Right now, scores of Kansas City Art Institute students are desperately hunting for coveted gallery space to exhibit their senior thesis work. Fortunately for two of them, Brent Wheatley (or “Wheatdog,” as his Baker University college buddies used to call him) has opened his Crossroads studio space to show the work of fiber department seniors Larissa Uredi and Deja Browning….
By my math, Mark Robbins has given me something like 10 hours of real, rich pleasure over the past year. Not bad for someone I’ve never met. Taken in a single shot and not doled out over a series of performances in the year’s finest plays — including The Voysey Inheritance, The Cripple of Inishmaan and his latest, the dark…
Arun Thai Place: DJ and dinner specials, Sat., Dec. 31. 100 E. 7th St., 816-472-8424. Attitudes and Latitudes: Chubby Lane and the Secrets play live blues. Free appetizers and free champagne at midnight. Sat., Dec. 31, until 3 a.m. Sun., Jan 1. 2516 N.E. Vivion Rd., North Kansas City, 816-453-2222. Balanca’s: New Year’s Eve blowout party. DJs on both floors,…
Before the end of December, most of us will lift a few glasses to 2005 — a year whose end definitely deserves toasting. We’ve listed a ton of drinking establishments and duly noted their special New Year’s Eve offerings, so finding the perfect spot for escorting in 2006 should be easy. Starting the next day, many of us will begin…
One cannot in good conscience describe the countless strands of plot and strains of characters skittering through The Family Stone without knowing that any such description merits at least a snicker, if not bellowing guffaws. The movie is too overstuffed by half with pointless people and plot lines that dangle like warning signs, begging you to stay away. And yet…
For whatever reason, the modernized remake of King Kong released 29 years ago has become less the “pop classic” that Pauline Kael insisted it was at the time than a dimly remembered punch line that starred a shaggy Jeff Bridges and a screaming Jessica Lange. Perhaps the movie never earned a better reputation because of its intentionally dopey dialogue; Bridges,…
The only time I’ve ever lost my temper on the airwaves was over a decade ago on KCUR 89.3’s Walt Bodine Show. A caller posed this question to a panel of restaurant critics: “How much are you required to tip on a bottle of wine? If you order a $40 bottle of wine with dinner, why should you have to…
It never occurred to us here at the Pitch to add a “Best Survivor” category to our annual “Best Of” issue. But if I were permitted to give out such an award now, my choice would be veteran restaurateur José “Don Pepé” Fernandez. Why? Well, for one thing, the Madrid-born chef has opened and closed five restaurants in the…
Junior high was a wretched experience for us. Back in the day, this young Night Rangerette was a horribly awkward preteen with a bad perm, oversized glasses and teeth that didn’t just need braces — the orthodontist even gave her headgear. Add to that the fact that she attended a snobby private school, and is it any wonder that she…
For this barren corner of the concert calendar, Tommie Sunshine supplies high-wattage star power that’s as welcome as his namesake’s glow on a dire winter day. His legacy isn’t immediately apparent at the record store (most of his releases are vinyl singles, so CD-centric stores might not even include a placard confirming his existence), but almost everyone has heard music…
Rappers who constantly rhyme about themselves tend to lose their audiences fast, but Donta’ Slusha’s (isn’t that one of the best damned rap monikers ever?) penchant for big-upping himself creates even more craving for his gruff, ODB-like slur. The 15-song disc is enjoyable partly because of the shameless self-indulgence but mainly because of its solid production, cleverly conceived song concepts,…
American Catastrophe’s six-song debut, Excerpts From the Broken Bone Choir, is like the testimony of a brooding, dangerous Lord Byron of the post-apocalyptic American West. Singer Shaun Hamontree is an almost perfect synthesis of Tom Waits and Nick Cave — he has Cave’s range, clarity, murderous thump and fascination with death; plus he has Waits’ ability to lure the listener…
At the outset of City, Big Kenny Alphin and John Rich declare, Somebody’s got to be unafraid to lead the freak parade — and they’re clearly the men for the job. As on last year’s Horse of a Different Color, they delight in tweaking country conventions and, thanks to a combination of goofiness and smarts, they generally get away with…
Rhino’s lavish reissues bookend T. Rex’s most fully cooked work, polishing maestro Marc Bolan’s legacy for any Yanks who still think of this overseas superstar as a trashy novelty. Not that trash is beside the point: Bolan’s 1972 masterpiece, The Slider, is full of the kind of grubby teenage reverie that distinguishes the ’70s from the ’60s — love songs…
First: Mike Ireland’s physique. His body is lean and mean, an intriguing physical form. His formidable sideburns alone can melt a snowbank with their sheer radiant energy. But is he a movie star? No. He’s a musician born and raised in Kansas City, with a rich musical heritage and a penchant for penning roots tunes of misery, hope and harmony….
A ball of kinetic energy that reaches critical mass several times a set, the Quivering is the newest entity in KC’s grinding noise scene. Featuring Andrew Luker and Jesse Dalton of the late Marching Powder, the Quivering draws heavily from the sounds of its mother band. It creates dense, instrumental noise attacks heavy on the dance beats, which it savagely…
Married couple Vivian Sarratt and Edmond Hallas conceived their collective moniker when, frustrated at being interrupted in the midst of noisy, passionate activity, they said “Mommy and Daddy are practicing, leave us alone.” What keeps this story from being creepy (like, say, a once-married couple posing as siblings) is that the interloper was the duo’s mewling cat, Nishita, and the…
With its sax, its theatrical introspection and its reverby guitar sound, no band sounds so much like the early ’80s — and so unmistakably itself — as the Psychedelic Furs. Maybe it’s the way the band dragged its artsy-glam influence beyond the punk era without disguising it first. Maybe it’s Richard Butler’s guttural voice, so distinct from those of his…
When Eric Bachmann came to town last March, he had a full band (Crooked Fingers) at his disposal. This time around, the group’s frontman is traveling solo for a more intimate approach. Bachmann got his start more than a decade ago, heading up the now-defunct North Carolina indie-rock outfit Archers of Loaf. Since then, he has moved to Seattle, taken…
Solo R&B artists almost never play small Kansas City clubs, so for novelty’s sake alone, Dwele’s gig at the Grand Emporium deserves notice. The Detroit-born crooner possesses the type of booming voice that could easily reach the cheap seats at much larger venues, but his stage show places a refreshing focus on storytelling rather than costume changes and choreography. It’s…
Another year, another rich haul of Christmas CDs. But instead of coming up with just another essay about holiday music, this time around we decided to help out the ailing economy — not to mention you frazzled holiday shoppers out there — by assembling a Christmas CD buying guide. We’ve taken a few of the best records we got this…
All hail Big Poppa! Not only was the Notorious B.I.G. a master storyteller and MC, but he also has never humped a corpse. That may seem faint praise for such a legend. However, his lack of necrophilia sets Biggie apart from his friends and family, who have turned his moldy bones into the town bicycle. Witness the new Biggie Duets…
On July 5, 2005, Elevator Division played at Verizon Amphitheater as the afternoon opener for Cake and Weezer. It was a big break for a relatively young band just one year removed from its first official label release, the type of gig that opens doors. Singer James Hoskins reports that Elevator Division “made some new fans and sold a lot…
It’s the gnarly-instrument factor. That’s what weirds out most people about one-man bands — the freakish, off-kilter contraptions such as the boingy stringed pipes played by That One Guy or the road-worn corpses and monkeys of Captured by Robots. To be a fan, you can’t be disturbed by the fact that a grown person sits at home constructing an instrument…
