Archives: September 2006

Crossing Over

  Bill Sundahl grew up in Mertle, the kind of small Missouri village you might call a stick-and-gone town — when you’re driving through, as soon as you stick your head out the window, the town’s already gone. It was a town of “dirt farmers, chicken fighters and wife beaters,” Sundahl says. His dad raised mostly hogs and cattle; the…

OK Kid

Richard Gintowt is honest about the chances of catching another show by OK Jones — he says his group’s upcoming gig at the Replay “could be the last show under that name.” In fact, Lawrence may be seeing a lot less of Gintowt and company in the coming weeks: OK Jones, purveyors of a unique blend of alt-country twang and…

Rooked

For several hours on April 28, 2005, I thought I had caused the end of a Westport institution. A fledgling music editor and relative newcomer to town, I had just printed a column about Ron Rooks’ decision to close the Music Exchange. In the column, I described Rooks’ off-kilter behavior — the can of beer in his hand, his slurred…

Wild Ones

  The Wilders’ lead singer and guitarist, Ike Sheldon, did everything he could to avoid country music. He dabbled in opera. Messed around in what he calls “nerdy pop bands.” Avoided Hank Williams like yellow fever. Banjo and mandolin player Phil Wade did the same. Only Wade did it sitting cross-legged on Persian rugs and playing the sitar. Betse Ellis,…

Reel Life Letters, August 24

Regarding Chuck McCrary’s “Water Works,” Bryce Bade’s “Plane Talk” and others: Stop taking film reviews personally. Mr. McCrary claims that Michael Atkinson should have “consulted someone who knew about loss” before he summed up Lady in the Water “in those terms.” Mr. McCrary, I would like you to try to find someone who doesn’t know about loss. Your experience is…

Tomato Nabe

The only thing cheerier than the cherry-red doors of You Say Tomato is the warm welcome we received from its proprietors on a recent visit. Holding court behind the counter at the brand-spankin’-new coffeehouse, grocery store and hangout in Hyde Park, co-owner Mark enthusiastically took our order, and his partner, Randy, began work on our sandwich. The spot they’ve chosen…

Kansas Goes Hollywood

In 2003, ABC offered up Back to Kansas, a sitcom that changed its name to Married to the Kellys after Sunflower State officials complained of its redneck stereotypes. Then there’s the WB’s Smallville, a tween drama about a young Clark Kent’s battle with puberty. Now CBS is hawking Jericho, a drama about how a biblically named town must band together…

Love Your Madre

  Dear Mexican: I heard that Mexicans at a candy factory in Orange County, California, think they saw the Virgin Mary in a pile of melted chocolate. Why do Mexicans always see the Virgin Mary in the stupidest things? Non-Believer Beaner Dear Beaner: It’s not just Mexicans who find the Holy Mother in weird places. Remember the Florida gabacha who…

Counter Measures

As it confessed a few weeks ago, the Strip doesn’t really know whether it’s male or female. Back in July, when it was musing about hunky Kansas Rep. Eric Carter’s far-right primary challenge to schoolmarmy GOP insurance commissioner Sandy Praeger, the Strip felt pretty manly. But on August 24, when it heard the U.S. Food and Drug Administration’s announcement that…

We’re Pucked

Millionaire sports-team owners treat Kansas City like a mistress. They flirt with Kansas City. They call Kansas City’s new arena pretty. They even tell Kansas City that they’d consider leaving their home cities for her. But it’s all pillow talk. In the end, the owners get newer arenas, better leases and a bigger chunk of arena revenues from their current…

The Early-ish Word

I know it’s Tuesday, but looking ahead I see a few shows that probably won’t make it into print but that deserve early notice. If you know of anything coming up that you’re excited about, post a comment. I need all the help I can get. WEDNESDAY (as it tomorrow), SEPTEMBER 6: Roman Numerals, the Stills and Kings of Leon…

Celtschmerz

Gearing up for Irish Fest, are ya, laddie? I can’t really say that I am, even though I do like Irish music more than most people deem appropriate. In fact, the indie hipster snobs I work with here — Charles Ferruzza especially, geez — look down at my every “whack fol!” I can’t help it if I had a love…