Ladies' Night Earl-style is a dance party with free admission and a free drink for women. Men pay a $5 cover. By 12:30 a.m., the dance floor was pretty crowded, though I was told by several regulars that it was a slow night. The crowd, particularly a woman wearing pink pants and a "don't disturb this groove" look on her face, was serious about dancing. Despite the sense
of purpose, it's still The Earl, so the
atmosphere was easygoing and fun.
On three separate occasions, three different strangers placed the same pirate hat
on my head. That would never happen
You'd Better Czech Yourself: My impression of Czech culture as overly earnest and slightly insane is based entirely on an animated Czech film about Stalinism that I saw a few years ago in which two competing soccer teams score points by killing members of the opposing team. The Fire Martyr Tour, featuring the Czech band Skrol, didn't do much to change my impression.
Skrol, which performed in Eyedrum's oppressively hot basement last Friday, consists of two male instrumentalists using synthesizers to create a metallic squall and vocalist Martina Sweeny, who crouches in front of tealite candles, screaming wordlessly into the microphone. At one point, the candles ignited her long black hair, creating a large ball of flames that burned up to her scalp before being extinguished, coincidentally, by the hands of Mitch Foy, the man reviewing the show for the Vibes section of this paper. Despite the fire's seeming intensity and the nauseating smell of burning hair, the band continued unfazed. I guess that's what good fire martyrs do. When I asked Sweeny after the show about the fire, she deadpanned in her Czech accent, "That is always my story, getting on fire during the show." Fear, the very friendly bassist of Atlanta's goth-metal d'hiver mort, confirmed that Sweeny does in fact frequently catch on fire while performing.
Joe Christ, the tour's organizer, screened his new film, My Struggle (that's Mein Kampf for our German readers). With characteristic matter-of-factness, Christ explained that in the film he plays a war veteran and struggling artist who makes his living by manufacturing pipe bombs for children and burglarizing homes. He's the film's hero.
Adventures in Sci-Fri: Science Friction 2001 at The Atlanta Contemporary Art Center billed itself as a "futuristic odyssey of fashion, art, food, music and dance." While certainly a pleasant enough party with lots
of good-looking people, the future that it depicted is a harrowing one filled with sleeveless sequined shirts, uncomfortable shoes and lots of Red Bull. The party's
organizers envision a future identical to a typical Friday in Midtown.
The evening's centerpiece was the Wayne Van Nguyen fashion show, in which futurism was represented by a digitized, scrolling display of the designer's name and several models holding flashlights. The future of food was thankfully represented by chocolate truffles from Spice, which turned out to be my dinner. The futuristic artwork was completely ignored because you couldn't take drinks into the gallery's main space. One exception was a beautiful painting by Atlanta's William Woolfolk, which was hanging outside in the courtyard near the VIP area.
My Deux Cents: Though my date and I were on the guest list to attend the Celebrity Bash at Deux Plex hosted by Most Valuable Pleabargainer Ray Lewis, the rude, sub-verbal doorman treated us both so badly that dignity compelled us to turn around and walk out. It's too bad for them, because I looked good. It seems that at Deux Plex, it's being an
accessory that makes the man.
They've Both Kissed Girls: On the recommendation of a friend, I attended the Lloyd Cole/Jill Sobule acoustic show at Variety Playhouse on Sunday night. Sobule played first, winning over the polite crowd with her hilarious song "Bitter," in which she rails against her rejection by the
recording industry in favor of "a slutty Mouseketeer." Keeping things light, she
covered Destiny's Child's "Survivor," singing lyrics from a notebook while Cole accompanied on the guitar.
Before Sunday, I was more familiar with Cole's reputation for being depressed than I was with his music. When I called his management to obtain permission to photograph the show, they thought I said I was with Creative Loathing. Reputation aside, his melodic, literate and soulful songs won me over, and I'm officially saving up to buy one of his albums. His gentle reading of George Jones' "She Thinks I Still Care" was stunning.
Tara Firma: As if Stone Mountain Park wasn't campily Southern enough, through Labor Day, the park's Memorial Hall is hosting a collection of Gone With the Wind memorabilia including original costumes, scripts, promotional posters and Vivien Leigh's Best Actress Oscar for her portrayal of Scarlett O'Hara in the film. It's a treat for obsessive fans of the film. Though the collection's owner, Jim Tumblin, led a fact-filled guided tour of the exhibit on Friday, he still couldn't explain why Scarlett was so hung up for so long on that wimp Ashley.
Hopefully he has enough sense not to repeat the TSPLOST debacle.
@ Mark from Atlanta "Call me crazy, but I really don't think the U.S. Navy…
"wringing his hands in indecision, paralyzed by over-analysis." __________________________________________________ Call me crazy, but I really…
"After four years of malaise, Reagan helped turn around the U.S. economy." _____________________________________________________________ Reagan: Through…
@ Mark from Atlanta "That has historically been the case that women and children, because…