· Capogiro Gelato Quietly Begins Conquest Of The Other Five Boroughs
· Crossing Vineyards Lands In Philly, Hires Wine Psycho (AKA Collin Flatt) To Educate
· Speaking of Collin gets his nacho libre on at Distrito
· Department Of Things That Won’t Go Away: The Seat Saver!
· And a quick rundown on absinthe in Philly All this and more — plus the Phoodie Restaurant Guide and Phoodie Event Calendar on Phoodie.info, the new food and drink blog from Philebrity.
Howdy, stranger! If someone has sent you this link, you are the proud beneficiary of a Philebrity You-Send-Em®. Someone in your life has something to say to you, but doesn’t quite have the courage or time to do it. That’s where Philebrity.com comes in — we have to say totally messed-up shit to/about people every day! And we like helping out! So read the message above, and try to hear what this person is saying to you. They’re probably right. And if YOU’ve got something you wanna say to somebody, and feel that the sentiment is somehow universal, drop us a line at tips[at]philebrity[dot]com with “YOU-SEND-EM” in the subject header. If we feel you, dawg, we’ll whip one up for you!
We meant to mention this yesterday, when the movie opened, but we saw Pineapple Express on Monday night at one of those freebie screenings and, not to put too fine a point on it, IT RULED. It’s been forever since we’ve seen a Pulp Fiction-esque movie like this where there’s comedy, action and violence all rolled up together, LIKE A BIG FAT DOOB, and smoked as one. James Franco is actually really, really great in a comic role, which never would have occurred to us otherwise, Seth Rogen is basically the same Seth Rogen character he is in all of the other Seth Rogen movies, and the plot is hazy and weird and all this points to, really, is that this is one of those movies where the sum is greater than its parts. And coupled with The Wackness, which we also loved in that stoned-out 90s nostalgia kind of way, you have a great day at the movies and at least a temporary cure for your Late Summer Megabummer. Don’t even act like you’re not on one. As a public service to all of you who are out there suffering, here are the complete listings for everywhere in the city where Pineapple Express is playing today. · The Bridge: 12:00, 2:30, 5:00, 7:30, 10:10 · The Pearl Theater: 12:00, 2:20, 4:50, 7:20, 10:15 · UA Riverview: 11:35, 12:45, 1:15, 2:10, 3:20, 4:00, 4:50, 5:55, 6:50, 7:35, 8:30, 9:30, 10:15, 11:10
You’re welcome. Now help me light this crossjoint.
As the world’s pre-eminent scholar (and leading dispenser of free tickets) of Making Time, I, Captain Freeshit, feel like I am in a unique position. A quick search on this site reveals that that the past, present, and yay, the future of this noted and notable party all reside on the handy URL you now visit. And it’s the future of Making Time that’s on my mind today. Recently, we’ve noted that Making Time (and danserock, the genre it helped kickstart) as it currently exists simply cannot go on. The bands all suck, it’s getting a little tooooooo close to Hot Topic emo for comfort, and as for the DJ sets, well, here’s the thing: Even when you’re spinning (or dancing to) techno ironically or in quotation marks, well, that’s still techno and you’re only just a few steps away from sucking on a pacifier and wearing big pants and raving like it’s 1999, Philadelphia. My point: New ideas must, and will, prevail. We don’t know what they are, and even though they haven’t yet, you can feel the seismic shift in this week’s lineup alone, as it seems to gather much of what is still good about the curious microgenre of music that Making Time has articulated so well: Soulwax Nite Versions/2Many DJs, The Juan Maclean, Erol Alkan, and the rest of the homebrew crew, all of which begins with a screening of the Soulwax movie, Part Of The Weekend Never Dies, at 7pm at the Arts Bank. It’s like the last stand at the Ponderosa. And you can be there on the night they drove old danserock down. We want you to be there, for all of it — the movie and the party. All of that reality television is leaving you with precious little to tell your kids about. Think about it. To enter, send an email to ihopeiwin[at]philebrity[dot]com with “PART OF THE WEEKEND NEVER DIES” in the subject header. We’ll pick winners tomorrow morning, and you can finally retire your Elf Pants. Because this, brothers and sisters, is change we can believe in.
Look at these two. Don’t they look they should be friends? Well, starting tonight, they will, whether they like it or not. The Obama Campaign just announced its “Campaign For Change” series of statewide grand openings for local campaign offices tonight, and guess what? Tonight, the Dude is the guest of honor/speaker at the Obama campaign office at 1500 Sansom Street, Suite 400 from 6 to 8pm. Good for you, Dude! We’ve been wondering since forever when you were gonna lay down your weary dickhurt tune about Chaka Fattah snaking that Obama endorsement during the mayoral campaign (seriously, Barry, that was sooooo ill-advised), and finally, TODAY IS THE DAY! Meanwhile, Fattah is out at 210 West Chelton Avenue, pondering the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. We’re kind of liking this already. Full list of locations, etc. after the jump.
It would have been hard to grow up listening to rock radio in Philadelphia in the 1980s without hearing Robert Hazard’s searing new wave on regular rotation. After a 1981 Rolling Stone article proclaimed Philly native Hazard the next big thing, his self-titled EP became a local FM staple, as well as a harbinger for the era of Hooters and big hair. However, Hazard possessed a timeless, debonair cool, somewhere between Bryan Ferry and some French New Wave actor. On Tuesday, Philly lost a local legend, as Hazard died at age 59 after surgery for pancreatic cancer at Massachusetts General Hospital in Boston. After the jump, DJ/scene historian Robert Drake reflects on Hazard’s times, and we share some of the tracks from that 1982 EP that left such an indelible mark.(more…)
Even before Simon & Garfunkel wondered, “Is the thea-ter really dead?” in that song “The Dangling Conversation,” people have been wondering, you know, if the theater really was dead. If it is, its corpse keeps really active, not just by pumping out one new production after another in Philly annually, but also making you feel really guilty each year when the Barrymore Awards come out and you, you Philistine, only recognize two or three names on the list. If that’s the yardstick we’re judging the Barrymore noms on this year, we’re doing pretty good: Jeb Kreager and Mr. Marmalade — literally the only play we wrote about last year — score a few noms, as do Pig Iron Theater stalwarts Dito von Reigersberg and James Sugg. But on the other hand, the Walnut Street Theater’s production of Les Miserables cleaned up in the noms, and even without the benefit of having seen it, it still feels counterproductive that a play that has seriously been around the block in Philly so, so many times should be propped up against people who we know are doing new and exciting stuff. There’s also the matter of the unweildy award title sponsorships, such as the “Garfield Refining Company Award for Outstanding Leading Actor in a Musical” and “Excellence in Theatre Education and Community Service Award Prize, sponsored by the Virginia and Harvey Kimmel Arts Education Fund.” Really, big time sponsors? Is that how it is? It’s not noble enough to just be a patron of the arts anymore? Sigh. Anyway, big ups also go to 1812 Productions for that latter category and to the Arden Theater, for what we hear was a really amazing and inventive new production of Our Town, and hey, guess what, we actually recognize a whole bunch of names here! F those snarkmeisters Simon & Garfunkel. Seriously. TheatreAlliance: Strange Bedfellows, The Musical!
Allstate says we’re #1 when it comes to reckless driving, but we’re probably even worse when it comes to walking. Sidewalks aren’t even all that crowded, yet every day as I walk to and from work, at lunch, at night, etc, man oh man: some serious perfidious perambulation!
I’m hoping you can maybe devote some space to increasing awareness about the following pedestrian unpleasantnesses. Please do what you can to keep clueless walkers from inciting serious sidewalk rage . . .
Well, right on. We got a live one here, but read on, people, for this man speaketh the truth. After the jump, the rest of his letter and how YOU can be a part of the SOLUTION! (more…)
Going through some old photos this afternoon, we discovered this picture of Larry Mendte and Philebrity boss lady Ruth Carpenter in a much, much simpler time. Sigh.
Remember last week’s Philadelphia Weekly article about how awesome Southwest Philly is becoming? In all fairness, writer Tara Nurin’s piece did report on some good things that are happening in a rough, rough part of town, but her headline and subhed positioned the article as something it wasn’t quite. So of course, comments actually kind of flourished.
Anybody involved in media knows (or should know) that online discussions and comments forums are ultimately governed by entropy (see that article on internet trolls we told you about on Monday). Also, these media folks are aware (or should be) of the difficulties surrounding healthy online debate, and in particular, the idiocy of editing or deleting comments from these forums, because on the Internet, nothing ever dies. Anyway, it’s come to our attention that the Weekly deleted over 20 comments from the first three days after the article went up on their website. Hint: You can always moderate your comments in productive way, so that you don’t get embarrassed by having other people report on them. After the jump, we give you the deleted comments, featuring a crack house endorsement, vigorous racial debate, a bad joke, and more… (more…)
Full disclosure: When our pal Gabe Boylan asked us for input on the “Philly, Rock City” feature that’s in the most current issue of SPIN (yes, they still make that magazine), we have to admit, we had to pause for a few moments. Why? The shitty/true way of saying it would be “All the awesome shit happened in 2004 and 2005.” The nicer, more hopeful way of saying it would be, “Well, you know, Gabe, it is the nature of all creative communities that there is an ebb and flow to the collective quality of that scene’s artistic output; and though the classes of ‘04/’05 seemed to articulate and maybe even predict a city of the verge of major arts and culture breakthroughs, that only really happens every few years, even if you’re lucky.” Still, though, a bunch of our faves made it in there: Meg Baird, The Tough Shits, Kenneth Masters, Kurt Vile, and even some place called National Mechanics that we don’t really know much about. After the jump, take a gander, and maybe tell us in the comments who in your current Philly music lexicon is making this midpoint feel not so midpointy. (more…)
>>> Hey, like this year’s DHS disaster? Well, it’s easy to forget in all the hoopla that this has actually been going on since ‘06. Here, the Inky compiles all those who’ve been fired in the wake of Danieal Kelly. [Inky]
>>> Like a little Cheaters with your Bumfights? Finally, you — and only you — are in luck. [DN]
>>> And finally, Philadelphia, here is your tired, near-deathWYSP. Do with it what you will. [PhillyGossip]
It was like, we knew things were tough over at Philadelphia Weekly and all, but we were also like, don’t you have your own blog already, dude? Turns out, it was all a big mistake. Everybody, this is Nick G. Not to be confused with that other guy.
Oh jeez, remember this? We first met über-bro Tucker Max (pictured, um, with “you”) back in The Great Blueberry Wars of 2006, when local promoter/publicist/blueberry heir/Rittenhouse ubiquitron Anthony DiMeo III seemingly went on a rampage and threatened to sue anyone who ever said anything kind of dicky about him on the Internet. (There was a lot of us.) At the time, we were unfamilar with Max’s ouvre, and when he contacted us to co-conspire/commiserate about DiMeo, it was one of those situations where saying you don’t like one person immediately puts you in the company and high esteem of people you like even less. After a judge ultimately dismissed DiMeo’s case, citing it as “frivolous” to take people who talk shit about you on a messageboard to court, we pretty much forgot about Tucker Max altogether. That was until Gawker started running excerpts from the script to Max’s forthcoming film adaptation of his book of the same name, I Hope They Serve Beer In Hell. And with the benefit of two years’ worth of perspective, it began to hit us: Maybe we owe yon Ant-ny an apology. Before you roll your eyes so hard and so fast that they begin to make hollow wooden sounds in your head, grant us the benefit of some comparisons.
Whereas DiMeo seemed to merely suffer from an outsize ego that comes with privelege, the bulk of Max’s humor seems to suffer from an outsize egotism that stems from his great pride in being white and male, which would be gross enough even if it weren’t completely out of date. While DiMeo certainly seemed to build himself up for the ladies, Max uses women primarily to make himself feel better by debasing them for yuks from from his “bros,” which is usually the first big sign that someone really, really likes cock but for whatever reasons, cannot be man enough to admit that to themselves. And whereas DiMeo got press in these pages and others just for being kind of cheesy, Max is actually borderline sociopathic, a kind of Patrick Bateman from American Psycho without the taste or, truth be told, balls.
Tucker Max is everything we were born to hate. We’re sorry, Anthony. Can you ever forgive us? Gawker: This Is What Preston And Steve Would Be Like If They Read A Book
It’s been said all the way back since the advent of television that radio — good old fashioned terrestrial radio, not satellite or Internet — is in its final death rattle. If that’s true, it’s been an unbearably long, gruesome and cruel death… and it’s still going on! Or could it be that radio plays to all of our better media instincts, absorbing personalities, demographics, and the best and worst traits of either, and therfore could survive infinitely? We don’t have the answer to that, but this summer, Philebrity intern Dan Pierson will be listening to a different Philly-area station for a full hour once a week, blogging what he finds, and then publishing those findings here. After the jump, Dan confronts the current king of Modern Rock, WMMR 93.3FM and its Clown Prince, Pierre Robert.(more…)
The Florida Marlins remind us a bit of the Philadelphia Athletics, what with the World Series victories, shockingly poor attendance, and deliberate team dismantling. But perhaps unlike the Athletics players, the Marlins have been looking forward to coming to town (and not just because of the hurting they put on the Phils last night). A middling Marlins player tells the Palm Beach Post about his attendance envy:
Most other teams “get to play in front of those crowds daily, but whenever we go in there it’s like Christmas almost,” OF Cody Ross said.
Christmas? Well, with a .125 career average against Jamie Moyer, Cody can pretend the cheers after his Ks are the fans of Philadelphia trying to keep his chin up. Go Phillies! Palm Beach Post: We’re New To This Beat
Philebrity is a cityblog covering the arts, gossip and media in Philadelphia. We've been here since October 2004, and we'll be here long after you move back to New York. Got a tip? Send it to tips[at]philebrity.com.
NOTICE:Interns wanted.
· Capogiro Gelato Quietly Begins Conquest Of The Other Five Boroughs
As the world’s pre-eminent scholar (and leading dispenser of free tickets) of 
Look at these two. Don’t they look they should be friends? Well, starting tonight, they will, whether they like it or not. The Obama Campaign just announced its “Campaign For Change” series of statewide grand openings for local campaign offices tonight, and guess what? Tonight, the Dude is the guest of honor/speaker at the Obama campaign office at 1500 Sansom Street, Suite 400 from 6 to 8pm. Good for you, Dude! We’ve been wondering since forever when you were gonna lay down your weary dickhurt tune about Chaka Fattah snaking that Obama endorsement during the mayoral campaign (seriously, Barry, that was sooooo ill-advised), and finally, TODAY IS THE DAY! Meanwhile, Fattah is out at 210 West Chelton Avenue, pondering the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. We’re kind of liking this already. Full list of locations, etc. after the jump. 
It would have been hard to grow up listening to rock radio in Philadelphia in the 1980s without hearing 
Even before Simon & Garfunkel wondered, “Is the thea-ter really dead?” in that song 
Remember last week’s 
Full disclosure: When our pal Gabe Boylan asked us for input on the “Philly, Rock City” feature that’s in the most current issue of SPIN (yes, they still make that magazine), we have to admit, we had to pause for a few moments. Why? The shitty/true way of saying it would be “All the awesome shit happened in 2004 and 2005.” The nicer, more hopeful way of saying it would be, “Well, you know, Gabe, it is the nature of all creative communities that there is an ebb and flow to the collective quality of that scene’s artistic output; and though the classes of ‘04/’05 seemed to articulate and maybe even predict a city of the verge of major arts and culture breakthroughs, that only really happens every few years, even if you’re lucky.” Still, though, a bunch of our faves made it in there: Meg Baird, The Tough Shits, Kenneth Masters, Kurt Vile, and even some place called National Mechanics that we don’t really know much about. After the jump, take a gander, and maybe tell us in the comments who in your current Philly music lexicon is making this midpoint feel not so midpointy. 
>>> Hey, like this year’s DHS disaster? Well, it’s easy to forget in all the hoopla that this has actually been going on since ‘06. 
Oh jeez, remember 
It’s been said all the way back since the advent of television that radio — good old fashioned terrestrial radio, not satellite or Internet — is in its final death rattle. If that’s true, it’s been an unbearably long, gruesome and cruel death… and it’s still going on! Or could it be that radio plays to all of our better media instincts, absorbing personalities, demographics, and the best and worst traits of either, and therfore could survive infinitely? We don’t have the answer to that, but this summer, Philebrity intern Dan Pierson will be listening to a different Philly-area station for a full hour once a week, blogging what he finds, and then publishing those findings here. After the jump, Dan confronts the current king of Modern Rock, WMMR 93.3FM and its Clown Prince, Pierre Robert. 
The 
