This article was originally published in the Night & Day section of the San Diego Union-Tribune.
Those familiar with stand-up comedian Bobcat Goldthwait’s yelping shtick from the ’80s and ’90s (made famous in movies like “Police Academy 2”) may plan on bringing earplugs to his show Saturday at Ramona Main Stage.
But even though his brand of black humor has inspired countless others — Mitch Hedberg, Patton Oswalt — he’s since switched gears, directing films (Sundance selections “World’s Greatest Dad” and “Sleeping Dogs Lie”) rather than performing as his famously manic character.
Now back on the stand-up circuit, the comedian just plays himself — not that the routine is completely absent of madcap humor; there’s simply less fear of pyromania.
So this time, expect a much balder Goldthwait to deliver more traditional punch lines, rather than his old style of high-pitched, acerbic garbling.
(Source: signonsandiego.com)
This article was originally published in the Night & Day section of the San Diego Union-Tribune.
Is there any alt-rock band as absurd as Weezer? After its self-titled debut was released in 1994, the members of the band were bespectacled heroes, but after the 1996 follow-up “Pinkerton,” the group plunged into voluntary obscurity — even as the commercial failure became a cult classic for a generation of emo geeks.
Recent years are even stranger. There’s a music video with the Muppets, logo-emblazoned Snuggies, an album named after a “Lost” character. It’s as if Weezer is simply a platform for a series of hyper-meta jokes that no one else is in on, especially fans who cling to their copies of “Pinkerton” and pray for a revival of frontman Rivers Cuomo’s ’90s angst.
That day will probably never come, so expect the unexpected when the band hits the Seaside Stage at the Del Mar Racetrack on Saturday.
Case in point: On the phone from New Jersey, drummer Patrick Wilson is distracted. Band mate Brian Bell tunes his guitar and subwoofers pound in the background as Weezer prepares for a collaborative show with The Flaming Lips (both bands, performing side by side, trading off between tracks). It was Weezer’s management’s idea, Wilson thinks, and it’s the day of the gig and they’re still not sure what they’re doing.
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(Source: signonsandiego.com)
This article was originally published online at signonsandiego.com
Last month Ryan Raddon — otherwise known as electronic dance music (EDM) artist Kaskade — sent an innocent tweet to his followers, inviting them to the Hollywood premiere of the documentary film “Electric Daisy Carnival Experience,” where he promised a free DJ set to fans on the street.
But there would be no party: His declaration of “ME+BIG SPEAKERS+MUSIC=BLOCK PARTY!!!” that day transformed downtown Los Angeles into a near-riot zone. The crowds outside Grauman’s Chinese Theatre grew to the thousands, culminating in a standoff between ravers and the police, who ordered the Kaskade fans to leave.
But the kids just wanted to dance.
Clearly, EDM is having its moment. When the genre first broke in the 90s — “Jock Jams,” Moby and all — many thought it was the future of pop music. But it fell back into the underground, only to emerge a decade later with Lady Gaga and deadmau5 leading the way.
Hence, this summer’s IDentity festival (headlined and curated by Kaskade) — the first traveling electronic music festival, modeled like the dance version of the Warped Tour or Ozzfest. It stops at Cricket Wireless Amphitheatre in Chula Vista Friday. (For tickets, click here. )
We caught up with Kaskade to talk about the future of EDM and how ID Fest has spread the raver gospel.
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(Source: signonsandiego.com)
This article was originally published in the Weekend Books section of the San Diego Union-Tribune.
Revisiting 9/11 is never easy, but for the 10th anniversary of the tragedy, the publishing world has released a quiet stream of commemorative nonfiction. Though the discourse surrounding the terrorist attacks eventually turned toward politics and war, this selection of books brings the focus back to stories of heroism, loss and recovery at the heart of the fallen Twin Towers.
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This article was originally published in the Night & Day section of the San Diego Union-Tribune.
For many, circus clowns are a living nightmare — a childhood trauma linked with garishly overdrawn features and zany balloon animals. Stanislav Knyazkov is no such clown. Though he’s performing as part of the duo Stas and Vas at the Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey “Fully Charged” circus this weekend, the Russian native opts for a minimalist costume. He sports makeup that’s more Ziggy Stardust than Bozo the Clown, so those with not-so-fond circus memories might have less to fear from the latest leg of “The Greatest Show On Earth.”
Nonetheless, Knyazkov asserts that clowns of all kinds deserve more credit for their unique brand of comedy. Interspersed between high-thrill acts, it’s the job of the clown to bring some much-needed laughter to the show.
“We recharge the audience,” Knyazkov said, dutifully plugging the circus’s techno theme.
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(Source: signonsandiego.com)
