhetoric and positivethinking desk calendar quotes to his team, populated by every jock-strap stereotype in the playbook. There are personal hardships, overbearing parents and family struggles to joust with, but none are tough enough to make us identify with a national powerhouse that hasn’t botched a matchup in more than a decade. There are a handful of heavy moments, but director Thomas Carter chews them up for fuel, nothing more than hasty motivation for the kids to make crisper tackles. There is some pep in his treatment of on-thefield action, but that’s all outmuscled by sluggish storytelling and shameless product placement (who has long conversations in front of Dick’s Sporting Goods?). —DL

✚ CONTINUING BOYHOOD | A

STEVE

COOGAN

A FILM BY

ROB

BRYDON

MICHAEL WINTERBOTTOM

EXCLUSIVE ENGAGEMENT STARTS FRI 8/29 LANDMARK THEATRES RITZ FIVE 214 WALNUT ST (215) 440-1184 • PHILADELPHIA T R I P TO I TA LYM OV I E .CO M

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With Boyhood, director Richard Linklater proves himself to be an insightful chronicler of the changes wrought by time on a relationship as he shows one young boy’s growth and maturation over the course of nearly three hours. Linklater’s unconventional approach — filming a short segment each year for 12 years — has been well-publicized, but in practice it never feels like a gimmick. The focus is on Mason (Ellar Coltrane), who is introduced as a 6-year-old pondering the heavens to a Coldplay soundtrack and exits as an 18-year-old college freshman. His older sister Samantha, played

by the director’s daughter Lorelei, goes from teasing annoyance to jaded teenager to thoughtful young woman. Patricia Arquette and Ethan Hawke appear as Mason’s divorced parents, who reluctantly settle into maturity, their less-dramatic physical changes showing the burdens and wear of time. What we see are not necessarily the most dramatic moments. But if nothing in Mason’s experience is particularly novel, it’s stunning to watch how the same truths become new discoveries in each person’s life. —SB (Ritz Five)

CALVARY | B Director John Michael McDonagh reteams with The Guard star Brendan Gleeson for Calvary, where the laughs come with an almost overpoweringly bitter aftertaste. The film begins in the confession booth, where Father James Lavelle (Gleeson) is confronted by a victim of childhood sexual abuse who declares his intention to kill Lavelle a week later, as murdering a good priest would make a stronger statement than vindictively killing a bad one. Lavelle spends the next several days attending to his parishioners as he grapples with how to deal with his impending doom. He is well aware of his determined murderer, even as he refuses to disclose that identity to the local bishop, the would-be killer or the audience. Gleeson is adept at sketching a character’s history with just a few reactions, so that even those townsfolk who only appear for a scene or two are given a life and a history. Unfortunately, McDonagh doesn’t draw them quite so deeply, and ultimately the film becomes a schematic argument about redemption and forgiveness rather than a fully fleshedout story. —SB (Ritz Five) FRANK | BA story about an outsider experimental band told in twee indie-pop shades, Lenny Abrahamson’s Frank struggles to find a consistent tone. The title character — played by Michael Fassbender under a large, cartoonish papier-mâché head — leads a band of eccentrics with an unpronounceable name who labor over songs only heard by miniscule audiences at sporadic gigs which inevitably end in meltdown. Into this wanders Jon (Domhnall Gleeson), a young would-be songwriter with more aspiration than inspiration. Received with suspicion by the rest of the band — especially the perpetually distrustful keyboardist, Clara (Maggie Gyllenhaal) — Jon attempts to make Frank’s offbeat songs more listener-

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friendly and to nudge the reclusive singer-songwriter into something more resembling a career than a cult. Jon’s YouTube diaries of the band’s protracted, isolated recording sessions become a viral sensation, leading to a potentially disastrous gig at South by Southwest. The look of Frank is modeled on Frank Sidebottom, the similarly masked alter ego of British musician and comedian Chris Sievey. Co-screenwriter Jon Ronson played keyboards for Sidebottom for a stint in the ’90s, and partly based the film on his experiences. But Sidebottom was clearly a comedic character, whereas the film’s Frank is a disturbed soul who hides under the mask and refuses to reveal his actual identity. Abrahamson can’t seem to decide whether Frank is a misunderstood genius or a charismatic crackpot, so the film veers erratically between empathy and ridicule. —SB (Ritz at the Bourse)

GET ON UP | BYears from now, there’s a good chance we’ll talk about Chadwick Boseman’s James Brown the same way we discuss one of Robert Downey Jr.’s most memorable parts in passing: Hey, didn’t Iron Man play Charlie Chaplin one time? In other words, a meaty biographical role will eventually outgrow its vessel and stand alone as a feather-in-cap point in a superstar’s career. Opening with the elderly Brown rushing his office with a shotgun, then leaping back decades to a harrowing plane ride over violent Vietnamese airspace, it’s clear early on that director Tate Taylor (The Help) has chosen to avoid the boring frontto-back storytelling that so often slows down biopics. But there are still far too many clichéd music-movie contrivances — drugs, drama, infighting, Brown leaning on a sink in deep emotional pain (fave!) — for the flower to blossom fully. —DL (Wide release) LIFE AFTER BETH | D Jeff Baena’s Life After Beth has been loudly trumpeted as a “zom-rom-com” (never mind that Warm Bodies beat it to the punch by a year, and Return of the Living Dead 3 by more than 20), and the idea of viewing the outbreak of the zombie apocalypse through a more personal lens is a good one. But Baena’s script feels like a dashedoff first draft that could use a few other pair of eyeballs — preferably female ones, as Baena uses the title character’s resurrection as an excuse to replay tired “crazy ex-girlfriend” cheap shots. —SB

[ movie shorts ]

MAGIC IN THE MOONLIGHT | C+ Magic in the Moonlight isn’t Woody Allen’s worst movie, but it’s one of his least necessary. Stanley (Colin Firth) is a magician who beguiles audiences in between-the-wars Europe with his tricks under the guise of the “Oriental” conjurer Wei Ling Soo. Despite the deception inherent in his profession, Stanley is obsessed with unmasking the deceptions of others, especially spiritualists like the American Sophie (Emma Stone), who’s entranced a British dowager (Jacki Weaver). At some point, it becomes clear that Magic in the Moonlight is meant to be a romance, despite the evident lack of chemistry between its stars and the fact that Stanley’s behavior merits nothing so much as a swift kick in the balls. Firth finds the character’s sympathetic corners,but at its core, the movie seems to think that a man treating a woman with cruelty and disdain is reason enough for her to fall for him. —Sam Adams (Ritz Five)

A MOST WANTED MAN | AAnton Corbijn’s moody Le Carré adaptation gains poignancy from featuring one of Philip Seymour Hoffman’s final performances as Günther, whom Hoffman plays with a heavy accent and a heavier weight on his shoulders, the head of a secret German intelligence unit that operates in the moral and legal netherworld. Although A Most Wanted Man is set in the present, Corbijn strands the film in a gray nowhere, the better to depict a landscape that no one, least of all Günther, knows how to navigate. The plot, which involves tracking down a Chechen militant who may have trained with Islamic terrorists, is relatively low stakes by espionage-thriller standards, but that’s entirely to the point: What changes there are to be made will be small, and even those will come at a cost. The drama is about personal integrity and trust, not ticking bombs and rogue nukes. Though there’s not a shot fired or a body dumped, Günther’s struggle is never farther away than Hoffman’s magnificently worn face. —SA (Ritz East)

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citypaper.net/events


events LISTINGS@CITYPAPER.NET | AUGUST 28 - SEPTEMBER 3

[ every hundred feet the world changes ]

FOUND YOU: Philly band Liz and the Lost Boys plays Johnny Brenda’s on Friday. Was this photo taken in the Book Trader? It looks like the Book Trader.

Events is our selective guide to what’s going on in the city this week. For comprehensive event listings, visit citypaper.net/events. IF YOU WANT TO BE LISTED: Submit information by email (listings@ citypaper.net) or enter it yourself at citypaper.net/submit-event with the following details: date, time, address of venue, telephone number and admission price. Incomplete submissions will not be considered, and listings information will not be accepted over the phone.

8.28

thursday [ punk/rock/pop ]

PERFECT PUSSY/ JOANNA GRUESOME $10-$12 | Thu., Aug. 28, 8 p.m., with Potty Mouth and Love of Everything, First Unitarian Church, 2125 Chestnut St., r5productions.com. Punk was built on short sets and dirty words, so why’s Perfect Pussy such a big deal? Maybe it’s the relentlessness of their

evolved hardcore sound, a monsoon of pummeling beats and brutalist guitars, just one hurtin’ bomb after another with few variations in mood or tempo. Or maybe it’s Meredith Graves’ shouting, carnival barker vocals and their righteous, joyous lyrical content (though it’s hard to make out, you know, individual words). Regardless, these are the days to fall in love with Perfect Pussy, here in the dim, sweaty basement era. —Patrick Rapa

8.29 friday

[ theater ]

A MAUCKINGBIRD MIX $5-$10 | Aug. 29-Sept. 7, Mauckingbird Theatre Company at Randall Theatre, Temple University, 2020 N. 13th St., 215-923-8909, mauckingbird.org. Philadelphia’s Mauckingbird

Theatre Company, acclaimed for viewing classics like last summer’s The Importance of Being Earnest through a gay lens, replaces its announced Shakespeare production with two weeks of special events at Temple University. Barrymore Award-winner Jennie Eisenhower leads Miss Cast 5: College Edition on Friday night, a comedy cabaret of “songs sung by the wrong people” that will include music director Amanda Morton and musical theater stars Alex Keiper and Barrymore-winner Michael Philip O’Brien. On Saturday and Sunday, director Liz Carlson leads a staged reading of Lillian Hellman’s thrilling classic The Children’s Hour, starring Jessica Bedford and Kim Carson along with Leah Walton and Barrymore winner Cheryl Williams. Next Saturday and Sunday, Sept. 6 and 7, will feature another staged reading, directed by Brandon McShaffrey, of Mart Crowley’s

groundbreaking 1968 play, The Boys in the Band, featuring Barrymore-honored actors Jeff Coon and Forrest McClendon. —Mark Cofta

[ rock/pop ]

LIZ AND THE LOST BOYS $10 | Fri., Aug. 29, 9:15 p.m., with Maitland and Silverton, Johnny Brenda’s, 1201 Frankford Ave., 215739-9684, johnnybrendas.com. Keep an eye on this Philly band. Led by harpist/piano/velvety vocalist Liz Ciavolino, they make some sweet, neat cabaret rock — a little rootsy, a touch vaudevillian, very poised and dramatic. I hear hints of Regina Spektor in there too, when things start getting weird and wayward. Lovely, promising stuff. —Patrick Rapa

[ rock/pop/roots ]

MODERN LIFE IS WAR $16 | Fri., Aug. 29, 7 p.m., with Self Defense Family, Give, The Land Of

Blood & Sunshine and Ringfinger, First Unitarian Church, 2125 Chestnut St., r5productions.com. If you can’t tell from that fullsentence moniker: Modern Life Is War is not a subtle band, even for hardcore. The drums are pounding, the chord changes are heavy handed and singer Jeffrey Eaton screams with all the pure fury of a teenager grounded by the devil. And the lyrics? This dude should run for president of nihilistic punk: “I’m just a factory worker’s son from a railroad town. And yeah, I can feel the steel mills rust,” he declares in “Hair-Raising Accounts Of Restless Ghosts (AKA Hell Is For Heroes, Part 2).” His vision for the future? “These dreams will be my anchor / these dreams will be the death of me.” Maybe it reads kinda whiny here, but that’s because you’re not hearing his gnarly, throat-straining howl. Eaton means what he says and he knows who he is: “We’re not

pretty and we’re not rich! We’re gonna have to fuckin’ work for it!” —Patrick Rapa

8.30

saturday [ pop/rock/hip-hop ]

MADE IN AMERICA 3 $89.50-$150 | Sat., Aug. 30 and Sun., Aug. 31, noon, Benjamin Franklin Parkway, Eakins Oval to 16th and Arch sts., 800-745-3000, ticketmaster.com. For its third Philadelphia iteration, Made In America — an event now twinsies with a Los Angeles version — repeats itself, but perhaps with good reason. The Jay Z-curated, Budweiser/Live Nation-sponsored two-day fest finds itself hosting headlining acts that have been through the area recently — Kings of Leon, Spoon and MIA veteran Kanye,

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who’ll play here on Saturday before catching a red-eye to do L.A. on Sunday. That said, the Benjamin Franklin Parkway bash is an entity unto its own: Remember witnessing the sea of faces at that first event while drunk on Budweiser, your first time since junior high? Yeezus always has some drama to bitch about, so he’s new every time. Plus, MIA 3 offers the area its first crack at Pharrell Williams post-�Happy� deluge, and it will be great to hear the slick nu-soul man in a large setting (the sound is always surprisingly decent at MIA). Other acts we’ll be curious to see? The National, whose drippy anthemic ambience is perfect for an open-air venue. Legendary daisy-waving hip-hop trio De La Soul (who promise plenty of new material to go with its summery hits). Also: the French electro-funk of Chromeo, rap’s most dastardly MC Danny Brown and whatever-it-is Girl Talk defines himself as currently. —A.D. Amorosi

[ jazz ]

[ events ]

STEVE BACZKOWSKI/ BILL NACE DUO $6-$10 | Sat., Aug. 30, 8 p.m., with Nick Millevoi’s Bug Out! and Flandrew Fleisenberg, $6-$10, Pageant: Soloveev Gallery, 607 Bainbridge St., museumfire.com/events2. Guitarist Bill Nace has formed musical partnerships with both halves of Sonic Youth’s ruptured power couple, working as a duo with Thurston Moore as Northampton Wools, and with Kim Gordon in Body/Head. Those relationships should give some idea of the feedbacklassoing squall he routinely summons from his strings, an imposing wall of noise that’s only amplified when he works with multi-wind player Steve Baczkowksi. The two can be responsible for an impressively punishing torrent of sound when they join forces as they will this weekend on a Fire Museum-presented bill alongside the debut of a new free jazz group led by Many Arms guitarist Nick Millevoi and a solo set by found-object percus-

sionist Flandrew Fleisenberg. —Shaun Brady

8.31 sunday

[ pop/dance ]

MAKING TIME $8-$10 | Sun., Aug. 31, 6 p.m.-2 a.m., with Dave P. & Sammy Slice, Mike Z. & Dave Pak, Rocktits!, Greg D. and Broadzilla, Bamboo Bar, 927 N. Delaware Ave., igetrvng.com. The elders can tell you: Making Time was created as an antidote to Philly’s doucheball club culture — all those warm-beer chugging, bro-magnon meat markets that lured aged-out frat partiers from both sides of the Delaware. “Raise a plastic cup and say woo,� went the siren’s call. “Stumble and get agro and be baptized in projectile excess on the banks of the



Celebr ating Ameri can Craft Beer and Classi c Arcad e Games

river. Here, you will never grow up.” Making Time was a respite from all that. In the questionable heyday of my dancing phase, I’d go to Making Times at Transit, a multi-floored exbank that throbbed and shook thanks to crate-digger sounds and cheap, strong drinks. Now, withered by an aged state of mind and given to a snobby sort of hermitic solitude, I wonder about Making Time. How is it that the outsiders’ club night can make inroads on Delaware Avenue? At a place called Bamboo Bar, no less? I am assured, however — by those still afflicted by youthful abandon and affordable tolerances — that this is hardly a can’t-tell-the-pigsfrom-the-people situation, and that Making Time has not lived so long it’s become the villain. Instead, we can call it a victory, that a patch of swampland has been drained and made useful. —Patrick Rapa

9.3 Try our new food menu!

wednesday

[ events ]

tations that surround Tayyib Ali that the Philly MC was one of the first artists signed to Russell Simmons’ and Steve Rifkind’s new multi-media venture All Def Digital. Tayyib’s beat selections are melodic, catchy and clearly mediated by pop inclinations, and his

touring hustle don’t quit. On last year’s Keystone State of Mind 2, he did everything from dabbling in trap, “Shit I Know,” to doing his best Cudi impression on “Nobody Else.” This is suggestive of an inchoate vision, sure, but for now he wants your ears. Your heart can wait. —Dotun Akintoye

[ rap ]

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COMING SOON!

TAYYIB ALI

$15 | Wed., Sept. 3, 7 p.m., with Chase Allen, The Barbary, 951 Frankford Ave., 215-634-7400, thebarbary.org. It’s a mark of the kind of expec-

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f&d

foodanddrink

cocktailhour By Adam Erace

GIN AND CUKE ³ OVER 30 GINS line the subway-tiled bar at Oyster House, from “old-world juniper bombs to softer, citrus-forward new-school” bottles, according to head bartender Lindsey Kreuger. “With seafood, people think about Muscadet or sparkling wine — and like them, gin is dry,” a natural match for the restaurant’s rotation of raw and cooked creatures of the deep. Kreuger deploys his gin roster of cocktails that include the Bootsy Collins Punch. The bar staff was brainstorming a brunch-friendly punch and the classic, cucumber-speared Pimm’s Cup came up. Named for bass guitarist Bootsy Collins,“The Bootsy is an amped-up Pimm’s Cup,” explains Kreuger, “but it also has the traditional Collins base of sugar, lemon and club soda.” New Amsterdam gin infused with cucumber, lemon and dill lays the foundation for the tea-colored mash-up. Sweetened with rosemary syrup, fresh lemonade covers the gin and a dose of Pimm’s. Club soda adds sparkle. A cucumber spear, pierced with a bamboo skewer, sits across the rim of the glass like a surfboard at rest. “It’s summertime-friendly, refreshing, easygoing.” Soak it in while it lasts. ³ MAKE IT

• 1 ounce cucumber-dill gin (recipe below) • 1 ounce rosemary simple syrup (recipe below) • 2 ounces rosemary lemonade (recipe below) • 1 ounce Pimm’s No. 1 • 2 ounces club soda For the cucumber-dill gin: Per 750-milliliter bottle of gin (they use New Amsterdam), use half a bunch of fresh dill, one large unpeeled cucumber sliced into coins and the peel of one lemon. Combine all ingredients in a jar or other sealable container and infuse at room temperature for at least 24 hours, shaking occasionally. Taste before serving. For the rosemary simple syrup: Combine 2 cups of water and 2 cups of white sugar in a 4-quart saucepan over medium heat. Dissolve sugar, add two sprigs of fresh rosemary and remove from heat. Cool to room temperature, transfer to a sealable container and refrigerate overnight. For therosemary lemonade:Combine equal parts fresh lemon juice and rosemary simple syrup. Combine all ingredients and serve over ice with a fresh slice of cucumber and a straw. (adam.erace@citypaper.net)

DANGER ZONE: Guy Fieri's take on Buffalo wings served with a side of Blue-sabi. LUCAS CORAL

[ tv dinner ]

FIERI TALE A visit to the Guy Fieri Chophouse in Atlantic City. By Caroline Russock GUY FIERI CHOPHOUSE| 1900 Boardwalk, Atlantic City; 609-340-

2350, ballysac.com. Daily 4 p.m.-10 p.m.; Appetizers, $8-$15; entrees, $33$47; desserts, $10-$15.

S

ay what you will about Guy Fieri, it is virtually impossible to not have an opinion about him. A few weeks back, Farsh Askari of Salon claimed that Fieri was singlehandedly responsible for the downfall of the Food Network. Pete Wells, restaurant critic of The New York Times, penned a famously scathing (and entirely hilarious) review of Fieri’s Times Square restaurant in 2012. But there are plenty of folks out there who fall firmly into the Fieri camp, those that flock to the South Philadelphia Taproom for fried peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and headcheese tacos after catching a rerun of Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives. For me, Fieri inspires a curious mix of emotions, namely intrigue, fascination and confusion. So when the invite came to try the newly opened Guy Fieri’s Chophouse at Bally’s in Atlantic City, well, in the words of the man himself, I hit the Atlantic City Expressway “full throttle.” Honestly, my expectations weren’t too high when ascending

on the massive escalator from the gaming floor of Bally’s to the Chophouse. Celebrity chef restaurants are notoriously heavy on the gimmicks and pricey bills and lacking in pretty much every other department. I was thinking that if nothing else, it was going to be a fun and definitely funny evening. Plus, there was a rolling top-your-own baked potato cart and a subsection of the menu entitled Flavortown. At the host stand, I was greeted by a smiling hostess wearing a name tag that read Pandora. Introducing herself, she explained that all the Chophouse employees go by Guy-approved names. She went on to explain that while she was generally happy with her mythologically derived stage name, she did get her fair share of dirty jokes from customers. Not even two minutes into my Chophouse experience and the evening was off to a stellar start. Seated at a roomy, red-leather banquette, I gazed at the sunset view from the Chophouse windows, which overlooked the Taj Mahal and Resorts, but there was hardly time to take it in before our waiter, Blaze, approached the table. “My name is Blaze,” he said introducing himself. “And these are your guides to Flavortown,” handing my date and me the menus. Blaze, a Philadelphia native who relocated to Atlantic City some years back, adapted that signature Fieri enthusiasm and

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[ food & drink ]

✚ Fieri Tale

local-newscaster-meets-bro delivery to a T. He knew the menu backward and forward and sported a cropped version of the Fieri goatee and a grey vest with a red leather back. Starting with cocktails, I went with the CC Rider, a drink that Blaze touted as “a Bloody Mary with everything but the tomato� and my ever-adventurous date asked Blaze to surprise him. The CC Rider proved to be something of a bad joke of a cocktail, the kind of thing that a Fieri hater would have a field day with. Too sweet Absolut Cilantro with chewy, oversized flecks of black pepper speckled ominously throughout. The Not Your 8th Grade Punch, with peach tea and two types of spiced rum, fared slightly better. Then we perused the sizable menu. Seriously, choosing between South Jersey-style Kick ’n Calamari and Chophouse Lamb Lollis isn’t an easy task. And can you really pass up the Malibu Roasted Oysters, a recipe that Fieri created with his buddy Matthew McConaughey? Eventually we set our sights on the Danger wings, Baja shrimp, a wood-grilled filet and the Horseradish-rubbed prime rib. At its heart Guy Fieri’s Chophouse is a steakhouse and that means that steak add-ons (dubbed Steak Bling here) and sides (Wicked Sides, in this case) are a la carte. After consulting with Blaze about his favorite steak additions, we ended up going with all of three — bacon and shrimp scampi, crunchy tempura lobster

“My name is Blaze,� he said introducing himself. “And these are your guides to Flavortown.�

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knuckles and Q’D mushrooms and onions. We added a side of Kreme’d spinach and the obligatory build-yourown baked potato bar aka the Potato Rig. Up until this point the evening had been a series of highs (Those names! So many Guy-isms! Top notch eavesdropping!) and lows (nearly undrinkable cocktails and what was that too-sweet, pretzel-bread service all about?) But when the apps (dubbed “The Only Way To Start�) arrived, things took a surprising turn. Ridiculous name aside, the Danger Wings were borderline genius. Served five to an order, the drumettes were frenched, rack of lamb-style for a no Wet-Nap necessary wing-eating experience. And the Blue-sabi? The wasabi heat actually works with blue cheese dressing. The Baja shrimp, tempura fried and dressed with a sweet-hot sriracha mayo, came with thin slices of jalapeno and lime wedges and did a fairly spot-on job mimicking the best elements of a Southern California shrimp taco in a decidedly un-SoCal locale. First course down and things at the Chophouse were shockingly tasty and portioned in a manner that didn’t scream Fieri excess. Delivered by Blaze and his assistant, an older gentlemen who’s given name certainly isn’t Zeus, the overthe-top expectations arrived with the entrees. The filet,

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LUCAS CAROL

<<< continued from page 21

a solid if not terribly complex steak, was dwarfed by the prime rib. Served medium-rare throughout, this particular slice was upward of 20 ounces and at least two-and-a-half inches thick. There was really no need for the four accompaniments (au jus, horseradish sauce, roasted whole head of garlic or weird mustard-seed crisp) that cluttered the plate. The steak was just that good on its own. The same could be said of a la carte steak toppings. Sure deep-fried lobster tossed in a hollandaise-y sauce is what you’d imagine tops a steak dreamed up by someone who coined the term Steak Bling, but it doesn’t really do anything to help a serious slice of prime rib that’s perfectly capable of holding its own. The DIY potato cart is another story entirely. If you grew up in a time when top-your-own baked potato spots sat next to the Orange Julius stand at your local mall food cart, Guy’s Potato Rig is the thing that dreams are made of. The tableside Rig rolls up with a one pound, saltcrusted, 24-hour brined potato. (News flash: baking potatoes are brinable!) Potato Rig patrons are met with a choice of eight toppings, ranging from the familiar — applewood-smoked bacon, ranch sour cream and artisan butter and cheddar from Fieri’s NoCal home turf, to the more Guy-centric additions like roasted hatch chiles, crispy garlic chips and smoked gouda poured out of a repurposed Jack Daniels bottle. The whole thing is finished with a showy hit from a brulee torch. Blaze approached the table midway through our second course and asked, “How we doin’? Lovin’ it?� As much as I was expecting something of a steakhouse-meets-Affliction-T-shirt-Ed-Hardy-motif circus, I was kind of loving it. Aside from a few missteps early on, the meal was a super solid steakhouse experience with an added bonus — some not exactly on purpose, but totally welcome humor via the Fieri branding machine. And while there weren’t all that many goatees or backward sunglasses involved in the evening, the meal came to a close with a monster slice of Triple Double Pie. It was an ice-cream cake of sorts with layers of mint chocolate chip ice cream, Junior Mints and peppermint fig, served with spikes of dark chocolate and on a plate emblazoned with a chef’s hat wearing skull and crossbones. (caroline@citypaper.net)


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LAST WEEK’S SOLUTION


[ i love you, i hate you ] To place your FREE ad (100 word limit) ³ email lovehate@citypaper.net ASSHOLE What is your problem...do you think that I supposed to do everything for you! I am not your fucking love slave or anything like that..one thing in one thing but these things that you ask are another. I hate the fact that you are lazy you’re still lazy and you don’t want to do anything for yourself. I am not going to keep going all out of my way for you! I didn’t do it for the other person and I damn sure am not going to do it for you! I think you’re a fucking lazy bum.

are you checking around everything that I do! Then you have that stupid ass grin on your face thinking that shit is funny and it is not! I really don’t care for you and I know that you don’t care for me! When I see you smirking I think to myself, I wish that I could smack the taste out of your mouth. Then you look at people with that long blank look on your face like you are zoned the fuck out! Do you even know your fucking job? I don’t think that you do! Please find something else to do besides watching me, I think it is getting lame! Oh but the lamest part about the shit is you think that

BLEEDING GUMS! Damn, why we gotta play that game again, your breath is smelling and it is fucking killing me! How dare you think that you and I are going to do things together with your breath smelling like that? I am tired of the shit! Don’t you have enough respect for yourself to know that your breath is stinking and stuff? Do you brush in the fucking morning or you just start your day? I hope not because I am simply tired of it! Please PEOPLE brush your teeth, I mean really brush your teeth! Cause I, like millions of other people am frankly tired of it!

CHILL OUT ALREADY You whine about stuff all fucking day long! It doesn’t make any sense! Then you sit on the fucking phone all day talking loud worried about what someone else is doing, why can’t you just sit there and mind your own fucking business. How hard is that...it isn’t hard you just have to focus on what you are doing instead of focusing on what everyone else is doing. Sounds like a good idea to me. How about you...

CONCENTRATE You know who you are. I really don’t have to mention your name because I know that you read this section of the paper! Your an asshole because you are making your life harder and harder, if I showed you something and you do another with something that you think that i don’t know about then your a damn fool! I am going to play fool with your ass cause I think that it is funny and it is going to be for my benefit not yours! Don’t think that I don’ t know about your personal log on me! Cause I do!

DON’T ASK ME! Ok you were gone and I know when you come back you are going to ask me what the fuck happened and I am saying to you is don’t ask me because if you can’t take control over your own business then don’t ask me anything pertaining to your absence because I am not going to be your snitch bitch! I don’t like telling on anyone and I don’t want to be asked what happened so stick with your numbers bitch and don’t ask me anything! I just want you to leave me alone! Do you think that you can arrange that? Huh?

DON’T SMILE NOW! The only thing that I want to know is why the fuck

IT HAS BEEN AWHILE It has been awhile and I can’t wait until you come over my house and spend a damn night...I just want to make sure that you have everything that you want and deserve and I can’t wait to give you a bath and just get you to relax and throw on some good music so you can unwind and just enjoy your environment. You looked out for me when I wasn’t feelin well and I really appreciate that to the fullest...why do you think that I want to give myself to you to the fullest...I think that you are the coolest

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I DID EVERYTHING You can deny all the emotional abuse you put me thrugh..I can forgive but cannot forget. I loved you as you know, and still till this day am shocked ny what you claim you did not do.Time for sleep, as it is the only way I can forget. I loved you with a love so deep and true and what did I get in return? Fix it, if I mean anything to you, fix it.I am tired of trying to explain your actions. Is there a chance?

LOVING YOU You make loving you so hard. I just don’t understand what you want me to do regarding looking out for you! I try to pay my bills and do what I need to do for myself but you are making this shit impossible for me to hang in there! Why do I hang in there with you I keep asking myself over and over. Why do you bull shit me all the damn time? Why do I allow you to enter my mind and play games with it. I am tired of you...I hope you move on... cause I know I am going to!

OFF THE EDGE I know we barely know each other.. you probably know me as the girl that had a crush on your husband but what you did three years ago restored my faith in people. You’re a good woman and I just hope one day you’ll realize that what I said was out of jealousy and I really appreciate your ability and your desire to understand where I was coming from. Thank you. Now I’m doing really well and am planning to reach out to people that are down and out the way you did for me. The world would be a better place if more people like you and your husband were in it.

PISSY BITCH In the middle of August around 10:16 pm, 7th and christian- to the girl that just squatted and pissed beneath my bedroom window and her friends that stood in front of her while she did- you all make me sick and I should have pushed my air conditioner out the window on top of you. next time, find a dark alley and not a main street. better yet, wait till you find a toilet. I hope someone pisses on your head later when you’re passed out drunk from finishing all of those beers you were trying to hide.

SOAP IS YOUR FRIEND

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I don’t know! Oh! I know but...I will play stupid for awhile...

us aren’t created equal enough for me not to hate your fake ass guts!

and the cutest...can't wait to feel you inside of me again...and thanks for fixing the stupid television downstairs....now we can smootch on the couch...

LOOKING BAD Bitch!! What is your deal...I can’t stand you and you know that I can’t, you make me wanna punch you in the face! I can’t believe how twofaced you are and I can’t believe that your husband didn’t kill you already, because if you were my bitch I would have killed you already... but I will say this the last laugh is on your dumb ass! Eat shit and die bitch...and remember all of

I just wanted to comment on the fact that everytime I go to the bathroom and while in another stall the person is exiting I don’t hear them with the soap ..what the fuck is up with that...you know that you just touched your asshole then why the fuck are you not washing your hands with soap and water!!! That is how alot of people get sick and continue to be sick. I don’t think that shit is right where I have to use fuckin tissue to open the door after your ass because you didn’t wash your hands...that is the main purpose of me using the fuckin tissue because ya’ll bitches are fuckin nasty and I rather keep my fuckin germs to myself while you keep your fuckin germs to yourself...soap will always be your friend use it and abuse it....

✚ ADS ALSO APPEAR AT CITYPAPER.NET/lovehate. City Paper has the right to re-publish “I Love You, I Hate You”™ ads at the publisher’s discretion. This includes re-purposing the ads for online publication, or for any other ancillary publishing projects.

C I T Y PA P E R . N E T | A U G U S T 2 8 - S E P T E M B E R 3 , 2 0 1 4 | P H I L A D E L P H I A C I T Y PA P E R |

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