"Streets of This Town" is a little photo series featuring random pics I take on long walks through Tucson—to sort of coincide with Tucson Salvage.

Anti-Trump is everywhere on side streets, attached to palm trees, and on chainlink. This is Blacklidge, west of Campbell Avenue. 

This little photo series will feature random pics I take on long walks through Tucson—to sort of coincide with my column Tucson Salvage. It's called "Streets of this Town."

Found this motorcycle graveyard in a neighborhood behind Grant Road and Alvernon.

This little photo series will feature random pics I take on long walks through Tucson—to sort of coincide with my column Tucson Salvage. It's called "Streets of this Town" and it begins today.

I met this guy Dan at Navajo near Stone Ave. He was selling is lovely blue-nose pit Romeo for $200. I didn't have $200.

As we walked into the gates of Wobbleland in (San Jose, Calif.) on a recent Friday I couldn't help but notice the swarm of ravers donning the same trendy merch from their favorite artists: Black “Snails” shirts that have “#VOMITSQUAD” on the back and white images of snails on the sleeves, Japanese lettering and shuriken with “RONIN” on the back of the white Datsik shirts. Then there's all the sacred geometry printed over the black Damascus shirts. The few people who did wear color could be spotted from the back of the venue. Now considering this was a dubstep show and not a psytrance event, it's understandable why there was a lack of color and homemade outfits. But this wasn't the only difference I saw.

At rave in the U.S.—that is, not in Europe—it's common for people to show up with their “squad” and stay with them the whole show. Most of these younger ravers react to the music according to cultural relevance; when a DJ uses politically savvy visuals or pokes fun at modern topics. They jerk their bodies to the nasty vibrations and make stinky faces as their bodies wiggle to the bass-heavy drops.

Last Saturday night (Feb. 25) I went to A-Bun-Dance on Spring Street in Los Angeles and met many folks from Arizona since this event organizer hosts pre-parties for Gem and Jam Fest in Tucson. Here we had a unique blend of handmade outfits and jewelry sold by local merchants and often traded among attendees. The ideas that these crafts have become trendy, and various alterations are sold by many artists, it still comes from a relatively “underground” source instead of an established brand: sparkly hoods connected by a gold chain, or furry canes with crystal balls on top, and, of course, massive amounts of intricately wire-wrapped gems.

The people danced and reacted to each other much more like the European crowds; with grace and flow. Ultimately, I love both scenes (Euro and stateside) equally as they both warmly welcome outsiders and are eager to see each part of the scene grow. At all events I see both crowds intermingling regardless of the differences. We come together to create a community where ideas thrive and humanity as a trait survives. No shit.


*Zion Crosby is Bing Crosby's great-grandson, was raised by Jack Klugman, and Tucson is his new honorary home.

Spawning from the potent mixture of sperm and eggs deposited during the mid-’90s at Skrappy’s (an erstwhile downtown Tucson youth collective), “artists like Big Meridox, Jivin' Scientists, and James Ciphurphace were paving the way before I was even there,” says musician/writer/promoter Black One (aka Jaron Ikner) giving props and providing some history about the early days of Tucson’s hip-hop scene.

Black One performed─along with more than 100 acts, rappers, b-boys, emcees, DJs, producers, graffiti artists and educators─this past Saturday night as part of the Tucson Hip Hop Festival 2017, a massive and inclusive celebration founded in 2015 by organizer Pike Romero, presented this year by UA’s College of Humanities’ Africana Studies program and the Rialto Theatre.

“The Hip Hop scene [took off] at Vaudeville Cabaret, then moved to Club Congress, The District Tavern, and now it's at Mr. Head's every second Saturday,” says Black One, adding, “The scene has become much more community-based with more camaraderie and respect amongst artists. My night, Chronicles, was pretty vital. We did that for nine years and featured not only local [hip-hop] artists, but artists from across the country.”

As for the future of Arizona hip-hop, Black One says, “I think that we will always have great artists come out of the Tucson scene. We already have some of the best in the country and that will continue.”

This year’s jam packed Fest offered a full-blown representation of all aspects of hip-hop culture in the Old Pueblo. Here are but a few highlights from the main stage.

Street Blues Family
Delivered a sophisticated chilled-out set─influenced by neo-soul, jazz, and R&B—with melodic saxophone lines, textural keyboards and pristine Telecaster guitar riffs held together by an in-the-pocket rhythm section. Lead singer Reymon Murphy at one point explained to the crowd, “It’s about letting this bullshit go …”

Jaca Zulu
A Tucson transplant, by way of Sacramento, was on fire bouncing off of invisible stage walls—trench-coated!—delivering a slammin’ set thick with raw energy and fierce beats. (By the way, Jaca Zulu’s ’16 EP Signals is available on SoundCloud.)

Marley B
“How many of you enjoy weed in here?” Marley B asked the audience. “I need a smoke break.” “Smoke Break” is a song off his latest album. And smoke he did, in a wicked set joined on stage by Lando Chill, Johnny Redd, Jaca Zulu and Cash Lansky. Marley B is promoting his new album Grow.



Lando Chill
Wearing slender hips, jeans, Lando Chill confidently took the stage. It was effortless. His t-shirt posed timely questions:  “Am I Illegal?” on the front and “How Can You Tell?” on the back.

Shit, Lando Chill is, pretty much, blowing up, cult followings all over this country. And it stands to reason. He had the main stage at 191 Toole literally packed with a diverse audience—from wide-eyed children accompanied by parents to fawning tweens and head-nodding grownups. Chill’s latest, 2016's For Mark, Your Son sizzles.

Murs
Former member of L.A. rap crew Living Legends, which LA Weekly says is "one of the biggest success stories of the indie-rap movement, having sold 300,000 units ... all by them-damn-selves."

His name is an acronym that has had different meanings to the artist at different times: "Making the Universe Recognize and Submit" or "Making Underground Raw Shit,” are just two.

With a career that dates back to the mid 90s, and 22 albums to his credit, Murs hit the stage, in a hoodie, armed only with a laptop and a mic and, basically, as they say, killed it.

The Rhythm and Roots Concert Series is showcasing a variety of folk genres including Americana, blues, bluegrass and Celtic. The series, which gives musicians the space and resources to share their craft, is taking place this week at Hotel Congress with two free shows.

“‘Music is medicine’ is our motto,” says the series director Susan Holden. “Rhythm and Roots wants to bring—especially in this day and age—some healing with music.”

Monday night features a Mardi-Gras-themed party featuring the Carnivaleros. The band pulls from Eastern European sounds, with remnants of old western movies, as well as borrowing from genres like zydeco, waltz and swing. The event starts at 5:30 p.m., with the Carnivaleros on at 7:30.

Don Armstrong with Friends will play on Sunday from 6 to 8 p.m. A longtime, local folk musician, Armstrong spent 42 years performing with his wife Victoria Armstrong until her death in 2014. They recorded nine albums together, empathetic songs that could make you cry or want to hop in your car just to feel wind in your hair. His debut album comes out later this year on Ronstadt Records.

“When you hear his music, it kind of transports you to either where he was when he wrote it or what he was thinking,” Susan says. “He just has his own unique style, and you can hear sort of the history of folk music come through him.”

The concert series was founded in 1996 by Susan’s husband Jonathan Holden. Before his death in 2012, Jonathan brought some big-name folk and blues artists to the Southwest, including Richie Havens, Dave Van Ronk and New Riders of the Purple Sage. Holden was also known for his part in founding Tucson community-radio station KXCI.

A history lesson: By definition, Burlesque is a literary, dramatic or musical work meant to humor, and challenge by it’s ludicrous treatment of subject matter. The word derives from the Italian word burlesco, meaning a joke, ridicule or mockery, popularized during the Victorian era ... like any great art it was reactionary and had some sexual tension.

Said art form has grown from the ribald of Lysistrata to neo-burlesque—a subtype that allows the performer to use their bodies and costumes to deliver a political or social statement.

Today's burlesque has a wider arc. Encompassing a range of performance styles. From the Folies Bergeres and the Moulin Rouge, the classic tease of vedette Gypsy Rose Lee to the contemporary hussy-glam of Dita Von Teese, the latest in a line of great performers spanning centuries, and everything imaginable in between.

OK ...

And so it was, last Thursday night at the Rialto Theater when a conglomeration of revelers gathered to celebrate the 11th Anniversary of Black Cherry Burlesque, Tucson’s longest running burlesque show.

The “sometimes outrageous and always entertaining” host, drag queen Natalia Flores, prepped the enthusiastic audience by leading them in a call and response—“Shit, Goddamn …” —at various points throughout the show, providing numerous moments of unadulterated comedic repartee, before welcoming to the stage, one-by-one, the evening’s performers: Molly Teasely, Ms. Midnight, The Big Bang McGillicuddy, Kitty Catatonic, Fiametta Mink, Kitten Minx La Femme, Scarlotta Sparkle, Bunny Boom Boom and Lola Torch. 

Moments of elegance and beauty—when a graceful dancer glided upon the resplendently lit stage costumed with the incandescent wings of an angel—were tempered with those of hilarity. As when a vivacious performer finished her act by igniting her twirling pasties, Flores quipped, “Shit, this bitch just set her titties on fire,” adding, while twisting a lock of curly hair around her fingers, “There is so much hairspray in this shit...poof!”

Black Cherry started as a troupe run by Inga Kaboom and Stephka Von Snatch after Kaboom saw a traveling burlesque show and was inspired to create a show based here in Tucson. The burgeoning troupe performed almost exclusively at The Surly Wench (on Tucson's 4th Avenue), but has evolved a lot over the years. Torch (née, Emilie Marchand), Black Cherry Burlesque’s producer/president, says, “We currently operate as a production company [and] strive to offer a platform for burlesque artists of all types and backgrounds to express themselves without censorship. We encourage people to tell a story using this art form .. to really connect with the audience in a unique way.”

With a background in music, theater and modern/interpretive dance, Torch adds, “I'm very influenced by Weimar era cabaret and old movies featuring Marlene Dietrich. That's what motivated me when I first started burlesque. But my influences outside of that are varied. Everything from Bob Fosse to PJ Harvey. I love old movies and musicals, punk rock, ballet … Honestly, I'm influenced by anything that really moves me and that comes from so many places.”

Over the years, Black Cherry Burlesque has shared the stage with local musicians and DJ's and burlesque performers of note: Satan's Angel, La Cholita, Miss Astrid, Scotty The Blue Bunny.

As for the future, “We currently only perform at The Rialto and 191 Toole but we'd like to travel more,” Torch says.

Black Cherry Burlesque lit the stage with dazzling artistry, sultry acts, slamming music and moments of social consciousness, and provided the audience with an unforgettable party to commemorate the occasion.

“An all around great time!” Torch says. But of course.

Spend the night of Saturday, Feb. 25 from 6-9 p.m. helping the sweet companions at Pima Animal Care Center find their forever homes and getting crafty at the same time. Win-win.

An art class sponsored by Tipsy Picassos will teach you how to paint this "Starry Night Dog" masterpiece for $35. All art supplies are included in that price, and food and drink will be available for purchase at the event. Pima Animal Care Center receives $10 of every purchase.
You can purchase your tickets here: https://www.paypal.me/tipsypicassos/35, and make sure you write you're planning to attend "Starry Night Dog" in the notes.

What could be more fun and rewarding than helping the pups at PACC who are as adorable as the one you'll be painting? Maybe only adopting a new best friend, too.

Arizona Theatre Company almost defaulted on its 50th anniversary season, and from what we've seen so far, that would have been a gigantic loss. This season their shows have represented a global reach of place and history and sensibility (and with An Act of God, even a universal reach.)

Their most recent offering, La Esquinita, USA, by Rubén C. González, fits right into this theme and sense, and offers an unusual sort of piece for ATC. It features in both subject and style what perhaps a large share of us are familiar with, but lack experience of, in an up close and personal way.
And this is personal. That's part of the reason the show is so successful.

Comprised of many characters, all played by González, the show gives us an intimate look at the destruction felt by the mostly black and brown denizens of a once-thriving community, in physical ruins after the tire factory, the area's source of economic stability, relocated out of the country, leaving workers, friends and neighbors, most of whom restricted in their choices, in ruins as well.

We meet a narrator, Lencho, who helps direct us in our visit to the bus stop 40A Red Line and beyond. (La Esquinita translates to "little corner.") The story is mostly represented by the high school student Daniel, a very messed up homie who tries to cope with his current life by using crystal meth and dreaming of when he can join the military. Although he has seen three brothers killed when they served, this is his greatest source of hope. As the play's moments unfold, he is crashing from his high, has no money to pay his lurking supplier and struggles with making sense of anything. Other characters appear, each quite different from the others, each bringing a slice of their individual story to the larger one. The progression of characters is not merely a linear one, but a weaving together of the various personalities resulting in an intriguing and powerful impression.

González the actor transforms from one to another with seeming ease. Sometimes it may take a moment for us to catch up with who's who, or not comprehend an accent or Spanish phrases, but it's not really a problem. The result is a mesmerizing, kaleidoscopic and penetrating moment.

González was inspired to develop the piece after he worked for a while as a substitute teacher in a Los Angeles. He experienced a sense of helplessness, he reveals in his writer's notes, but knew there was a story he needed to tell. Part of the power of this piece is the compassion revealed, not only González' heartfelt energy with which he creates and shares his characters, but also within himself. For this is certainly himself revealed, not in the sense of "look at me," but in his desire to distill the humanness of these characters with full heart and land them safely, and with hope, in our hearts.

If, while you are attending the theater, you hear boos and hisses and drum ba-da-bings indicating groaner jokes, you are probably at the Gaslight Theatre, purveyor of silliness, song and—well, more silliness. For nearly 40 years, the Gaslight has been providing fun live entertainment suitable for you, your children and your grand-pa's-and-ma's in an unapologetic campy way. Those seeking high art and sophistication should go elsewhere.

Running now is Two Amigos, a transmogrified version of a 1986 movie, Three Amigos. Here, two friends (didn't see that coming, did you?) come to town where there's a bully rich man, Comandante Maximo (Todd Thompson), who is interested in taking more than he already has and threatens those who might have a seriously well-honed ethical streak. I can't even remember specifically why these amigos (Jake Chapman and Mike Yarema) were needed. Wait—oh yeah, Maximo is challenging the current good-guy leadership, Enrique Bautista (Jacob Brown.) Of course, there are also some women (played by Janee Page, Heather Stricker and Erin Thompson) involved on both sides of the issue. The plot always features the good guys vs. the bad guys, and, yes, it's the guys, not the gals, that get the most attention in Peter Van Slyke's script.

Besides bringing us very good actor/singers, the Gaslight also feature terrifically conceived and  executed low-tech devices (like escaping on galloping horses that—oh, really, you pretty much have to see to appreciate) and familiar tunes that have also gone through some happy modification. Then musical director Linda Ackermann waves her magic hands over the keyboards and with help from a bassist and drummer coalesces with the actors for some really fine singing and a dance step or two as they convey their Good vs. Evil story. And all this while you are able to eat pizza and munch on free popcorn to your heart's desire.

The Gaslight features a company of regulars who have this stuff down and make it look easy. But that doesn't mean it is. Not only do they do the headline show, but they always have a themed olio, or variety show, which actually gives you an even better idea of the talent and skill of these performers. So don't get up and make for the exit after the Two Amigos clean up the town and save the day. In this show after the show, the "Country Barn Dance," some of our favorite country singers make an appearance (channeled through the cast, of course.)