You Can't Be Neutral About New Glarus

On Sunday night I was futzing at home with the idiot box on in the background when I heard the following:

"Well, I don't care how they say it in New Glarus,
Wisconsin where you live on a lake and have nothing in common with me."

It was from an episode of American Dad which was written by Dan Vebber who, I discovered, used to write for The Onion. It was a bit ironic since The Dulcinea and I had spent the day in that very town.

We'd been sitting around Sunday morning feeling lethargic. Our conversation never got much past

"What do you wanna do today?"

"I dunno, Marty. What do you wanna do?"

until we hit on the idea of Oktoberfest in New Glarus.

And so we hit the road again with the handy and informative Dane County Place-Names by Frederic G. Cassidy with us. Curiously enough, The D pointed out to me yesterday that there's an event at the Wisconsin Book Festival today of relevance:

The Dictionary of American Regional English Toasts Fred Cassidy: On to Z!
Wednesday, October 10 | 5:00 - 6:45 PM
Venue: Wisconsin Historical Society-Library Mall

Presenter(s): Simon Winchester, Joan Houston Hall, Robert Easton, August Rubrecht

Are American English dialects becoming "homogenized" by the media and our population's mobility? Hear the contrary evidence from award-winning dialect coach Robert Easton ("the Henry Higgins of Hollywood"). Get the British perspective from celebrated author Simon Winchester. And catch up on the progress of the Dictionary of American Regional English with editor Joan Houston Hall. You'll go away confident that, despite the media, there is still plenty of fascinating variety in the ways Americans speak, and there's no reason to expect that the situation will change. This event celebrates DARE and its founding editor, Frederic G. Cassidy, on the centennial of his birth.

She didn't even notice that Cassidy was the same guy that wrote the book she read while co-piloting our expeditions over the weekend. In addition, she didn't notice that he was dead and instead thought we should bring the book along to be autographed. She's had a difficult week so I let such faux pas slide.

On our drive, we learned that Verona was named after Verona, NY, the hometown of George and William Vroman, who helped build the Badger Mill in 1844 in that area. Perusing an appendix, The D came across some interesting bits on how lakes are named. "Lake" comes first if the name is of Native American origin and second if otherwise. Ergo we have Lake Monona on one hand and Mud Lake (a.k.a. – Silver Lake) on the other. This comes from some linguistic bit of French.



We swung into New Glarus and found a block of First Street, well, blocked off, and eventually found parking on Second. Again our age showed through in how delighted we were by the old homes in the area. The town was first settled in 1845 by Swiss immigrants and it celebrates its heritage. It is probably the only place in a large radius where yodeling and alphorns are a regular and celebrated occurrence. Our first stop was the Maple Leaf Cheese and Chocolate House. How could we not go in? They were advertising malted milk fudge!





We sampled some cheeses and fudge as well. It was all quite tasty. I was fond of a horseradish cheddar while The D ogled a cheddar-bleu cheese combo. Both were from Monroe, a bit to the south and probably Wisconsin's archetypal cheesemaking town. There was also a ton of Swiss chocolates and other sweets as well as jams & jellies from Slack's up in Lodi. Not wanting to lug stuff around, we vowed to return later.



Leaving the Maple Leaf, we walked by the beer/music tent which was doing pretty brisk business. The New Glarus Brewing Company was a sponsor so there were Spotted Cow signs everywhere as polka music emanated from the other end of the tent. Unlike Watertown, I'd been to New Glarus a few times previously and had even ventured beyond the brewery. I love the town where every building is old or Swiss or both. We traipsed along the block where every building was some variation of a Swiss chalet and stopped in at Ruef's Meat Market. The wonderful aroma of smoked meats immediately wafted into my nose which caused me to start salivating. The display cases were on the bare side but we still saw a plethora of sausages including mettwurst (the smoked, firm variety) und cervelas, a Swiss sausage. I discovered that they're not normally open on Sundays but were that day to catch the Oktoberfest crowd. The guy behind the counter looked like he was counting down the seconds until he got to go home. They closed at 3 so, again, I decided that we'd head back there later so we weren't lugging fresh sausage around in near 90 degree weather. Next was a stop at a bakery next door.



There were loaves of bread on the back shelves and display cases full of cookies and pastries. Since neither of us had eaten before we left Madison, we were famished. I grabbed an almond cone while The D got a cream filled one. Needless to say, they were both excellent.

At the end of the block and across the street was a church which had a statue and small flower garden by it that commemorated the town's founders.



Walking a block over I found myself in familiar territory. The New Glarus Primrose Winery was just ahead.



It is a really nice little place with bottles of wine lining one stretch of a wall that ran the length of one side of the room. Antiques and bric-a-brac were everywhere and for sale. Shelf space not taken up by bottles and such held old books which gives the place the feel of an old fashioned study. There was a fair crowed bellied up to the counter where a busy gentleman was giving a wine tasting. For better or worse, I'm not a big wine drinker and consequently don't know very much about the stuff. There was still bottles of their summer vino made with cranberries to be had as well as lots of the fall variety made with apples. The D was entranced by the rhubarb wine so we gave it a taste. It was sweet yet still very tasty, though I could probably only handle one glass at a session. She went with a bottle of that while I grabbed one of their Fridolin something or other. Being a semi-sweet white wine, it seemed closest to my favorite, the Riesling. Plus it was made with Wisconsin grown Elvira grapes.



On our way back to the car to drop off our bottles, we again passed by the Chalet of the Golden Fleece Museum. However, approaching it from a different angle, we saw that there were logs on the roof weighted down by rocks.

I have to admit that I have no idea what that's all about. Making our way back to the festivities and admiring the houses, we saw one which was obviously occupied by kegelers. There were sundials around the yard and they were surrounded by bowling balls.



To the best of my knowledge, bowling doesn't have roots in Switzerland so I'm going to chalk this one up to eccentricity.

We grabbed brats at the food cart before venturing into the beer tent. I was disappointed to find that all of the Oktoberfest had been sold. However, some could be found at a local tavern down the street but I couldn't make out the name. A Yokel for me and a Fat Squirrel, I believe, for The D and we took a seat at a table to listen to the music of the New Glarus Polka Kings.



The crowd was mostly seniors but there were a few young couples with small children enjoying themselves as well. Regardless of age, everyone was hot because not a single breeze blew through the tent. After a few songs we departed for a cooler clime, namely a tavern. But first was a quick stop at the porta-potty beneath this bit of bovine statuary:



We weren't quite sure which bar the woman had pointed us towards when telling us that there was still some Oktoberfest to be had. So we followed our guts and wandered into the Glarner Stube. Lo and behold this was the right choice as the place was gorgeous. It was nice and cozy being a bit smaller than the Caribou here in Madison. And there was wood, wood everywhere – on the walls, the ceiling, and the floor; there was a deer head mounted on one wall next to a clock which was next to a sword; the bar top was made of copper; above the bar were bottles of New Glarus of every flavor including the Norski Honey Bock which is long gone; and there was this:



Talk about no crap on tap! All New Glarus beers, not even a token Miller or Bud product. In fact, I saw no beer in bottles being served at all. Luckily one of the taps was for Staghorn just as the woman had said and so we bellied up to the bar and ordered a couple pints. To top things off, I could smoke inside as well. Absolutely perfect. My frau by my side, great beer, indoor smoking like civilized people, and some of the best tavern atmosphere anywhere. There was even a little rack off to the side which, when not empty as it was Sunday, held Landjaeger from Ruef's Meat Market down the street. So your beer travels about a quarter mile from across the highway while your snacks travel a mere 60' or so from down the block. With all the wood and old Swiss accoutrement, the joint resembled a hunting lodge or, if hunting isn't your thing, then the place just had a fantastic old-timey atmosphere – excepting the televisions, of course. But they weren't too loud. The windows afforded us a view of one of the more disturbing things about the fest. It was one of those inflatable moonwalk hoolies for kids. This particular one was of a cow lying on its back. There was a tail and a head plus four feet on top. The disturbing part was that there was a teat inside for the kids to bounce off of...

Lastly, I must mention our bartender. She was great. Our second round was 2-for-1 and, when they changed the barrel, she gave us the first glass of foam to come out of it for free. I definitely intend to return to the Glarner Stube the first chance I get.

The place is also a restaurant and we were nearly drawn in by the prime rib special. Well, I was anyway. Instead, since I had to drive, we wandered out and stopped in at the bakery and cheese shop to purchase some of the goodies we had ogled earlier. (A bit before 3 I had slipped out of the bar and down to the butcher to grab a few things before it closed.) But we were both hungry and, walking by the New Glarus Hotel, we decided to take them up on their Swiss buffet. Going past the bar, I thought of my friend Roy who used to live in the town. The hotel bar was his hangout of choice as it had a great selection of single malt scotches. Within a couple minutes we found ourselves at the buffet and, shortly after that, eating sauerbraten stew, bratwurst with kraut, red cabbage, Swiss green beans, and cheese hacked off one of the bricks that lay on a cutting board next to the salad bar.

Uff da! Of course we had stuffed ourselves and a severe meat buzz was settling upon us. The D had the chance to take a wee nap on the drive home but I was afforded no such luxury.

So now the question is: where to next?

Immigrants from Los Angeles

Up at Salon today, their advice columnist Cary Tennis fields a question from a woman who is looking to relocate with her husband. They live in southern California at the moment and have fallen in love with a certain Midwestern state. The writer identified herself as "Wisconsin Dreamin'".

Along these lines, I thought I'd mention a blog over at the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel by Erica Perez called "Fish Out of Water". Ms. Perez moved to Milwaukee last year from Los Angeles and the blog chronicles her adjustment to Milwaukee and Wisconsin generally. You can read about her first Packer game amongst other experiences. She is really warming to her new home and it's interesting to get a view of Wisconsin through the eyes of someone who still has a set of outsider eyes.

Miller <3 Coors

Some news on the beer front - Miller is looking to buy Coors. What will the effects be? For starters, a Miller rep said "It's safe to assume there will be some reductions" so it looks like some folks in Milwaukee are going to get laid off. I'd also imagine that, with Miller gaining some new distribution venues, Leinenkugel's will be pushed into new markets. We'll just have to wait and see how where the chips fall.

A Trip to Watertown and a Search For Food Therein

Leaving Homestead Animal Farm, I decided that we should grab a bite to eat on the way home and I ended up choosing Watertown. Since it is not in Dane county, I don't know how it got its name exactly. While I'd driven by the Watertown exit many a time, I had never actually been there. I have a stepaunt who lives there and she seems to like it so it felt like the right time to check out the town.

Driving into the city limits, I was surprised that it has a population of over 23,000. I just always thought it was somewhere in the area of 8,000 or 9,000 people. Flying past a lengthy stretch of ugly strip malls, I recalled the speech by Peter Singer that I had attended in which he explained that Watertown was ground zero for modern veal raising methods in America. A company called Provimi had adopted the practice of keeping the calves virtually immobile in a pen from the Dutch and it spread throughout the country from right here in Southern Wisconsin. I have since found out that the Miller Brewing Company owns the Watertown Hops Company which produces hop extracts for most of their breweries.

Driving down Highway 26, we decided to follow the signs to the Octagon House.



Unfortunately we couldn't tour it but it looked really neat. Indeed, the town was full of old houses that looked spectacular. I must be old now if checking out historic sites and 19th century homes is something I consider to be fun. So we took a look and then found our way back to 26 and, from there, downtown. And what a beautiful downtown it was. Some kind of festival had wrapped up in Main Street so tents were being pulled down and tables put away. Most of the buildings looked to be from the 19th century. Gorgeous brick structures with a lot of nice detail missing from today's buildings. And there weren't a lot of vacant storefronts either. We eagerly sought a place to eat and settled on The Elias Inn.



We walked in and found the interior was really nice with a lot of dark wood. I started drooling like a Pavlovian dog when I read the words "Prime rib" on the specials placard. The hostess asked if we had a reservation and I replied that we did not. In a friendly tone she informed us that the next table would be open in two hours. With our tails between our legs we walked out and instead made our way to this joint:



It was a none-too-fancy pizza joint and we ordered the Palace Special which was a pizza with most of the varieties of meat they had on-hand and it included gyros meat as you can see.



Discounting the fact that I was famished, the pie was pretty decent and much better than one would expect from a small town in Wisconsin. The crust was nice'n'thin and, while the sauce was a bit bland, at least it wasn't sweet. After making gluttons of ourselves, The D and I took the long route back to the car. We discovered some more nice buildings and three churches within about a block radius. There were, according to one poster, 23 or 24 churches in town. Plus we saw a handbill advertising a cooking show taped in Watertown called Augie's Elite Cuisine.

With full bellies, our last stop of the night was the Tyranena Brewery which had earlier held their Oktoberfest Bike Ride. The D's friend Jen was bartending that night and I got to meet her for the first time. For a nightcap we each had a Headless Man Amber Alt which we drank out on the back 40 under the stars.

Where All Animals Are Equal

Did you know that Cottage Grove was named for a grove of burr oaks in which William C. Wells built a cottage in 1840? Or that 40 years later the rail came that way and most of the town moved in order to be closer to the station? Thusly the Cottage Grove we know today was actually platted in 1882 while the original incarnation of the town is called Vilas. I never knew there was a Vilas so I looked at a map and sure enough, there is a Vilas (township?) west of Cottage Grove. In addition, Cottage Grove Road was the first road to run from Madison to Milwaukee.

I learned all this from the incredibly handy and informative book Dane County Place-Names by Frederic G. Cassidy which I picked up at a used bookstore a couple weeks ago. It was printed in 1968 but the bulk of the material was culled from another publication by Cassidy from 1947. For some reason the publishers decided to keep the original map from that same year on the inside of the cover. The interstate system was still several years off and so the stretch of I94 we were on used to be Highway 30 which began at County N. The book has been the companion of The Dulcinea and I on our recent day trips and we had it with us on Saturday as we headed east to Hartland and the Homestead Animal Farm.

Unfortunately, the book quickly became useless as Dane county gave way to Jefferson and ultimately to Waukesha. The farm is on Highway 83 a couple miles north of the town of North Lake. I must admit that I've never really explored the area between Madison and Milwaukee very much. They've generally been just names on signs I see when taking I94 to visit friends or see a show in Milwaukee. Ergo I thought I would be neat to check out the area a bit.

The drive up 83 from Highway 16 was a scenic one with trees on either side of the road plus long tree-lined driveways. We made it to the farm and found it packed with folks and their kids. It seemed that we were the only ones there without youngsters. We shuffled into the barn which doubled as a shop and ticket stand. For $9 you got access to the animal petting area, the corn maze, and a hayride so I bought a couple of those tickets. Our first stop was to check out the animals.



And we were greeted by this fella.



Walking towards the barn, we found a girl offering folks a chance to hold some chicks and The D didn't pass up the opportunity.



Stepping inside I was greeted by that farm smell and the echo of a cacophony of animal calls from out back. On the other side was a pen with a couple of alpacas (alapcae?) hanging out and eating hay together.



Also hanging out were a bunch of water fowl, including the one on the left here which waddled around a bit differently than the rest. Unfortunately I cannot recall the bird's species.





The alpacas basically ignored the fowl. While the former chewed, the latter wandered in and out of the fence quacking. I was a bit surprised that all the ducks hanged out together. For whatever reason, I figured that since they were of different species, they'd have some natural inclination to avoid each other. But, like a big extended family, the ducks formed a pack as they roamed the barnyard. The geese, however, were a different story. They stuck together and didn't mingle too much with their fellow animals.



We wandered out behind the coop next door and found a trio of turkeys. My mind immediately recalled that Benjamin Franklin thought that they should have been our national bird but they had lost out to the eagle. I next thought about how Thanksgiving is next month and how that means I am going to stuff myself with turkey, amongst other foods. Standing there it seemed that they were getting a bit perturbed. I was at one end with another guy opposite me blocking off that route of escape. They looked ready to charge. To my left I noticed a couple cockerels creeping towards me along another wall of the coop in the shadows. These guys looked mean with their big claws and all. I not-so stealthily maneuvered myself over to the fenced in part of the coop which held a menagerie of birds including three peacocks. Here's one of them.



The D and I then walked back into the pasture which was home to a phalanx of miniature donkeys who were chowing down. I couldn't help but think of Shrek but couldn't muster a decent Eddie Murphy imitation.





Standing out amongst them was a jenny who was pregnant that suddenly brayed and this, in turn, caused the jack next to me to follow suit. No idea what was happening. But they soon quieted down and resumed eating. They were like vacuum cleaners. They nibbled at the grass and stray leaves and steadily moved forward. I was crouching very close to one for a photo and, sensing the need to continue lunch, the donkey just walked right past, barely acknowledging the monkey in its way. There was also a smattering of goats in the pasture mingling with the asses. It was a prelapsarian paradise with all the animals getting along well, including the human animals.

The D and I slowly wandered towards the gate so we could begin our next adventure when we noticed that she had a companion. One of the donkeys was following her. If she took a right, it took a right; it followed her wherever she did go. She wasn't able to shake it until she walked in the barn where the donkey dare not enter. Instead it just stood at the threshold. I tried and tried to get it to come on in but I could not. And so we ambled over to the main barn where one enters the corn maze. Outside there were trailers full of pumpkins.



The entrance was guarded by a fierce hound not unlike Cerberus but named Nelly. Luckily I was able to dodge and weave my way into a position where I could scratch behind her ears.



Inside was a bit of shade, more gourds, and lots of old farm implements.







That last hoolie is a fanning mill which separated the wheat from the chaff. I dusted myself off and we headed out into the corn maze. The corn wasn't as tall as I would have liked but The D appreciated feeling a bit less hemmed in. Personally, I like my mazes to be of The Shining variety where you can't see above the rows nor through them. Still, it was fun. There were 12 hoolies to find which had dealies for punching these cards we were given. The signs were also fact sheets about the animals in the novel and so we learned, for instance, that a group of rats is called a mischief. Charlotte's Web was the theme this year and so the maze featured a web and characters from the book. To go along with this, various signs were posted in the field which had trivia questions about the book and correct answers gave you a letter to a mystery word.



After some time and having become soaked in sweat, we headed in for a breather and some water. There I sat next to Old Man Harmann, father of Mark who owns and runs the farm with his wife Barbara. A widower, Mr. Harmann hangs and helps out on the farm as he can. He was a friendly codger – asked where we were from and gave a bit of the history of the place. The farm has been in the family for generations. There was a newspaper clipping posted on a beam which noted that the farm had been in the family for over 100 years. The article was from 1977. I'm not sure when the family made its egress from farming but the old man was well pleased with what his son had done to the place. Kids from Milwaukee are bused out during the week to escape the city and enjoy some fresh air along with the company of the furry creatures.



Feeling refreshed, we headed back into the maze. And we sweated more and walked around in circles which meant going by the buttermilk question plaque about three times. But we eventually found all 12 punch dealies and were right proud. Again it was back inside for more water and a bit more chat. This time Mark himself came over. We'd met him out in the maze and he was again really friendly.




(I could hear those threshers comin', lookin' more than two lanes wide…)

The last bit of our day on the farm was the hayride. We piled in back along with a couple families and a gaggle of small children and were off. Through a stretch of woods and then around a couple fields we went. The sun was beginning to set which made it a beautiful evening as we bounced around the cart.



Before we left, I bought some gourds including a pumpkin for a pie and a turtle caramel apple which I am going to bite into faster than Eve ever did. A tender, succulent apple first dipped in chocolate and then in caramel which is finally topped with nuts. Mmmm…

Various Artists - Garage Mayhem: Live at Asbury Lanes

I just got a hold of a 13th Floor Elevators show from 1966 so it's a bit ironic that I've also recently acquired Garage Mayhem: Live at Asbury Lanes, a collection of contemporary garage rock. Asbury Lanes is a music club born only a few years ago out of the desire of an Asbury Park, NJ promoter to find a spot to showcase garage and psychobilly bands. The disused bowling alley of the album's title was resurrected as a live music venue and Garage Mayhem is a sampler of some of the bands that have performed there.

This album is totally without pretension and has provided me with some of the most fun listening all year. The promotional material lists four "key tracks" but this recommendation can be ignored as the whole album is a blast and full of good vibes from 40 years ago. Seven bands get two songs each with Muck & the Mires starting things off with "It's About Over Now", a high-energy song full of fuzzy guitar. "FM Receiver" by The Brimstones shows that garage rock was the prototype of punk with its chunky riff and general sense of anarchy.

More than a patina of surf emerges with The Coffin Daggers as they veer towards The Ventures with "Forgotten Prisoner" and then over to Man or Astroman? on "Shark Attack" with the staccato organ and 50s B-movie dramatics. The big burly voice of Sam Steinig dominates Mondo Topless while the two tracks by Sons of Moon features some great harmony singing. Why their ultra-catchy "No Soul to Sell" was passed by for key track status is a mystery. The last band here is Thee Minks and they feature the only female voices of the set. "Shut Up and Kiss Me" is a strong closer with the pounding beat and Hope Diamond (or is it Liz Lixx?) expressing her desire to have another beer and lose her mind with a potential lover. And she likes it dirty too.

Fans of the Farsifa no longer have to wear grooves in their old ? and the Mysterians albums because Headshop Records has some new blood for you. Now why did I ever get rid of my Standells tape?

Marvin's Garden - Why Should I Change?

Marvin's Garden is a Madison quartet which should be celebrating their second anniversary soon. The band consists of Tim Giles on drums, Ken Leiser on electric guitar and violin, Tim Peeters on bass, and Justin Sprague on acoustic guitar and vocals. Why Should I Change? is their debut album out on PBM Records. I've listened to this disc several times and have still somehow managed to retain a large amount of ambivalence about it. The band themselves admit they traffic in a variety of styles such as funk, folk, rock, and rhythm and Why Should I Change? is certainly stylistically diverse – almost to the point of distraction.

The lead track "Aurora's Song" starts with a burst of white boy funk and then becomes something akin to a jam band tune with its sunny disposition. Sprague's nearly too earnest vocals even give a nod to bratwurst making it a decidedly Wisconsin lyric. The happy-go-lucky feel is maintained for "Dock Ellis", about a baseball player who stands upon the mound tripping on acid. There's some great fiddle work here and the song got me wondering what 16 Horsepower would have been like had they eschewed the gothic and instead embraced the Summer of Love.

Things are generally cheery for the first several songs until we get to the cautionary "Great Big Wonderful (Mess)" with its synth, sitar solo, and washes of fuzzy guitar. "Windowsill" is a bit of jazzy swing while "Sandy O'Shea" is a faux Irish ballad which morphs into a reel, again with some great fiddle work. The album closes with further stylistic shifts, the first of which is "Redneck Stoners (in Luv)", a fun take on turbo tonk with its refrain of "Dang, heck/Redneck stoners in love". The terminal tune is the gritty, bluesy "Shitty Gin", which is an instant sing-along.

Why Should I Change? made for a nice change of pace in my musical diet with the paucity of power chords. Leiser is very deft at moving from rhythm parts to more muscular leads and so the music has some wonderful dynamics. But my ambivalence remains. At one listening session I'll enjoy going from folk-inflected pop to jazz to Irish folk. Then on the next I find myself wishing the band hadn't segregated each of their predilections into separate songs and instead found some way to integrate them. Disparate mess or eclectic collection? Even taking the former view, Why Should I Change? still has solid playing, great melodies, and that infectious fiddle.

Arthur Alexander - Lonely Just Like Me: The Final Chapter

Last month saw the re-release of Arthur Alexander's comeback album Lonely Just Like Me: The Final Chapter by HackTone Records. Originally issued in 1993, the album marked Alexander's return to music after a 15 year absence. He had helped pioneer southern R&B; during the 1960s and his songs were covered by The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, and other rock pioneers of that time. Along with great fame came alcohol and drug abuse as well as an inability to find a good manager. He saw little reward for his work and he dropped out of music in 1977 and apparently sustained himself by being a bus driver. In 1992 some old friends convinced Alexander to give music another go and the result was Lonely Like Me which was released on Elecktra. Tragically, Alexander died only three months after the album's release and in the midst of a triumphant comeback. This final chapter collects the original album and adds demos and live performances from the time.

Alexander had a fondness for not only R&B; but also country and so the twang and the pedal steel that emerges halfway through the opening "If It's Really Got to Be This Way" might make a listener think they've wandered into Charlie Pride territory. While country and the blues arguably emerged from the same mother lode and they are not mutually exclusive, the song sounds more like the glossy power country of Garth Brooks and his ilk of the early 90s than a gritty derivation of folk. Most of the rest of the album suffers a similar fate with producer Ben Vaughn's emphasis on polish instead of heartfelt performance. With its home organ drum box, "Lonely Just Like Me" sounds like something from a Holiday Inn motel bar instead of genuine heartbreak. It's nearly impossible to discern the genius that inspired the first British Invasion here.

There is the occasional moment of relief, though. The sparse piano of "All the Time" makes for a rare moment of intimacy and the bluesy "Sally Sue Brown" is a bit ragged in the best way. Unfortunately, these moments are fleeting and the bulk of Lonely Just Like Me is just too safe without any jagged edges.

The real music starts 13 songs in with the bonus material on this release. First we are treated to Alexander's appearance on NPR's Fresh Air program. Here he tackles three cuts from Lonely Just Like Me and his classic "You Better Move On", which was covered by The Rolling Stones. The newer material benefits exponentially from the stripped down instrumentation. Alexander's limited range is at home against a backdrop devoid of bells and whistles. Just compare live "Genie in the Jug" to its studio counterpart. They are poles apart and, when he sings "She ain't never comin' back to me", it actually sounds like he means it instead of the line coming across as a pleasant approximation of feeling suitable for folks who buy music at WalMart.

You can also compare these two versions of "Genie in the Jug" to a third which is a demo recorded in a hotel room by producer Vaughn. It's just Alexander and an acoustic guitar. This performance really cuts to the bone and exposes his blues roots. It's simple, plaintive, and has more depth of emotion than the entirety of Lonely Just Like Me. The album ends with a live rendition of "Anna" recorded at the Bottom Line in 1991. This show got Alexander his record deal with Elektra. It's just guitar and organ along with voice. It's a shame that the potential heard in this sparse arrangement was lost in the transition to major label debut.

On the Gramophone

A great show this week at my podcast - Othar Turner.

A Matter of Loaf and Death

Wallace & Gromit are returning to TV! It is to be a 30-minute adventure called "Trouble at' Mill".

Trouble at' Mill is a murder mystery that sees Wallace and Gromit running a bakery business - with their house converted into a granary with ovens and robotic kneading arms.

The new film will reunite Nick Park with writer Bob Baker who co-wrote both The Wrong Trousers and A Close Shave.

Mr Park said he was looking forward to making a short film after the pressure of a Hollywood feature.

"It's nice to be out of that feature film pressure now. I don't feel like I'm making a film for a kid in some suburb of America - and being told they're not going to understand a joke, or a northern saying."

Hey Jessica Valenti: What. The. Fuck.

Okay, I'm all for books on feminism. I'd just appreciate it if a leading feminist didn't equate feminism with a headless naked super-thin white woman.

I See Embedded Video in my Future...

A little over a week ago I received an unpleasant e-mail from Janet Merino who took exception to my views about her business, the Psychic Gallery on State Street. There she practices palmistry, tarot card "readings", and other BS. For some reason Katjusa Cisar wrote a piece for the shameless Capital Times which went out of its way to avoid the implication that psychics are frauds. Seemingly without a critical thinking bone in her body, Ms. Cisar no doubt has a fine career in journalism ahead of her.

With this in mind, I found a couple nice videos which take a skeptical look at psychics. The first comes from a BBC program called The Real Hustle and it shows a, well, hustler doing cold readings.


The Real Hustle - The Psychic Scam - The funniest videos clips are here

In my post about the Psychic Gallery I also mentioned Mimosa who was to host The Goddess Akeeya who has the reputation of being the "female John Edwards", Mr. Edwards being another "psychic". Well, here you can watch two videos with Michael Shermer and Penn & Teller, respectively, taking on Edwards and exposing his methods for scamming people. P&T also comment on skepticism in the media, something I should hope Ms. Cisar might look into.

Bill Maher's Religious Test

This was a good episode with Janeane Garofalo and her great tattoos mentioning one of my favorite comics, Y: The Last Man which is coming to a conclusion soon.

I found out today that both Steven Pinker and Richard Dawkins will be speaking in Chicago this week at The Seminary Co-op Bookstore. Pinker on Wednesday evening and Dawkins on Thursday. While Dawkins continues his push for The God Delusion, The Stuff of Thought: Language as a Window into Human Nature is Pinker's latest and was released only last month. His book tour does not bring him to Wisconsin, unfortunately.

McCain: Religious Nutcase or Doofus?

I know a few people who can best be described as Democrats. They're not hyper-liberal progressives but rather well-to-do folks who are left of center politically. There have been times over the past several years when they've commented that, if the Dems can't come up with a decent candidate, they'd gladly vote for John McCain despite the fact that he's a Republican. "He's centrist," I hear them say. "McCain is an honorable man who served his country and is honest," they tell me. Personally, McCain is likely to never get my vote. I'd rather "throw away" my vote with a nod to the Green Party than vote for McCain. The guy has certainly paid his dues with his military career. And I must give McCain credit for his stances on campaign finance reform and torture.

At the end of the day, however, McCain is still a politico. For every instance of reason and common sense coming from his lips, he balances this out with egregiously stupid shit like his recent comments about the U.S. being a Christian nation in his opinion so thusly non-Christians just don't make the best politicians. All of this despite the fact that the Constitution doesn’t doesn't mention Yahweh, that it does contain a no-religious-test provision, and that the U.S. government explicitly said in the Treaty of Tripoli from 1797 "As the Government of the United States of America is not, in any sense, founded on the Christian religion". I couple McCain's recent parroting of the religious right with his support for teaching Intelligent Design in schools and other such stupidities and must seriously wonder if McCain really believes the shit he spews or if he has no other campaign tactic besides pandering. First he criticized Jerry Falwell and then he turns around and sticks his tongue up his trousers. Is there no ass that he will not kiss? Is there no scumbag he won't cozy up to?

A Good Old Fashioned Revival at Westgate

Good news for cinephiles here in Madison – Westgate is continuing to counter-program Sundance and is becoming part revival house.

For the entire week starting this Friday, the four-screen theater, which traditionally shows new independent films, will devote one of its screens to playing two classic Eastwood westerns, "Unforgiven" and "The Good, the Bad and the Ugly," as part of its new "Great Performances" series.

That series will be followed in early December with a weeklong run of the Audrey Hepburn movies "Breakfast at Tiffany's" and "Roman Holiday."

In addition, beginning this week, Westgate is introducing a new "Cult Classics" series every Friday and Saturday night, traditionally the strongest nights for new films. The series will kick off Friday with screenings of the Al Pacino gangster film "Scarface," followed by "The Big Lebowski," "Clerks" and "Pulp Fiction."

I have often wondered why Westgate stopped bringing back some classics. I recall seeing The Bride Over the River Kwai there as well as enduring the greatest thirst of my life as I watched the opening of Lawrence of Arabia. It's too bad it took increased competition from Sundance to get Marcus to bring back some classics. DVDs are great but films are meant to be seen on big screens. Some college kids at the UW were still shitting their pants when Unforgiven was released. Their age is not their fault and they should be given the opportunity to see classic films as they were meant to be seen. Plus older folks like me relish the chance to see them in the theatre once again.

I am glad that Sundance is here, to be sure, but I am disappointed that the theatre didn't take up Hilldale's mantle as far as revivals go. I recall seeing such great films as Ran and The Passenger at Hilldale and had hopes that Sundance would continue the tradition. Alas, it has not been the case thusfar. In fact, Sundance has turned out to be more of a place in which one can be trendy than a place which celebrates cinema. I'd trade all the birch branches for a single movie poster in the lobby. And I would gladly pay a little more to finally get rid of Waitress and bring something like the 50 Years of Janus Films retrospective to town.

Despite all this, Sundance should be praised for its upcoming DocuWeek which takes place the first week of November. I am especially excited about the prospect of seeing Protagonist. I guess I will gladly suffer stuff like Waitress and Juno as long as I also get Stellet Licht and Aleksandra.

An Afternoon in Cornish Town Wherein Robert Johnson's Lyrics are Illuminated

With my illness having abated for the most part, The Dulcinea, M., and I drove down to Mineral Point on Saturday for Cornish Fest. Neither I nor The D is Cornish but M is of Cornish stock. So it seemed like a good excuse to check out Mineral Point and eat Cornish food while M ran around oblivious to it all. This was my first time in the town and I have to say that the historic downtown was marvelous for the antiquarian in me.





Most of the buildings downtown looked as if they were from the second half of the 19th century. By this time, the town was booming with lead mining, hence the town's name. Word of this had reached Cornwall, England a couple decades previously and scores of Cornish families came to Mineral Point attracted by the available work in the mines. Thus we have Mineral Point being home to Cornish Fest.

With tourism being such a big economic component, most of the buildings downtown were in good shape and relatively unmolested by current architectural fads or designs on making things look modern.







The coffeehouse/tavern we stopped at was gorgeous with dark wood everywhere and huge doorways. Aside from some modern conveniences such as coolers and beer taps, it was truly like walking into a different time. There was the odd sign in Cornish about town as well as the ubiquitous pasty which had found company with other assimilated cuisines at the Red Rooster Café.





After wandering around for a bit, we found that we still had time before the Miner's Buffet was to start. Since I have an interest in the history of rail in the area, we zipped down to the Mineral Point Railroad Depot Museum. On the way down the hill, we passed Brewery Creek, a brewpub.



Unfortunately, they were closing to prepare for the dinner hour and, with M along, it was not a day for hunkering down at the tavern.



I believe that railway service to Mineral Point started in 1857 as there was lots of lead (and later zinc) to be shipped out. The tracks are long gone and now are a trail but the depot has been lovingly restored. It opened only three years ago. It's a beautiful limestone building.



Unfortunately, photography was strictly forbidden inside. There was a display which documented the restoration efforts and, after seeing pictures of the interior which was totally trashed, kudos must be given out to the folks behind bringing the depot back to life. All the wooden floors and moldings were lovingly restored and the place was just great to wander around. Display cases lined the walls with artifacts from a long-gone era. It was more than ore and people that the trains moved as was evident from a shipping receipt for 2 barrels of whiskey. Shovels, pry bars, and levels lined one case along with a series of photos demonstrating how track was laid and how bad spikes were replaced. If you think it sucks sitting in front of a keyboard and mouse, think about lugging around a 26 pound pry bar all day. There was also a bunch of implements for the guy who kept the fire going on the locomotive. They looked quite a bit like those you'd have for your fireplace at home excepting that they were much bigger. I was reminded of the bit in Tony Robinson's series The Worst Jobs in History for the Victorian era - the engine cleaner. It's a great show so, if you've not seen it, do so. The engine cleaner would crawl inside the area where the coal or wood burned and sweep it out. Then, after the locomotive parked itself over the inspection pit and the guy would clear out the ash pans from underneath. Keeping the iron horses running was dirty, ball-busting work.

There was a slick pocket watch on display which made me wonder where I put my own pocket watch which is from around 1916 and, like the one I saw at the museum, belonged to a conductor. Aside from the neat maps and whatnot strewn about, the real treat was a gentlemen whose name I cannot recall. He was an old duff donning your typical Sconnie outfit of flannel shirt and suspenders and walked with a cane. The guy was a volunteer there and he wandered around the room which was the ticket office and waiting area looking for folks to talk to. It didn't take him long to flag down M, who was a little hesitant to talk to him. I, however, was quite willing. He'd worked on the rail in Mineral Point from 1957 until 1969. And he loved talking about his former profession and his current passion.

At one point I was looking at a map on the wall and he pointed out the routes that he had traveled while working for the rail. By the desk of the ticket agent was the ticket dispenser which was a shelf with a bunch of little compartments for stacks of tickets. Back then they were a bit larger than your typical raffle ticket is today. There were wooden balls in each of the compartments and it was explained to me that they kept the tickets from pouring out the openings. This guy was a font of information. He even knew the parents of my former co-worker who lent me the rail magazines I used in my Madrail series linked to above. This guy was a treasure and he put all the video displays and fancy interactive hoolies at larger museums to shame with his wonderful human touch.

While looking at one wall of lamps, I noticed one that had red and blue lenses. The gentleman explained that those used to hang from the caboose. I then realized I was standing before an illustration of some of Robert Johnson's lyrics, specifically those towards the end of "Love in Vain":

When the train, it left the station
with two lights on behind
Well, the blue light was my blues
and the red light was my mind



One can just imagine folks sitting or milling around waiting for the train. I found out yesterday that, if a Madisonian didn’t want to brave the rail yet needed to get to Mineral Point, they could always hitch up the wagon and take a certain road west from town – Mineral Point Road.

With 4:30 approaching, we headed off to the Hodan Center to fill our bellies at the Miner's Buffet. As the pictures below demonstrate, I stuffed myself.

This was my first course. We have a beef pasty, Cornish meat pie with dumplings, corn pudding, and mashed turnips. There was just the right amount of horseradish in the turnips. How many root vegetables can you get in one dish? Oh, and that's a bit of pepper relish which, I was told, was for the pasty. It was sweet and sour and quite good.



My second course consisted of baked squash, a slice of Herbie pie, and some sweet and sour beans. Herbie pie was essentially a quiche. A quiche with manna from heaven – bacon. And just look at all that bacon in the beans. They were excellent!



For dessert, I started with a slice of saffron bread and one of figgyhobbin.



I am not sure if the Cornish made saffron bread because they loved saffron or because they were ensconced in a perpetual butter shortage and they wanted it to look yellow. Either way it was very tasty. Figgyhobbin. What the hell is figgyhobbin? A figgyhobbin is a long pastry roll filled with nuts, brown sugar, and raisins. For the life of me I cannot find anything on the Net about its origin or name. I suspect figs were involved at one point or that the name is perhaps the corruption of some Cornish word but these are mere speculations on my part. Traditionally, one puts caramel sauce on it. I refrained but can say that it was very tasty nonetheless.

My second dessert was a scone-like hoolie and a piece of pie which, if my ears heard rightly, was sugar pie.



The scone thingy was soft and moist and good. The pie was, as the name implies, sugary. For a filling, it had a load of gooey caramel stuff which sent me into diabetic seizures. But it was oh so good!

This was a hearty meal. Much heartier than this office jockey required. But I can imagine a bunch of sweaty miners covered in coal dust grabbing a tin plate of stew and a pasty and chowing down.