BEST SAVE 2005 | Tigerface | People & Places | Phoenix
The night that Tigerface crashed its own party might've been the kind of mortifying experience that most musicians would rather forget, but no matter. We were damn impressed. It was a sticky July evening at Modified Arts, and the Scottsdale quartet was in the middle of its opening set for psychedelic D.C. band Weird War. The steadily swelling crowd was mesmerized by Tigerface's Faint-inspired grooves and dark, Nine Inch Nails-worthy intensity. But we never saw Trent Reznor do a stage dive with an instrument to keep a song going, which is just what keyboardist Ari did when his synth stand fell forward into the audience. Remarkably, the show did go on; instead of missing a beat, the other band members kept rocking as Ari caught the keyboard in midair and continued to play chords, sprawled out on the floor on his stomach. Talk about dedication. It might take a bigger budget for Band-Aids (or a good set of elbow pads), but maybe Tigerface should make this feat part of its regular act.
We ambled through dozens of studios during Art Detour, the downtown Phoenix art walk sponsored by ArtLink that's held one weekend each year, usually in March. Months later, we have to admit, our recall of this year's now institutionalized city art event is just all one big beige blur -- except for a very distinct spot that stands out in our memory. It's the shared studio space of Carrie Marill and Matthew Moore -- a well-tended Grand Avenue, by-appointment-only studio at the very back of a series of artist studios leased out for years by art doyenne Beatrice Moore.

Husband and wife, Marill and Moore peacefully and productively co-exist in their joint studio space, and, while their work is very different, you get the feeling that, in many ways, they share not only physical space, but the same basic aesthetic as well. Moore's work is land-based, inspired by his day job as manager of his family's fourth-generation farm in the West Valley. Marill's stylistically stripped-down yet elegant paintings and drawings of various landscapes explore the idea of the sameness that pervades society.

As we stood gazing at Marill's beautiful paintings, an artist we trust whispered, "Buy something -- she's getting big in L.A." (See our "Fun and Games" section in Best of Phoenix for examples of Marill's work.) So we did, after which Moore offered us a gigantic home-grown carrot, which, along with the couple's artwork, was the sweetest thing we'd tasted all weekend.

The urge to "live fast, die young" has been around about as long as rock 'n' roll itself, but a certain song by the Circle Jerks made it more of a punk motto 25 years ago. Funny, then, that one of that band's contemporaries, the Angry Samoans, spawned the legacy of Jeff Dahl, who's evolved into the Valley's patron saint for dirty, glammy garage punks while simultaneously keeping his career alive, both onstage and in the studio. When he turned 50 this past summer, Dahl decided to throw a killer party for himself at Hollywood Alley in Mesa, and made getting old look pretty worthwhile. After all, what better way to spend a big birthday than to be surrounded by drunken, adoring fans and guest musicians who'll sing along to every Stooges song you can muster? Maybe 50 is the new 30.
First Fridays was a mere zygote of a scene when local artisans Dayvid LeMmon and Jerry Portelli first rolled the 2 Kaotik Gallery through downtown in 2000. The pair rented a U-Haul, loaded up a generator for lighting, and made stop 'n' parks throughout the downtown district, usually planting themselves in the dirt lot across from Modified Arts on Roosevelt Row so they could show a wide selection of paintings, sculptures, photos and drawings by Valley artists. Although the pair halted their roving artmobile in January, they plan to resume roaming the streets with the 2 Kaotik Gallery on First Friday in November. Once the duo stakes out their stops, they'll post their mobile gallery positions on the 2 Kaotik Web site. But if you don't find them, don't worry -- they'll probably find you.
We've always considered beading strictly a consumer endeavor -- as in, we don't want to look at them, we just want to buy them. And it is true that we were immediately sidetracked by the Bead Museum's large (perhaps larger than the exhibit space itself, although, to be fair, it's under construction) gift shop. But after we were done shopping and plunked down our very reasonable $4 admission fee, we had to admit an instantaneous appreciation for the history of the bead. It's a mind-boggling chronicle dating way back to prehistoric times, when superstitious but fashion-conscious cavemen first strung seashells, seeds and animal bones into personal adornment for ritual and talismanic protection against stone-age evils, like man-eating mammals, marauding enemy clansmen and your run-of-the-mill natural disasters. Glendale's Bead Museum is one of the few in the world actually devoted solely to the bead. And, even with its exhibit space under renovation, we got more than an inkling of the historical and cultural importance of beads. Museum organizers have arranged their carefully culled collection in glass cases, which include well-labeled pull-out drawers in which artifacts are arranged by subject matter -- a great way to observe not only single beads, but beaded jewelry and ritual objects from around the globe in bite-size chunks. Both antique and contemporary beads and adornment from various cultures in Africa, East Asia, Europe, Latin America and India fill cases and drawers, all with engaging photos and text explaining what you're looking at and its basic significance. As we left Glendale, we vowed that our next outing will be to the Arizona Rock and Mineral Museum in downtown Phoenix. Just what goes on in that giant claw outside the museum, anyway?
Like a giant roulette wheel floating 24 stories in the air, the Compass Room spins atop the downtown Hyatt, adding character to our skyline. The disc-shaped building slowly completes a full clockwise turn every 55 minutes, so guests who stay for an hour are guaranteed an unparalleled panoramic 360-degree view. Since celebrating its 25th anniversary, the restaurant has been completely renovated with updated decor and an expanded wine cellar triple its previous size, offering more than 150 varieties. A reservation is suggested, especially if you're planning to drop in around sunset, when you'll likely find a backdrop of intense pinks and oranges blooming across the sky.
We love the Desert Botanical Garden, but not everyone has enough passion for cactus to make it through a two-hour tour. Which is why Paradise Valley's Barry Goldwater Memorial is so damn cool. Not only does it feature a big bronze version of the father of American conservatism himself, but it's got a great variety of succulents, each painstakingly attended and identified by plaque. At the Goldwater memorial, you can stroll along the little dirt path and see most of the botanical garden's highlights for free, including agave, two types of barrel cactus, ocotillo, and even a boojum tree, which looks like it belongs in a Dr. Seuss book but really hails from Baja California. It's the perfect intro to desert plant life.
Off the beaten path of most concertgoers, this Phoenix landmark's signature revolving stage is still spinning after all these years. With no seat farther than 75 feet from the stage, Celebrity Theatre presents intimacy incomparable to other competing concert venues. Since its creation in 1963, the Celebrity has hosted a stunning list of entertainers that includes Chris Rock, George Carlin, Smashing Pumpkins, Duran Duran, Garth Brooks, Brian Setzer, Carol Channing, and Diana Ross. But beware: Performers can be seen from every angle. We recall one night when one of Donna Summer's slit-up-the-back costumes was cut just a bit too high, leaving us hopelessly distracted from enjoying the disco diva's dance hits.
John Peirce's 1920s English Tudor revival home in the F.Q. Story historic district is the antidote to KB Homes bland. A five-foot winged dragon of copper weathered to a cool, reptilian green clings to copper vines covering most of the front porch. The beastie grins through razor teeth, and his eyes glow red at night. The Dragon House, as some neighbors have dubbed Peirce's place, also has a biomorphic green copper cap atop the chimney, and whimsical copper window frames and rain gutter spouts. The place looks like a set for a Lord of the Rings movie. Peirce's creations adorn other homes in the area, too. Drive around and look for more of his chimney caps and window frames on houses. Peirce's studio, behind his house, is open to the public Sundays from noon to 4 p.m., so you can drop by and meet the dragonmaster.
There's nary a place to rest your weary feet except for a few concrete stools on the smokers' patio, and you'll probably have to find parking on the other side of the Mill Avenue Bridge, but if you want to see the bands with the biggest buzz, you'll be coming to the Marquee Theatre. Many of the shows sell out, so it's wise to get tickets in advance. You might have to stand shoulder to shoulder with sweaty fellow fans to see a hot headliner like Nine Inch Nails, but think about it this way: The atmosphere is downright intimate compared to the amphitheaters where these bands could just as easily perform. It takes patience, but if you want to get up front -- or even just comfortably close -- it's not out of the question at the Marquee.

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