A Life Positive: What we can all learn from Luis Montanez

(Cover story in the Fairfield Weekly. Dec 20, 2007 )

There was a time in human history when it was common for people to die from a simple cold, and they were even expected to. It only took one step outside without a jacket or one cold night's sleep.

A person living with HIV or AIDS was once equally as fragile. Maybe you'd live for a year, or 10 years, but there was always an expiration date. Since 1981, AIDS has been responsible for the death of over 25 million people around the world. In 2005, the disease took the lives of over 570,000 children. In the U.S., 60 percent of all AIDS cases are minorities (black, Hispanic or Asian)—and in CT that number is 63 percent. The fact that it only takes one slip-up—one pass at sex without a condom or one foggy night's drug-induced error—only enhances the fear that surrounds this still-misunderstood disease.

"Am I going to have this? I repeatedly told myself, 'I don't have it. I don't have it. Am I going to die?'" The question once haunted Luis Montanez, a 24-year old resident of downtown Bridgeport who living with HIV. He tested positive for the virus at 18 after finding out that his boyfriend at the time, with whom he'd recently had unprotected sex, was a carrier of the HIV virus.

We sat in the very doctor's office where Montanez was first tested six years ago, at the Ryan White CARE wing of Optimus Health Care in Bridgeport. "I didn't fear getting tested," he said. "I had to know. I made that decision to have unprotected sex. I made that decision to sleep with him. I thought I loved him. It ate me up inside."

Today, in the U.S., HIV and AIDS have become largely manageable. Because of medical and pharmaceutical advances, thousands of people who contracted HIV like Montanez, have now been deemed "undetectable," meaning their HIV viral loads are so low that they test negative for HIV. They still have the virus, of course, but the medication is able to keep it at bay. Thousands are happily living their lives with HIV.

With the medical advances, however, has come something of a sense of complacency; a reliable treatment is available, but there are many young people who were not around to see the devastation caused by AIDS when it first appeared, and have become somewhat complacent about it.

It's still a scary and life-changing diagnosis. But at some level, the fear lingers because a larger ignorance about the disease lingers.

So powerful is this almost willful ignorance that even some of our leaders remain in the dark ages about it. We live in a country that is taking a long, serious look at a man running for president who has said he wants to quarantine Montanez and anyone else with HIV.

And Iowa loves this man. Arkansas governor Mike Huckabee suggested in 1992 that we "isolate the carriers of this plague," saying that now is "the first time in the history of civilization in which the carriers of a genuine plague have not been isolated from the general public." It's been 15 years and Huckabee has still not publicly changed his stance. In fact, he stated on Dec. 8 that he will not "recant" his remarks.

Huckabee is obviously not helping to de-stigmatize HIV-AIDS. And it's to the detriment of young people in the U.S., many of whom are so afraid to get tested that it has literally become impossible to tell how many teens in U.S. may be carriers of the virus, which makes them the most important AIDS-prone demographic. The reported number of people in the U.S. with HIV or AIDS under-20 for 2005 was just over 2,000, but it is widely recognized that the actual number is much higher than that.

Perhaps not enough is being done to accurately educate young people of the seriousness of HIV and AIDS. Perhaps young people are so afraid to die that they don't want to know that they already have a life-threatening disease, even if it means they can save themselves. Is their sense of invincibility to blame, or is it their ignorance? Or is it something concrete like cowardly health classes in high school?

Montanez doesn't blame anyone. "Learn about it," he says. But he does believe HIV and AIDS patients have the responsibility to open up and inform the public. "We are giving this disease a bad name," Montanez says. "If you look at people with HIV and AIDS, not all people are open about it. Not everyone is coming out with it. If you're open with it and you explain how your life is with it, then people will come to an understanding that this is an illness. It's not a death sentence. If we don't have a loud voice and get out there with our stories, then people are going to be ignorant. They're going to look at it like, 'Well if you're so afraid to talk about it, then why should I be so calm?'"

Montanez is also a diabetic. He can't walk or stand for long periods of time like he could before and he's been unemployed for two years because of it. "I have more fear for my diabetes than I do for my HIV," he said. "The HIV virus I know is under control."

Montanez is one of the lucky ones to be taking only one pill per day. He pays for it every month by showing his Connecticut AIDS Drug Assistance Program (CADAP) card at the pharmacy, a card that's part of a pharmaceutical assistance program that pays for HIV/AIDS medications approved by the FDA. The Department of Social Services administers this program to people living in poverty with the disease. Not everyone is eligible for such a program, but according to published reports, it is currently saving the lives of over 1,339 people in Connecticut and 96,121 people in America as of 2006.

Montanez started on three pills and with the introduction of Atripla, he says it's like taking a vitamin every day. A decade ago, "pill cocktails" were the only way to go. Today there's the one-pill option for some. It has only light side effects and it's easy to swallow, reported Montanez. "I felt dizziness for about two weeks and then the body adjusts and it's a breeze, really," he said. He takes it before bed.

The cocktail is a prescription of a couple dozen pills the patient needs to take at specific times of day with food, no matter how sick they are. Each pill comes with harsh side effects like diarrhea, gas, nausea, heartburn and severe headaches, and there's always the possibility of becoming resistant to one or more of the pills. For some, the cocktail alone was enough to bring on serious depression.

The one-pill miracle has obviously made the treatment aspect of living with HIV and AIDS easier. Because of the stigma, every day is a fight. Physically, the disease is treatable. But mentally, its toll can be unbearable. Montanez talked about his ex-boyfriend's (the one who gave him HIV) ugly struggle with the disease.

"He was the type of person that knew he had this and he didn't care. It was malicious. He had the intention. He was angry at the world and he didn't want to live. I've heard from other people that he knew he had AIDS before he even got tested. But even after he found out for real, he gave it maliciously to other people. This disease is something that can really mess with your mind. Some people take it seriously and take care of themselves, but some people don't care and they hurt anyone they can on top of it. He wanted to bring everyone else down with him."

Montanez has learned from this part of his life that any time spent not being honest with yourself (or others) is time wasted. He's seen the drugs, he's seen the death, and he's still dealing with depression. (His CADAP card covers mental-health appointments and medication, too.) He hasn't turned to alcohol like so many of his friends, but he said his cigarette and marijuana habits have been known to jump considerably during hard times. His 2008 New Year's resolution is to cut them both out of his life.

"So many people turn to drugs when this happens," he said. "They really don't care. They just want to go. I have friends with HIV and AIDS who are on crack cocaine who had never done it before." Though its physical effects can be debilitating, Montanez has come to the realization that you must never ignore the deep, dark psychological side of HIV.

"I've been through the self-mutilation," he said. "People ask if it's because of HIV and I say 'no.' I'm sitting here looking at people who have relationships, people who are married. And I look at my life and I have to sit here and explain to every guy I meet, this is who I am. This is what I have. I'm HIV positive."

Being honest with yourself is one thing, but it's the daily tests. Montanez is young, he still wants to date and be social. "If you want to be trusted," he said, "you deal with it and you tell them, you say 'I feel deep within me that I need to tell you this. I'm not going to hide this from you, this is something serious." He said that not everyone responds in a kind way, and that he needs to be the bigger person. "I look at them and I say, 'Thank you for being honest with me, but please give me a chance.' But they're scared of me. They automatically zone you out sometimes."

He said, "You're going to get depressed, you're going to get miserable and you're going to feel like the world is over. You'll feel like you have nothing to live for, but you do."

Montanez goes out regularly to dance clubs—Gotham in New Haven, Cedar Brook Cafe in Westport—to socialize with friends and he's even had sex with a guy he dated for a few months who didn't have HIV. He says all this is a testament to being honest with himself and everyone around him. His dedication to mental health has brought him his physical health.

"I do everything that I used to do. This doesn't deprive you of anything. You deprive yourself. If you want to look miserable, if you want to be miserable with it, then that's all on you." He even went so far as to compare HIV to paying the bills. "What are you going to do? Depress yourself because your bills aren't paid? No, because then it gets worse. You're going to work at it. You're going to work until that's paid off and you're relaxed and comfortable. And then it's, 'OK, I have that done, what's next?'"

"I don't feel any different than I did before," Montanez said with a smile, "other than I do have it. It is in my system, I do have it. I'm living to fear the world instead. What we're going through now with war across the world is more fearful than this, but this is an epidemic. It's growing higher and higher, and more people need to get tested."

Rudolph the Red Meat Side Dish

(As published by the Fairfield Weekly on December 20, 2007)

Ill apologize up front to anyone who sympathizes with reindeer this time of year (teachers, parents, children, vegetarians) because I fully endorse eating them.

It started with an uncle of mine who’s a head chef at a fancy Boston restaurant. He loves to cook up risky dishes for the family at Christmas. Once it was a hundred pieces of sushi that only he and I ate; another time it was fajitas and home-made (grilled!) salsa. He was outside in the snow grilling vegetables the whole morning that time. The best one though, was the reindeer he made in 2001.

After cueing the “red-nosed” song, he opened the oven and out came what looked like dark sliced beef, gently displayed on crackers with some sort of sauce and maybe some capers. He must have ordered a few pounds of the festive flesh for us, without letting anyone know what was in store.

“Come on down,” the chef yelled to the kids, “it’s time to eat Rudolph!” The adults were laughing and stuffing their faces with shrimp cocktail, hummus and Merlot while the youngest kids, at around three or four, cried when the drunken man in the chef’s hat kept insisting it was really Rudolph.

“Rudolph’s dead,” he said, “And I killed him for you! Eat up!” He either thought the kids would love the idea, or he knew they’d hate it. But he played the role very well, complete with his red-splattered smock (it was ketchup).

The two or three ethical members of the family wondered if it was right to be eating the holiday mascot—who’s making the rabbit stew for Easter?—but in the end it was too delicious to argue. If you’ve ever had kangaroo, reindeer tastes a little like that. If you haven’t, it’s like beef tenderloin. Smooth, flavorful and light as a feather.

But reindeer do not fly. They are like small moose. They are lazy, slow and stupid animals.

Canadian reindeer are the laziest, resting in roads all across the territories and running toward cars instead of back into the woods. They rest in the road because the roads serve as clearings from the miles and miles of thick forest, and they can sleep there without being bothered by mosquitoes. A smarter animal would worry about the cars and not the bugs, but reindeer seem to think they’re just as invincible as their fictional flying friends. I’ve read that a reindeer’s brain is a delicacy, and maybe that’s because they don’t use the brain for much else. Might as well eat it.

Tasteless? Well, Chez Uncle didn’t think there was anything wrong with his hors d’ ouerve.

“It’s like eating turkey on Thanksgiving,” he said.

It’s not anything like that. Rudolph was a red-nosed hero among heroes—a legend!—and not just a passive bird waddling in the woods.

Anyway, there we were chowing on reindeer meat and wishing there was more. Truth is, people have been eating this stuff for centuries and today it’s an expensive delicacy.

Roasts are hard to find in the U.S. but they’re out there, so ask your local butcher what he can scrooge up—what he can scrounge up—and have a tasty if truly tasteless Christmas.

Little Drummer Girl Phenom: 14-Year Old Caitlin Kalafus

(As published by the Fairfield Weekly on 12/15/2007)

Her videos have garnered over 525,000 views but Caitlin Kalafus, 14, is not just another YouTube fad; she's an actual drum star on the rise.

She lives in Milford and doesn't have a driver's license, so she's left with what the local music scene has to offer. So what does she do? She plays in three bands at once and frequently joins Connecticut's most popular jam-rock group, the Breakfast, onstage at Toad's.

One of her bands, Switch Up, consists of Kalafus and the Breakfast's Adrian Tramontano and Tim Palmieri. Its central idea is giving each musician a chance to shine. They write and play their own songs (with some covers thrown in) and switch instruments. The caliber of each musician is unmatched in the area. Tramontano is as subtle and intricate a drummer as any, Palmieri is one of the best guitarists in the business and Kalafus is just as gifted at songwriting and guitar-playing as she is a drummer.

But what is she doing with these vets?

Tramontano, who is also Kalafus' drum teacher, met the drummer girl at a competition at the Guitar Center in Orange a few years ago, where he was also competing.

"She was really fearless with engaging the audience before she even sat to play and that caught my eye," Tramontano recalls, "And then she played a drum solo and I was like, 'Wow, that's really good!' I could tell there was a real passion there, and I definitely thought I could show her some new ways of playing, you know, crackin' a whole other realm of playing." His regimen includes playing live as much as possible and becoming more aggressive with her playing.

Whitney Maus, a shocked audience member at a Toad's performance in October, said, "Oh yeah, she's good. I think she's a lot better than she should be!"

"She's up there," says Tramontano, "And another thing here is she's gonna be a great—and I mean great—drummer. She's gonna be really top-notch."

Caitlin Kalafus' passion to play rock music started at age 7, when she began learning the guitar. She quickly moved to drums and, as quickly, she outgrew her peers.

"In elementary school, my dad helped me to play 'Knockin' on Heaven's Door' with some friends," she says, "and that was pretty much the only time I was with kids my age." It's not that she pushes them away or feels superior; she simply treats music differently, with more respect.

"It's not that I don't take kids seriously," she says, "it's like, I'm on a level where I understand things differently, rather than 'Oh, yeah, I can play drums.' Music is my life, it's what makes me feel complete."

She has a boyfriend and friends her own age, but when it comes to music you'll usually find Kalafus playing with the adults (and because of age restrictions at clubs, she usually plays to adults too). She's in a band called Rock House All Stars, sponsored by the popular instructional DVD company Rock House Method, in which she plays with other teenage musicians (she's still the youngest).

"It's scary how good she is," says her father, a high-school music teacher in Milford. "[S]he doesn't go down [in the basement] for eight hours a day. And my thought is, imagine if she did! But it might ruin her, it might burn her out."

The support system Dad has set up for her knows no boundaries. Dad's her driver, her biggest fan, her lead guitarist in the band Caitlin on Drums (with family friend Chris Barber on lead vocals) and he's traveled as far as Los Angeles with her to play.

At the last gig in Milford, a gray-pony-tailed man with a Dark Side of the Moon t-shirt walked up to the band after a song. "These guys are awesome!" he yelled. "Where can I get a shirt?"

"I'm a huge music fan, man, and I've heard of these guys," he explained. "I just had to make sure I came out and checked them out."

It's off-putting to see Caitlin on Drums play in bars and family restaurants. And it's not quite because of Kalafus' age; it's that she possesses serious talent and originality—and it's clear she belongs on a much larger stage, in a much larger spotlight.

Burma Roads: Talking with Burmese Refugees in Bridgeport

(As published by the Fairfield Weekly, November 15, 2007. Everything interview-related by me. Additional reporting by Chandra Niles Folsom)

The Burma we hear about on the news today was once the "rice bowl" of Asia. Rich with all the natural resources and beauty a country would ever need, it was sometimes referred to as the Venice of the East. Today, Burma is a place where the "children have no future," according to Eh Lay, 34, and Po Ya Ko, 36, two Burmese refugees living in Bridgeport.

"People have no rights and they are at the mercy of the troops," said Tint Sheppard, a volunteer works Burmese refugee families in Bridgeport, including those of Eh Lay and Po Ya Ko. She left Burma with her family as a young child. She coordinates her efforts with the International Institute of Connecticut (IIC) in Bridgeport, but she works on her own time. She helps them write letters, find things like blankets and clothes, and generally adapt.

A member of the U.S. Committee for Refugees and Immigrants and recognized by the U.S. Board of Immigration Appeals, the International Institute has assisted more than 100,000 immigrants and refugees since 1918. Their volunteers offer services ranging from refugee resettlement services and job training to immigration counseling and pro bono court representation with special assistance to human trafficking victims.

"The Burmese-Myanmar refugees were in camps for years and the U.S. had asked the Thai government to host them," says Myra Oliver, director of the institute for the past 30 years. "But the problems in Thailand have been mounting and the Burmese who escaped from various countries kept piling up, so finally we started taking them in as refugees.

Eh Lay and Po Ya Ko have spent most of their lives in refugee camps in Thailand. Until now, their entire lives were centered on surviving, without hope of ever having a home of their own. They now share a three-family apartment building in Bridgeport with their wives and children and one other refugee family. They have American bank accounts, their children are in school, their wives are working at a factory in Milford and their apartments are furnished.

Speaking to Eh Lay and Po Ya Ko, through Sheppard as an interpreter, it was inspiring to see how high the men's spirits were in spite of recent news of poverty, torture and murder in Burma. Far from these tragedies, the simply-dressed men were in the IIC building to sort out some issues with food stamps and to discuss employment possibilities. They're as uprooted but they're with their families and they're getting by.

When they first arrived, the three families shared one head of cabbage, a bag of rice and a few onions but today consider themselves well-fed.

One major difficulty they're facing is how their children are being bullied in school for not knowing English, but they're working with the schools to alleviate this problem.

They described their new life in Bridgeport (they've been here four months) as a difficult and anxious one, but also as a massive relief of freedom from refugee camp life, and even more of a relief from life in Burma. Namely, they can now come and go from their homes as they please and they can begin building their lives on their own terms.

Both saw people getting picked up for forced labor by the military government. The soldiers would show up at Po Ya Ko's village and take any male older than 12 or 13, putting them to work on roads and buildings across the country. There is no avoiding this, Po Ya Ko said, and that's why it was necessary to escape with the rebels when he and his family had the chance.

Eh Lay's life in Burma was intertwined with the rebel forces. His adopted brothers were among 41 rebels who were imprisoned in Rangoon by the government, because of a spy in their midst. Eh Lay's mother would bribe the guards at the prison and bring the men food. Their lives became very dangerous after this. She quickly became a government target and had no choice but to send her daughters to Thailand with her brother, who was a rebel smuggling goods into Burma. She was later able to escape with Eh Lay and his brothers before her scheduled arrest thanks to tips from the guards at the prison.

They left grandparents, friends and imprisoned loved-ones behind, but live was only about survival—no room for rememberance—in the camps. Because of malnourishment, Po Ya Ko's parents died from cholera shortly after crossing the border into Thailand and he worked with his sisters and brothers to stay alive and healthy in the camps. Eh Lay said that despite being separated from their homes, it was refreshing to be fed regularly and put in schools.

Eh Lay escaped Burma when he was a boy and has since spent 19 years, more than half his life, in refugee camps. Po Ya Ko, who escaped Burma in 1985, when he was 12. He spent 22 years in the camps.

Today, with both their wives working, the men are eagerly awaiting jobs. IIC is helping them with this, as well as many other social services and a local Laotian family is also helping them. Eh Lay has an interview coming up with a packaging company in Shelton. He is a musician too, and is hoping to find a used keyboard to play. The men explained a sport they enjoy together, what they called "Kim Ball," that is a cross between volleyball and soccer. The IIC was able to find an authentic ball from Thailand made from a native plant.

They said they're waiting for the conditions in Burma to improve, but they expect to stay in America for a "long time."

Clowns of the Year: Snipes, Cook, King

(My part of the December 6, 2007 Fairfield Weekly cover story)

WESLEY SNIPES

For a man who has all the ingredients for being as big and untouchable as Denzel, Wesley Snipes came a little too close to becoming an inmate this year. Maybe you know Wesley Snipes for being a Playgirl cover boy in ‘98, or maybe you know him for his amazing teeth, but did you know that he avoided a court date in March that could have put him in jail for 16 years? The IRS has 800,000 pages in reports on him and he apparently didn’t pay taxes between 1999 and 2004. They also cite illegal refunds of over $12 million before 1999. He goes to court in January to answer these allegations.

All this and he was in three straight-to-DVD movies this year. The embarrassing Hard Luck, in which Wesley plays a drug dealer, couldn’t say it better. The others, Chaos and The Contractor, are basically the same movie: guns, girls, explosions, zero acting. He hasn’t made a decent movie since Blade: Trinity in ’04, and that wasn’t even a decent movie. Mr. Snipes, welcome to the ranks Robert Hatch, Crocodile Dundee and the lead singer of Everclear.


DANE COOK

How does a respectable rising comedian with an outstanding sense of how to market himself to youngsters become a complete and utter disgrace to his own fans? We could ask Dane Cook, but he’d answer with some long story disguised as a joke, filled with a bunch of over-annunciated words. He’d pace back and forth in a circle, Sufi-ing us all into a stupor, punching bees in the face and eating “banana sangwiches.” Funny stuff, Dane, but that’s not an answer. How is it that you’ve become a parody of yourself?

In his most recent DVD, the unbearable Rough Around the Edges: Live from Madison Square Garden, released just last week, Cook doesn’t even tell whole jokes; he just throws out punch lines from old ones and waits for the screams to quiet. He’s tapped into every 15-year-old girl’s need to have inside jokes with everyone. But that’s not enough. He has to clown his way into movies now. Cook was terrible in Employee of the Month, outrageously appalling in Mr. Brooks (don’t rent it if you haven’t already) and his name in the upcoming Bachelor No. 2 is “Tank.”

Dane Cook is one silly bitch.


DON KING

Don King did bring a major boxing event to Bridgeport but made a total ass of himself in the process. At a press conference for the WBA fight at Harbor Yard this summer, he said things like, “Here we are in Bridgeport, the…uh… city of bridges! And we’re here to sell tickets!”

City of bridges? That would be Pittsburgh. This is the “big city of dreams,” as the Young Souljahs “Bridgeport Anthem” music video demonstrates.

Then there was King’s attire. A denim jacket that looked like something out of a 1989 L.A. Gear catalogue, covered in sequins and national monuments—Mt. Rushmore and the Iwo Jima statue. He carried four or five little American flags, a couple Italian flags, a few Puerto Rican flags and he was waving them all at the same time, the whole time he spoke. It made no sense at all, but it was wonderful.

La Salsa: Eat Mexican Food.

(As published by the Fairfield Weekly, November 29, 2007)

Stop eating your leftovers! The turkey is shot, the cranberry sauce has turned to slop-juice and no amount of salt will cover the taste of the mold now caking your potatoes. But that doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy some comfort food. I recommend La Salsa Fresh Mexican Grill (580 Post Rd Fairfield; 203-256-8800). Can I do that? Recommend Mexican food in place of Thanksgiving leftovers? Of course. Just as with Thanksgiving, at La Salsa you can fill yourself to the point of self-disgust (and usually for under $10). Start with a Grande Burrito or a pair of shrimp tacos; those are my faves. If you’ve recovering alcoholics at the family table—hey, La Salsa doesn’t serve booze. No margaritas, no Dos Equis, but maybe you’ve realized that the only reason other Mexican joints sell booze is to hide the nasty flavors they pack into their chicken chimichangas. La Salsa has no such ass-nastiness. They heavily advertise their use of only “real chicken” (as opposed to…meow?), high-quality steak, fresh vegetables and no microwaves. The fried-chicken taquitos are delicious and most meals are served with a heap of rice-n-beans. Get the #2 special if you’re real hungry—a quesadilla, two taquitos, rice-n-beans-n-chips-n-salsa. Take-out’s available but if you can brave the tiny parking lot, push your way into the salsa bar for spicy or sweet takes on the recipe—not to mention a fine spread of onions, jalapenos, cilantro, etc.

Election Day Blowout!

(My part of the Fairfield Weekly's November 1, 2007 Cover Story. Intro by Tom Gogola.)

FAIRFIELD FIRST SELECTMAN

John Nelson is the youthful opponent of eight-year First Selectman Ken Flatto. Both are Fairfield natives and both are impressively concerned about the town’s well-being and quality of life. This year marks the first year in Fairfield history that the elected First Selectman will serve a four-year term instead of two.

Flatto has solidified over 500 acres of open spaces in the town, he’s doubled the traffic and safety division of the police department, he’s upgrade six public schools, the main library and the sewer plant and the state has recently approved permits and plans for building another train station in town. The station, to be located on lower Black Rock Turnpike by BJ’s Wholesale, will, according to a survey conducted by Flatto, relieve about a third of the traffic going to the Post Rd. station. This is arguably one of Fairfield’s major issues. Flatto said they’re looking to break ground on this project within a month.

Nelson, who seemed to at least have the slogan on his website memorized when we spoke with him (This town is at a crossroad…), is committed to improving the beach, making it a “first class beach area. No, a world class beach area.” (Let’s be clear on the distinction there.) He would like to place more of an emphasis on the town’s identity as “the intellectual and historical seat of CT” and also make more of a “walkable and lively downtown area.” He cites flooding, parking and traffic as hindrances in truly enjoying the area.

When probing for Nelson’s political competency as compared to Flatto’s, we found shaky ground. He wants to fix overcrowding in the classroom, but he wants spending to be the last resort. He instead proposes “scientific growth analysis” and “a thorough evaluation of available space.”

One thing Flatto doesn’t have on Nelson is a military background. Nelson explained what he took from the Marine Corps, as it’s applicable to being Fairfield’s First Selectman, “I learned to delegate authority and responsibility to those experts within the town” and also “to engage the resources, corporations, institutions and the spirit of volunteerism.”

Flatto, the favored candidate in this race, prides himself on his time and work spent on the public school renovations and the other local projects. “I feel very confident that we’ve done a good job and I believe the citizens feel the same way.”

Flatto’s biggest criticism of Nelson has been his voting record; that Nelson has not voted in local or state elections for the last five years. Nelson admitted that “that would be correct,” but that he does not think it hinders his chances to be elected. “I know how important voting is because I protected that right by wearing a uniform and putting my life on the line,” he said.

Democrats in Fairfield are also bringing up the fact that Nelson was not living in Fairfield as far back as 2004 and as recently as last year. Nelson said he lived in the house for the first and last of those five years, because he was overseas and was living in “any number of other places.”

Nelson said of his campaign progress, “I’ve got my ear to the ground and I’m being told that my platform has got it.”
And what platform is that? From what we could find, it’s “Fairfield is a great town, but it could be a whole lot better.” That, and “I love the outdoor tables and the warm environment on Post Rd. That’s really what I’d like to see more of.”

Flatto recommends that anyone driving through Fairfield check out Las Vetas for a cup of coffee, Hobby Town for “a nice Mom and Pop feel” and Billy’s Bakery. Nelson prefers Chat N’ Chew for coffee, Fin for sushi and Royal Cleaners for dry-cleaning.

Oh and both candidates would entertain the idea of a John Mayer fund-raising concert.


GREENWICH FIRST SELECTMAN

An elected representative in Greenwich since the age of 18, Peter Tesei is the Republican candidate, as Jim Lash prepares to leave the office. Quick to point out his accomplishments as chairman of the town’s BET (Board of Estimation and Taxation), he told us the board is “very similar to Black Entertainment Television.” He’s kidding, of course. Or is he?

His Democratic challenger is Frank Farricker, and while most of his experience is in real estate and on the Planning and Zoning Commission, Farricker did run for senator last year in the 36th district. But he doesn’t consider himself a politician, adding that even if he is elected to be one, it’s a “good ethic to live by.” He said, “It’s the political version of ‘keepin’ it real.’”

Stop joking around gentlemen, please. Let’s get down to business here.

Tesei wants to “keep the community diverse,” “keep taxes at a modest and predictable level,” and keep improving the town’s schools. Farricker is often quoted as saying the “status quo isn’t enough” and so he believes he represents an important shift in Greenwich leadership.

“It’s about time we make some changes and move forward,” says Farricker, adding that Tesei believes that making changes in the town “would be like attacking his own record.” And with an emphasis on setting priorities for the town, Farricker said “too often, Greenwich has waited for the crisis before acting.” He wants to focus on the environment (the town has the state’s worst air and water quality), schools (too much time has been spent on ancillary issues instead of actual education) and getting projects completed (the Byram Library project needs a serious push).

Farricker, the real estate and zoning expert in the race, wants to speed the progress of the Byram Library project, which he says has not met any of its time targets. He has proposed a plan to jump-start a project that’s been delayed by unforeseen problems, that includes more funding and more resources while all the while “protecting the rights of town residents.” We’re not entirely sure what rights he’s referring to, but we’ll assume it’s their right to have a functioning library that’s not covered in scaffolding.

Farricker’s website reports that Tesei is misleading the public, pointing out problems with the completion of the town’s Public Safety Complex by saying the project is “on-time and on-budget.” Tesei told us that he stands by those comments because of feedback he’s heard from the project’s supervisors.

Then, Tesei pointed out that it may in fact be Farricker who is misleading the public. He told us that they’re both, by virtue of their respective offices, members of the Glenville School Building Committee and that Farricker only attended one of 19 of the committee’s meetings. Tesei asked, “Why isn’t [Farricker] willing to lend his expertise when his town really needs it?”

Despite their problems with each other, both men are committed to their hometown. Farricker is concerned that the lack of accountability and transparency in the town’s government has inspired “less and less good people” to run for office. Tesei said he too believes it is important to be open and accessible. “I enjoy that part of the service,” he says.

Asked about Greenwich’s local flavor, Tesei recommended the Bulldog Pub in Cos Cob for casual dining. Farricker, in a similar vein, said the town’s hidden gem is its chili. “Picnics, restaurants, Port Chester and all over town; we have the best chili.”

As for political idols, Tesei went big with Ronald Reagan and Farricker went small with 1980 independent (though historically a Republican) presidential candidate John Anderson, whom he met when he was 15 at the town library. “He was a very decent and motivated man,” he says.

Get Up, Pony Up: WPKN Reggae Benefit

(As published by the Fairfield Weekly, October 25, 2007)

Asking for money can be a tough thing to do. We owe starving artists and public radio stations a tip of the hat for their attempts, however un-inspired they may be from time to time. Telethons, radio-thons, begging: none of that stuff is naturally fun to be a part of. When someone does fund-raising right, it's refreshing.

Enter Bridgeport's WPKN and its Reggae Benefit on Oct. 27, a ready-steady night featuring performances from, among others, local reggae acts Anthem, Fresh Band and Mystic Bowie. Starting at 8 p.m. and rollin' on through 2 a.m., the Reggae Benefit was put together by Tony Kosloski and Dave-O of the Tuesday morning show "Irie Feelings" on WPKN, with help from Café Nine in New Haven. The benefit will be broadcast live on WPKN from 10 p.m. to 2 a.m.

"These are the local cats who stop by the show whenever they've got a new joint they're looking to promote," said Kosloski. "Part of our job as local DJs is to celebrate local musicians."

WPKN is a diverse and completely listener-supported station offering programming that ranges from talk to jazz to blues to live broadcasts of local events like the Gathering of the Vibes. The station puts all funds raised into the common fund to pay the bills, according to Kosloski.

"Were a collective of volunteers," he said, "If we're going to be true to our philosophy, which is to not take any money from the government or corporations, then we need to turn to our listeners. And most of our listeners don't have large checkbooks, so we have to step outside the box to think of benefit ideas that appeal to the listeners."

"Coozie," lead singer for Anthem, was driving with his band from Arkansas to Chicago for a gig when I caught up with him, and he had nothing but positive vibes to send PKN's way. "They're more like friends than any sort of business associates," he said. "If it wasn't for the 'Irie Feelings' show, we wouldn't really get any airplay." And just to show how much this benefit concert means to a band like Anthem—which this year has played in Guam, South Korea, Japan and Hawaii—they cancelled a show they had booked in Ocean City, MD to come home.

"When you get a project like this," says Kosloski, "people just jump in ask, 'What can I do?' And then we get a big wheel rollin' and it's all good."

Kosloski (or I-Tone, as he's known on the air), and Dave-O's show "Irie Feelings" broadcasts Tuesdays from 6 to 10 a.m.

Girls (Not) Against Noise: Eula

(As published by the Fairfield County Weekly, October 18, 2007)

New Haven indie rockers Eula take the Acoustic Café stage this Friday as part of what they're calling "An Evening of Noise." And all the bands except one have at least one female member, according to Eula singer Alyse Lamb. "It's all completely selfish," she says. "The show is bands that we like to listen to and like to go see."

Eula, a trio, is a fun, hard-hitting rock band with an eerie twist—Lamb's voice can sound distraught even as the music remains upbeat. She's backed by Jeff Maleri on bass and Nate Rose on drums, and, the weird thing is, as you listen to the EP "Up in Arms," it sounds as though Alyse sings her songs with a permanent smirk on her face.

Smirks are the shit. Sarcasm, satire, not taking yourself too seriously, the whole deal. And Eula agrees. There's an overwhelming feeling of playful anxiety in the music. But no matter how distressed they sound, it's still upbeat. Alyse lets out the sadness through fun riffs, a rockabilly style and a friendly punk feel.

The key is that Eula does a good job of balancing contrasting emotions; this emotional control defines the band as one that, while an "up-and-comer," can lay claim to some songwriting maturity.

You relate to the sadness in their music with a smile as you ride the driving bass line. You like the lovely little torn voice and you love that the music is loud and kick-ass. It's not foolish and it's not exactly dark. You feel it when you watch a love story like Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and realize that it's not at all cheesy. I'm not saying Eula is the musical equivalent of the visual masterpiece that is Eternal Sunshine, but their ability to mash the eerie with the adorable, sans cheese, is as important as it is impressive

My favorite Eula song is "Rosie the Riveter (Single Barrel)," for which Nate wrote the music and Alyse wrote the lyrics. "I just wanted to think of something that was as ballsy as his riff...I guess," says Alyse. "So I was thinking of guns and shooting and—I don't know." The result is a creepy and noirish surf-rock riff and lyrics that shine a strong spotlight on the strength of women; "Take the path unknown/tread it 'til it's sore/I promise not to make a sound/as she hits the ground/one of these days, she'll learn/she'll learn the hard way/HEY!"

Eula often wonders what it means to be identified as an as "indie rock" band. "It was about independence, and now it's like the cool thing," says Nate. "It's hard to describe some bands without saying indie, and then everyone says 'oh, I don't like to be labeled.' It's cool to be on stage with eight people, switching instruments. But what's next?"

Alyse has a possible answer: "I heard Matchbox 20 is coming out with a new style. I read it on CNN.com."

On Friday Eula will be joined by Saint Bernadette (who'll have a new CD for sale at the show), Electric Bucket, Electrajet and Fay Rey.

Every band but the last has at least one woman in it. "I thought it would be cool to get some girlies up in there," says Alyse.

And yet another installment of FCW's "Bands to Watch"

(As published in the Fairfield Weekly, September 20, 2007)

This year's Grand Band Slam, which we wrote about a couple of weeks ago, brought back a bunch of repeat offenders—Jen Durkin, Mystic Bowie, the Zambonis, Larissa DeLorenzo, Elvis McMan—and not much in the way of new talent. That's cool: We were happy to coddle the winners as much as we could without totally blowing our credibility—but what about the other guys? The just-starting-outers, the we-almost-have-an-albummers. This is where we talk about them. Submit your friend's band (with a picture) for review here and maybe they'll make the cut. The entirely biased and wholly subjective cut, that is.


Delta 9 and the Flo is a psychedelic quintet built on the assumption that what's missing from Life these days is well-written, intricate and improvisational music to dance to. And if they're right, your next stop at a Fairfield Avenue bar this fall will be really freaking groovy. After a short tour earlier this year, with headlining stops at the University of Vermont and Southern New Hampshire University, the Flo has a new drummer and is happy to welcome a kickin' keyboardist into the fold. Along with original songs, Flo takes classic rock gems and adds complex vocals, impressively tasteful lead guitar playing and their jam-band instincts to let the songs expand. Think Miles Davis, Phish and Pink Floyd's "Echoes" and you've got a rough idea of their sound. Check out www.myspace.com/delta9andtheflo.


Dave Grazinski is a one-man banjo-centered project named Monitor and the Merrimac with a focus on the American history that keeps the banjo alive today. Grazinski emphasizes the storytelling aspects of his songs by playing "at almost any location, with or without a public address system, with or without a floor or a roof or walls or electricity." Microphone? What? Just give him a stool and a beer and he'll make you feel like you're siting around a campfire in the Wisconsin wilderness. Bob Dylan did that kind of stuff once. Monitor and the Merrimac is a local American poet with a banjo who's catering to the People's need for something very real, a little "different" and a lot old-fashioned. Grazinski is working on a fully instrumented album, Grandma's Old Couch, with Mates of States' equipment and musicians from Titles—Titles? whodat?—and he'll be playing all around the area while it's being completed.


Titles is a New Haven indie rock band getting ready for their first big tour of the Northeast. And yeah, we're going to celebrate one of our own: Singer/guitarist/heartthrob Brad Amorosino is a graphic artist at the Weekly—and he's a good singer who's a frickin' awesome graphic artist at the Weekly. The music? The teetering bass line on "Wait I Don't Know," paired with slide guitar playing and casual, witty vocals make for an wholly original, minimalist sound. While many indie bands nowadays ride the folk-country wave or do some kind of emo or post-emo thing, Titles ain't having it. They recently played with Aloha, and they've got a seven-inch vinyl out with Mountain Movers' songs on the backside. Titles will play Fairfield County later this fall; their schedule is at www.listentotitles.com, and so are the pictures. Brad: Don't quit your day job just yet!


Young Souljahs is a raucous hip-hop group from Bridgeport (which they've deemed "the Big City of Dreams") and they're trying to put the city on the map. Forget hot dogs and Robert De Niro sightings; these guys are using their YouTube video "Bridgeport Anthem" to remind everyone about Bridgeport's positive attributes—violence and drug-running, namely. If you live anywhere near Bridgeport, check this out. If you don't, check it out. It's kinda priceless. Laugh all you want but don't hate on it, son. They're even gaining followers in the 'burbs with user comments like "Ha! I'm a rich asshole from Fairfield. Messed up shizznazz. Thankyou BPT for all the 40's and glassware. You may hate me but I'm feeling what you guys are up to." The Weekly covers enough rock bands to know that this certainly is an under-represented viewpoint, so we're spreading the good word about Yung Souljahs. You can say that rap is crap all you want, but this kind of confidence and foul language is at least worth a YouTube search.

Slam Lords: Oh no! Skate-punk festival returns to SoNo

(As published by the Fairfield Weekly, September 13, 2007)

If you've got bloody elbows and you love hairy men with guitars, you have an obligation to hit this year's Thurst Music Slamfest. Vendors, food, live music, skater demos, the Sound and free admission—that's what's going on. It doesn't matter your age, just strap on some elbow pads and hop in the minivan. Mom, we're going to Slamfest, ya dig? Here's a rundown of some of the featured bands:

Crash Romeo has basically been on tour since January, and after just getting back from Warped Tour they're writing a new album. They're a pop-punk band from Jersey, they're unexpectedly on a hardcore label (Trustkill) and they have some catchy lyrics, lively riffs and a lot of energy.

Jacobi Wichita is one of the more seasoned bands of the bunch, with a new album on the way and an energetic, original sound that's almost psychedelic. They're a little bit Linkin Park and little bit Mars Volta, but not as epic. They're proud to be their own blues-funk-hip-hop entity.

Vampire for Hire toured with Crash Romeo this year and they're a new pop-punk band from Jersey, too. I expected blood-thrashing metal, but they're more Hot Topic than blood-thirsty. The local teenage girls on MySpace love them and can't wait for the show.

Swallow the Ocean is part soothing guitar, part murderous scream. A perfect example of what can only be explained as a nightmare is "Dancing Upon a Skunk." But that's exactly what their genre is going for. This is not your father's rock, this is serious scary shit.

Saving Echo sounds like a hardcore Lenny Kravitz, with some Guns N Roses attempts thrown in to balance the whole thing out. A melodic high energy show with strong vocals from Kris Keyes is what you get with these guys.

Lost in Ashford is a hardcore band from Ashford, CT and while they don't scream all their lyrics, it's mostly screams. A tight, loud and thick sound. If the skate park doesn't fuck you up, these guys will.

No Less Than Everything is chaotic hardcore meets melodious metal with some intricate and almost tribal drum beats tying it all together. The mix of influences includes Latin jazz—not what you'd expected from hardcore but they tie it together in a loud, distorted package.

Tim Reynolds: Landing Acoustic UFOs in Your Front Yard

(As published in the Fairfield Weekly, September 13, 2007)
It's been about eight years and countless sold-out Tim Reynolds shows since the widely acclaimed Dave and Tim CD Live at Luther College was released and some people still have no idea who that little guy is sitting next to Dave. The one who can make an acoustic guitar sound like a UFO landing in your backyard. They just know Dave has a friend named Tim.

Truth is, Dave Matthews wishes he was Tim Reynolds. In certain circles Reynolds is considered a visionary, a master, a living legend. And if you pick up one of his 15 solo CDs, you'll find yourself right there in those circles.

I've been listening to Reynolds since hearing Luther College in '99 and while my interest in his acoustic style led me to other musicians like Leo Kottke and Keller Williams, I've still never heard anything as true and honest as a Tim Reynolds song. The improvisation, the bizarre intricacies, the emotion (raw)—it's mysterious and beautiful in a way you've always hoped music can be.

Once I found out that he's coming to Fairfield Theater's StageOne on Friday, I needed to talk to him. And in a mind-blowing hour-long phone conversation, we covered topics ranging from inter-dimensional travel to campaigning with Dennis Kucinich in 2004, and from his fan site to his new DVD with Dave Matthews, Live at Radio City Music Hall.



Tim on the new Dave & Tim DVD:
"I watched it at a friend's house last week in full sound, on a huge projection screen. It was actually really overwhelming and I had to leave," he says with a laugh. "But Dave is fucking kickin' on that thing! It really blew me away."

Tim on the guitar:
"I've been doing electric for a while and I did it a few times earlier this year. Mostly I've been playing acoustic, and it complements me really digging writing, and just realizing that you never know enough on any instrument. I just want to learn more."

Tim on the blues:
"Yesterday I started playing the old blues guys again and revisiting some of that. Revisiting and reeducating myself on the way to play one note and make it very subtly different for a long time. Studying a very simple form like blues and then seeing how complex a blues tune by one of the old masters is. If you listen to every little thing they do, it's like, you can't write that shit down. It's so raw and authentic. Like John Hammond, I just think he's the shit. The man can get down. He's just bringin' it. That motherfucker is rockin' like some bands wish they could."

Tim on his fan site, TimReynolds.com:
"It's just a whole different world, I don't even relate to it in a way. Although I really appreciate that people like it."

Tim on inter-dimensional travel:
"I just try to keep it in my head that it's all about the music for me and I should just keep making music. And as I get older, I almost feel like it controls me to be that way. And it almost feels like at some point it happens, and I'm in outer space and I'm flying into this what-music-is dimension that's on earth, but it's also in other dimensions simultaneously that you really can't even put into words, but you can put it into music.

"I think there's inter-dimensional traveling because physics demands it in a way, and I feel that through music that's real. I don't really go for the aliens hanging out and visiting us. I think there's inter-dimensional consciousness visiting us. But the whole Roswell thing is a totally different story."

Tim on meditation:
"When you're breathing quiet and you quiet your mind, once you can really do that for even five seconds, [it's] a totally different dimension that's completely ongoing, everywhere all the time. It's like musical inspiration; it's just waiting for us to tap into. As I get older, that sense of truth, you can't even put certain things into words or reason and I think it just comes out in music, I just give myself to that.

Tim on the '08 presidential election:
He started to laugh. "I'm gonna say 'fuck' a lot. I'm still in a dark, black widow mode from the last election.

"What [Dennis] Kucinich did [in '04] was brave and I still think he's the shit and he should be president. After going all over the country seeing how things are in the country, the whole system—media, government—they're so fixed on image and anti-substance. Something is going to have to unite us that isn't based on fear, because our country is really a giant ego of fear.

"Part of me wants to get wild with [campaigning with Kucinich again], but part of me just feels like the whole government system needs to blow its fascist wad and get over itself. Maybe Bush will be the first one to wake up and say, 'This is bullshit, I ain't workin' for you guys anymore.'"

Eat Impeach: Protesters descend on a Stamford restaurant to call on Nancy Pelosi to support articles of impeachment against Bush and Cheney.

(As printed in the Fairfield Weekly, August 16, 2007)

Members of the Weston, Westport and Stamford Impeachment Committees gathered on Thursday to call for Bush and Cheney's head in front of Stamford's Il Falco restaurant.

Inside, House Speaker and impeachment-opposer Nancy Pelosi was in attendance for a Chris Murphy fund-raiser; according to those leaving the lunch, Pelosi spoke about uniting the Democrats and ending the War in Iraq, and mentioned nothing about impeachment.

The protesters were itching to get the message across to anyone who'd listen. Richard Duffee, a retired lawyer and spokesman for the trio of local impeachment committees, wrote a letter he wanted to give to Pelosi with a petition signed by 650 pro-impeachment locals. His letter refers to the pair as as "domestic enemies of the Constitution" with "no signs of reforming themselves."

"[w]e can't get our troops out of Iraq without impeachment," he said, "because Bush and Cheney are too intimidating in Washington and they're too unresponsive."

Duffee had a message, a big bushy beard and in his hands, a copy of the Constitution printed on parchment. He spoke of hypocrisy in the government and referenced the Geneva Convention and the Nuremburg Laws as evidence of the need to remove Bush from his post. "It's standard Fascist stuff," he claimed.

Sal Liccione, a friend of Murphy's and head of Dennis Kucinich's presidential campaign in the state, was able to hand the letter to Rep. Murphy inside the restaurant. "If you can't listen to grass-roots messages like this," he said, "then what can you do?"

Liccione said 57 percent of Americans want to impeach Bush and he reported that 18 members of the House (but not Murphy) have already signed Kucinich's House Resolution 333, which on Congress to impeach Bush-Cheney.

A teenaged boy walked by; one of the older protesters asked him if he liked the Rolling Stones (the boy was wearing a Stones t-shirt). He said yes, and kept walking.

"What about Bush?" someone yelled.

"I hate him!" the boy yelled back.

A sigh of generational relief. "Looks like we've got the upper-middle class vote," said John Iles, 71, of Redding.

"I'm just sick of this whole damn thing," Mary Maynard said with a laugh. She was holding a sign that simply said Enough. She was waving, smiling and throwing out thumbs-up to every car that drove by, hoping for some feedback. Many passersby ignored all attempts at eye-contact, but most waved or threw back a thumbs-up. There were honking cars, honking buses and clapping families across the street.

Among the anti-impeachers who came by was Gregory Lodato, a thirtysomething Republican member of the Stamford Board of Representatives, who said, "The debate has gotten too polarized and now people want to impeach. It's ridiculous."

Once the protesters heard of his he support for the war, they jumped all over him, calling him un-American. In response, the blonde-haired, blue-eyed Lodato told the crowd that he was Native American. The crowd asked what tribe he was from; he laughed the question off. "Look up the word 'native' in the dictionary," he said. A long, polarized argument about heritage and ancestry followed until someone said, "you're all missing the point." Lodato agreed and eventually said, "It is not our place to be telling the Speaker of the House to do her job."

At one point the wonderfully Italian owner of Il Falco, Vincenzo Cordaro, stepped out to greet the crowd and he happily shared his views. "I don't think we can impeach him today," he said with a laugh, "but I think this is great. This is a great country."

A House United: Extreme Makeover Home Edition Hits Bridgeport

(As printed in the Fairfield Weekly, August 9, 2007)

It was a well-planned and perfectly organized swarm of blue worker bees—hundreds and maybe thousands of volunteers all dressed in ABC-TV-issued blue t-shirts—that changed the lives of East End Bridgeport's Brown family forever last week. And all it took to fuel the swarm was a few plates of ziti and chicken wings and nonstop water bottles and Micalizzi's Italian Ice handouts. All that, and the inspiring story of the Brown family who, according to press releases and news reports, is a strong and active binding force in the East End community even while they were living in complete destitution.

"Hey, if they can do it, why can't we?" was the feeling among the coming-and-going volunteers that decidedly did not want the Browns living in a junky house anymore. The Brown house was once half-burnt to a crisp, it was once burglarized to a pulp and it was once the ugliest, saddest house on the block. Now it's beautiful, it has a picket fence and I doubt this family will ever forget the fact that hundreds of complete strangers built it in a week's time. I've also heard that all three kids are getting full scholarships to Western Connecticut State University and the mortgage on the house is completely taken care of.

Not bad. Thank you, old trusty television! Where would we be without you? We'd be poor and uneducated, living in an ugly house, that's where.

I, and many other volunteers I talked to, couldn't help but wonder if Extreme Makeover, having chosen a poverty-stricken neighborhood for the build, would equip the house with an insane security system, but it remained to be seen at the time. I guess we'll have to wait until the show's October air date to find out for sure.

I volunteered on Monday night for about five hours after the Post, News 12, and various radio stations announced an extreme need for help that day.

When I arrived, the volunteer coordinator told me to go home and scrounge up some tools and return to Seaview Ave. It was there that I picked up a blue shirt and hard hat and took a school bus down to Hollister Ave. I never used the tools I brought, nothing hard fell on my hat and the shirt was 15 sizes too big. But that stuff didn't matter at all. The people I met were nothing but happy to be there, even when we were just standing around waiting to be told what to do, which was often.

At one time, there might have been 15 people working on the roof, five people handing out ice-cold wash rags, 30 people nailing siding to the house, 40 people sweeping and gathering trash, 25 people painting walls inside and 20 hanging off to the side waiting for someone in a yellow or red hard hat to tell them what to do next. But everyone was safe. And everyone was helping everyone.

Camera crews hovered all over, mostly picking up on any drama they could find and sometimes stopping the construction progress to get a shot of one of the hosts. And while I didn't get a glimpse of Ty Pennington in all his spiked-hair glory, he'll most likely be in more than half the shots they include in the show.

At one point I was instructed to help lift a gas stove and oven into the kitchen, but there was some confusion over whether or not a range was part of the plans. Steve Gulick, co-owner of the company in charge of construction, stood with me and fellow volunteer Ford Smith (Gulick's Fairfield neighbor) as we waited for a decision and he pointed out the towering camera aimed at us. We imagined a time-lapse scene showing the three of us standing still while workers sped by. Hey, if it happens, I'm the tall guy in the huge blue shirt, and so is Mr. Smith.

We heard rumors of being an entire day behind, but now, since the house is done and the family is living there happily, I wonder if the rumors were started just to get the workers to move quicker. If so, they worked. If not, well, they still worked.

Last week's workers went in strangers and came out experts in non-verbal communication. Grunts and inaudible yells were easily translated into orders, and orders were quickly translated into action. Lessons-learned include the fact that six people working together for six minutes can clean an entire yard and five people working together for 30 minutes can paint an entire room. People came and went all day and all night for a week and if they didn't stop and look at the progress, it was already too late to see it.

To think what it would be like to be on the receiving end of the show's famous "Door Knock," it's a wonder the Browns didn't pass out when they were chosen. Hey, family, wanna go to California? Yes, it's free. Yeah, and when you come back you'll basically live in a castle. Also for free. Sound like something you can handle?

Fred Brown (16), upon seeing the house last Wednesday, answered with back flips and handstands; Bobbi (17) and Jana'e (14) fell to the ground, and their perfectly jolly mother threw her handkerchief-grasping hands in the air. It was Habitat for Humanity meets The Price is Right and for every part of the program that's a silly reality show, there's an equal part that really makes it a really amazing, happy idea.

Could the hand of God be involved? More likely, it was the hand of some ABC-TV executive who chose Bridgeport for CT's film industry tax breaks.

But that doesn't matter: Even in these war-torn times, or whatever, it is virtually impossible to have doubts about humanity after volunteering and witnessing the hundreds of strangers working together for the first and probably only time.

Gathering of the Hippies: Good Vibes for Everyone

(Published 8/15/07 in Fairfield Weekly)
If you’re curious about what traveling with the circus is like, living with the smelliest and craziest people on the planet on the hottest days of summer, or if you’ve ever wanted to party with men on 12-foot stilts spinning in the sun, ignoring all your brain cells to the point of complete musical serenity, go to the Vibes next year.

Will we host it next year? G.O.V. Communication Director Jon Lobdell said, “We are very hopeful to be welcomed back. We loved it there.”


And what’s not to love? Picture the usually empty fields of Seaside Park filled with thousands and thousands of hippies, hundreds of tie-dyed vending tents and a giant yoga peace circle, and you’ve got an idea of the overwhelming and totally unbelievable sight last weekend. Mr. P.T. Barnum sat in his giant chair looking out to the ocean and had no idea what was going on behind him. Maybe that’s good, but I’d say he was missing out.


Until the place was cleaned Sunday night, every picnic bench was taken, every trash can was filled and all the lush green grass was trampled. Native Americans cried single tears all weekend and the hippies were too high to notice. But we were all a part of the “Vibe Tribe,” and I saw so many people picking up cans and bottles all weekend that I was moved to do the same. There were reminders all weekend to recycle, to keep the place looking better than last week and even to pick up your neighbor’s trash. And most people did.


Only the baseball fields were off limits to campers and no space was off limits to drug-dealers. You have to listen close, though, or you could miss out (but maybe that’s a good thing). “Rolls” are ecstasy pills, “doses” are LSD, “headies” or “nuggets” means pot, “tabs” is usually acid, “boomers” is shrooms and “yip yap” is cocaine. Oh, beautiful Bridgeport park, how innocent you were with your small-scale drug dealing before this jam-packed insanity rolled on through.


George Clinton showed everyone why “Funk is so Loaded” by requesting a bowl from the crowd, and receiving one. The Deep Banana Blackout came out donned in black suits, and the normally-shirtless Fuzz kept his on the whole time. Jen Durkin and Bob Weir were at the top of their festival game, playing with almost everyone Friday and Saturday, each time more energetic than the last. Keller Williams did not play as a bluegrass trio the whole time (as predicted last week), layering together recorded clips of his own live music for at least two mind-blowing solo jams. Les Claypool scared everyone with his pig mask and wildly eccentric bass solos before removing the mask and playing with Weir and a drummer in one of the most confusing performances of the weekend. The Wailers revived all Marley’s songs with great Jamaican energy and was a common favorite from what I heard on my many walks to and from the camping area.


Life at the festival was hot, sweaty, hungry, thirsty, and it reeked of pot. The cops don’t care though, and the kids think it’s tobacco. The point is to get as gross as possible and survived hell with a smile. If world-famous “hippie geezer” Wavy Gravy can, anybody can. The man was the human manifestation of psychedelic mushrooms, announcing tripped-out revelations about space and time before each band.


Maybe you went into the event totally unable to dance. You might not like sitting in a shade-less sun-blazed field for eight hours and you might not want any of the overly-available drugs. But none of that really matters. It’s all about hearing great music, trying to find the shade, loving your fellow man and woman and dancing like an absolute idiot.


You let go of everything outside the fenced perimeter and allow the music to seep in through your red, raw skin. Work doesn’t matter, traffic is a long-lost worry and clean clothes are pointless to the point of being hilarious. Become an animal, jump in the mud and come along for the ride. You’re not in a cubicle anymore, and you’re not even stuck doing yard work. It’s just feel-good funky music playing from 10 a.m. to 2 a.m. for no other reason than to help you wiggle in the sun. Joyful adults, laughing children and a completely friendly attitude that’s different from anything you can find anywhere else. People literally travel across the world for this sort of thing.

I knew the whole gathering of the Vibes scene was especially unorthodox for the Bridgeport area. But what I couldn’t figure out was whether it was because the festival was so close to pristine towns like Westport, Southport and Fairfield or if it was because the festival was actually in Bridgeport. These festivals usually take place in the middle of nowhere, in an abandoned farm in Ohio or upstate New York. With so many attempts to advertise the changing perceptions of slummy B-Po this year, it seems the Vibes weekend was a real “Bridgeport. Who Knew?” moment.

Jack White Handed Me His Microphone

*****Sorry this is the only picture I have. This is not what I expected to happen. I had to choose between using my photo pass and keeping my front row spot. You can ask anyone in the front row with me... it was a difficult group decision to make. If I had used the pass, I would have had to leave the seating area after the alloted 3-song time period you get in the photo pit, and there's no way I'd be able to fight my way back up to the front.*****

Wednesday I saw Jack and Meg at the Wallingford Theater, which is in the middle of Nowhere, CT. It was there that I stood front row, right in front of Meg for a show that made '07 feel like '67. I felt like I was in the crowd for a Jimi Hendrix show.

Jack wore bright red pants, a bright red shirt, and a pair of bright red aligator leather shoes he jumped around in all over the bright red slick floor his incredibly well-dressed stage hands (pictured below) had put there for him. His iconic shadow lingered on the bright red wall behind him as he tore ass through each blues-smothered song, especially when he played keys and guitar at the same time. Or when he pressed the guitar up against the stairs and the mic stand, because who uses fingers to play guitar? Or when he moon-walked across the stage. This guy knows all the tricks. Oh, and Meg is very sexy. I have no idea why anyone would divorce her, but I trust Jack's decision. She was simultaneously silent and ear-shattering and her sassy attitude was priceless. I've completely fallen in love. She's a sly little coy beauty who, along with Jack, belongs in another time period entirely.



Me and my small Asian sidekick showed up to the event 3 hours early. We had GA Pit tickets, so we were determined to be front and center. But we were not determined enough, it seemed. If at some point you ever decide you're a really big fan of something... you're probably not. And while obsession isn't always a bad thing, let me tell you about the time I went to a White Stripes concert and saw a bunch of fans that made me sick, made me hate fans and made me pissed to be a fan....

There is always someone showing up for the show earlier than you. And we didn't care, this was a concert. We'd done our part to shwo up early and we were excited for what Jack had in store for us. This was his and Meg's night and we just happened to be there. This was a White Stripes concert, the only real concert left for us these days. We were all in this together, but these fools were ready to kill to get what they wanted...front and center. If the Whites knew about these people, they would have left.

As the pompous ones formed a line at one door to the seating area of the theater, the decent folks (me and my new friends who shared my disgust) banded together and formed their own line at another door on the other side of the rear of the theater. For the next 45 minutes the two lines remained at war until the dickhead line got let in first. We ran down stairs, throw hallways and right up the stage. It was, as I'd assumed, big enough for everyone. The decent folks helped eachother out, once more people came. We saved spots for eachother on the front line when someone went to the bathroom or the merch table.

It was exactly the way a concert should be. A celebration of the one thing that has the power to fill the world with color and sound and meaning: real music made by real people, seemingly untouched by anything evil. Jack and Meg have found a way to produce pure creativity and pure energy, without a filter and without apology. But who'd ask them to say sorry?

I found the setlist on a few sites, but only one gave me what I wanted. I wanted to know the name of the song that Jack asked me to sing. That's right...you read the headline...he handed me his fucking microphone. It was during the encore, and Blue Orchid was over. Jack had started a new song, and I was surprised to have never heard it.

I was singing along for virtually the entire show, but I had to just listen to this one. It could have been a minute into the song, it could have been five...I'll never know, but he stepped out of his red-heaven stage setting and walked up to the front of the stage where no lights could find him. Right in front of me. He's singing, playing guitar, and towering over me. I reached up for a fist-pound and locked eyes screaming something. Then he handed me (or maybe it was the girl next to me) the microphone. She got it first and just held it. Still as death. She handed it to me. Jack mouthed the words to me. I stopped screaming and actively dropped my jaw. I was as stone-still as anyone should be when Jack White hands you something. I screamed "OH SHIIITTTTTTT" into it and passed the mic down the line of people reaching for it. Someone yelled "You're excellent!" but nobody knew the words to the song. Priceless. Awkward, too, I guess...but priceless.

The man in red walked back to his red zone and I think I saw him laughing at us. His classy stagehand yoinked the mic back by the cord and he put it back in the stand. Jack went right into "Ball and Biscuit" and the crowd went wild for the impromptu keyboard solo he slipped in there.

I don't know if you've ever gone to a concert hoping to actually get on stage and spend some time with the band, of course not actually believing it'd happen, but I felt like it'd had just happened to me. Turns out the song I was supposed to sing (Party of Special Things to Do) was released by SubPop in 2000 as a 7-inch single. It goes for $50 on ebay now. It's like the rarest song they've got or something, and he basically asked me (and the girl next to me, whatever) to sing it with him. I think I have nothing more to say about that show, but that'd probably a lie.

Thanks for reading...here's what they played:

Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground
Yer Blues
I Think I Smell a Rat
Icky Thump
Sugar Never Tasted So Good
Hotel Yorba
I'm Finding It Harder to Be a Gentleman
The Big Three Killed My Baby
Now Mary
Catch Hell Blues
I'm Slowly Turning Into You
The Same Boy You've Ever Known
As Ugly As I Seem
300 M.P.H. Torrential Blues
Astro/Jack the Ripper

Encore:
Blue Orchid
(Captain Beefheart’s) Party of Special Things to Do
Ball and Biscuit
I Just Don't Know What to Do with Myself

Spoon Review: Go Ga Ga Over "Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga"

(Published in Fairfield County Weekly, July 18)
http://www.fairfieldweekly.com/article.cfm?aid=1924
http://www.hartfordadvocate.com/article.cfm?aid=1940



A love affair with a band usually goes like this: You hear their first album, love it, then move onto their second, third, fourth and they all start to sound like a sad old man with no remaining original thoughts.

A love affair with Spoon, on the other hand, will bring you nothing but whatever the musical equivalent of obsessively passionate sex is. From the get-go, Spoon has been churning out fantastic stand-alone albums, regardless of label problems and representation issues in the late 90s, each one somehow better than the last. Now with six, the experimental and minimalist Austin, TX rock band is being referred to in some circles as the best rock band on the planet. If they’re right, and you don’t know Spoon, you’ll find out about them soon enough. Like, now.

That’s the joy of this band, you feel like you’ve found a treasure. They have some Kinks, some Stooges and some Rolling Stones and they have the same investigational spirit of Radiohead or a relaxed David Bowie, but they remain their own entity.

I got their new CD, Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga, a few weeks ago (a big thanks to self-proclaimed zombie, Drew Taylor) and haven’t stopped listening to it since. If I’ve taken it out of my car, it’s only been to show it off. Hey, people, listen to this! Listen to what some of some fellow humans beings are capable of!



Spoon is known for minimalist piano and guitar-driven rock melodies, backed usually by some light and detailed Jim Eno drums. Their danceable, slick vibe never fails to fill a dull moment with elaborate color. On this album, which is a 36-minute stylistic combo of Kill the Moonlight, Gimme Fiction and Girls Can Tell, the lyrics are sneaky and brilliant and the vocal style is crisper and bouncier than ever. After seeing them at a fully-packed Toad’s Place in April to promote Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga, I gained some insight into Daniel’s teasing approach to the microphone. He’s got this emotionally charged step-forward, step-back, Mic Jagger-like rock approach that’ll get any crowd worked up.

Daniel’s guitar on this album goes from deep and smooth to spastic and chunky making for an anything-but-dull sound. The thumping piano, perfect backing vocals and other eerie screams and whispers get the job done and make you wonder why other bands aren’t as efficiently weird and experimental as Spoon. The whole album feels like inspiration. Forget the iPhone, go buy Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga. If you put it on in the car you might invent something.

Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga comes complete with howling swing trumpets on “Underdog” and “You Got Yr. Cherry Bomb,” which is the best song on the album. Fans of the song “Jonathan Fisk,” off Kill the Moonlight, will love the jogging bass drum on “Cherry Bomb,” never mind the explosively catchy vocals. Flamenco guitar stylings decorate “My little Japanese Cigarette Case,” which seems to be Spoon’s witty version of Clapton’s “Cocaine” and some recorded talk-back on “Don’t You Evah” and “Eddie’s Ragga” help bring you right into their recording studio where all the peculiar decisions were made.

The new single, “Underdog,” was a clever choice, as it spells out an important message about corporate ignorance and the American tendency to overlook music that’s hard to find. If you really think the only power in the music industry lies in the hands of the big four, you’re going to get bit. Bit by bands like Spoon. I can only hope this single won’t be on the Disney’s Underdog soundtrack because that would take some serious steps toward negating every positive I say about them. But they won’t do that.

With Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga, Spoon brings energetic and self-motivated indie rock to a new level, which, at 36 minutes, nobody but Spoon can accurately do.