The Free Press is bringing back a Reviews section after some absence. We hope to review plenty of events around town. Check back frequently and if what\'s going on is any good.
Arts & Culture
Deva Premal's "Love is Space" is a perfect album.
Such gems do exist. They're rare, but most great musicians have at least one.
The Beatles had many, including "Rubber Soul" and "SGT. Pepper". My favorite of theirs remains the "Here Comes the Sun" side of "Abbey Road".
Also in my book: Van Morrison's "Astral Weeks" qualifies. Jimi's "Electric Ladyland". Many of Bonnie Raitt's sixteen albums are on that level: though my favorite is her live "Road Tested." The Stones' "Sticky Fingers" and "Let it Bleed." The Who's "Magic Bus." Stevie Wonder's "Songs in the Key of Life." Carole King's "Tapestry."
The distinguishing features of such masterpieces are not only an entire album without a bad cut, but also a work with a coherent rhythm and tangible wholeness---and sense of purpose---that make it more a symphony than a collection of songs. A perfect game that you can dance to---many many times.
Such gems do exist. They're rare, but most great musicians have at least one.
The Beatles had many, including "Rubber Soul" and "SGT. Pepper". My favorite of theirs remains the "Here Comes the Sun" side of "Abbey Road".
Also in my book: Van Morrison's "Astral Weeks" qualifies. Jimi's "Electric Ladyland". Many of Bonnie Raitt's sixteen albums are on that level: though my favorite is her live "Road Tested." The Stones' "Sticky Fingers" and "Let it Bleed." The Who's "Magic Bus." Stevie Wonder's "Songs in the Key of Life." Carole King's "Tapestry."
The distinguishing features of such masterpieces are not only an entire album without a bad cut, but also a work with a coherent rhythm and tangible wholeness---and sense of purpose---that make it more a symphony than a collection of songs. A perfect game that you can dance to---many many times.
Sometimes dreams come true. And sometimes reality exceeds your hopes.
That happened to me---and my four-year-old daughter---at the Palace. Thanks to CAPA, Columbus was treated to THE great Irish band in a concert that can only be described as magical, mystical, moving ... magnificent.
About the band, there's little you can say beyond that they are the True Masters of Irish music. The leprechaun-like Paddy (his real name), chief of the Chieftains, put it as simply as it needed to be put: "Thank you for coming tonight. Forty-two years, forty-two albums."
Every one of them a treasure. For years I've dreamed of seeing the Chieftains. They played the zoo a few years ago but I couldn't go. Last night I almost couldn't go again. I was just about out the door and onto my bike to head downtown when my four-year-old, Shoshanna, started to howl. She wanted to come. It hadn't occurred to me. How would she handle the somewhat stiff, somewhat formal Palace?
That happened to me---and my four-year-old daughter---at the Palace. Thanks to CAPA, Columbus was treated to THE great Irish band in a concert that can only be described as magical, mystical, moving ... magnificent.
About the band, there's little you can say beyond that they are the True Masters of Irish music. The leprechaun-like Paddy (his real name), chief of the Chieftains, put it as simply as it needed to be put: "Thank you for coming tonight. Forty-two years, forty-two albums."
Every one of them a treasure. For years I've dreamed of seeing the Chieftains. They played the zoo a few years ago but I couldn't go. Last night I almost couldn't go again. I was just about out the door and onto my bike to head downtown when my four-year-old, Shoshanna, started to howl. She wanted to come. It hadn't occurred to me. How would she handle the somewhat stiff, somewhat formal Palace?
Written by Bob Fitrakis
Edited by Brian Lindamood
Published by: Columbus Alive/Columbus Institute for Contemporary Journalism 246 pages; $15.00
Buy this book at: Free Press Online Store
Great investigative journalists are few and far between these days, but Bob Fitrakis is definitely one of them.
For years in both the Columbus Free Press and Columbus Alive, Fitrakis has been digging up the dirt on a wide range of corporate criminals, death penalty abusers and right-wing fanatics.
This superb compilation of some of Bob's best stuff, written over the years for Columbus Alive, is a welcome addition to the annals of muckraking. In many ways, it serves as a primer on the art of exposing hidden truths, and could serve as a good basic text for high school and college students not yet brain deadened by television or George W. Bush.
Edited by Brian Lindamood
Published by: Columbus Alive/Columbus Institute for Contemporary Journalism 246 pages; $15.00
Buy this book at: Free Press Online Store
Great investigative journalists are few and far between these days, but Bob Fitrakis is definitely one of them.
For years in both the Columbus Free Press and Columbus Alive, Fitrakis has been digging up the dirt on a wide range of corporate criminals, death penalty abusers and right-wing fanatics.
This superb compilation of some of Bob's best stuff, written over the years for Columbus Alive, is a welcome addition to the annals of muckraking. In many ways, it serves as a primer on the art of exposing hidden truths, and could serve as a good basic text for high school and college students not yet brain deadened by television or George W. Bush.
STOMP is a hell of a kick. It's the Oltatunji of the Ashcans. The Kodo Drumming of the Alleyways. It is offbeat, imaginative, relentlessly unique in its working-class creativity, and, at its best, downright inspirational.
Gotta admit---it starts slow. You have to adjust to a set cobbled together from trashcans and hubcaps, discard signs and scrap metal. There's no orchestra and no lyrics. Marcel Marceau would get mugged in this neighborhood.
Festivities open with a guy pushing a broom. Soon there's a chorus line of broomsters, somehow making it all musical. And from there it goes...
Other "instruments" range from paperbags and daily newspapers to bottleopeners and kitchen utensils, from actual basketballs to apparently random trash.
Slowly, the cast establishes their characters. The sad sack. The macho muscle man. The Earth Mother. The firefly.
Gotta admit---it starts slow. You have to adjust to a set cobbled together from trashcans and hubcaps, discard signs and scrap metal. There's no orchestra and no lyrics. Marcel Marceau would get mugged in this neighborhood.
Festivities open with a guy pushing a broom. Soon there's a chorus line of broomsters, somehow making it all musical. And from there it goes...
Other "instruments" range from paperbags and daily newspapers to bottleopeners and kitchen utensils, from actual basketballs to apparently random trash.
Slowly, the cast establishes their characters. The sad sack. The macho muscle man. The Earth Mother. The firefly.
Now showing at the Arena Grand and Elsewhere
The mystery is solved:
I’ve been friends with the guys in Denovo for I don’t know how long – hell, I was in bands with some of them. I listened to Jason, Marc, Chris and Sean write these songs. But I’ve moved, and Sunday is no longer dominated by Denovo practice day. While my life is a little quieter, it lacks the right soundtrack.
But my problem has been solved. Heartfelt, raw – somewhere between indie rock and hardcore – Denovo’s new seven-inch masters melodic, post-hardcore. While I’ve drifted away from a lot of indie records in the past couple of years, Denovo pulls me back with their authenticity and ingenuity.
On the instrument side, Denovo skillfully juxtaposes driving bass lines and creative drum work with guitars that alternate between fret-board acrobatics and driving synchronicity. The vocals are clean, heartfelt and complete Denovo’s sound. Sean met the other guys during the years Special Aviation Project, Denovo’s predecessor, was searching for a singer. When you listen to the seven-inch, you know why their search stopped with him.
Rare is the modern movie that can teach and touch you at the same time. BEND IT LIKE BECKHAM at the Drexel East takes soccer, family. Coming-of-age and an undertone of ethnic tension and turns them all into a lovely visual curry well worth a trip to the theater.
Especially if the theater is the Drexel East. In my first review of this series I lauded the downtown Arena Grand. But my heart will always be with Bexley's Drexel, the classic old-timey throw-back to the days when theaters had heart. Unfortunately, a few years ago our little east-side community tore down its other cinematic treasure, the old double-screen Bexley, to make way for---you guessed it---a McDonald's. But there is justice in the world: we locals forced that Mickey D's shut by passing an ordinance against drive-throughs.
Meanwhile, almost miraculously, Jeff & Kathy Frank's beautiful Drexel has survived in tact. It is seasoned, classy, comfortable and unique, everything a theater should be that cares about what's on the screen. I consider it an honor and a privilege to live a few blocks away.
Especially if the theater is the Drexel East. In my first review of this series I lauded the downtown Arena Grand. But my heart will always be with Bexley's Drexel, the classic old-timey throw-back to the days when theaters had heart. Unfortunately, a few years ago our little east-side community tore down its other cinematic treasure, the old double-screen Bexley, to make way for---you guessed it---a McDonald's. But there is justice in the world: we locals forced that Mickey D's shut by passing an ordinance against drive-throughs.
Meanwhile, almost miraculously, Jeff & Kathy Frank's beautiful Drexel has survived in tact. It is seasoned, classy, comfortable and unique, everything a theater should be that cares about what's on the screen. I consider it an honor and a privilege to live a few blocks away.
The Arena Grand theater is a masterpiece, and it's currently showing a masterpiece, CHICAGO, just rightly voted Oscar's best picture. My advice: see them both, asap!!!
By way of introduction: this "dual review" marks my first for the new freepress.org web site. By way of disclosure, the operators of the Arena Grand Theater---along with the legendary Drexel East and Grandview Theaters---are Jeff and Kathy Frank. They are old friends of mine, and Jeff has kindly agreed to provide passes to those films I review. He understands that I will be panning those films I don't like.
I will, however, be lavishing praise on all three of these gems of theaters. Here we are on solid mutual ground. I've always loved the Drexel and Grandview. They are oases of class and taste in an industry now dominated by crass and fake. They combine the old style grace of the golden age of cinema with brilliant and often daring choices of product and programming. More on them as the opportunity arises.
By way of introduction: this "dual review" marks my first for the new freepress.org web site. By way of disclosure, the operators of the Arena Grand Theater---along with the legendary Drexel East and Grandview Theaters---are Jeff and Kathy Frank. They are old friends of mine, and Jeff has kindly agreed to provide passes to those films I review. He understands that I will be panning those films I don't like.
I will, however, be lavishing praise on all three of these gems of theaters. Here we are on solid mutual ground. I've always loved the Drexel and Grandview. They are oases of class and taste in an industry now dominated by crass and fake. They combine the old style grace of the golden age of cinema with brilliant and often daring choices of product and programming. More on them as the opportunity arises.
dance contest
in the growing absence
of ceremony and ritual.
driven by icons and marketing
toward a state of apathy
we are faced with
way too many choices
many finding they are unable
to choose at all
as the storm clouds gather
an inhumane political agenda
falsely projected by those
who would divide and isolate us
from each other
and all of us
from the rest of the world
instilling fear.
those who would have
and use it all
continue encouraging us
to sit this one out
consistently inviting us.
to remain silent
in the growing absence
of ceremony and ritual.
let's dance.
in the growing absence
of ceremony and ritual.
driven by icons and marketing
toward a state of apathy
we are faced with
way too many choices
many finding they are unable
to choose at all
as the storm clouds gather
an inhumane political agenda
falsely projected by those
who would divide and isolate us
from each other
and all of us
from the rest of the world
instilling fear.
those who would have
and use it all
continue encouraging us
to sit this one out
consistently inviting us.
to remain silent
in the growing absence
of ceremony and ritual.
let's dance.