License to Ill

The Early Ocho Eight more “unlawful” and “offensive” Utah license plates besides MERLOT:

(Bill Frost & Susan Kruithof)

SXSW: Days 2-4

Austin, Texas It's true. I'm an irregular blogger. I've tried to remedy this malady with loads of fiberous cereal, but my brain still processes festival updates ike molasses or Heinz ketchup oozing slowly into delicious tid bits for our attention span challenged readers. I blame poor nutrition, free booze, miles and miles and miles of walking and walking up and down and up 6th, 7th, 8th, 4th and 5th St., awesome bands, mediocre bands and long waits at 3 a.m. for gypsy charter vans.

But my biggest mistake was not failing in my duties as a blogger, but ignoring my instincts at the Onion day party where I caught a ridiculous speech by the ridiculous rocker-turned-motivational speaker Andrew W.K. and a spooky set by psych-rockers Spindrift. I thought about sticking around until Erase Errata and David Cross performed, but figured I could squeeze in a quick Village Voice party before they performed. I was wrong. While my stomach thanked me for taking the time to wolf down free food, watching Scotland's The Cinematics produce what seemed like Doves or Editors covers didn't compensate for the subsequent pointless hour and a half wait that greeted me upon returning to the Onion HQ.

Disappointed, things went downhill from there. It's possible that the previous day set too high a bar for up and coming acts to achieve. 70s throwback Dead Meadow and dark pysch-rockers Black Angels blew me away (and helped me get over my bitterness toward the latter act for skipping SLC twice due to a "broken down van"). Later at Antone's, Booker T & the MGs, William Bell, Eddie Floyd and Isaac Hayes absolutely killed in a performance celebrating the 50th anniversary of Stax Records. The original soul men showed us how it's really done by replicating "Soul Man," "Knock On Wood," "Private Number" and several other songs that send chills down spines with flawless organ, guitar and drums. Hot damn.

Watching the legendary musicians master their instruments with such grace and poise spoiled my enthusiasm for the vocal effects and experimental noise Deerhunter tried to achieve later in the evening. The hissy fit their vocalist threw when he realized his bandmates didn't bother to tune their instruments didn't help. I walked out after two songs. I had, after all, endured San Francisco's Citay before Deerhunter took the stage. Citay epitomizes the most unfortunate trend at SXSW: 6-plus members, all of who play at least seven instruments including the incredibly annoying glockenspiel. While talented, no doubt, Citay could arguably achieve a tighter sound by dropping a few superfluous bells and whistles, focusing instead on the three-part guitar harmony that drove most of their material.

The night ended with Albert Hammond Jr. Unlike 99 percent of SXSW featured bands, the Strokes member relied on others to set up and sound check--for 40 minutes!! There's no reason it should take 40 minutes to set up a basic rock rhythm section. Once Hammond plugged in, however, the tired crowd forgave him his primadonna behavior and applauded his solid pop sensibility. With a voice far more pleasing than Julian Casablancas, it's no wonder Hammond's solo work is garnering so much positive acclaim.

Friday, as I mentioned above, started off with the thud. The attractive but boring Pipettes left me craving something substantial, which I located in country legend Pam Tillis and Jenny Lewis' back-up singers The Watson Twins who are well on their way to carving a name separate from the Rilo Kiley frontwoman. The Annuals, who forced SLC's Band of Annuals to change their name when the North Carolina group signed to Ace Fu Records, leave something to be desired. The lead singer's voice is strained and pained and not at all comparable to Jay Henderson's honey coo. The Annuals also followed the same formula as Citay, with a glockenspiel and expansive sound lacking substance. Still craving not only substance but difference, I headed to the Panache showcase where Yip Yip donned checkerboard jumpsuits with goggles and produced strange, haunted carousel noises with several electronic devices.

Later, I waited for Earl Greyhound to play but gave up when the opening act drove me nuts with their AC/DC cover band sound. I sought solace in producer RJD2's set but while impressed with his skills, it's not all that exciting to watch him manipulate records. Chicago's Hopewell (former Mercury Rev) saved the night from complete ruin with jangly guitars and a dynamic vocalist.

Saturday was perhaps the most successful day, as far as SXSW is concerned. I headed out early and stumbled upon the Hot Freaks/Gorilla Vs. Bear day party where six bands performed before 2 p.m. including White Denim, a technically adventurous, humorous trio whose drummer's beats followed no predictable pattern. Other highlights: Mezzanine Owls, The Ponys, The Good The Bad & The Queen. Look for more in print. Oh, and catch Dead Meadow and Spindrift with the Furs at Kilby Court back in Salt Lake City on Tuesday at 6:30 p.m. You won't be disappointed (Jamie Gadette)

IN Utah This Week: Will the Edge Never Stop Cutting?

Salt Lake City's fastest-growing weekly publication -- just ask them -- is concerned that you, John or Jane Q. Snacker, may not be aware of a revolution in munchies: Pringles now come in bags! Thank heavens the hard-working staff of the Washington Post is around to help out the periodical that is now proudly trumpeting to would-be advertisers that, unlike other newsprint rags that shall remain nameless, they aren't "too political." I dunno, guys ... you don't want to piss off that pro-Ruffles contingent. (Scott Renshaw)

Fashionista: Anyone Can Look Hot

Fashion Advice I’m giving myself a lot of credit handing out advice here, so let’s hope I don’t offend anyone. I’ve made my blunders, but I think I’ve finally discovered the trick to looking good. Given, I still blunder … more often than I’d like. The title of this blog is not misleading, however. We all have different body shapes and sizes. This should not limit your sex appeal. First of all, and you’ve probably heard it a million times, but confidence IS sexy. If you feel good in what you’re wearing, chances are that you actually do look good.

One major key is dressing for your body. I happen to be very petite and skinny, but I still know that there is such a thing as too tight. Nobody wants to see that, no matter how thin you are. There is also, definitely, such a thing as too baggy. When in doubt, go for tailored. Emphasize your assets. Maybe you have great breasts—go with that, but do it tastefully. The same goes for any body part. I happen to have great legs, so I work with that. I have, unfortunately, crossed the line on many occasions. There is a key to avoiding this: consider whether your grandmother would roll over in her grave because you crossed the line between provocative and slutty. There is a HUGE difference. We will all cross the line at some point or another, but look in the mirror before you walk out the door and think of Gram for a minute. I could certainly learn from my own advice here.

I also believe that anyone can wear any color (especially my friend Sarah). The key to this is how much of that color you don. Like that friend you can only be around for five minutes maximum, think small doses. If the color looks especially good on you, rock that bitch. Don’t be afraid to take a risk either. The worst thing that can happen is you look like crap once and stop. No one cares about you enough to linger on the one day you wore a really terrible outfit (unless you’re famous, then I will judge you to no end because you won’t know and you won’t care because you’re ridiculously rich).

I also suggest once a year throwing a clothes exchange party preferably with mimosas and brunch (thanks to Amber for introducing me to this wonderful concept). Get your friends together and bring everything you’re sick of wearing or wish you hadn’t purchased. The exception to this is any classic piece. You will have good judgment here, trust me. Throw everything into a pile and everyone can go through it—first come, first serve. Take home what you like. Something that looks terrible on you may look awesome on someone else and vice versa. Take the leftovers to the Salvation Army and you’ve done three great things: gotten rid of the clothes that are taking up precious closet space, walked away with free clothes, and helped those in need.

To sum up, it’s about time to start spring cleaning. Do the closet while you’re at it and throw a clothes exchange in your freshly cleaned house or apartment. Don’t dress like a whore unless it’s your occupation. Be confident. Everyone has something to offer both physically and internally, so make your assets the most noticeable. Don’t become famous and rich or I will judge you.

If you actually find my advice useful, or want to tell me I suck, you can e-mail me at LLarkin@slweekly.com or leave a comment below. (Lindsay Larkin)

SXSW: Day 1

South by Southwest 2007, Austin Pete Townshend says screw the Internet! Sort of. In a keynote speech last night, the legendary Who demanded to know why he could pay $50 to "watch two motherfuckers beat the shit out of each other" but couldn't watch his friend play an intimate set at the neighborhood bar streaming live and direct online. Townshend called out the record and tech industries, claiming the "new boss," same as the old, are restricting access to a world he envisioned 30 years ago with the story that inspired Who's Next.

But the lively, frank artist isn't just flapping his jaw. On April 25, Townshend will launch the "Method," an interactive experience that offers subscribers the opportunity to create musical works modeled after their individual characteristics by "sitting" for a software composer as one would pose for a painter. Townshend tested the new process on the Who's latest album, Endless Wire. He encouraged the audience to attend the unveiling, especially journalists who he kindly referred to as "his friends," and as artists who are writing and researching and producing works that deserve as much respect as a musician's compositions.

I followed my new crush to the Austin Chronicle's annual music awards where he performed with Faces' alumn Ian MacLagan on the giant convention center stage. Standing four feet away from Townshend as he struck his trademark pose (arm windmilled above his guitar, legs in a lunge) was inspiring, to say the least.

My night closed with New York afro-punk act Game Rebellion, whose shirtless frontman left the stage several times to mosh with the crowd and who referred to Bush & Co. as the real gangstas. Today promises to bring much, much, much more music including sets by the Pippettes, Dirty Projectors, Black Lips, The Whigs, Sloan ... oh, who am I kidding. It's impossible to predict what will happen. Stay tuned. (Jamie Gadette)

Fashionista: Cassini, Not Chanel

FASHION I wanted to touch on a topic that has always bothered me: Jacqueline Kennedy’s pink suit. The suit Jackie wore on the day of the assassination was NOT a Chanel suit. It was clearly a Cassini (note the overstated buttons, collar, and boxy cut on the jacket, not to mention his unmistakable pillbox cap). If you’re not familiar with the two designers and why this suit was clearly not Chanel, it should be apparent in the fact that Oleg Cassini dressed the first lady almost exclusively. Jacqueline Kennedy was to Cassini what Audrey Hepburn was to Givenchy. And, coincidentally, Cassini was quite inspired by Givenchy.

This leads me to an irritation of mine: How could anyone in their right mind use Liv Tyler as the face of Givenchy? I’m certainly not alone in idolizing Audrey Hepburn on many levels and I find it insulting that she should be replaced with a woman I find irritating, fairly talentless, and, in my opinion, mousy and unattractive. Audrey had more class in her pinky toenail than Liv Tyler could ever hope for.

I’ve seriously digressed from the topic at hand, however: back to Cassini. I think it’s interesting to note that Cassini studied initially to be an artist under de Chirico. De Chirico’s influence is clear in Cassini’s work. De Chirico’s work often draws from classical subjects such as Greek statues, placed in industrial-like settings. His work has a modern edge through the style of the artist’s articulate, clean brushwork, composition, and colour theory. The same could be said of Cassini’s designs. He also drew from classic inspirations to create modern works of elegance and simplicity. These pieces changed the face of fashion, and most prominently through the face of Jacqueline Kennedy.

It’s no coincidence that a man who was initially known for his costume design transformed the first lady into a starlet of sorts and the first major fashion icon in US politics. Jackie remained a fashion icon throughout her life and her choices are still influencing fashion today. Most notably in Michael Kors’ new line based on Jacqueline Kennedy Onasis and her sister Lee Radziwill. I hope his Bouvier inspired pieces turn out well (mainly because I’d like to buy some). I was really not a fan of Michael Kors when he first arrived in the fashion scene. He seemed conflicted: like Tommy Hilfiger posing as a Calvin Klein or an Armani. I also hated Celine, which I found flat out tacky in general. In the last few years I think he’s found his voice and he’s created many pieces I admire and covet. I just hope he doesn’t completely botch it up. I couldn’t bare to see another Liv Tyler posing as an Audrey Hepburn. (Lindsay Larkin)

Tits For Tats

LETTERS City Weekly received this missive from concerned reader "Homer Fudpucker" last week. Food for thought, indeed:

Hey, I just get so fucking tired of seeing your "Nice Tats" inserts in the CW, showing stupid pix of idiots defacing their bods. How about showing some NICE TITS instead (without affixed Tats, of course) for us red-blooded males? Naw, shit, I guess you can't legally compete with rags like Playboy, can you? "Big Bro" would be hot after your bad ass! Oh well, I'll still continue to read your sorry-ass rag, even though it's 99 percent crapola! Cheers, Beers and Ho's! Sincerely, Homer Fudpucker

And here's this week's Nice Tat, Homer:

"I am a crazy cat person (not crazy cat 'lady'—that's different!). I got this 11 years ago from Teresa at Southern Thunder. She is out of town now, so I had Vic Back of Good Times touch it up last summer. Meow!" —Portia Early, X96 DJ

Straight Outta Layton

Barbed Bacon The Weekly World News (“The World’s Only Reliable Newspaper,” FYI) reported this week that a “bizarre new species” of pig has been discovered in, of all places, Layton, Utah: The PorcuPig! “Last month, one of my pigs gave birth to a litter of pigs covered with bristles,” farmer Bill Waterson told WWN. “They kept growing until they became full-fledged needles!” The Utah Heredity Institute (we couldn’t find any evidence that it exists, but we don’t have the investigative resources of the Weekly World News) confirmed the pig/porcupine DNA connection: “Just as certain plants acquire bad tastes or animals develop camouflage,” said Dr. Raymond Young, “these ‘porcupigs’ have formed an effective protection against the hands of butchering farmers.” And that’s not all: “Evolutionarily speaking, external spines like these are often a precursor to feathers,” Dr. Young continued. “Perhaps, in the not-so-distant future, we may yet see pigs fly!” So this is Intelligent Design, huh? Cool. (Bill Frost)

The Dumbing Down of Utah, Week 39-ish

What's IN this week, kidz?

* A desperate editorial on a smelly office.

* More dating bullshit.

* Another Sexy In SLC candidate "in a relationship."

* Lotsa promo pics of bands, zero information.

* Par-tay shots!

* Half-assed movie reviews.

* Quarter-assed Q&A with Snow Patrol.

* Reality TV reviews no one gives a shit about.

* Pole-dancing class story everyone else did two years ago.

* Yet another home-invasion pictorial.

* Making a mix CD ... seriously?

* Polka dots are back ... again.

* Suck-up bar review.

* In-depth Cup of Noodles review ... what the fuck?

Congratulations: If you bought a cut-rate ad in this Cleveland Steamer of an "alternative weekly" that's actually funded by a multimillion-dollar corporation, you're totally getting your money's worth. (Bill Frost)

Fashionista: The Oscars

FASHION Lindsay Larkin works in City Weekly's retail sales department. She also has something to say about fashion, so we set her loose on the blog. Her debut (epic) entry is all about Sunday's Academy Awards. Enjoy, there's more to come ...

First of all, three of my favourite designers completely let me down this year: Valentino (in more dress than one), Channel haute couture (Karl Lagerfield), and Armani (oh the shame!).

Anne Hathaway, whom I cannot stand in the first place and I have no good explanation other than her having a GIGANTIC mouth, walked the carpet in an absolutely depressing dress. The white lace was as tacky as the gigantic black bow over her breasts. Given, I have never been a big fan of lace, but this dress was truly a birth of a wedding and a funeral gone awry. Big mistake. And to think, I once dreamed I’d be rich enough to get married in a Valentino gown.

While we’re on Valentino, I was sorely disappointed to see Kate Winslet’s dress. Not only do I think she’s a fantastic actress, but I also think she is stunningly beautiful. However, there has never has been, and never will be an excuse for sea-foam green. Shame on you Kate Winslet, and, more so, shame on you Valentino.

This brings me directly to Giorgio Armani, whom I thought could do no wrong. This is until I tried on my Armani suit from high school and realized that the cut, especially the shoulder pads, screamed MC Hammer. Then he does it again with the sea-foam green. Beyonce showed up in nothing less than an appalling prom dress.

Let us now return to the mistake of the hideous bow. I have never been a fan of Nicole Kidman, and I think I may stand alone in this category. I hope I do not stand alone in thinking her dress was just plain awful.

While we’re on Nicole Kidman, the obvious next step is Naomi Watts. Good lord, what was she thinking? There was absolutely no excuse for her hideous Escada dress. Fortunately for me, I’ve never been a big fan of Escada, so I wasn’t personally affronted. Leave this fashion line to old, frumpy women on the upper west side please.

Back to Valentino. What the hell Cameron Diaz? Yes I think she’s a terrible actress and a bit of a bimbo, but I have been defending her fashion sense for some time now. Sadly, this dress has been widely accepted. All I can say is, “were you hoping for an ’80s themed wedding?” Again, destroying my own dreams of a Valentino wedding.

Finally, I mourn Channel haute couture. I cannot fathom what possessed Karl Lagerfield to design the dress Kirsten Dunst wore (Coco is probably turning in her grave as you read this) and what possessed anyone to don it. There is absolutely no excuse. And the frumpy hair really didn’t help anything.

Onto the good: I know that Gwyneth Paltrow is considered a seriously pretentious bitch at this point. It only makes me love her more, as did her Zac Posen dress. I am continually impressed by Zac Posen. I think he may be to this era what Tom Ford once was to Gucci (short-lived as it was). What I really loved about this dress, other than Gwyneth wearing it and the colour, was that it had to sink in. I really liked the dress at first glance, but I was also unsure. A great piece of clothing is one that gets better with each look and this dress definitely accomplished that.

Zac Posen only proved his talent more with Portia de Rossi. The dress was so incredibly hot that I would completely switch sides to take it off of her. Watch out Ellen.

And then Armani redeemed himself with his Armani Prive collection and Cate Blanchet’s impeccable taste. She was so absurdly gorgeous, I don’t know what to say. She has been fairly consistently faithful to Armani and she has, in my opinion, always chosen well. This time she was flawless.

As mush as I hate J. Lo (let’s just accept she is so not from the ghetto and call her Jennifer Lopez) she has been looking great lately. Because I hate her, I will credit this to a new stylist (totally unconfirmed). Her Marchesa dress was classy and provocative, but by no means trashy. So, Jennifer Lopez, I forgive you for you past mistakes for the time being.

Helen Mirren is a no-brainer in her Christian Lacroix. Pretty much Christian Lacroix is a no-brainer, but I must give her credit regardless.

Onto Reese Witherspoon, who I think has been consistently well dressed--outside of her costume designers’ choices, that is. She looks good as a general rule in real life. Her Nina Ricci was, however, incredibly hot, cutting-edge, and classy all at once. Mad props.

Finally, I’ll mention Penelope Cruz. Is it possible for her to look anything but hot? Her Atelier Versace was amazing. I have a hard time accepting anything Donatella Versace does in general because it seems almost blasphemous considering Gianni’s legacy, but I have to give her credit. I will especially give her credit for ripping off Gaultier (my favourite) in her own fashion. The train of this dress was so Gaultier that I wanted to rip it off of her. Yet Donatella managed to throw her own flair into it and make it uniquely her own. I am nothing but impressed. (Lindsay Larkin)

Perfect Hair Forever

POLITICS Looks like Mitt Romney has more obstacles than his religion (he’s a Mormon, in case you haven’t read it a dozen times in the Deseret Morning News today) if he’s to be ordained, er, elected president: According to a 77-slide PowerPoint presentation obtained by the Boston Globe, Romney’s media handlers think his hair is “too perfect” (oh, like there’s such a thing) and feel he’s perceived as a “phony,” a “political opportunist” and “not a war leader,” not to mention, a (gasp) “flip-flopper.” On the plus side, Romney’s an “optimistic, conservative leader,” a “strong leader from outside Washington” and “not Hillary Clinton.” The plan also calls for Romney to oh-so-carefully differentiate himself from not-so-popular current president Bush quite simply: “Intelligence.” Isn’t that just about every candidate’s strategy at this point? There’s also plenty of mentions of Romney’s LDS mission in icky France, and how to turn the issue against Clinton with “Hillary = France” and “First, Not France” bumperstickers … wha? (Bill Frost)

Pipes Update

I just found out that the pan piper is missing several fingers and probably isn't trying to catch the ear of a record exec. My apologies. I am, however, adamant in my feelings toward the dancing hippies. (Jamie Gadette)

And the winner is ...

Alta High School student Danny Hy, for the most unintentionally perverted anti-porn slogan imaginable: "Porn doesn't affect just you, it affects the whole family."

Honorable mention goes to second-place winner Sherena Weishar, not for any slogan, but for providing the following quote to a Trib reporter: "The Internet, although it can be wonderful, can also be a sticky place." (Brandon Burt)

Playa Hatin'

This pan pipes situation has got me thinking: when did I develop such a strong dislike for new-age music and/or jam bands and does my aversion to the street performer's covers of Simon & Garfunkel make me a bad person? The first concert I attended sans parents was Phish at the Delta Center. I got high for the first time on second-hand smoke and accepted a vegan burrito from some dreadlocked chick in the parking lot. That giant piece of heaven stands as the best burrito I've ever had. In high school, quite a few of my secret crushes wore Birkenstocks, smelled like patchouli and listened to bootleg Dead recordings. I went to drum circles and wore a hemp necklace under my basketball jersey. Eventually, however, I learned that pot makes me paranoid, patchouli smells like ass, and Black Sabbath rocked way harder than Jerry Garcia ever could. While I'm sure the Main Street busker is a great guy, really, I can't help but think he'd be better off sending his self-produced albums to journalists, club owners, concert promoters and radio stations. A high-profile A&R rep is unlikely to discover him in front of the Coffee Garden. Perhaps more unsettling are the green-haired hippie kids dancing to his music--the same ones who ask me for spare change every day while they sit and read beat poetry. It seems they could find better things to do (um, get a job?) than flash their butt cracks at me on my way to lunch. I know this makes me seem like a hardened cynic. Maybe it was all of those years schlupping bagels, coffee and pub food from 16 on that made me cold. Maybe I'd be free and open-minded if I hadn't worked for the man. (Jamie Gadette)

Hey, Aqualung: Shut Up!

OFFICE There's some hippie downstairs on Main Street jamming on the flute. It's fucking annoying. If these windows on the 2nd floor opened, we'd be dropping something heavy on him right now. When flutes are outlawed, only outlaws will have flutes ... (Bill Frost)

They're Great, Just Ask 'Em

MEDIA How far is your head up your own ass to devote an entire Saturday column to how amazing your own coverage of last week's Trolley Square shootings was? Apparently, if you're already down there, you can fellate yourself as well--bravo, Salt Lake Tribune, bravo! Especially love this quote:

"Looking back over five days of intense activity in the newsroom, Editor Nancy Conway says, 'When covering a story this big, the newsroom most feels the awesome responsibility to provide information.'"

So ... what's the newsroom feeling the rest of the time, vis-a-vis information? Just curious. (Bill Frost)

The light at the end of the tunnel...

... is really just the Best of Utah train barreling down on City Weekly. Now that SLAMMYs are in the bag, I have 8 hours to do some yoga, eat some Thai food and fall asleep on the couch. When I wake up, I and the other editorial peeps will write some 70 picks for our annual BOU issue. While the process is daunting, it's not quite as stressful as the SLAMMYs. It's hard to cover every single genre in our ever-growing scene. We try our best to point readers in the right direction in hopes they'll find some other unmentioned groups along the way. If you're not satisfied with our winners and staff picks this year (available in print and online form in limited release tomorrow and then everywhere on Thursday), go out into the scene and track down something more suited to your tastes. Then, write in and let us know. Support local music (it's wayyyyyyyyyyyyyy better than Grammy-award winners Black Eyed Peas who took home an award for one of the worst songs of all time, "My Humps." Blech). (Jamie Gadette)

Showdown to SLAMMys '07 Review

MUSIC This year, the ultimate winner of City Weekly’s annual Showdown battle o’ the bands (for an expense-paid trip to Austin’s South by Southwest Music Conference in March) was chosen strictly by The People—no judges, just a popular audience vote at The Depot on Saturday, Feb. 10. We get complaints every year about judges’ decisions; we’ve already had a couple about the crowd’s. Just can’t win.

Neither can the first band of the evening—it’s a perennially tough slot, being the lead-off. Alternative rock quartet Medicine Circus, who’ve made the Showdown rounds in years past, were just happy to be at the finals; singer-guitarist Christopher Stearman expressed his gratitude between nearly every song, and even brought flowers for the other three acts of the night. Medicine Circus rocked through their guitar-heavy set (including a Stone Temple Pilots cover) for a still-arriving audience and the faithful who’d gotten there early, proudly displaying their MC apparel. They were vocal, but the majority was waiting for …

St. Boheme (pictured above), a Logan band of facial-hair enthusiasts who’d apparently brought most of northern Utah with them. The foursome, all acoustic instruments and ‘40s ragamuffin threads, came across as a collegiate Soggy Bottom Boys or Devotchka without the rainbow of ethnic influences. For such a new group (three months old, they say), St. Boheme know how to put on an impassioned show and work a crowd—and it didn’t hurt that each song was more tuneful and memorable than the last. They were the quietest band of the night (probably the quietest band to ever make it to the Showdown Finals), but St. B easily had the loudest fans. Audience vote seemed like an easy call, until the next guy showed up … (Bill Frost)

While widely billed as the “British Mormon Rapper,” Alex Boye is rather a funk/R&B/soul crooner with the smooth-talking skills of a motivational speaker. Research confirmed that he does in fact empower people for a living, which helps explain his ability to quickly woo a diverse crowd. Even potentially alienating shout-outs to his bishop and victims of a tragic weekend car accident didn’t slow his mighty groove. Boye isn’t doing anything particularly new, but he appeals to a broad audience and since this contest is decided by popular vote …

The Rubes, who typically work hard for the money but not for cool points, did their best to bust all the right moves. Rather than unleash a fresh batch of tunes with complex arrangements, they stuck to upbeat basics designed for sweat-drenched dance revolutions. But the fourth slot is often as damning as the first and downtown’s retro rockers (whose drummer is my boyfriend, and no, I didn’t rig this event) ran an uphill race to the finish.

It seemed no amount of pumped-up jams could offset the sheer physical force of St. Boheme’s loyal fans (seriously, major props to those who made the trip to SLC three times in one week to give their hometown heroes a small, but crucial, advantage). It’s not clear, however, if the St. B posse will pony up the bucks for airfare, hotels, festival badges and other expenses necessary to accompany the Loganites to Austin.

Yes, in case you haven’t figured it out by now, St. Boheme won, followed closely by Alex Boye, The Rubes and Medicine Circus. I’m personally looking forward to spending some quality SXSW time in Texas with the optimistic newbies. They have a lot of promise and with a few intense experiences on 6th Street, there’s no reason they won’t return with the chops necessary to reap future success—with or without strength in numbers. (Jamie Gadette)

City Weekly's Salt Lake Area Music & More issue hits the streets on Thursday, Feb. 15.

The Second (or So) Coming

THEATER "Ted heads" went away dejected on the Tuesday opening night of Jesus Christ Superstar at Kingsbury Hall. Right after the emcee announced how great it was to interview Ted Neeley and what a genuinely nice person he was and how we would be so lucky to see him perform in his farewell tour, it was then announced that the part of Jesus of Nazareth would be played by the understudy. Incredulous groans from the audience echoed in the hall.

In his place, however, Chris Gleim did a more than credible job filling in. He definitely looked more the part of a 30-something Jesus. Once he warmed up his pipes, he could shriek Jesus' outrage at the moneylenders as well as Neeley ever did in his prime and in fact, Gleim won the house over after his powerful rendition of "Gethsemane."

Not to be outdone, Living Colour lead singer Corey Glover played a mean Judas Iscariot, with all the requisite passion, skepticism and rock & roll apostle-hood necessary to pull a little understanding and sympathy his way.

I also liked Craig Sculli's whispering-snake performance of Pontius Pilate and the campy shtick of King Herod played by Aaron Fuksa.

Mary Magdalene, played by Tiffini Dodson, sang our favorites with aplomb("Everything's Alright" and "I Don't Know How to Love Him") but as an actor, she seemed a bit wooden. Maybe it's just the way the part is written.

The stage was rather bare bones for a Broadway production but hang on for the dramatic ending that involves someone dying on a cross (I'm not giving anything away here, am I, religious scholars?) which ups the production-values ante a bit. Plus you'll be razzle-dazzled by Corey Glover's Judas if you wait it out.

Superstar brings up that age-old question of why anyone would sanely choose to be a spiritual iconoclast. From Moses to Jesus to Martin Luther to Mahatma Gandhi to even our local favorite Joseph Smith, at the end of the day, when all the preaching is ended, it seems like people mostly just want to see your head on a stick. Even His Holiness the Dalai Lama got kicked out of his own home and shown the door from his own country. It's an occupation with a high mortality rate ... and not a lot of love.

After seeing the film version of Jesus Christ Superstar several times and savoring the soundtrack (with lyrics by Tim Rice and music by Andrew Lloyd Webber) back in my '70s high school days, this was my first live production. Totally worth it if you love the music and can handle the fact that Neeley might be a no-show. (Jerre Wroble)

Out In the Open

NEWS How Mississippi weekly Jackson Free Press helped break a 42-year-old murder case, from CNN's Paula Zahn Now: