January 22, 2003

EVERYONE'S DOING IT for the kids, and everyone's rap sheet seems to be getting that much longer these days. Gary Glitter, a.k.a. Paul Gadd, was hunted by cops and ejected from Cambodia this month after being convicted in Britain years ago of downloading child pornography. Oh, we all had a good guffaw about that: the man had maybe one good song in him, a ludicrous coif – on his head and chest – and a very sleazy aura. But the groans were audible when we heard Pete Townshend was arrested on suspicion of possessing indecent images of children, then released, without being charged.

Later, Townshend vehemently denied being a pedophile and issued a statement saying he used a credit card to enter and view a child porn Web site to do research for an autobiography that will include his own suspected childhood sexual abuse at the hands of a family friend.

Yeah, we all remember Uncle Ernie and "Fiddle About" in Tommy. Our moans of dismay were a little like those when we heard about John Entwistle's autopsy results. We were just a bit disappointed. Townshend isn't dead, but it's a crying shame when you think about his honesty regarding his sexuality and his support of young people through his music. And why are we so willing to crucify someone like Glitter in the court of public opinion – feeling better about ourselves since he's been found guilty – yet so eager to cut Townshend much slack? Maybe more rides on our perception of his integrity. (Though, I guess now more than ever we all probably hope we die before we get old – or at least before our potential transgressions catch up with us.) It's bittersweet to read his recent online diaries and find him discussing collaborating on "pieces" with Roger Daltry again. "I hesitate to say 'songs' in case people think I have ceased to be pretentious...," he writes. "I believe it is a tough time to write new music. Even younger musicians I speak to feel burdened by what has gone before."

I'm finding hope in the fact that people have so much to write about, sing about, and get out about, particularly last Thursday, just another not-so-average weekday in the Bay Area, with three intriguing shows happening simultaneously. Amy Linton of the Aislers Set and the Quails lent their support to Erase Errata side projects at the Hemlock Tavern. On the other side of town, at the Bottom of the Hill, Erase Errata's Troubleman Unlimited labelmates the Rogers Sisters fell to their knees, flung themselves around, and ripped out the no wave before Tussle took the stage for some mesmerizing, dubby dual-drums space jams. Across the street at Thee Parkside, Japanese-New Yorker costumed punkers Peelander Z posed and pulled faces amid AC/DC-ish power chords. Dedicating a song to a former paramour, guitarist Peelander Yellow, decked out in plastic M&M garb, was moved to announce, "My old girlfriend was sooo ugly. She was sooo fat. But she was so sexy ... to my butthole." Fewer than 50 people were there to absorb all of the magic.

Yo tengo signage

Ah, how would we amuse ourselves without Missed Connections? Last week on Craigslist's M.C., the topic was none other than a sign on the wall at Mission District night spot 26 Mix. The controversy surrounded a sign posted at the bar that reads, "No drugs or arms in this establishment," in Spanish only.

After a series of e-mails between a poster ("The point is, why isn't the sign in English as well? There are plenty of white English-speaking only dealers in the Mission.") and "Jake Gittes," obviously named after the protagonist of Roman Polanski's Chinatown ("You go girl and stand up for all those white English-speaking only dealers that are underrepresented in the Mission. Maybe a class action suit is in order."), a flurry of responses ensued and were later deleted, including kinda fond recollections of 26 Mix's gritty past and pleas for a change in signage.

Posting on the board and then speaking on the phone later in the week, 26 Mix owner Gary Huckaby clarified the situation, saying the offending sign was already in place when he bought the bar – in addition to a No Smoking sign in Vietnamese and a trap door and "trick room" behind the bar. He assumed the "no drugs, no arms" sign was there for a legal reason, and the old one wasn't in good shape, so he reprinted and reposted it. Now he's contemplating duplicating the sign in as many languages as he can.

"I would love to unleash a torrent of profanity to the person who originally posted the anonymous message on Craig's List," he e-mailed later. "Fuck the person that posted that and the horse they rode in on too for implying that I or my establishment is racist without having ever met me, my friends or my co-workers."

But, but, but ...

Ever wonder what the Soft Pink Truth really looks like? Find out for yourself: Matmos's Martin Schmidt and Drew Daniel are nude as the news in the latest, Autumn 2002 issue of Butt zine, the Netherlands-based self-described "international faggot magazine for interesting homosexuals and the men who love them." The pair talk about their porno, and specifically fisting, film soundtracks. Score, dude.

Another publication, another country: Japanese magazine Dish recently served up a photo spread of the happening Multi Media Art Collective, of Jimi Hendrix art space fame, Paul Allen and Hayyim Sanchez of NAM, Scott Campbell of Sounds of the Barbary Coast, and Greg Mortantz and Ken Sogabe of Fallout DJ nights at Doctor Bombay's. The story spun off an MMAC show in Tokyo last year, presented by Japanese art group Eyesaw. Eyesaw friends who work at Dish got so excited about the group's work and community that they returned the visit and captured MMAC and their crew cruising and having fun, according to Campbell, who, along with Allen, is also in MMAC.

Something Wilco this way comes: Following up a Jan. 12 show at the Great American Music Hall, the Yankee fox-trotters drew the tech, science, design, and media crowds to the Clift Hotel and then to Ruby Skye, performing at Wired magazine's fourth annual Rave Awards Jan. 13. Jokes were made about "partying like it's 1999," appropriate for the vintage late-'90s name of the awards itself. Is it a coincidence that Wilco showed up, performed, and won an award? Not. "We won over Eminem," Wilco's Jeff Tweedy announced onstage, tongue wedged in cheek. "Sure, he can win when we're not nominated, but when he comes head-to-head with us, we'll win." I'm the only person I know who feels kindly toward Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, but now ... who likes a sore winner?