31 October, 2023

Go see Anatomy of a Fall


I saw Anatomy of a Fall last week down in Chicagoland fearing it would not screen here in Madison. Thankfully, it is set to open later this week at the AMC.

The movie is excellent. Any locals reading this should go to Fitchburg and see it on the big screen. I loved how open ended it is as I walked out of the theater left to only speculate whether she did it or not as the movie doesn't tell us. Four days later I am still wondering what, if any, significance I should attach to the movie beginning and ended with scenes featuring the family dog, Snoop. I'm also pondering the use of shallow focus.

More later.

Meeting Martin Barre Once Again

I went to see Martin Barre last week down in Chicagoland. It was my first time seeing him perform since 2004, methinks, and my first solo show of his. He may be in his mid-70s, but he (and the rest of the band) rocked. Unfortunately, I've not found a recording of the show and only this snippet of "Serenade to a Cuckoo" from the concert is on Youtube. (He stood on 2 feet the whole song.)

"My God" is so powerful live - great stuff - and "Nothing to Say" was a real treat. I love me some Benefit.

28 October, 2023

Rhiannon Giddens channels Nina Simone on The Daily Show

Rhiannon Giddens was recently on The Daily Show and she performed "Another Wasted Life" from her new solo album, You're the One. The song is about Kalief Browder, who spent a few years in prison without ever having been given a trial and much of that was spent in solitary confinement. He would, sadly, kill himself in 2015.

As my Frau said, this is Giddens channeling Nina Simone. Powerful stuff here.

12 October, 2023

Take a trip back to 1982...

While I remember hearing about the Tylenol murders on the news as a kid, I couldn't recall any of the details. And so I found Painkiller: The Tylenol Murders, a new docuseries about the killing of 7 people in Chicagoland in 1982 by cyanide-tainted Tylenol, to be quite informative. It also provided a good laugh seeing those hairstyles and collars from the early 80s.

I felt that the penultimate episode (of 5) was overly tabloidy for my taste.

"Look how intrepid reporter Brad Edwards is!" 

"We found James Lewis!!"

Plus using drone shots for every establishing shot was just garish. Look at what our new toy can do! And they used the same shot of Lewis walking towards the camera over and over. I guess the editors felt, if you find a way to make him look menacing, mechanical killing machine, go with it. I prefer a little more variety.

Regardless, it was interesting to learn more about a bit of history from my childhood.

08 October, 2023

A Taste of Autumn, 7 October

I had a nice dinner last night that included some spoils from my trek up north last month. I opened one of my favorite beers, Whispering Embers, from Valkyrie Brewing and set to work.

Whispering Embers is a smoked Oktoberfest and is just delicious. Full of smoky goodness and a firm, though not heavy, dose of malt. Truly autumn in a bottle.

I made a wild rice blend from Rice River Farms up in Spooner to go with some lemon butter chicken.


 The chicken was good but definitely needed more lemon.

Behold the new meat department!

Woodman's East is in the process of remodeling and they recently unveiled their new meat department.

It's all spacious and bright now.

The Corona Diaries Vol. 95: Those Darn Republicans Even Have Their Own Street

(mid-June 2023)

(Watch the prelude.)

What I needed after a nice bit of hiking was a beer. And so I headed east to Cornell, the home of the MoonRidge Brewing Co. I could not recall ever having been to Cornell so I'd get a chance to check out a new place in addition to enjoying some muscle relaxant. Swinging into town, I noticed a rather large crane type thingy by the shore of the river. (Cornell lies on the Chippewa River.) On the way out of town I would stop and check out this rusting hulk.

 
There was a smattering of people there as I stepped inside. It looked very nice. I am used to craft brewery taprooms being industrial chic with exposed duct work and whatnot. Here at MoonRidge, however, an up north aesthetic prevailed with wood everywhere. Cozy and welcoming.
 

I cannot recall what I drank first – probably a golden ale or whatever the lightest beer they had on offer was. As a last drop of sweat fell from the tip of my nose, I took my first sip and I can tell you it tasted incredibly good.
 
 
The brewmaster is apparently quite fond of honey as there were 3 beers that had the sticky sweet stuff in them: a hefeweizen, a brown ale, and another one that might have been a Kölsch. I appreciate it when a brewer has their own niche that takes you off the beaten path instead of just dosing their brews with various combinations of hops that taste like tropical fruit as too many brewers do these days.
 
In addition to a young couple enjoying lunch, there was a local at the bar holding court. He was middle aged and wearing leather so I assumed that he rode a motorcycle. I chatted with him a bit and found that he was a funny guy. He talked about various and sundry things and would refer to nearby towns and events that transpired down on some local road or other. I told him at one point that I wasn’t from these parts and didn’t know where he was referring to. Obligingly, he explained where such-and-such town was or where the road in question was in relation to Cornell.
 
But, after continuing his tale for, oh, another 10 seconds, he resorted to his old ways, assuming I had any clue who Harriet from Holcombe was or that I knew anything about a particular farm out on County W.
 
Nothing like some local color.

After a couple brews, I was suitably refreshed and found that my muscles had stopped aching. I grabbed a six pack so I could sample more MoonRidge at home and headed out.
 
Cruising around Cornell a bit, I discovered some nice older buildings downtown but I didn't spy any ghost signs. It seemed a very average town - no statues carved out of trees by drunken lumberjacks nor any mutant beavers with two tails stuffed and mounted at a bar. But it does have Brunet Island State Park which lies on the north side of town so I headed over there for a post-beer hike.

I found that there was a .75 mile trail there which was just perfect.


The first stretch was paved but soon it became a dirt trail.


 
Very pretty. I’d like to explore the park and the adjoining Jean Brunet Woods State Natural Area someday.

Feeling good, I hopped in my car and headed out to Chetek with visions of a shower dancing in my head. As I turned onto a county road, I realized that I had completely forgotten to investigate that crane thingy. Oh well. Next time.

After a shower, I went out in search of a meal. I settled on a bar that had a large menu online. On my way there, I ran into a couple of interesting things.

First, there is an Indian Mound that has survived for hundreds of years and now sits precariously next to a gas station.


Too bad we’re in a drought because that grass doesn’t look so good. Still, it was nice to see that the lumber barons didn’t obliterate all signs of the natives that lived there.

The second thing of note was this street.
 

I don’t know who had to do what in order to get their street named “Darn Republican” but it is funny.

For reasons I don’t understand, Chetek has no supper clubs. How it ended up bereft of this Wisconsin staple is a mystery worthy of Agatha Christie herself. And so I went to a bar across the street from Lake Chetek. Throwing caution to the wind, I ordered a beer I had never heard of from Earth Rider Brewery up in Superior. It turned out to be one of those trendy IPAs with enough hops to fell a horse. Not my thing. But I drank it anyway and drowned out its hoppy excesses with some spicy Buffalo wings.

I spent the evening doing a little reading and writing.
 
The next morning I was up early and on the road headed for Trego, about 45 miles to the north. There I was to hike a couple trails that were each about 3 miles long, if I recall correctly. It was still fairly cool when I parked my car at the Trego Nature Trail where I would stroll through the woods and along the Namekagon River.
 
I canoed the Namekagon 25 or so years ago with a friend. While not exactly in the same league as Lewis & Clark, we did a 75-mile trip over 4 days and I fell in love with the river. For the most part, it was easy paddling. The water was very clear so you could see fish and turtles scatter beneath your paddle as the canoe cut the water. A deer looked down upon us from a short ridge a couple of times. Pure bucolic goodness.

I pulled out my deet and gave myself a bath in it. I was ready to go.


It was very beautiful despite the din of Highway 63 in the background which grew as the morning went on. Every time I stopped to take photographs, I was immediately beset by a large swarm of mosquitoes. Large enough to make an audible and very sinister hum. The threat of exsanguination was real, I tell you. Thankfully, my deet was up to the task and the shroud of blood-suckers stayed a half inch away from my precious skin. It was still eerie, though.

The trail began in the woods but the Namekagon slowly came into view.


And then there she was.
 

Just so pretty. At the far end of the trail the sound of the highway was extremely faint and was replaced by the sound of flowing water. Perfect.

After a few miles, the hike was over and I drove to the north side of town to my next destination which was the similarly named Trego Lake Trail. It would take me along a stretch of the Namekagon before coming to Trego Lake.

Although it too was gorgeous, the lake bore signs of human activity as it was dotted with docks and slips for boats. Still, another beautiful hike.

At one point, I turned the corner and saw a woodpecker not too far in the distance hanging on the side of the remains of a dead tree. It was very patient and allowed me to take several photographs before heading off into the woods. Of course, none of the pictures turned out to be in focus.

So it goes. 

I don’t think I’d ever been to Trego before this trip. Or, if I had, it had been decades and when I was very young. So I cruised around town. Trego is a tiny place – surely less than 1,000 people. It didn't seem to have a downtown but rather a smattering of businesses on frontage roads along the four lanes of Highway 53. However, I did find this really neat ghost sign for Occident Flour.

I find that Occident Flour is not a brand but rather an old timey name for what we now call all-purpose flour. I think the top of the sign was for somebody’s general store and that along the bottom it read “Costs More – Worth It”. 

While I found no downtown, I did run across an abandoned church smack dab in the middle of a neighborhood.

Some of the windows were broken and I was able to get a good look inside.

Somebody appears to be working on something in there.

After a couple minutes, a woman emerged from the house next door to politely tell me to leave their property.

Despite it being a sunny morning, there was just something creepy about that place…

********

Bonus photo! I saw this ad at the grocery store.


(Now watch the postlude.)

07 October, 2023

New Errol Morris Movie - The Pigeon Tunnel

It will be released on 20 October. Theatrical release seems to be limited although it will screen in Chicago.

Jazz Dink

As a follow-up to my follow-up, this is "Jazz Dink" by Tongue. They were active in Madison from c.1994-1999. Guitarist/singer Shad Williams and drummer Britt Dichraff are now in Moonboot.

This song appeared on a compilation album called Workman's Comp in 1995.

06 October, 2023

Texas Horse Crippler - Live!

For a follow-up to my post about the Madison band Moonboot, I dug out my recording of Texas Horse Crippler live on WORT. THC featured Shad Williams, now of Moonboot, along with Alex Fortney on bass who was in Tongue with Shad. I do not recall who the drummer was but I don't think it was Britt.

This session was recorded on 15 December 2000 in anticipation of them playing at O'Cayz Corral in a benefit show for WORT. O'Cayz would burn down a couple weeks or so after this performance.

Cordelia vs. The Ginger Thug

 
When I first heard that Andrew Cartmel was taking a detour from The Vinyl Detective series to bring us The Paperback Sleuth, I was ambivalent. I adore The Vinyl Detective and was sad to see him go on hiatus. (Maybe to never return. I dunno.) But there is a character in that series who collected paperbacks so I was confident we weren't going too far afield. Besides, we should embrace change, right?

My confidence was not misplaced because Death in Fine Condition and its bibliophilic heroine, Cordelia, are not far removed from my beloved Vinyl Detective. Indeed, her adventure takes place in the same fictional world as she is Stinky Stanmer's sister. The hero of the other series even gets name-checked, though not favorably, much to my surprise. I still chuckled, though.

Our heroine is a bit impecunious in addition to loving paperbacks. She is usually late on paying her rent but strangely timely when it comes to procuring marijuana. One day at her dealer's home, Cordelia notices a photo on the wall of a couple people posing next to a bookcase filled with what appears to be a complete set of Sleuth Hound paperbacks.
 
Cordelia turns out to be something of a rogue and a villain as she sets out to steal them after discovering that one of the people in the photo is her dealer's landlord. A little luck compensates for her lack of burglar skills and she ends up with an entire set. In fine condition.
 
Unbeknownst to Cordelia, the landlord and owner of these books, a red-headed fellow named Colin Cutterham, is the leader of a local organized crime troop. This not only makes her fearful for her life, but also serves as justification for her thievery. She discovers that Cutterham has procured a second set of Sleuth Hound paperbacks and Cordelia steals it too.

Cartmel builds up some nice Hitchcockian tension and puts Cordelia into no small bit of peril. Cutterham sends a heavy to her flat but she manages to take care of him with a fatal smack with her laptop. Luckily for her, her landlord, Edwin, happens to be this kinda sorta Dextery fellow. That is, he is a serial killer but he only dispatches evil people. This I did not expect. One skill that goes along with being a serial killer is the ability to dispose of bodies so that they cannot be found. Needless to say, this ability comes in handy for Cordelia.
 
Death in Fine Condition felt a lot like a Vinyl Detective novel. The heroine is someone who covets and is an expert in collecting a particular kind of cultural artifact. Cartmel's prose here is in his usual easy going style sprinkled with sarcasm and the occasional tangent into the mania of the collector.

Cordelia, however, is the opposite of The Vinyl Detective in many ways. She is lower class, does not drink good wine and, sadly, is not an ailurophile. She thieves and connives to get what she seeks whereas The Vinyl Detective generally stays within the bounds of the law. The Vinyl Detective is a gentleman, something of a neo-dandy, whereas Cordelia is rougher around the edges, more like someone who would appear on Studs Turkel's podcast, if he was still around.

There are a few scenes where Cordelia settles into a bath for a little bean flicking. Not only do they introduce a bit of prurience but they also illustrate why I found Death in Fine Condition to be good but not as much fun as a Vinyl Detective tale: Cordelia goes it alone.

The Vinyl Detective has Nevada, his girlfriend, as companion and interlocutor but Cordelia is single and we spend more time in her head than with her in conversation. For The Vinyl Detective, Cartmel took Dashiell Hammett's Continental Op and de-hard-boiled him and then threw him into Agatha Christie ensemble situations. Here, Cartmel throws just a touch of hard-boiled quality in but Cordelia is just not an interesting enough character for me to shoulder the plot alone.
 
It's not that I don't like her at all and she is certainly a very capable stoner, but there's just something missing, something to really endear her to me that just isn't here. I think that a big part of this is that, while The Vinyl Detective would have fun conversations with a cast of goofy people, Cordelia's chats are more serious. Or, if not serious, just more banal. And Cartmel overcompensates for this by making a fair amount of Cordelia's internal monologues overwrought with metaphor and clever allusions.

Despite all of this, Death in Fine Condition is a fun story. I did smile while reading it and found the thriller elements rather thrilling. Cordelia worked best when interacting with other characters so hopefully she gets a roommate, girlfriend, or just does more sleuthing with another person present.

05 October, 2023

Where Are They Now? Kay LeClaire edition

I began watching season 2 of Dark Winds recently. Based on novels by Tony Hillerman, the show features Navajo police officers led by Lt. Joe Leaphorn. As they solve crimes, we get to know the friends and families of the officers and the Najavo community in some part of Arizona that I cannot recall more generally. It's a fine show, although I would offer that this season isn't as good as the first in that the killer is identified early on so this season is more thriller than mystery.

But my crush on Jessica Matten continues unabated and I remain surprised that the show hasn't been canceled since it is based on novels by a white man and not a Native American.

Anyway, watching the new season brought to mind Kay LeClaire, a Madisonian who gained some well-deserved infamy earlier this year when she was exposed as a European-American and not the Native American that she was posing as. (Such people are called "pretendians".)

I wondered what happened to her since the racial revelation of late last year. My internet searches only return articles from this past January when the news reached Madison and people disassociated themselves from LeClaire. Hilariously, Tone Madison's editor couldn't find enough swords to fall on and sounded more blameworthy than LeClaire herself. It seems she just issued a statement, returned items she shouldn't have had, and then skulked off into anonymity.

It would be fascinating to have a chat with her.

Sites show that she got married a few years before this fiasco and, if she was still married when her cover was blown, what did her husband think? Not only was she going around claiming Native American ethnicity that she didn't have, but she was also altering her appearance. And I don't just mean donning Native American clothing; she was darkening her skin. Did her husband explicitly approve? Or did he give tacit assent by staying silent and just letting her get on with the deception? What about other family and friends? Did they know or look the other way?

Unsurprisingly, articles stick to the white woman pretending to be a Native American one. But what about the converse? LeClaire is apparently of German, Swedish, and French-Canadian stock. Does she actively dislike her ancestry? Or was it simply more fun and profitable to deny it? I tend to think that there's a line, even if not a thick one, between dallying with personae, on one hand, and self-loathing on the other.

While I am not privileged to LeClaire's thoughts, I do feel that her subterfuge was just as disparaging of European ethnicity as it was of elevating Native American.

Perhaps we will never know what went through her head. Or maybe she'll write a book in a couple years and have a Netflix series that's the equivalent of Fox Night at the Movies - Portrait of a Pretendian - made of it and laugh all the way to the bank.

In case of emergency, break for Angel of Death

It took me longer than usual to get my hands on a copy of Ben Aaronovitch's latest Rivers of London novel, Amongst Our Weapons, but, once I finally did, I was extremely glad.

As the tale opens, our hero, Peter Grant, is investigating the death of one David Moore who lies on the floor of a shop in the London Silver Vaults, a subterranean marketplace. Originally vaults for dealers in the precious metal to store their wares, it soon took the place of the above ground shops. Moore had come to one of the stalls seeking a ring engraved with strange symbols that his ex-wife had said she sold it at. But instead of the ring, Moore ended up with a hole where his heart should have been.

Ere long a second victim with a hole in his chest is discovered - Preston Carmichael. Carmichael had been in touch with Moore recently and soon a photo of the pair, along with several others, emerges. They were all members of a small coterie involved with a strange religious group at Manchester University in the 1990s who were given these strange silver rings and it seems they are being hunted down by a killer with wings and a halo and who wields a rather deadly spear.

Grant is on the case with his trainee Danni and they attempt to track down this avenging angel. Their investigation leads to a discovery involving the Spanish Inquisition. While they knew the Inquisition's weapons were fear, surprise, ruthless efficiency, and an almost fanatical devotion to the Pope, Grant and Co. did not expect them to have also used magic in their daily rounds of rooting out pretend Catholics on the Iberian Peninsula.

Amongst Our Weapons is the 9th novel in the Rivers of London series and it ranks amongst the best. Grant is no longer a novice under the tutelage of Nightingale and has his own neophyte to train. His lady, Beverly, a river goddess, is quite pregnant for most of the book and she gives birth to twins at the end. Not only does Grant become a father here, but he also gets some new job duties as his superior and mentor, Nightingale, announces his retirement.

Ooh! Almost forgot. Grant's former pal and co-trainee at The Folly, Leslie May, makes a return here. She turned to the dark side after being possessed by a real baddie and having her face disfigured. She's been a presence looming in the background, and occasionally in the foreground, for the entire series. Here she unwittingly sets events in motion and pops up a few times and ends up saving Grant's life. It was good to see her return and have a pivotal role but still retain a lot of mystery about her.

I really enjoyed Peter Grant here. He has matured but he's still a wiseacre. We get the expected doses of London history and a great murder mystery. Aaronovitch does it perfectly here as we don't really even have much of a clue about the nature of the killer until about two-thirds of the way through and it's not until even later that all is revealed about its identity. I much prefer the investigation into the mystery over simply running around London chasing an elusive but fully identified killer.

Aaronovitch let the mystery unfold at a measured pace that allowed for diversions from the police procedural into the history of London, The Folly itself, the Reconquista, et al. Beverly doesn't get many pages here but perhaps she'll become a working mom and have a more active role as in books past.

Amongst Our Weapons simply pushed all the right buttons for me.

A spooky hike

On a hike up north last month I stumbled upon a creepy abandoned camp which is, no doubt, home to a serial killer.


I personally like the moniker "The Chippewa Ripper".

 
He must have been out grocery shopping when I traipsed through the camp as I saw no one. Still, every acorn falling through leaves made me a little nervous.

Trachte shed, Bloomer, WI

I found a couple Trachte sheds up in Bloomer when I was up there last year. While I was there last month, I spied a third as I was driving down Main Street and looking around.

04 October, 2023

TIL - Moonboot!

Today I learned of the existence of Moonboot, a local Madison band. The members are Britt Dichraff, Jeff Kunkle, Jamie McCloskey, and Shad Williams. I vaguely knew Britt and Shad back in the 90s as they were friends with a friend/roommate of mine. If memory serves, Britt, Shad, and Jamie made up Mr. Shad's Creed in the early 90s.

Moonboot is Moog synthesizer led so it's a wholly different sound from Mr. Shad's Creed. I am used to seeing Shad with a guitar strapped on and not standing in front of a keyboard rack. Moonboot were featured recently on the local news.

 
 
After Jamie left Mr. Shad's Cred, Alex Fortney took over bass duties, and the band was christened Tongue. I found the Tongue demos I was given and, in the search, also stumbled on a Tar Babies show and a recording of Texas Horse Crippler live in the WORT studios. I think Shad formed Texas Horse Crippler after Tongue disbanded followed by Brickshithouse. I think. Regardless, I will have to post some tunes on Youtube.

01 October, 2023

Ghost sign, Dallas, WI

Seen in Dallas this past weekend.

Chicago TARDIS 2023 Panel Suggestion

I have submitted my (first?) suggestion for a panel at this year's Chicago TARDIS:

The Pit: Great or Just Not Bad?