Citizen Staff Writer
Byline

You can pay $225 for a ticket at the Metropolitan Opera in New York City and not experience the Met as vividly as you can for $24 at Park Place or El Con Mall.

The Century theaters at both malls are into their second season of live transmissions of Saturday matinees at the Met. It’s like the closed-circuit boxing of the 1970s, except it’s opera – and it’s grand.

I’ve witnessed opera live at most of the world’s most prominent stages: the Met, San Francisco, Chicago, London, Vienna and many more. I was dubious about this “opera at the movies” concept when it arrived in Tucson a year ago.

How could a movie presentation possibly match what you get at a live performance? Easy: Let the Met run the show.

The only thing you miss is the real-life sound of the voices. Yes, that is a huge factor in opera, but if you can get everything else and more, and it’s only a short drive to the mall away, “The Metropolitan Opera: Live in HD” is an opera lover’s dream.

This is a great way for people curious about opera but not quite ready for a live experience to kick the tires, so to speak. You truly get a sense of what the opera experience is all about, and chances are anybody sitting next to you is an opera fan more than willing to chat you up during intermission.

For you opera lovers who didn’t give the Met at the mall a go last season: Go for it this year.

These transmissions add the visuals to the Saturday morning live radio broadcasts that have been beamed across the country since 1931. Some 935,000 people around the world saw live Met transmissions at the movies last season, with 1.2 million movie-theater-going operaphiles expected this season, says Charlie Siedenburg, the Met’s public relations manager.

The camera work is astounding, even including a camera on the proscenium that gives you amazing up-close shots, so close that the upward camera angle can be a touch distorting sometimes.

What about the sound? You don’t have to worry about the ear-splitting cacophony that comes with the typical action flick. The sound is adjusted to sound human in scale and coming from the “stage.”

The bonuses that people with the $225 ticket don’t get come at intermission and before the curtain rises.

Like sports on TV, as soon as the curtain falls, the star soprano or tenor steps over to a backstage interview. Soprano Karita Mattila in her interview last season even demonstrated the splits two minutes after stepping offstage.

They show you the stage manager calling the conductor to stage, and then they show you the conductor standing there waiting for the call, and then making the stroll into the orchestra pit.

Sometimes you get to see the sets being moved. Sometimes stage crews explain the challenges of a set. One time they interviewed the horse trainer with the horse standing right there backstage.

Some interviews are in hallways, others just off stage, some in dressing rooms.

I do hate the word “accessible,” but that’s exactly what these movie theater transmissions offer. They make opera accessible to anybody willing to shell out $24 – a pretty reasonable price for a live opera transmission.

Tucson Citizen downtown reporter Teya Vitu’s motto is, “opera has priority over everything.” He will travel to Berlin and Leipzig later this month to see seven operas at four opera companies.

Citizen Staff Writer
Byline

Discs highlight fresh Latin sounds

It’s that time again, when we’ve gone through our pile of promo CDs and found some keepers. Here are four Latin music record ings worth checking out.
Lila Downs
“Shake Away” (Manhattan Records)
World music chanteuse Lila Downs follows up 2006′s “La Cantina” with “Shake Away,” a melange of folk, blues, rock and Latin tracks that is a stark departure in mood and sound from her previous collection of Mexican drinking songs.
Nine of the 16 composi tions are in English (the most for any Downs CD) and are more political and romantic than “Cantina’s” introspective, depressing songs.
The disc features six all star collaborations: with La Mari of Spanish flamenco chill group Chambao, Cafe Tacvba lead singer Ruben Albarran, American R&B star Raul Midon, rocker Enrique Bunbury of Spain, Mexican folk musician Gilberto Gutierrez and leg endary Argentine folk singer Mercedes Sosa. The best of these pairings are “Ojo de Culebra” (with La Mari), which draws listen ers in with its Latin-Middle Eastern beat and dramatic tale of catharsis; the politi cally charged “Justicia” in which Downs and Bunbury take aim at injustice; and the gorgeous, heartfelt bal lad “Tierra de Luz” with Sosa, who shares an Indian heritage with Downs (the daughter of a Mexican Mixtec mother and Scottish American father).
“Shake Away” also sports three covers that – with her creative rework ing – seem like Downs’ originals. She adds the female perspective in her bilingual take of “Black Magic Woman” with Midon. She also offers a version of Scottish band Blue Nile’s ballad “I Would Never” that differs from (but is just as beauti ful as) the earlier live ver sion on iTunes, with more guitar and less of a Celtic sound. Her third cover, of alt-country singer-song writer Lucinda Williams’ love song “I Envy the Wind,” flows with passion and longing. It’s offered in both English and Spanish versions.
Available only in English is the politically timely “Minimum Wage,” in which Downs addresses illegal immigration in a worker’s story set to a blues-rock beat.
“Shake Away” is Downs’ most ambitious and person al CD, with a mix of mate rial that is as satisfying as it is eclectic.
Various Artists
“The Rough Guide to Latin Lounge” (World Music Network)
For those unfamiliar with The Rough Guides, they’re a group of discs that try to introduce CD buyers (and MP3 down loaders) to new music.
This time around the genre is Latin lounge, and the compilation, just like most of its predecessors, is a stellar collection of fun and fresh tracks.
The global sounds, according to the CD sleeve, include “nu-bossa from Madrid, barrio funk from Venezuela, Cuban ska from Havana, samba-jazz from New York, boogaloo blues from Cali, and soulful Latin house from London.”
Kicking things off is one of the best tracks, “Kind of Latin Rhythm” by The Juju Orchestra, which is based in Germany. “This is a kind of Latin rhythm known as bossa nova, but it’s not really bossa nova,” repeats the singer in his deep, ultra-cool voice as the band plays its funkti fied version of Brazilian jazz.
Other standouts include “Bandolero” by music collective Novalima, which offers listeners a sample of their “afro-Peruvian-electronica”; “No Me Digas Nada” by Malena and “Calma” by Bah Samba, which blend bossa nova and electroni ca; and soulful cumbia “Tu Fiesta Personal” by Mo’ Horizons.
Bostich + Fussible
“Tijuana Sound Machine” (Nacional Records)
Nortec Collective mem bers Bostich + Fussible continue the Mexican band’s exploration of tech no- electronica-norteño banda fusion in “Tijuana Sound Machine.”
If you’d never thought you’d hear an accordion at a rave, think again.
Surprisingly, the disparate sounds go well together – like flour tortillas and peanut butter and jelly.
If deliciously loca can ciones like “The Clap,” “Norteña Del Sur,” “Tijuana Sound Machine” and “Akai 47″ don’t get your feet moving, you might want to have your circulation checked.
Trust us, there’s nothing worse than having falter ing circulation.
Monareta
“Picotero” (Nacional Records)
Electronic duo Monareta have broken into the Latin dance scene with their impressive U.S.
debut “Picotero.”
The group, which splits its time between Bogotá and Brooklyn, blends cumbia and champeta (the Afro-Colombian genre native to the streets of the country’s Caribbean coast) with breakbeat and dub.
The result is a fresh sound that mixes the best of the old and the new.
Nowhere is that more evident than in standout track “Llama,” whose influences of cumbia, reg gae and electronica com bine to form an irresistible modern dance beat with a Latin twist.
Add Monareta to the long list of talented and creative musical exports from Colombia.

Citizen Staff Writer
Byline

The buddy movie has gotten stoned. The popularity of male bonding via pot is nothing new, but lately popular culture seems to have gotten quite a contact high from the combination of comedy and cannabis.

To audible cheers from the newsroom of High Times magazine, those happy sponsors of the annual Stony Awards, pot-sploitation films have again seen a rise. Judd Apatow’s ganga gang is certainly at the center of the smoke storm, what with the baked boys of “Knocked Up” and more recent “Pineapple Express,” which opened No. 2 at the box office last weekend. Then there are Harold and Kumar, whose adventures with the crazy weed have taken them to White Castle and Guantanamo Bay. Tenacious D puffed it up rock-style in “The Pick of Destiny.” Cheech and Chong, they built this city, and they’ve reunited; their “Light Up America” tour launches Sept. 12.

Maybe we’ve realized that it’s a bummer to smoke alone, that characters like Floyd (Brad Pitt) in “True Romance” are just kind of depressing. Even fun-lovin’ Snoop Dogg, his eyes perma-glazed whether in an interview or his TV show “Father Hood,” seems like he spends too many solo nights in the basement with his bong.

Dudes (so infrequently the ladies) lighting up together, now that’s comic gold. Cheech Marin and Tommy Chong trailblazed a good formula, two likable guys who smoke pot, get into wacky misadventures, then smoke some more. The “Harold & Kumar” movies and “Pineapple Express” don’t mess much with tradition, though to different ends.

I love the exploitation film. Its heart is good, filled with the potential to critique social imbalances while employing people often kicked a bit outside the system. Of course, that’s a perfect definition, and it’s so infrequent that we consult our dictionaries.

“Harold & Kumar” – adventures tasty and traumatic – is B-movie with purpose. Sure there’s plenty of silly, thin humor – we’d all be better off without diarrhea jokes – but the films are also filled with criticisms of race relations in the U.S. The two end up at Guantanamo Bay in part because airline passengers mistake Kumar’s bong for a bomb (those two words really do sound the same), but also because their brown skin arouses suspicions that they’re terrorists. (Indian-American Kumar is played by Kal Penn, Korean-American Harold by John Cho.) Unfortunately, it’s not such an outlandish premise.

Pot does drive the plot, but the bumps in the road, the seeds in the stash, highlight racial profiling and the prevalence of stereotyping even in these P.C. times.

And then there’s “Pineapple Express.” As an exploitation film, it’s one-note, dragging a sleepy notion that potheads are funny across 105 minutes of my life. No larger issues are explored, only why Seth Rogen continues to be cast in leading roles despite thinking acting means screaming all of his lines.

Perhaps a lesson in the dangers of smoking and writing, the script must be covered in pot ash. It switches tone about every 20 minutes, not sure if it’s an action or comedy film and unable to blend the two. Stoners should take offense if only because it sets back pothead representation about seven decades, back to the didactic days of “Reefer Madness.” “P.E.” reads like a morality tale: pot kills, man.

But no worries. “P.E.” won’t quite murder the stoner buddy subgenre. It pulled $23.2 million its first weekend, so we probably won’t sober up too soon.

POLLY HIGGINS

phiggins@tucsoncitizen.com

Higgins

Citizen Staff Writer

Some wall calendars can be so boring. Baby animals? Yawn. Nature scenes? Dull. Sports teams? No good unless they have a winning season. Corporate calendars? Zzzzzzzzzz.

Realizing that the market is ripe for exploitation, some companies are shaking things up by offering calendars featuring nontraditional pinups. The latest batch of models? Sexy priests, frolicking nuns, hot Mormons and hunky morticians.

Holy hunks

Intended to promote tourism in Vatican City, “Calendario Romano” features 12 handsome priests or seminarians striking poses in and around the ornate area that houses Pope Benedict XVI. Ladies (and a few gentlemen, too) will appreciate the beauty of the European men, who I’m sure have elicited some impure thoughts from usually well-behaved, good Catholics.

As my mom used to say when she got flustered and crossed herself, “Ave Maria Purisima!”

If churches had priests who looked like these, Sunday attendance would reach record levels. Heck, some parishioners might even sin on purpose just to get a few quality moments with the cute clergyman in the confessional.

Just ask LizzyG1978, who posted this comment about the calendar’s YouTube clip (http://www.youtube.com/ watch?v=atxcsfqMkIQ):

“I’d confess 10 times a day with these little priests, and I would gladly do my penance!! . . . Don’t tempt me, Satan, because these are forbidden men!!! hahahaha.”

Another woman adds, “What makes them even more beautiful is they have devoted their lives to God.”

Amen, sister, amen.

A used 2008 Calendario Romano is available for $6.99 on Amazon.com.

Nuns gone wild?

If you thought the boisterous behavior of the nuns in “Sister Act” was refreshing, then “A Year of Bad Habits” is the calendar for you.

The product description promises innocent enjoyment: “Nuns behaving badly? Well, not necessarily? . . . but they’re definitely having fun! “A Year of Bad Habits” presents a glimpse of what happens when holy sisters raise a little hell. Vintage photos are paired with hilarious captions that will have you laughing so hard you’ll get a ruler rap across the knuckles. . .”

Most nuns aren’t the mean, cold fish they’re made out to be in movies. They usually have a good sense of humor and don’t take themselves too seriously.

The photos show the silly sisters flying high in a Dumbo amusement ride and knocking one another around in bumper cars – among other activities.

A 2009 edition retails for $12.99 on calendars.com.

Men on a mission

Shirtless Mormons? Oh my god! What is this world coming to?

Entrepreneur Chad Hardy created a controversial calendar, “Men on a Mission,” showcasing 12 young Mormon hotties who had completed their religious service trips for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Some of the men pose without shirts, others are in traditional missionary garb.

Hardy, who in July was ex-communicated from the church over the calendar, says his intent was never to disrespect the church.

“The project is about stepping outside the stereotypes and stepping outside of the image,” Hardy told The Associated Press. “Not everybody fits the image and I let them (church elders) know we’re not trying to portray an image for the entire church.”

Church members appear divided on the issue.

On Amazon.com, customer Jason “JDawg” of Provo, Utah, writes: “This calander (sic) is representing returned LDS missionaries. It’s not of them currently serving. It’s their own choice to pose and I think it’s great! Mormons are sexy! We can be conservative and modest as usual, but sometimes we just need to flaunt it! Great job! Love the calander (sic)!

But another Amazon customer, Trevor Cook of Los Angeles, disagrees. “This product is completely inappropriate. It lacks modesty. It’s too bad I had to give this item even one star in the rating scale. There should be an option for a black hole rating scale because this item is detracting from all that is good in this world.”

You can order the calendar for $14.99 from mormons.exposed.com and form your own opinion.

Manly morticians

Morticians are a naughty bunch – if the menofmortuaries.com Web site is any indication. “These are just some of the few things that we do with our suits off …” teases a promo for the “Men of Mortuaries” 2008 calendar.

With a theme of “celebrating life,” the calendar spotlights drop-dead gorgeous funeral directors and morticians from across the country in various shirtless poses. These are no working stiffs (Sorry, I couldn’t resist).

It’s all in good fun. Proceeds benefit KAMM Cares, a nonprofit organization that helps breast cancer patients.

For only $3.95, you can have your own copy. Go to www.menofmortuaries.com.

Citizen Staff Writer
Byline

With the smoke beginning to clear from the summer’s shootout of action movies, Batman and the Joker are undisputed superheros at the box office.

But who were the biggest losers in this seasonal celebration of comic book cinema?

That answer is more interesting, because it reveals fatal flaws in Hollywood’s new generation of studio executives. Just when it seemed obvious you couldn’t make a hit movie just by piling more computerized special effects onto a plot that couldn’t support a Tom & Jerry cartoon, we got “The Incredible Hulk.” Which was followed several weeks later by a blizzard of digital hash in “The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor.”

Both will do well enough at the box office, probably, but artistically they were flops. Do you want to see Edward Norton do his studied series of faces that depict Bruce Banner’s writhing inner turmoil? Again?

I didn’t think so.

While Brendan Fraser can keep on playing the pudgy guy in a goofy explorer’s outfit that looks like it came from the mall, do we really care? If Iron Man is going to team up with the Hulk (as promised at the end of that film), does it mean Fraser’s own explorer-dude will one day pop up as the special guest in a new Indiana Jones adventure? Can you imagine Fraser actually being called in to save the day for Harrison Ford?

While there aren’t any comic book superheroes famous for their elocution, it is worth noting the Hulk’s entire vocabulary doesn’t contain more than a dozen words. The Mummy says even less.

OK, so Spider-Man doesn’t have a mouth, either, but let’s stay focused here.

Isn’t there anyone with access to a $200 million budget who understands why both of those Hulk movies flopped? Any number of tongue-tied 12-year-olds would know the answer, even if they couldn’t explain it any better. The same could be said for a lot of excellent high school athletes still stuck in freshman English class.

So could King Kong. Oh, wait, he can’t speak either.

Shakespeare perfectly understood the concept that keeps the Hulk alive in comic books. Shakespeare loved telling stories of powerful men who had it all, then were destroyed by their own personal shortcomings.

Or think about this. The Hulk’s appeal comes from the same sentimental soft spot we have for the Wolfman.

Most of the time this black-nosed and hirsute anti-hero is a gentle guy, but once a month something happens and he snaps. He becomes a monster and just can’t help it. The nights without a full moon fill with torture because he knows what is coming next.

One thing for sure, the Hulk and the Wolfman don’t sit around wishing their lives were full of more digitized special effects. We can only hope nobody decides to use Wolfie as an excuse for still more computer generated overkill.

Maybe by the time the deal is put together for a third try at capturing the Hulk’s poignancy as a killer who just can’t help himself, the computer technology will be up for creating the image of a digital person who has a soul inside. Pixar is pretty close.

Imagine if the Hulk’s big screen grimace also contained the sadly soulful eyes of Lon Chaney Jr. And what if the Hulk actually moved with the natural elegance of King Kong? The next director could skip all the bogus explosions and distorted images of twisted fantasies. Give us the real thing. A Hulk with personality worthy of a Shakespeare play.

The Mummy’s problems are similar, in that Boris Karloff had such impact in his nonspeaking role as the original Mummy, all the shuffling creatures that followed over the decades have been riding on Karloff’s tattered mummy wraps.

Fraser’s new Mummy pic, “Tomb of the Dragon Emperor,” also has a new director – Rob Cohen (“The Fast and the Furious”). Cohen was pretty good at catching the creed of speed among street racers, but now he knows a faster mummy isn’t the answer. Not even if these high-performance members of the living dead run across the screen by the thousands.

One good mummy with genuine evil on his mind is worth more then all those thousands of digitized ones. Especially if the mummy has a chance to strangle Fraser so he’d stop spouting so many one-liners.

CHUCK GRAHAM

cgraham@tucsoncitizen.com

Graham

Citizen Staff Writer
Byline

Is there such a thing as cutting-edge nostalgia? It seems like there ought to be. People who have spent decades living on the edge, thinking outside the box and pushing on the envelope must have some sense of the extreme innovations conceived in decades past. Surely there is more to progress than just thinking up new ways to say the same old thing.

All of this came to mind recently when the Brooklyn-based ESP-Disk record label reissued five albums of avant-garde jazz first recorded in the mid-1960s. At that time, jazz had already lost its mainstream audience because so many of the good players started playing bebop. For fans coast to coast who loved dancing to big bands, listening to these tense little bebop combos became hard work. There were so many unexpected chord changes. All the songs were played at such a frenetic pace. Listening became exhausting.

By 1965, forward-thinking jazz musicians were eager to embrace the emerging counterculture spirit of destroying conservative middle-class society. In the musicians’ minds, bebop had failed them, letting the music’s worldwide audience slip away. The Pied Piper had lost his tune. Jazz had been in. Now it was out.

Rock ‘n’ roll with its simple melodies and pile driver beats devoured the radio airwaves and filled the bins in record stores. Progressive jazzers swallowed hard. Their chosen music would not become the sound that defined the second half of the 20th century. But what sound would define the coming decades? Surely not Simon and Garfunkel.

In New York, every nightclub that didn’t book a rock band hired folk-singing duos with names like Jim ‘n I (gemini, get it?). Of course you could still order a steak cooked rare and not feel guilty about it. So that was good.

With tensions running high and the commonly accepted social order being questioned at every turn, unemployed jazz musicians (a redundant term at the time) took to playing in apartment lofts and other unexpected places. Total freedom seemed like a worthy message.

Throw off all assumptions. Don’t expect a sax to sound like a sax. Don’t expect a drummer to swing like a drummer. Chord structure and key signatures, useful in giving music a listenable cohesion, became obstacles to freedom. Free jazz would free the spirit and stimulate the mind.

Anarchy would become the magic ingredient to fluff up life’s true meaning. Don’t do anything (like play notes on pitch) because you have to. Only do it because you want to. Keeping a beat sounds way too rigid. Let the music flow.

Any absence of an established rhythm lets each listener hear a different rhythm, according to what the listener needs at the time. Playing an actual song with an actual beat would be cruel and inhuman arrogance forcing everyone in the audience to hear the same musical phrases at the exact same moment.

How boring is that?

Logic popular at the time was not exactly. . . logical.

That’s the nice thing about cutting-edge nostalgia. The memories can be so sweet. We can laugh at our paranoia after sticking it to The Man. Or was that the illicit drugs talking? Freedom wasn’t just another word for nothing left to lose. Freedom was worth fighting for.

So when freedom fighters had a little time to sit around the house, they wanted to play vinyl albums of free jazz on stereo sets the size of gas ovens.

Now these former freedom fighters can recall the good old days with any of these LP adventures digitally remastered on ESP-Disk CDs. There is an interesting variety.

The Giuseppi Logan Quartet’s self-titled album feels the most expansive, with Logan on alto and tenor sax, Pakistani oboe, bass clarinet and flute. Joining him are Don Pullen (piano), Eddie Gomez (bass) and Milford Graves (drums and tabla).

A bit smaller in scale is the Henry Grimes Trio six-cut release, “The Call.” Grimes on bass is accompanied by Perry Robinson on clarinet and Tom Price on drums.

Exploring the concept of a percussion ensemble is Milford Graves playing drums, bells, gongs and shakers with Sunny Morgan adding more drums and bells.

ESP-Disk also enjoyed recording a folk singing comedy duo The Holy Modal Rounders. They called their music “freak folk,” a most apt description. If you were old enough to enjoy the Sixties but don’t remember much about them, this is a great place to start.

All the recordings can be found at espdisk.com.

Citizen Staff Writer
Byline

Last week The Atlanta Journal-Constitution reported that a home in Lake City, Ga., was in foreclosure. That four-bedroom, three-car garage house was built in January 2005 by the “Extreme Makeover: Home Edition” team, that teary-eyed crew led by man-child Ty Pennington.

And while foreclosures are happening across the U.S., this $450,000 mini mansion in Georgia highlights the gross commercialism and materialism of the ABC show.

Milton and Patricia Harper of Lake City just needed a house with a working septic system – the one in their old home, according to the Journal-Constitution story, backed up post-rainstorms. What the Harpers got, however, was more than a flushable toilet: a turreted house with four fireplaces, a solarium and a porte-cochere leading into an office. The heating and cooling bills would be enough to put the structure into foreclosure.

The hook of “EM:HE” is that the families are deserving, Sears banners chasing after them like crooked lawyers behind ambulances. There’s a weekly parade of community members pounding the pavement to the original home holding signs for the multinational corporation, led by Sears hawker Pennington.

Head to abc.com and you can see short videos – “Sears moments” – of crew members wandering the store. “Sears Gives to the Turner Family!” follows “EM:HE” carpenter Ed Sanders frolicking about the entertainment section, passing by TV after TV until he finds the largest one. He bows before it, an actor so grateful for reality TV.

Of course, Sears is savvy, super-sizing a long-standing tradition of product placement in an attempt to make some noise in the Tivo-lution. You could fast forward by the lovely Electrolux appliances, but then you’d miss Ty’s gelled hair and wrinkles of concern.

But besides being a giant advertisement for Ty’s sugar daddy and an assortment of construction companies, “Extreme Makeover” pushes an extreme notion of consumerism. A recently re-aired January episode featuring the Woodhouse family – so in debt because of their daughter’s medical bills they didn’t even have their own home – resulted in a two-story house with a bowling lane and ice cream parlor in the basement and a free truck. Courtesy of Ford.

Home improvement shows hammer their way throughout the cable box, from creaky grandpa “This Old House” to perky Gen Y-ers like TLC’s “Date My House.” The hosts offer decorating advice, low-budget fixes, a survey of a city’s real estate market, etc. They hold our hands as we go to The Home Depot and Crate & Barrel, smart consumers who make bad choices and just need to speed date for the right credenza.

The centerfold of “EM:HE” certainly includes that ginormous house, but every room is draped in the recipients’ sad story. No one would argue that the families aren’t deserving but Ty, ABC and the underwriters are the real heroes, armed with superpowers of charm and deep pockets.

The obscene materialism thrown at the families repositions their suffering as a lottery ticket, a means to getting a home that dwarfs every other in the neighborhood, as that house in Lake City reportedly does. Clearly it’s a Band-Aid that will get ripped off when the maintenance fund provided dries up or, in the case of the Harpers, when the business that used the house as collateral fails.

I miss the original, plastic surgery-focused “Extreme Makeover,” when the construction was done to bodies that later bore scars and bruises. The impact was immediate and raw and clearly self-destructive. Ty and company are more insidious, pushing a version of the American Dream that creates real-life stresses not seen on camera. Just ask the Harpers.

As of Aug. 5, according to the Journal-Constitution, they were in negotiations with their bank to be able to remain in the home. It had been listed for sale at $950,000 until recently.

POLLY HIGGINS

phiggins@tucsoncitizen.com

Higgins

Citizen Staff Writer
Byline

Inside the purple building on East Sixth Street that has housed Toxic Ranch Records since the summer of 1991, three teenagers are flipping through CDs and vinyl.

“Customers – a rarity,” owner Bill Sassenberger says while The Jesus and Mary Chain play over the speakers. He laughs – he’s a good-natured guy – but business has been far from easy for this independent record purveyor.

Which is why his celebration of 20 years in Tucson deserves two nights of music, with Sassenberger’s longtime friends in Italy’s Raw Power playing Sunday at Vaudeville Cabaret and Monday at Dry River Collective. (It also shows Sassenberger’s commitment to the kids – Dry River is all ages.)

Ebbs and flows seem built into the life of a place like Toxic Ranch, even though its owners (it’s co-owned by Julianna Towns, Sassenberger’s wife) have infused it with personality. Rock and political T-shirts fight for space on the walls – everything from Johnny Rotten’s mug to a “Bush hates me” tee – as do Misfits and Rancid posters. The selection of books and magazines/ zines is dense and focused, and CDs for locals are right on the counter. The indie rock stock ranges from a Captain Beefheart vinyl reissue to the newest Wolf Parade, which later plays in the store.

The life of independent record stores is dependent largely upon the genres in vogue, and recent years have seen the closings of CD City and Hear’s Music. It was partly a shift in tastes that brought Sassenberger and Towns to Tucson in 1988. They’d had a store in Pomona, Calif., since 1980, a time when Sassenberger’s favorite punk bands, such as the Dead Kennedys, were at their peak.

But later in the ’80s, he recalls, the Dead Kennedys broke up. Black Flag broke up. “Red Hot Chili Peppers, Jane’s Addiction were the big things. And I didn’t like that,” he says, adding that the fatigue brought on by L.A.’s freeways didn’t help keep him in the area, either. So they moved their mail-order business and label Toxic Shock and it wasn’t long before the indie rock lover in Sassenberger embraced Tucson’s music scene, putting out records by Feast Upon Cactus Thorns, The Fells, Mondo Guano, Doo Rag, Al Perry. The label spanned about 1983 to 1998, Sassenberger says.

The current recession and the closing of the Fourth Avenue underpass certainly haven’t helped the business, but, “We’re managing,” says Sassenberger, who balances his store with a part-time job as an airline reservationist.

One bright spot, he notes, is a resurgence in vinyl over the past two years. “It’s not just old people getting their records back. It’s younger folks, too.” Sassenberger estimates that he sells two vinyl LPs for every one CD, and that includes everything from reissues to such currents as The Shins. (He sells used records, too.) Toxic Ranch will be at the second Hotel Congress Record Show, Aug. 30.

“This is just kind of a labor of love,” he says.

It’s the same for customers, who will hopefully continue to head to 424 E. Sixth St. for years to come.

POLLY HIGGINS

phiggins@tucsoncitizen.com

IF YOU GO

What: Raw Power, Feast Upon Cactus Thorns, Swing Ding Amigos, Limbless Torso

When: 9 p.m. Sunday

Where: Vaudeville Cabaret

Price: $10

What: Raw Power, Terezodu, Skull Stomp, Prosthetics, Walrus, Dahmer Effect, Bloodied Up Knuckles

When: 7 p.m. Monday

Where: Dry River Collective, 740 N. Main Ave.

Price: $7

Info: Contact Toxic Ranch at 623-2008 or visit its Web site, ToxicRanchRecords.com

Citizen Staff Writer
Byline

The Tucson Museum of Art has an Andy Warhol in its archives, unlikely to be put on display because of the condition it arrived in: severely water marked.

On exhibit in the Palice Pavilion, a Virgin Mary statue stands 7 feet tall and is in need of repair; museum staff is afraid to move it, because pieces of the work, circa 1650-1750, will flake to the floor.

TMA has numerous examples of artworks desperately in need of conservation. And the institution is far from being alone.

According to a national study conducted by the D.C.-based nonprofit Heritage Preservation and the federal Institute of Museum and Library Services, artifacts at risk in this country include:

• 4.7 million works of art

• 13.5 million historic objects (flags, quilts, presidential china, Pueblo pottery)

• 153 million photographs

• 189 million natural science specimens

• 270 million rare and unique books, periodicals and scrapbooks

On a 1 to 10 scale, IMLS Executive Director Anne-Imelda M. Radice puts the U.S. at a 5 or 6 for overall conservation. But she’s hopeful: “We’re moving toward an 8.”

To help move things forward, IMLS held its second conservation forum for collecting institutions in Denver last month. TMA’s collections manager-registrar, Susan Dolan, was among the 50 out of more than 200 attendees who received funding – $1,000 in her case – from IMLS for travel and hotel costs, based in part on the photos she sent of the above-mentioned “The Virgin of the Immaculate Conception.”

Dolan says she would not have been able to attend the two-day conference otherwise. And, she says, she found it “inspirational.”

The “Collaboration in the Digital Age” forum stressed the importance of digitizing a collection, for archiving and research. A primary issue for IMLS, Radice says, is standardization.

“We use PDFs now, but in 20 years, who knows?”

The forum also afforded networking opportunities, with representatives from a number of grant-providing agencies present, Dolan says.

Grants are crucial, and the process is multilayered. For instance, documentation, with the help of conservation consultants, was necessary for TMA to receive a $66,000 grant from IMLS in 2006 for much-needed storage, Dolan says. That money went, in part, to rolling storage cases that contain Mexican folk art, masks, furniture, pre-Columbian textiles and much more.

“Storage is a big problem, because you want to keep growing,” Dolan says. And without a proper, temperature- and humidity-controlled environment, works will be compromised.

Dolan is hopeful that, since IMLS already responded to the Virgin, she’ll receive a grant to restore the statue, which “will require a lot of research.” She points to places on the work that were painted over before the museum received it in 1975.

“She’s so big and she’s so fragile . . . you try to move her and pieces fall off her,” Dolan says. “It might be able to be done locally.”

Another priority is the Warhol cow wallpaper, which, Dolan says, will cost $3,000 to $5,000 to conserve.

The TMA has “hundreds and hundreds” of Mayan and Bolivian textiles in need of help – from conservation to expensive Plexiglass display cases – before they can be exhibited.

It’s ongoing, of course. Dolan says about 100 works have been conserved since 1991.

Donations are always welcomed, and gifts can be earmarked specifically for conservation. Contact Leslie Schellie at 624-2333 (then hit 0). Also, Dolan works with just one assistant registrar, so student internships are invaluable. Call her at the same number if interested.

POLLY HIGGINS

phiggins@tucsoncitizen.com

Citizen Staff Writer
Byline

With contributions from so many countries, the Latin music catalog is vast and varied. Jazz, world, flamenco, bossa nova, norteño, salsa, rock in Spanish – they all fall under the same Latin umbrella. Listeners with an appreciation for non mainstream artists and sounds also have plenty to choose from in this category. The following five titles came across my desk recently and are definitely worth checking out.

Spam Allstars

“Introducing Spam Allstars” (Introducing/ World Music Network)

Grounded in Latin funk, the Miami ensemble blends horns, improvisational electronic elements and turntables with hip-hop and dub. The band says its mission is to create an electronic descarga, (electrical charge) or “electro-charanga” (a reference to a genre of Cuban music featuring flutes and strings). Described as a “crazy melting pot that is Miami,” Spam Allstars is made up of DJ Le Spam (turntables, samplers, guitar, bass), Adam Zimmon (guitar), Tomas Diaz (timbales, vocals), AJ Hill (sax, vocals) Steve Welsh (sax), Mercedes Abal (flute), Chad Bernstein (trombone, vocals), Lazaro Alfonso (congas).

Standout tracks: “Ochimini,” “Descarga Gusano,” “Una Buena Limpieza”

Chambao

“Con Otro Aire” (Norte)

Nouveau flamenco is either cheesy New Age noise or creative, tranquil genius. Those familiar with the music of Chambao know the Spanish band’s fusion of electronica and flamenco is the ladder. Just ask fan Ricky Martin, who sings a duet – “Te Recuerdo” – with lead singer La Mari. “Chambao’s music is true magic,” Martin says. He’s exaggerating – but not by much. The band’s “flamenco-chill” sound is original and relaxing, with soothing vocals by La Mari and gorgeous instrumentation that incorporates Latin, Middle Eastern and Indian rhythms.

Standout tracks: “Papeles Mojados,” “Voces,” “El Viejo San Juan”

Various Artists

“Think Global presents Fiesta Latina” (World Music Network)

If you’re seeking Latin party music for a cosmopolitan crowd, this is the CD for you. The dance steps of salsa, merengue, cumbia and bachata flow from such greats as Ray Barreto, the Spanish Harlem Orchestra and La Sonora Dinamita, among others. Other contributors include Spain’s Los Fulanos – with a bugalú that sounds like a blend of James Brown and the Fania All-Stars – and the rap-flamenco mix of “Amor de Locos” by Eddy Herrera and Vladimir Dotel.

Standout tracks: “El Cacú” by Pocy & La Cocoband, “C’Mon Get Dancing” by Los Fulanos and “Ay Chave” by La Sonora Dinamita

Andrés Subercaseaux

“Aqui” (Triple Down Records)

Andrés Subercaseaux of Santiago, Chile, has a master’s in music technology and scoring for films from New York University, and the compositions on his debut CD reflect his studies. His primarily instrumental collection takes us on a sonic journey through ambient, electronica, Latin, avant-garde, and alternative and experimental rock. It’s a journey that never gets boring and one that is intended solely for the truly musically adventurous.

Standout tracks: “The Illiest,” “Ella me Dijo,” “Pensando Que”

Various Artists

“The Rough Guide to Cuban Street Party” (World Music Network)

La Lupe, Yumuri y Sus Hermanos, and Celia Cruz with Johnny Pacheco are among the artists featured in this compilation showcasing the talents of U.S.-based Cuban exiles and their fellow musicians on the island. This sizzlin’ Cuban street party includes the sounds of son, timba, guajira and Nuyorican salsa and will have you moving your colita – whether you want to or not.

Standout tracks: “Llego Tete” by Teresa Garcia Caturla, “Tres Dias de Carnaval” by Celia Cruz and Johnny Pacheco and “Castigala” by Maraca

ROGELIO YUBETA OLIVAS

rolivas@tucsoncitizen.com

Citizen Staff Writer
Byline

The comedy genre has a history of political incorrectness. From Lenny Bruce to the Monty Python gang, Sacha Baron Cohen to Dave Chappelle, wrapping cultural taboos and tragedies in humor is guaranteed to offend some of the people all of the time. But the results can also be cathartic, help us to understand an issue from a different perspective, make us think about why we hold a particular belief to be true or add levity to an event that makes no sense.

As Lester (Alan Alda) so eloquently says in Woody Allen’s “Crimes and Misdemeanors,” “Comedy is tragedy plus time,” and it’s true. It’s all about context.

When Bill Maher criticized the U.S. government less than a week after 9/11, not enough time had passed for some people to be able to handle the joke. Plus, “Politically Incorrect” was on a major network (ABC) with huge advertisers and no other comic with that kind of forum (David Letterman, Jay Leno) went there. Support him or hate him, Maher’s comments spawned discussions and reflection about the right to question The Deciders.

Often, of course, a joke doesn’t work. Regardless of how well it’s crafted – even the thinnest fart gag can be funny – results are dependent upon the recipient. Artist intent gets kicked to the curb.

A recent local screening highlights the range of interpretations possible from one short comedy film: “Planet of the Rapes,” which was made for the Loft Cinema’s fourth 48-Hour Shootout. It was shown June 12 along with 18 other films created over the weekend of May 23-25.

The time constraints for the shootout are rough, with filmmakers receiving their instructions – a genre and a character name, prop and line of dialogue they have to use – at the beginning of the two-day period.

The films are not censored in any way – the same goes for the theater’s monthly First Friday Shorts – and an announcement was made at the beginning of the screening saying as much, says Loft Cinema operations director J.J. Giddings.

John Tullar was part of the four-person team that entered “Planet of the Rapes,” and, he says in a phone conversation, he “didn’t know it was going to have this backlash.”

Well, it sure did. While it won the judges’ prize for best film – garnering Tullar’s team a prize of $500 – not everyone found the short charming.

One of the attendees was so offended that she sent a mass e-mail to local anti-violence groups, says Audrey Ching, director of community prevention, education and outreach with the Southern Arizona Center Against Sexual Assault. Ching received the message, which included a link to the film. (To watch it, search for the title on YouTube.) SACASA executive director Virginia Yrun responded with a guest opinion column co-penned with Sarah Jones, chief executive of Emerge! Center Against Domestic Abuse, which ran in the Citizen July 2.

“Planet of the Rapes” follows a young female who lives in a future world where women are relegated to stereotypical tasks – laundry, cooking. She fashions a time machine, travels in it and lands in the past on the planet of the title. No actual rape is shown, though at one point a line of men wait for their opportunity to, um, follow the planetary mission. In the end, she’s right back where she started, just like Charlton Heston in “Planet of the Apes.”

Is rape a taboo topic for comedy? Should anything be? It’s impossible to have absolutes here, because, again, it’s all about context. Sarah Silverman used a fictional rape in her segment in “The Aristocrats,” but it was just one of many potentially offensive jokes that included incest, murder and (thanks, George Carlin) corn kernels in poo. The latter was the one that made me feel the oogiest – such detail the late Carlin provided – though I still laughed. Shock can do that.

The votes for “Planet” were not unanimous. Two judges on a panel that included the Citizen’s Chuck Graham, the Arizona Daily Star’s Phil Villarreal, Tucson Weekly’s James DiGiovanna, Access Tucson’s Vikki Dempsey and KRQQ-FM’s Tic Tac and Sherm of “The Frank Show” wrote how offended they were by the short, Giddings says.

But majority ruled, with three of the judges voting for “Planet of the Rapes.” The judges were a primary focus of the guest opinion. “What was lost here was an opportunity for the judges to take a principled stand against perpetuating violence and rape,” Yrun and Jones wrote.

Members of both groups met with Tullar on Tuesday at his invitation. Dempsey and Loft program director Jeff Yanc were there as well. The film was not screened at the gathering, unfortunately, but, still, a conversation occurred.

“I’m just a filmmaker and a comedian,” Tullar said at the meeting in a SACASA conference room. “I didn’t have an agenda.”

Tullar fielded a host of comments and concerns: What exactly laughter is and when it’s appropriate, statistics on rape, why a film such as his might have “triggered” an emotional response in a victim of sexual assault, that popular culture is filled with violence against women, filmmaker responsibility.

The issue of responsibility is especially pertinent and tricky and moves well beyond the comedy genre. Certainly entertainment is never just entertainment – artists are products of their cultures. But to put any kind of limits on a creative endeavor is censorship. There are just too many examples of filmmakers (and painters, musicians, et al.) who could and have been called unaccountable while creating important works. From Ozzy Osbourne to Robert Mapplethorpe, Todd Solondz to Annie Sprinkle, all have been criticized for pushing too far, but all have articulated important issues as only they could.

It’s one thing if Tullar was the only one with a megaphone, but he’s not. He made the cheapest kind of film possible. I hope one of those offended has a creative bent and makes a film of his or her own. The next shootout films Oct. 17-19.

POLLY HIGGINS

phiggins@tucsoncitizen.com

IF YOU WATCH

To watch “Planet of the Rapes,” head to www.youtube.com/ watch?v=Ie3xRufLUdo

Citizen Staff Writer
Byline

If variety is the spice of life, then Latin music fans in the Old Pueblo need to make a trip to the grocery store and buy a 12-pack of McCormick specialties.

Judging from reader responses, followers of the genre in predominately Mexican-American Tucson overwhelmingly prefer a steady diet of the familiar sounds of norteño, cumbia, tejano and mariachi. Without hesitation, they’ll pass up a side dish of music from other Spanish- and Portuguese-speaking countries: salsa, Latin jazz, merengue, bossa nova, etc.

That’s the consensus from readers, who reinforced the assertions I made in a column a couple of months ago about the low turnout at Latin concerts sponsored by UApresents. The University of Arizona arts organization and I wanted to know why the Sabor Latino series bombed with Hispanics, so we asked readers to give us their take on the situation.

• From concert promoter Marco Amaro: “These folks want to listen to norteño music. The folks in Miami want to listen to salsa-influenced artists. At the end of the day, people want to listen to the simple pop music that is relevant to their lifestyles. Latin jazz is like trying to get a bunch of working-class Germans to go see a symphony. They won’t go . . . but they will go see (German industrial metal band) Rammstein!

• From Guera Cachora: “Mexicans like cumbias and corridos and aren’t really aficionados of salsa, merengue types of music here. Go check out the turnout July 18 at the TCC for Los Altenos de la Sierra with Latigo and you’ll see what strikes a responsive chord.”

• From ERi5426301: “The problem is trying to group or class all Hispanic as one. (Just) goes to prove it’s not so. I for one do not like folklorico or salsa . . .”

• From Earl Wettstein: “My theory is that Latinos, like many of the rest of us, have discovered after many visits to Centennial Hall, that it is the town’s crappiest venue to hear anything. It is a waste of money to go there to hear anything. That’s my theory.”

I must admit the responses were a bit deflating. I was hoping readers would prove me wrong and tell me that music fans in Tucson are open-minded, adventurous types who like all kinds of Latin-flavored rhythms. Sadly, that was not the case.

I should have known better based on the experiences of concert halls and radio stations in town that have seen dismal results when they’ve strayed from non-Mexican-friendly fare.

Yes, the casinos are cashing in with their Latin concerts – but they’re targeting the blue-collar crowds. UApresents and others are pursuing audiences with more sophisticated music tastes. Does that audience exist? Maybe in bigger cities such as New York and Los Angeles but apparently not in Tucson.

Before the days of radio monoliths, musical diversity was valued and encouraged. In the ’70s one of the best local radio stations that was hugely popular with Latinos was KXEW. It used to play a melange of sounds – from the tejano songs of Little Joe Y La Familia to the soulful grooves of Earth, Wind & Fire to the sweet oldies of The Intruders. Such a mix would be unheard of in radio today and considered commercial poison.

I guess most Latin music fans in the Old Pueblo are like my siblings: safe, predictable, clinging to the familiar and reluctant to venture outside the box when it comes to food, music and movies. They prefer tacos over tapas, Luis Miguel over Miguel Bose, “Hancock” over “Y Tu Mama Tambien.”

To each his own, I guess. But I just don’t get it. Why settle for a banana when you can have a pico de gallo fruit salad instead?

ROGELIO YUBETA OLIVAS

rolivas@tucsoncitizen.com

Citizen Staff Writer
Byline

Guayaberas aren’t just for old men anymore.

When I was in college 20 years ago my buddies used to make fun of me for wearing the Mexican wedding shirts. “Those are for viejitos (old men) or fat dudes,” they would tell me.

With the tops more stylish and varied than ever, I bet some of my pals now have developed an appreciation for them. Today’s guayaberas are appropriate for formal or casual gatherings. They also come in an array of colors, fabrics and looks, from traditional to contemporary, with elaborate colorful embroidery or kitschy retro patterns.

It’s no surprise the shirts have become popular outside Latin America and the United States, with everyone from young hipsters to older intellectuals wearing them. The clothing is especially prevalent in Cuba, Mexico and the Philippines, all of which claim to have invented the pleated, pocketed camisas.

Some nice guayaberas can be found online but the really cool and original ones are those hidden away at thrift stores. In Tucson, Savers has proved to be a treasure trove for the shirts.

Eight in my collection were on display last week when the Citizen had an unofficial “guayabera showdown” in honor of departing editor-publisher Michael Chihak. Mr. Big Cheese, who thinks he’s part Cuban (see his taste in music), was bragging about how nice his new shirt is. He said we’d probably never seen one like it and would be blown away.

Ever the skeptics, my co-workers and I decided to challenge him. I brought in the shirts and handed them out. The black-and-white photo (in print) doesn’t do them justice. But it shows the variety available on the market.

Arts writer Polly Higgins is wearing a Savers find: a retro classic from Yucatan, Mexico. It’s white with little blue Aztec or Mayan figures and a super-long ’70s collar.

Features designer Jen Lum is decked out in a peach top, with beautiful matching embroidery. Like Polly, she belted her oversized shirt over jeans, and completed the ensemble with high heels. They converted guayaberas into high fashion. Who knew? Tyra and Miss Jay from “America’s Next Top Model” would be proud.

The aqua one modeled by features editor Dina L. Doolen is unusual because it has a zipper instead of buttons. Pretty cool for a guayabera made in Korea. It’s an eBay special.

I’m wearing my personal fave: a “disco” guayabera I discovered at Savers on Fort Lowell. It’s made of shiny light-blue polyester-cotton, with subtle, little paisley designs throughout.

Chihak’s shirt is black with gold and reddish embroidery. It’s classy, elegant and perfect for the sophisticated, mature man.

Illustrator Arnie Bermudez’s model is the opposite of Chihak’s. With its tribal-like pattern and fewer pockets and pleats, it’s targeted more at the hip, younger set. Another eBay find.

Online editor Mike Truelsen, events coordinator Elsa Nidia Barrett and Calendar designer Kristina Dunham opted for traditional variations in green (eBay), blue (Savers) and wine (Meryvn’s).

After modeling our shirts for most of the day, Chihak, with little discussion, fanfare or voting, proclaimed 27-year-old Arnie the winner of the contest. Which just goes to show that guayaberas really aren’t only for old, fat men anymore.

Citizen Staff Writer
Byline

George Carlin’s death puts a spotlight on a void: The lack of comedian culture watchers.

Carlin, who died Sunday of heart failure at age 71, riffed on just about everything, and central to his persona was keeping one eye on us, one eye on The Man. He challenged the notion of “dirty” words (and had his favorite, which I certainly can’t expect my editor to let into print, but it rhymes with duck), he got pissed about the government’s reaction to 9/11, he was open about his love of pot. During his 2008 HBO special – his 14th, according to USA TODAY – he reveled in old age, saying that an old “duck” like himself can get away with anything. “(Duck) Lance Armstrong,” he said in that raspy voice that made you want to clear your throat, asking us if we were as tired as he of being told who to worship.

Carlin, after decades in the business, had status. That old (duck) had an audience.

I’m hard-pressed to think of an equivalent in the new crop of comedians, largely because the game has changed. The ones who achieve star status seem to come to celebrity by current standards: sheer availability.

The sad news is that arguably the biggest comedian we have is Will Ferrell, who pretty much plays one tune in his films. (“Me-me-me-me-me-me-me.”) I know this because I keep renting them. It’s a little thing called hope: Everyone wants a laugh.

Ferrell’s “Semi-Pro,” the most recent of his canon to hit DVD shelves, hinges on one-dimensional comedy. A lot of the jokes are sight gags, Ferrell’s gut packed into a form-fitting basketball uniform, him in a 1970s leisure suit (the film is set in the decade of disco), him with an afro.

The mere sight of his bare torso practically becomes a plot point in his movies. If a comedian revealing his man belly is still shockingly funny then call me an old lady and, please, bring me a decaf.

One reason I have a fondness for Carlin is because I didn’t understand him when I was a kid. His humor had layers, points to be made – it was adult. Trying to find layers in Ferrells’ humor is like peeling a grape: frustrating and pointless.

Carlin’s MO was to (duck) with norms, (duck) with expectations. Ferrell is a straight read whose comedy makes little commentary on the system. He’s just not filling.

Of course Ferrell’s earning power is bloated by his appeal to all ages, on down to the wee ones (naked jokes, accessible to toddlers). And he dominates the big screen, while Carlin peddled his comedy mainly on TV specials and live in concert halls. It’s scripted versus stand-up.

Not a fair fight? Let’s turn to cable, both the great hope and biggest disappointment for stand-up comedy. There are a lot of hours to fill in a day, so there’s a lot of recycled (crap) comedians willingly step in. They schlep it on every kind of pop culture montage show – not the kind of culture watchers I’d put in bed with Carlin.

Sarah Silverman could make a decent bedmate. She challenges taboos, has one filthy mouth and delivers jokes wrapped in stories and context rather than just dumping them on your doorstep. And her star is on the rise. Ditto Dave Chappelle on all of the above. His star will get back on track. (Jon Stewart seems like an obvious inclusion here, but I have yet to make it through an entire episode of his show.) They’re both a bit rough around the edges but are necessary voices who hopefully, with their shock-with-purpose coterie – Amy Sedaris, Chelsea Handler and on – continue to be heard.

Carlin just spoke loud enough until we couldn’t turn away, and, really, in these (duck)ing unstable economic and political times, we need some good shouters.

POLLY HIGGINS

phiggins@tucsoncitizen.com

Citizen Staff Writer
Byline

We knew it was inevitable, but it still hurts. Jose “Pepo” Saavedra, one of Tucson’s most gifted musicians, is leaving the Old Pueblo after seven years to pursue bigger and better things on the East Coast.

It’s a wise move for the 35-year-old folk singer-guitarist from Puerto Rico, whom many in the local music scene considered a hidden gem. He and his wife, Elise DuBord, next month are moving to Madison, N.J., just 45 minutes from the Big Apple, where Saavedra plans to perform as often as possible. At least now he will have the opportunity to share his impressive talents with a wider audience and receive the recognition and accolades he deserves.

Don’t be surprised if you soon hear his music on a soundtrack or see him as a featured artist on iTunes. He’s that good – plus, he’s a genuinely nice guy.

My friends and I had the pleasure of seeing the singer-songwriter perform at the Tucson Folk Festival last month. His 20-minute set was intense, passionate, political and flowing with imagery that only a true poet could conjure.

The performance included samples of his speciality: nueva canción, or trova, Latin American folk music derived from traditional storytelling that often carries a sociopolitical message.

It also included the title track of his latest CD, “Ver Cada Ver,” named by yours truly as the best Latin music recording of 2007 in all the universe. Again, he’s that good.

What will Saavedra miss most about Tucson? “Friends that became family and will always be. A wonderful and supportive music scene,” he writes in an e-mail. “The feeling of belonging to a community that is so close to a border that unfortunately keeps getting less and less humane (but is a community that) stands up and is not afraid of showing solidarity with others. The monsoon season and our beautiful desert.”

No love for Cheeta

Cheeta the chimp has been dissed – again! The new inductees into the Hollywood Walk of Fame were announced last week and Cheeta’s name was nowhere to be found.

Despite an online petition urging the selection committee to grant a star to the 76-year-old “Tarzan” regular, the panel ignored the primate in favor of other (and some lesser) celebrities for the honor. Hip-shaking mama Shakira? OK. Hottie Hugh Jackman? Fine. The retro-cool Village People? It’s about time. But Tinkerbell and John Stamos? Come on!

Tinkerbell’s not even real. Why the heck does she need a star anyway? Little Miss Greedy already can fly and has magic fairy dust. Go back to Neverland, sister.

And John Stamos? Blackie from “General Hospital”? He seems like a nice guy but can he swing from a vine or eat a dozen bananas at one sitting? Have his expressionistic paintings been exhibited in the National Gallery in London? Does he even know what expressionism is? We think not.

We would claim monkey business in this year’s selection process, but instead believe the committee is made up of a bunch of sourpusses. Don’t be hatin’ on poor Cheeta. He’s a true star who deserves better.

According to The Associated Press, Cheeta is retired and lives in Palm Springs. This was the seventh time the “Doctor Doolittle” scene-stealer was trying for a sidewalk star.

Maybe the eighth time will be the charm – with the public’s help. Sign Cheeta’s petition at www.ipetitions.com/ petition/GoCheeta

ROGELIO YUBETA OLIVAS

rolivas@tucsoncitizen.com