Surfing a wave of positive press heralding Yankee Hotel Foxtrot as album of the year, Wilco made its South Florida debut during a fortuitous moment in its history. At this sold-out performance -- the same week the band's documentary film I Am Trying to Break Your Heart opened in area movie theaters -- a very ripped Wilco flexed strong creative muscles. Mid-concert, sensing the 750 seated souls had melted into their seats, leader Jeff Tweedy invited the crowd to its feet, announcing, "You guys can stand up, you know -- this isn't the Wilco movie!" With the gap between audience and performer bridged for good, Tweedy and company rode the songs from Summerteeth, Being There, and YHF atop monstrous, "A Day in the Life"-styled crescendos amid a sound mix so pristine that instruments could be heard bouncing from speaker to speaker in stereophonic acrobatics. Talk about catching a band at the top of its game -- this night, Wilco blasted 'em out of the park with every pitch.
Though this year was Langerado's inaugural, the local jam fest got off to a good start, drawing a crowd of more than 3,500 noodle-dancing souls. Those die-hard fans who braved the whole concert were rewarded with performances by luminaries of the festival set such as moe.; Medeski, Martin, and Wood; and G. Love and Special Sauce as well as standout sets by local performers like Jerrods Door and Hashbrown. If you missed out on all the fun or if you simply salivate at the idea of doing it again, fear not -- plans are already underway for the second-annual Langerado. And while it's still too early to tell which bands will make an appearance, we can rest assured that, with such auspicious beginnings, Langerado may linger for years to come.
Though this year was Langerado's inaugural, the local jam fest got off to a good start, drawing a crowd of more than 3,500 noodle-dancing souls. Those die-hard fans who braved the whole concert were rewarded with performances by luminaries of the festival set such as moe.; Medeski, Martin, and Wood; and G. Love and Special Sauce as well as standout sets by local performers like Jerrods Door and Hashbrown. If you missed out on all the fun or if you simply salivate at the idea of doing it again, fear not -- plans are already underway for the second-annual Langerado. And while it's still too early to tell which bands will make an appearance, we can rest assured that, with such auspicious beginnings, Langerado may linger for years to come.
South Florida radio sucks. We'll say it again -- the radio down here flat-out sucksssssss. It's so completely worthless, so dominated by industry whores, payola, corporate streamlining, unfettered monopolization, dumb DJs, and strictly limited playlists that hardly anyone bothers to listen to it anymore. The best bet on the LCD dial remains the underground pirate stations that are still lashed to their own narrow MOs, naturally, but have so much more to offer in terms of local flavor and personality. The illegal reggae station 90.9 remains high on our list, but the regional roundup of radio outlaws changes as often as the weather. Lock it!
South Florida radio sucks. We'll say it again -- the radio down here flat-out sucksssssss. It's so completely worthless, so dominated by industry whores, payola, corporate streamlining, unfettered monopolization, dumb DJs, and strictly limited playlists that hardly anyone bothers to listen to it anymore. The best bet on the LCD dial remains the underground pirate stations that are still lashed to their own narrow MOs, naturally, but have so much more to offer in terms of local flavor and personality. The illegal reggae station 90.9 remains high on our list, but the regional roundup of radio outlaws changes as often as the weather. Lock it!
Earlier this year, weekend DJs at WKPX-FM (88.5) were shut down for good, replaced by soulless tapes set on repeat. Except, however, "Sunday Blues with Dar." From 10 a.m. to 1 p.m. on Sundays, blues aficionados can still get their fix, courtesy of Darlene McCauley. When DJs were told they either had to get enough sponsorship cash to justify their existence or else hit the road, Dar somehow pulled it off when everyone else went the way of the dinosaurs. Dedicated listeners come naturally when one's radio show happens to be the only outlet in the area for traditional blues. Keep wailin', Dar!
Earlier this year, weekend DJs at WKPX-FM (88.5) were shut down for good, replaced by soulless tapes set on repeat. Except, however, "Sunday Blues with Dar." From 10 a.m. to 1 p.m. on Sundays, blues aficionados can still get their fix, courtesy of Darlene McCauley. When DJs were told they either had to get enough sponsorship cash to justify their existence or else hit the road, Dar somehow pulled it off when everyone else went the way of the dinosaurs. Dedicated listeners come naturally when one's radio show happens to be the only outlet in the area for traditional blues. Keep wailin', Dar!
Last year, Sally Ordile was like many a South Floridian, a transplant from the north, in her case from New York City to Boynton Beach. She had been practicing art a scant half a dozen years, and then something remarkable happened: At age 62, she was discovered. Palm Beach Institute of Contemporary Art's director, Michael Rush, and PBICA Assistant Curator Jody Servon included the budding artist in their flashy "Sculpture Now" show, which reasserted the relevance of contemporary sculpture. Ordile was the only South Florida-based artist represented in the show, a detail especially notable given her choice of medium. Although Ordile also produces prints and encaustic, her most powerful work takes advantage of things most South Florida homeowners consider an annoyance: those bulky stalks and husks that peel off from the larger varieties of palms, littering lawns and streets and occasionally inflicting damage on cars. In Ordile's hands, they become things of beauty, smoothed and painted and adorned with bits of fabric and other items. No other area artist has so thoroughly integrated the readily available materials of her adopted home into her art with such force and originality.
Last year, Sally Ordile was like many a South Floridian, a transplant from the north, in her case from New York City to Boynton Beach. She had been practicing art a scant half a dozen years, and then something remarkable happened: At age 62, she was discovered. Palm Beach Institute of Contemporary Art's director, Michael Rush, and PBICA Assistant Curator Jody Servon included the budding artist in their flashy "Sculpture Now" show, which reasserted the relevance of contemporary sculpture. Ordile was the only South Florida-based artist represented in the show, a detail especially notable given her choice of medium. Although Ordile also produces prints and encaustic, her most powerful work takes advantage of things most South Florida homeowners consider an annoyance: those bulky stalks and husks that peel off from the larger varieties of palms, littering lawns and streets and occasionally inflicting damage on cars. In Ordile's hands, they become things of beauty, smoothed and painted and adorned with bits of fabric and other items. No other area artist has so thoroughly integrated the readily available materials of her adopted home into her art with such force and originality.
Hard times for art galleries these days. In a sluggish economy, art, for many people, becomes an expendable luxury -- something to look at, maybe, but not to buy. For those with weak willpower, even looking may become too great a temptation to risk. And so established galleries close; new ones fail to materialize. The Carone Gallery is different. Matthew Carone runs a serious gallery for serious collectors: so serious, in fact, that the gallery, just off Las Olas Boulevard, is open by appointment only. No waltzing in off the street to browse. But Carone, himself a widely respected painter who had a small, excellent one-man show at the Boca Raton Museum of Art last year, is important for another reason. For the past two years, he has joined Susan Buzzi and the Broward Art Guild in saving the Hortt Competition after it was abandoned by Fort Lauderdale's Museum of Art. The guild's gallery was a woefully inadequate display space for the large show, so Carone graciously volunteered his gallery. For that alone, the area arts community should be eternally grateful to him.

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