Arts Orbit's blog

Editor's note: This e-mail to Sheila Regan is published, in the interest of fostering dialogue, with permission from both its author and its recipient.

Hey Sheila,

It was great to finally meet in person at the opening of Charley’s Aunt. I just wanted to drop you a quick note in regard to your review.MORE »

This e-mail to Daily Planet arts editor Jay Gabler is published with the permission of its author, who is director of operations at Ticket King Minnesota, a ticket brokerage based in Minneapolis.

I felt the need to follow up with you on your article relating to the secondary ticket market. While we remained neutral on the paperless ticketing bill that was in the legislature last session, it is necessary to point out the blatant inaccuracies of your article in relation to this industry.MORE »

June 19th at Minneapolis's Orpheum Theatre, Deep Purple headlined a night on which one could've and should've, as the quip goes, had a V-8.

Original drummer Ian Paice with early members bass guitarist Roger Glover and storied lead singer Ian Gillan are on tour, enlisting Steve Morse (guitar) and Don Airey (keyboards), backed by conducted string and horn sections, performed a two-hour set. All of which amounted to much ado about mediocrity.

Rock dinosaurs Deep Purple, even in their heyday, weren't much to write home about, cashing in on the coattails of metal forebears Led Zeppelin. They didn't have the material. It's telling that Ian Gillan did some of his best work on the original recording of Jesus Christ Superstar. Today, Deep Purple ineffectually revisit a bygone era. The overblown show had Glover and Morse going through tandem, clichéd motions, expending more energy on occupying the spotlight than on making music. Gillan walked through the set. At his most animated, he literally strolled, perfunctory vocals crapping out on the high notes. Airey, given a world of leeway, mired down song after song with intros and interludes that went nowhere and took their sweet time about not getting there.MORE »

If you think that Israelis and Palestinians—sometimes referred to as "the most divided people on earth"—will never resolve their differences, you need to see the inspirational documentary Budrus, playing now at the Lagoon Cinema in Uptown.MORE »

You can't keep a good man down—or, it appears, veteran humorist K Jay, who is hellbent on expanding Twin Cities comedy. I give it to him for just plain stubborness if nothing else.MORE »

Done basking in the glow of having got back to gigging. And am reasonably assured that there's no expiration date on having chops. Recalling what Jackson Browne sang, "It ain't bad work if you can get it, but you gotta make it stick." Truer words was never spoke.MORE »

Hell's Kitchen went well. It would've went a whole lot weller had the guitar player, my man Mark Dorshak, not come down with a case of day job. But, nobody in the crowd winced or cringed. Or threw rotten fruits and vegetables. A special plus: Jazzy J of Twin Cities Radio dropped in and brought Patti Horan-Liljegren of Rock Capital Radio along with him.MORE »

Mark Dorshak, my guitarist and producer who whom I'm finally finishing the Angels Don't Really Fly EP, came down with a case of day job and can't play Hell's Kitchen. Damn. His solos would've greatly helped on the 3-hour gig. Instead, I've got to add a half dozen songs or so. In seven days. Oh, joy. I do, however, split the money one way.MORE »

How many guitarists does it take to screw in a light bulb? 100. One to screw in the bulb and 99 to say, "I can do it better." Old Chinese proverb? Nope. A quip from my performing partner (and guitarist) Mark Dorshak. We're at his home studio, rehearsing when he lays that one on me and leaves the both of us laughing like a couple of hyenas. We're getting ready for our second gig at Corner Coffee over in the Minneapolis Warehouse District.MORE »

Mark Dorshak, who's at the moment jawing with me on the phone, is a fine guitarist and a sharp, solid producer. A prince of a guy, too. Me and him, though, can on occasion drive one another up a tree. This happens to be such an occasion—two weeks before our first gig together, with me singing and backing myself up on acoustic rhythm guitar. Never mind the particulars of how we are making each other crazy this time. Show me a partnership—even the best of 'em—and you'll see problems. It's just a matter of how they're dealt with. Today, getting off the phone, I deal with it by pulling out some of what little bit of hair I have left, asking myself: Self, you sure this is how Richie Havens got famous?MORE »