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Living

Bodacious burgers: Get your hands around one of these

Hold the pickle, hold the lettuce? Trust us—you’ll want the White Spot’s legendary Gus Burger with all the fixins’, including the fried egg. (Photo by Ron Dressel)

When a burger craving strikes, little can be accomplished until you’ve got your hands around a bun with meat juices dripping down your chin. Here’re 10 big-league, non-chain burgers that satisfy (and inspire) the meanest of cravings.

Boylan Heights’ Room 121 tops an organic beef patty with American cheese, bibb lettuce, beefsteak tomato, bacon, diced onions, and its sweet and spicy signature sauce.

Brookville’s burger’s not on the menu, but in-the-knowers know that a towering burger that involves 11 ounces of local beef, a fried local egg, McClure gouda, and bacon marmalade, is well worth seeking out.

Citizen Burger Bar’s namesake burger puts local grass-fed beef, gruyère cheese, blackened onions, rosemary aioli, iceberg, and tomato on a brioche bun that’s anointed with a fried pickle spear.

Penny-pinching, burger-lovers will dig Henry’s Heavy Burger which gives you two American cheese-covered six ounce beef patties with classic toppings for under $10.

The Local’s burger melts Virginia’s Mountain View swiss over local organic beef, then sweetens the deal with applewood-smoked bacon and caramelized onions.

Positively 4th’s 4th Street burger’s local organic beef topped with cheddar, onion straws, housemade pickles, bacon-onion marmalade, and roasted garlic mayo.

Rapture’s half pound of local grass-fed beef gets covered with your choice of cheese (from blue to pepper jack) and applewood-smoked bacon and portobello mushrooms if you so choose.

Riverside Lunch’s bacon cheeseburger has a rockstar following that swears by the sum of its humble parts—especially when they include double patties and double bacon.

Timberwood Grill’s Al Capone gussies up its patty with grilled onions, applewood-smoked bacon, smoked cheddar cheese, white truffle horseradish mayo, and a pretzel bun.

You can’t go to the White Spot without ordering its legendary Gus Burger, a classic American cheeseburger topped with a fried egg.

A better burger
With several cattle farmers in our area, making burgers at home’s as easy as firing up the grill. We asked Steadfast Farm’s Brian Walden what makes grass-fed beef better and how to make it into a badass burger: Grass-fed beef contains 10 percent fat, with a greater ratio of omega-3 to omega-6 fatty acids. It’s free of hormones and antibiotics and is higher in beta-carotene, vitamins E and B, minerals, calcium, magnesium, and potassium than conventional beef.

Mix ingredients [1 pound Steadfast Farm grass-fed beef (find it at the City Market), 1 egg, well beaten, ¼ cup panko bread crumbs, 3 cloves of garlic, crushed, Salt and pepper to taste] thoroughly and form into four patties. Make slight indentations in the center of each burger to avoid “burger bulge.” For enhanced flavor, grill over hardwood charcoal.

Where’s the beef?
The new style of veggie burger—one that tastes like veggies rather than imitation meat —is as crave-worthy as its beefy brother. Charlottesville’s got some dynamite locally-made options that’ll happily feed veg-heads and carnivores alike.

Boylan Heights combines quinoa, zucchini, spinach, sundried tomatoes, corn, black beans, white bean purée, ritz crackers, spices, and hot sauce into a veggie patty that’s coated in almond flour before it’s sautéed.

Citizen Burger Bar’s vegan burger looks like rare beef from its mixture of raw beets, quinoa, and millet.

NoBull Burgers (find them at the City Market and retailers and restaurants around town) pack lentils, barley, carrots, spinach, onions, spelt, egg, and wheat free tamari sauce into a dense, superfood patty.

Dressed up for dinner
Burgers have gone glam and toppings like cheese, lettuce, and tomato just don’t cut the, er, mustard anymore. Facebook fans have spoken and they’re a fancy schmancy bunch. Here are their gourmet requests: wild mushrooms, ghost peppers, feta, tsatziki sauce, and fresh tomatoes (on a lamb-garlic burger).

Categories
Arts

T.V.: “2012 Summer Olympic Games,” “Animal Practice,” “Comedy Central Roast of Roseanne Barr”

“2012 Summer Olympic Games” 
Through Sunday, NBC
We’re in the home stretch of the 2012 London Olympic Games, and I think we can all agree on one thing: NBC’s coverage has been pretty dreadful. From the decision to cut away from the memorial section of the opening ceremonies to spotty coverage of fan favorite events to the continued presence of Ryan Effing Seacrest—no ma’am. No ma’am. The last few days will be dominated by track & field, platform diving, and the long-awaited finals for beach and indoor volleyball. The closing ceremonies air Sunday 7-10:35pm and hopefully feature absolutely no narratives about teens texting.

“Animal Practice” 
Sunday after the Olympics, NBC
NBC is determined to take advantage of its massive Olympics ratings by launching a slate of new series during or immediately following the games. Among them is this new sitcom starring Justin Kirk (Andy on “Weeds,” but also an amazing dramatic actor, as seen in HBO’s “Angels in America” miniseries) as a veterinarian who loves animals but hates people. His gonzo animal hospital is brought to order when his ex-girlfriend (JoAnna Garcia Swisher from “Better With You”) takes over, and of course they butt heads, as sitcom leads do. Also starring Tyler Labine (“Reaper”) and Crystal, best known as the monkey from The Hangover Part II, but forever in my heart as Annie’s Boobs from “Community.” You can also get a sneak peek of the new Matthew Perry comedy “Go On,” on Wednesday after the Olympics primetime coverage.

“Comedy Central Roast of Roseanne” 
Sunday 10pm, Comedy Central
Roseanne Barr has become a pop-culture punchline, and I would argue that’s unfair. She made the terrible error of being a loud, outspoken, opinionated, and occasionally kooky public figure, and that’s not OK for women. It’s bullshit, especially when you consider that Barr’s eponymous sitcom was a hugely influential TV show in the 1990s, boldly chronicling the realities of lower-middle-class life while simultaneously being incredibly funny (and it still holds up). Thing is, I don’t think she gives a damn what anybody thinks of her. Which is why this roast should be amazing. Jane Lynch will serve as roastmaster and comedians Jeffrey Ross and Amy Schumer will take their shots, along with actresses Sharon Stone, Katey Sagal, and Carrie Fisher. And when they’re done, Barr will sit back, cackle, and read them all for filth! And you will love it.

Categories
Arts

Film review: Beasts of the Southern Wild

Quvenzhané Wallis stars as Hushpuppy in the survival fantasy Beasts of the Southern Wild. (Twentieth Century Fox)

The feature debut from writer-director Benh Zeitlin, working with playwright Lucy Alibar and a New Orleans collective, rides in on a murky flood of festival hype. And what caused that anyway? The inevitable Sundance-stamped confluence of poverty porn and indie quaintness?
Wow, already this is sounding cynical, but Beasts of the Southern Wild has a habit of inviting audience push-back. For starters, it’s called Beasts of the Southern Wild; right away one senses some amateur anthropology going on, apologized for or at best compounded with amateur poetry. Still, the amateur operates from love, and Zeitlin has that. However patronizing, his reverie aches to be watched, and on as large a screen as possible. It says: Behold!

Newcomer Quvenzhané Wallis steals the show as a brave 6-year-old who yearns for her missing mother, copes with her ailing father (Dwight Henry), and navigates the archly magical-realist realms that lurk amid the muck and grit of her doomed, levee-locked Louisiana bayou. Hushpuppy is her name, and she dwells in a fishing boat rigged from a pickup truck’s rusted rear-end, and she is tough and tenacious, and she has visions of melting ice caps. Behold: the innocence, the resilience, the retrospectively peculiar-seeming fortitude of childhood, galvanized by apocalyptic anxiety. Too much?

Wait, there’s more. Her father is called Wink, as if the movie were just kidding when setting him up as an epitome of rough parental neglect, for in fact his declining health reduces—nay, enlarges—him to a heap of tender devotion. Meanwhile, the aura of romanticized dysfunction extends to the entire community, seen drunkenly and communally weathering an allegorical storm and subsequent flood. Presumably the beasts in question aren’t just Hushpuppy’s half-imagined pack of enormous prehistoric wild boars (set free from that melted ice), but also the central characters themselves—poor, black, modernity-deprived, and too-preciously resilient. In which case, are we not saying that they are animals? At any rate they are marginal to our society, and best kept that way, so as to be fawned over through a magic movie magnifying glass.

To authenticate his and Alibar’s laboriously folkloric calculations, Zeitlin uses nonprofessional actors. Good idea, as the last thing this needs is actors seeming actorly. But playing with regular folks can, and does, backfire because, well, they’re not professional actors. Not helping matters, Wallis gets a voiceover narration full of aphoristic wisdom and philosophy-jive, which only betrays the great cinematic discovery of her face and unflatteringly emphasizes the film’s theatrical origins. As for originality, it’s here, but in quotation marks.
Preferring pseudo-mythology to political seriousness, this amounts to a flamboyant indomitable-spirit demonstration, with undeniable vitality, but also a sort of heavy, beastly dullness. Zeitlin has talent and guts, yes. Ultimately, though, he inspires not wonder or awe so much as our awareness of the pride he takes in his own presentation.

Beasts of the Southern Wild/ PG-13, 93 minutes/Vinegar Hill Theatre

Categories
Arts

Printer and illustrator Thomas Dean makes his mark in unusual spaces

Screenprint artist Thomas Dean's work derives imaginative imagery from generic sources. (Photo by John Robinson)

Mention screen printing in Charlottesville, and one of the first names you’ll hear is Thomas Dean. The musician and artist is a prolific screen printer and illustrator, churning out T-shirts, prints, album covers, and gig posters, often for the many bands he’s played in or collaborated with. For local indie rock fans, it’s rare to attend a concert without spotting a few of his popular T-shirts among the audience.

Dean works in a variety of styles with his flatbed uv printer. His hand-drawn work is heavy with hair, foliage, eyelids, clouds, and fur, and the distinction between those elements is often ambiguous. He’s also worked heavily with collage, employing generic or bland source material (often taken from old Life magazines) cut up and imaginatively assembled into chunky, colorful blocks reminiscent of the alien machinery Jack Kirby used to draw in old Fantastic Four comics. His last exhibition was in a record store (at Melody Supreme in February) and consisted entirely of T-shirts­—each emblazoned with the textless image of a musician, the defining canon of the tastes of a 21st century omnivore: David Byrne, Françoise Hardy, Al Green, Thurston Moore, Chan Marshall, Public Enemy, Neil Young, the Ronettes, Morrisey, and Jonny Marr.

Dean’s current show is also in an unusual space—The Honeycomb, a hair salon located on Market Street in the former home of the Avocado Pit bookstore. The Honeycomb was opened in June by Claibourne Reppert (winner of Best Hairstylist in 2011’s Best of C-VILLE poll) who plans to host monthly art shows in the salon’s back room, a sunken gallery space painted sunshine yellow.

“I feel so lucky that I have this space, but I only needed part of it. I wanted to give some of it back to people who need a place to show their art,” said Reppert, who does not take a commission on artwork sold from the gallery. “A lot of the galleries Downtown can feel kind of strict, or really expensive,” she said, and hopes that the Honeycomb can become “a friendly space for DIY, low-key artists.”

The exhibition of Thomas Dean’s work opened last Friday, and will remain on display through August, culminating in a live silkscreening workshop in the afternoon on Saturday, August 25. For the event, Dean is bringing in a group of his fellow screen printers, including Matt Leech, Travis Robertson, and Marie Landragin. “It’s mostly an excuse to hang out with other artists whose work I like, and who I like to hang out with,” said Dean. Nonetheless, attendees who bring a t-shirt (or a tote bag or other print-ready item) will have a chance to get one free pull from the artists’ screens; the printers will accept donations and have pre-made prints for sale.

Reppert plans to provide hot dogs and refreshments, to lend a cook-out party atmosphere to the event. “Doing stuff like this helps to create a culture, the same sort of people that I’m looking for as clientele,” she said. “Plus, there’s the people who would never ordinarily go to a smaller art show, who get tricked into looking at one while they’re waiting for their haircut.”

At the hop
The 1970s saw no shortage of nostalgia for the 1950s, as those who had grown up during that era started to make their mark on popular culture. One of the earliest and most notable examples was ’73’s American Graffiti, the second feature by a young filmmaker named George Lucas. Though many of the film’s techniques have now become clichés, the semi-autobiographical Graffiti has a charm and a soul missing from Lucas’ later works.

The high point of the film is unquestionably the soundtrack, a wall-to-wall parade of classic hits from pre-British Invasion American rock radio, featuring the inimitable utterances of legendary “border blaster” disc jockey Wolfman Jack (who also makes a cameo appearance in the film).

The Paramount will screen American Graffiti at 7pm on Wednesday and in addition to the film, attendees and passers-by will be treated to a doo-wop sing-a-long led by Joan Fenton.
Fenton is a prominent local business owner, but those close to her also know she’s a passionate musician. Fenton explained, “I go to West Virginia every summer to teach blues guitar” at the Augusta Heritage Workshop, where she’s taught for 30 years. “We always end with a big doo-wop sing-a-long on the last night, so I thought it would be fun to start doing that over here.”

The past two summers, Fenton has led a downtown sing-a-long during the summer solstice. For the third year, she decided to coordinate the event with the Paramount, whose August movie series will again focus on classic music films. Fenton is rehearsing with a pianist and a core group of singers, but will invite the crowd to join in, and in past years they’ve drawn crowds of over 50 participants. “Usually when we go to an event Downtown, it’s to see someone else entertain us,” Fenton said. “But this time, we’re all going to do it together.”
Tickets for the screening are $6 (or $4 for youths), and the Charlottesville Derby Dames will serve as ticket-takers.

Categories
Living

King of cluck: our judges rate the town’s best fried chicken

Wayside fried chicken. John Robinson photo.

Buttermilk or brine? Floured or battered? Peanut oil or lard? Pan-fried or deep-fried? These are just a few of the secrets behind fried chicken so crispy on the outside and juicy on the inside that it’ll make you weep. Each method has its devotees, and nary a one of our 11 contestants spilled the beans (baked or otherwise) as to what makes their chicken so finger-licking good, but that didn’t stop us from filling a bucket with a piece from each. We might be a little bit country and a little bit city, but we’ve got a coop full of places frying up chicken that’d make a real southerner proud.

We chose non-chain places known for bone-in chicken fried fresh (read: not frozen!). All selections were gathered the day of the contest and judged blind by Harrison Keevil, chef/owner of Brookville Restaurant; Jenée Libby, The Diner of Cville blogger; and Joel Slezak, co-owner of Free Union Grass Farm.

Keevil went for breasts (“They’re the hardest to do well, since they dry out the fastest”), Libby went for legs, and Slezak went for thighs. They judged each piece’s crispiness/texture, tenderness of meat, seasoning, and overall taste. Appetites were waning around the halfway point, but our professionals soldiered on and crowned the winning bird…then went back for more.

Drumstick—er, drumroll, please!

Winner, winner, chicken dinner!

Michie Tavern

683 Thomas Jefferson Pkwy.

977-1234

Daily 11:15am-3:30pm

It’s hard to make the last mile of the Saunders-Monticello Trail after smelling southern fried chicken wafting up from this historic tavern where the staff members still dress in colonial attire. It’s juicy (“It would still taste amazing in the morning”), perfectly seasoned (“It has flavor throughout the meat too”), and fried ’til dark (“It’s gotta be the grease they use”), and none of us could get enough (Slezak ate three more pieces following the judging). Take a free tour of the museum and then belly up to the buffet every day in the summer and fill your plate with chicken (baked or fried) and 18th century sides liked stewed tomatoes and black-eyed peas for $16.95.

First clucker-up

Wayside Takeout & Catering

2203 Jefferson Park Ave.

977-5000

Open Monday-Thursday 7am-9pm, Friday-Saturday 7am-9:30pm

The only thing keeping chicken lovers from crossing the road is the massive construction site that’s set up outside this 40+-year-old institution. Wayside is still open for business and its chicken scored big for the peppery coating that reminded Virginia-raised Libby of the Golden Skillet’s. The skin stayed crispy long after the judging was complete. Breakfast biscuits and wraps are ready by 7am and “ole Virginia” chicken is fried (or baked) until 9pm/9:30pm every day but Sunday. There are plenty of other things to eat, but the chicken dinner’s the winner. A 12-piece family deal comes with two large sides and six rolls for $21.28.

Second clucker-up

Preston Avenue Shell Station

601 Preston Ave.

296-2004

Monday-Sunday 6am-9pm

Only in Virginia do we know how good the food at gas stations can be, and this Shell Station next to Bodo’s is no exception. It even took our judges by surprise, but for 12 years now, the food counter in the back’s been frying up top-notch chicken (“very tender!”) and dishing up southern sides fresh every day. Its legion of fans swears by its spicy seasoning and the Monday night special, which gets you two pieces of chicken with one side, a biscuit and a 16 ounce drink for $3.99.

Other contenders

Brown’s

1210 Avon St.

295-4911

Monday-Friday 7am-9pm

Formerly Stoney’s Grocery, this pitstop in Belmont is handy for replenishing that toilet paper you ran out of last night. But it’s also garnered quite a following for its fried chicken, which owner Mike Brown became known for when he served it at his mini-market in Esmont years ago. A Sunday special gets you 12 pieces and a two-liter Pepsi product for $19.99.

Brownsville Market

5995 Rockfish Gap Turnpike, Crozet

823-5251

Daily 5am-10pm

This Shell station shop’s been keeping the area’s construction workers and locals in gas, cold drinks, and freshly grilled and fried food for more than 30 years. Its classic fried chicken and traditional sides make the ideal picnic contribution or dinner for the family when you don’t feel like cooking.

Chicken Coop

40 Front St., Lovingston

263-7818

Monday-Thur. 10:30am-7pm, Friday 10:30am-8pm, Saturday 10:30am-7:30pm Sunday 11am-5pm

Chances that there’s chicken at a place with such a name are good. But only Nelson County locals and those who happen upon it while fueling up the car at the Exxon station that houses it would know. Our judges were drawn to an herb in the batter that they couldn’t identify. A 12-piece meal comes with potato wedges, coleslaw, and six rolls for $17.99. And there’re plenty of six-packs or 40s to choose from too.

Foods of All Nations

2121 Ivy Rd.

293-7998

Monday-Saturday 7:30am-8pm, Sunday 8:30am-6pm

It might sell foods from all nations, but the fried chicken is from right here in the U.S. of A.—and this upscale grocery store that’s been around for more than 50 years does it well. Head straight for the deli to stock up on it, plus classic sides like Shirley’s potato salad. Then swing past the bakery for a sweet treat or two.

Lumpkin’s

1075 Valley St., Scottsville

286-3690

Monday-Tuesday, Saturday 7am-3pm, Thursday-Friday 7am-8pm

The giant rooster out front’s a surefire sign that fried chicken’s one of this 50-year-old restaurant and hotel’s specialties. But life shuts down early in the country, so come for breakfast or lunch any day but Wednesday or Sunday, or an early bird dinner on Thursdays and Fridays. The pies are made fresh every day before even the roosters are up.

Mac’s Country Store

7023 Patrick Henry Hwy., Roseland

277-5305

Monday-Sunday 6am-6pm

This convenience store on Route 151 sells your choice of moist white or dark meat chicken, sides, and dinner rolls on your way to or from the area’s growing number of breweries, cideries, and vineyards. A few tables and chairs in the back serve a purpose for those who can’t wait to tuck into the spread. Get a 32-piecer for $36.19.

Mel’s Café

719 W. Main St.

971-8819

Monday-Thursday 10am-10pm, Friday-Saturday 10am-11pm

Soul food’s on the menu at this West Main throwback that’s been in operation and family-owned for “a long, long time.” The fried chicken, which was Keevil’s choice for third place, comes out hot and impossibly crispy (“Are these cornflakes in the coating?” crowed one judge) with two southern comfort sides. Or get a fried chicken leg sandwich and a sweet tea and save room for a slice of their famous sweet potato pie. Whatever you order, they’ll treat you real nice.

The Whiskey Jar

227 W. Main St., Downtown Mall

202-1549

Monday-Thursday 11am-midnight, Friday-Saturday 11am-2am

This Downtown Mall newcomer from Rev Soup owner Will Richey satisfies cravings with its local chicken that’s raised on a Mennonite farm and drenched in flavor from the outside in (“It tastes like it’s been injected with Texas Pete!” a judge observed) then served over local collards studded with Kite’s Country Bacon for $12. A drink made with one of the 46 bottles of whiskey on the wall sweetens the deal.

Categories
Arts

Josh Ritter talks about songwriting, novels, and the open road

Josh Ritter.
C-VILLE Weekly’s Graelyn Brashear sat down with singer/songwriter and novelist Josh Ritter for a radio interview live on WTJU before his show last night at the Jefferson Theater. Ritter, a remarkably candid interview and a compelling communicator, talks about his friendship with C’ville musicians, his attachment to Appalachia, and his love of writing.
Graelyn Brashear: Glad to have you back in Charlottesville. We were talking about the fact that you’ve had several visits here recently, you’ve been back in this area a couple of times, and you set your novel, Bright’s Passage, in Appalachia. Do you have connections to Charlottesville in particular and this part of the country in general?
Josh Ritter: Well this is pretty mythic American country out here, you know, with the history of some of the intellectual fiery cradle of this country. So it’s pretty great to be here. And it’s an amazing town. There’s so much good food, and there’s music, and it doesn’t hurt to come back.
GB: I wanted to ask you about your novel. It was a really interesting change of hats for you. I know you get asked about that a lot, the difference between songwriting and moving into a different writing style. What was that like, and what’s it like to take different tacks with your storytelling?
JR: I’ve thought about it a lot. When I was growing up, a teenager, I had a lot of words, and I had a lot that I felt like I wanted to do, but I didn’t know what it was, you know? And I discovered songwriting, and it was like i found a bucket for the words. It was a form, and it was so exciting. But I never really thought that that was the only way that a writer could write.
For me, I find that it’s mostly a temperament thing. You have to adjust your temperament. With songs there’s  chance you’ll write a song in an afternoon, or a week. I’ve had a few songs I’ve written over a long period of time, but in general, songs are short things. and a novel takes years. I think that finding your freedom and the excitement of creating something in the morning and then setting it down and coming back to it the next day is something that I had to learn how to do. In general, the two things are very similar—you have words, and you’re trying to put the right word after the right word after the right word, like a tightrope walker.
GB: With Bright’s Passage, I was curious about the juxtaposition of the settings and the themes there. It follows the story of a man really traumatized by World War I who comes home to West Virginia, and the trauma sort of weaves its way into his life. So what drove you to juxtapose those two settings—Europe in World War I and Appalachia at the time?
JR: Well World War I was this moment at the cliff’s edge there. In 1913, we thought we had everything figured out. We thought we had things pretty much sussed. Niels Bohr was told not to go into physics, because physics had all been figured out. So all these things happen, and then suddenly the world explodes, and the modern world came in like a rush of water and washed everything away. Horse and cavalry, cannons—these things, they disappeared and were replaced by new things, by planes and poison gas, and all these technologies that have gone on to be good for us as well.
And I think Appalachia has always been a symbol, I  think for me, of a place that is at the edge of time. it’s always on the edge. If the future happens, it’ll happen in Appalachia, and the past is happening, too. It’s a place that stands for something, where time is under different laws. I thought the two worked well together.
GB: Do you think you have more books in you?
JR: Definitely. I’m working on a second one right now.
GB: Can you tell us about it?
JR: it’s a big, rowdy novel with lots of terrible language. My mom’s going to be mortified. It’s gonna be fun.
GB: And you’re working on other projects. You were saying you’ve wrapped up your next album as well.
JR: Yes, it’s getting real close. There are still some finishing touches to go, but I hope to have it out in the first part of next year.
GB: What can you tell us about it? From what you’ve been saying, it opens a door into a more personal part of your life than fans might be used to.
JR: I’d always shied away from that, with the very specific idea that there is more to write about outside your own personal experience, and that’s good. It’s good to write that way. Autobiography makes the focus a little smaller a little tighter, and sometimes that’s uncomfortable for the listener and the writer. So I haven’t always done that, but now with this one, I feel it—it’s a lot of short, sharp little songs. I’m pretty excited about it.
GB: Big rowdy novel, short sharp songs— a lot of emotion in both.
JR: Yeah.
GB: Bringing it back local again—you actually toured in ireland with Love Canon, a local band.
JR: I am very proud of my assoc with Love Canon. They’re amazing. Zack Hickman, who I’ve played with for almost half my life, on the bass here, he knows some incredible musicians. Two of them are fantastic—Adam Larrabee and Jesse Harper. They’re (from) right around here, and we got to play some great songs together.
GB: What was it like to tour alongside them?
JR: It’s like standing in the middle of a hurricane. You’ve got to hold on.
GB: Thinking about the arc of your career—you’ve come along way since your first album, which you recorded while you were in school. Do you miss anything about the early days, and the process of figuring out who you were as a musician?
JR: It’s really interesting. Nobody’s ever asked me that. What I really get out of playing music and why I do it…to be creative and impress yourself and entertain yourself, is the idea that it should always feel new, hopefully. The two things you have as an artist that really matter are confidence in your work and excitement about the future. If you don’t have that, what’s the point? You’d end up doing medleys. It scares me to even think about it. So I always hope that things are just getting more and more exciting.
GB: Anybody’s who’s seen you live would feel that you bring that to the stage still. Is that a conscious effort? You’re a performer for sure—you interact and you smile a lot, and its very much a live show. Is that part of channelling that energy and bringing newness to it?
JR: Absolutely. If you love somebody, hopefully every dance you have with them is your first one—you know, that feeling. And that’s how it is with songs, and that’s why it’s really important to write and write until you get thing exactly how you want them, because when you do that, that’s your partner for the next 40 years, or 50 years, and you want to always be proud of it. Some songs, they start to lose their love, and other ones gain more love with your experience in life. I love performing. You write a song, and it’s like making an animal in a laboratory. And when you’re performing, it’s like the animal’s out there on the stage, and you don’t know what it’s going to do.
GB: So it is new when you bring it to the live audience.
JR: Every time, depending on what’s going on in the audience, us—it’s totally crazy.
GB: You’ve lived a lot of places in the country. Is it strange to go back to them as a performer, as a musician, and go back to a place where you spent time before this career really started?
JR: Yeah. It’s said that Abraham Lincoln said he had more hometowns than anybody else in the world. The great thing about being a musician, a traveling musician, is you get to see the whole place. You get to see how it’s stitched together. And it’s funny, what we learn as a band about places that we go. We’ll learn about places to eat, or the place that gave us a free coffee last time. Its great. There’s all kinds of memories that get rolled up into this. You may not remember the stage, but you definitely remember the good sandwich you had, and the good show.
GB: Your songwriting influences are clearly varied. I wonder how much comes from seeing new places all the time, and how much that influences your writing and how you go about the process of bringing these things to the page.
JR: I used to get so wound up about it. I write prose stuff on the road a lot. But I used to get the physical act of putting words on a page confused with the act of writing. Writing is 90 percent listening and picking things up and reading and watching and meeting people, and 10 percent reorganizing those ideas. It’s like visible light. There’s so much more light that’s going on that we can’t see, but that 10 percent is what we see by, and that’s how we judge ourselves. Being out on the road is a chance to meet all kinds of crazy people, do all kinds of crazy things and have experiences, see things out the window, walk down the street, see a movie, hear music. It’s all in there. And for me touring is what powers this, the writing. I don’t know what I would do without it.
Categories
Living

Meet the man who’s quietly bringing ancient Tibet to Charlottesville

Gyaltsen Druknya is working to bring traditional Tibetan medicine to the U.S. with his organization, Arura Medicine of Tibet. John Robinson photo.

Gyaltsen Sangpo Druknya was born in the northeast corner of the Tibetan Plateau in a region called Amdo, a land of arid grasslands, huge blue lakes, and deep, pine covered valleys. Three of Asia’s most famous rivers—the Yangtze, the Yellow, and the Mekong—have their beginnings in the snow-covered mountains that ring the area. Amdo is the birthplace of the current Dalai Lama, and a quarter of the Tibetan population, about 1.6 million people, live there, despite the fact that it lies outside of the Tibetan Autonomous Region, largely subsumed by the Chinese province of Quinghai.

The village where he was born is home to about 500 families. Like 80 percent of the Tibetans in Amdo, they’re traditional nomadic farmers, raising yaks, goats, and sheep on the steppes of the highest and largest plateau on earth.

Gyaltsen’s first name is pronounced like “Jyultson,” but he tells everybody to just say “Jensen” and leave it at that. His last name is familiar as the name of the Downtown Mall hair salon, Salon Druknya, which he co-owns with Tashi, his wife of seven years. They have two kids, a 7-year-old son, Namkia, and a daughter, Chukyi, who is 6. He’s a happy, successful man, but he just can’t seem to relax and enjoy it.

“My personality likes keeping busy,” he said. “That’s why my wife complains.” What keeps Gyaltsen busy is a lifelong interest in traditional Tibetan medicine and a consuming desire to do whatever he can to help his homeland. Last year, he founded a nonprofit company called Arura Medicine of Tibet, with the sole aim of bringing traditional Tibetan medicine to the U.S. Every Sunday and every Monday is spent working towards this goal—and every other spare moment he’s not in the salon. All his spare money is going to that venture too, and he’s not getting paid for the work. But that’s O.K., he’s not in it for the money. And that’s why his wife nags him. “She says, ‘If you spent all your energy on [the hair salon], you and I by now don’t have to work.’”

Tibetan medicine is old. Some say 1,200 years old, others say 6,000 years, but it’s old. In fact, the first international medical conference was held in Tibet in the 7th century, and there’s evidence of Tibetan doctors performing brain surgery way before the current era.

But the ancient tradition has been seriously modernized. Arura Tibetan Medicine Group is a state-financed (read: Chinese Government) company that includes a Tibetan pharmaceutical company (worth $62.5 million in 2006), Tibetan Medical Hospital, Tibetan medical school, Tibetan Medical Research Institute, and the Museum of Tibetan Medicine and Culture, all under one umbrella and all in the Amdo region. If the medicine is holistic, so is the business.

Gyaltsen left Tibet at 18 and went to school in India before setting up a business selling rugs and gems, splitting his time between India and Nepal. Later, he traveled to Singapore, Hong Kong, and lived for a year in Taiwan. In 2001, the then 27-year-old went to visit his sister in Charlottesville, where she was living with her husband. His third day here, a woman asked him if he was going to stay in America permanently. “If you find a horse for me,” said the Tibetan nomad, “I will stay here.” The next day she called his bluff and took him out to Braeburn horse training center in Crozet. As soon as he got on a horse, he was hired, and for the next two years he trained horses for a living.

But then in 2003, Gyaltsen was in a bad car accident. His face was filled with broken glass and needed numerous stitches and his back was so badly damaged he couldn’t work at the horse farm anymore. Taking the bad luck in stride, he decided to open a restaurant. He had no experience as a cook, mind you, but his father owns restaurants in India and Nepal, and he thought he might be able to make it work.

When he first arrived in 2001, Gyaltsen met Tashi, also Tibetan, through the town’s small Tibetan community. She was cutting hair at Carden Salon on the Downtown Mall, and owner John Carden started helping Gyaltsen look for a location for the restaurant. While he looked, he fell back on what he’d done before, selling gemstones from India and Nepal on the Downtown Mall. John asked him if he might want to try cutting hair.

“I thought, ‘No way.’ I have this wild personality,” he said.

But after almost two years with no luck, John asked again. Why not, Gyaltsen thought. He could set his own hours and keep looking for something else. But he turned out to be pretty good at the hair-cutting thing, and in 2005, after only three months on the job, John asked if he and Tashi wanted to buy the business.

“That’s probably [what made] me stay as a hairdresser,” Gyaltsen said. Except for his time at the Horse Center, he’d never worked for other people, he’d always done his own thing.

“I always had a feeling to help Tibet, inside Tibet. I want to do something. …I feel like just work here is not satisfying the goal [I had] when I left home.”

When Dr. O Tsokchen, the head of Arura Group, came to Charlottesville in 2008, it was because he’d heard that a guy named Gyaltsen Druknya had been holding numerous successful fundraisers for the Tibetan Healing Fund, a group working to improve the health and living conditions of women and children in rural Tibet. Dr. O asked him to spearhead the efforts to bring Arura Medicine to the U.S., but Gyaltsen wasn’t interested. He wanted to help Tibet, not America.

Still, he began visiting American medical facilities and talking to doctors and nurses at UVA, and he started to see that not only could Tibetan medicine be a big boon to America, bringing the “mindfulness part of medicine,” but coming to America could also help Tibetan medicine.

“All the hard work, and what they did inside Tibet, if we establish some new place here in America, could be preserved.”

So when Dr. O came back in 2009, Gyaltsen said yes. And then he proposed holding a Tibetan Medicine conference in Charlottesville.

“You sure you can do it?” Dr. O asked.

“Why not?” Gyaltsen said.

Last year, Gyaltsen started Arura Medicine of Tibet. They’ve got a Board of Advisors that includes Jeffrey Hopkins, professor emeritus in UVA’s religion department, the man who built the Tibetan Buddhist Studies program and served as translator for the Dalai Lama for 10 years. They work with numerous Tibetan groups, as well as with the UVA School of Nursing, the UVA Tibetan Center, and the newly minted UVA Contemplative Science Center.

And they need big partners, because they have big plans. The goal is to build a Tibetan Medical Shangri La here in Charlottesville, with a training center, old folks’ home, museum, medical library, meditation hall, Tibetan marketplace, and a Tibetan inn.

I ask Gyaltsen what he does other than cut hair and work on Tibetan causes.

“That’s my wife’s complaint,” he says. But then he thinks a bit and says, “I like bars. I go to bars a little bit.”

He admits that perhaps less of his energy goes into the salon than it should, but his wife and employees keep the place running well, while his heart and mind are with his passion project.

Both he and Tashi are U.S. citizens. Gyaltsen made the leap just last year in a small, unobtrusive ceremony at the Federal courthouse Downtown. He had the option to do it at Monticello, but he didn’t want to make it a big deal.

“Anyway,” he says, “I’m a citizen of the world, yeah?”

Categories
Living

Who/What/Wear: All maxi’d out

I ran into local student PANSY on UVA Grounds while she was taking a walk with friends. Seen here wearing a maxi skirt from Urban Outfitters and a simple black tank, this easy, breezy summer look is elevated with a vintage Coach bag handed down from Pansy’s mother —and Pansy’s own outstanding curls.

I saw EMILY, a floral designer for Hedge and visual associate at Anthropologie, outside Anthropologie’s Barracks Road store. The Richmond-born New York City transplant is wearing a Michael Stars tank top with a skirt and sandals from Urban Outfitters and a sculptural necklace made by Brooklyn-based artist Hali Emminger. “Part of what I love is nature and I really like the idea of incorporating that in what I wear,” Emily said of her laid-back style. “I really like matching feminine things with things that are easy.”

I came across JEN, an urban planner for AECOM, while shopping at the farmer’s market. “[I’m] trying to be good about sun protection so I’ve invested in some hats this year,” said Jen, who was scouting seasonal vegetables with a friend who works at The Whiskey Jar. Layering has been another priority this season because of the weather’s ups and downs, and leading an active lifestyle means Jen goes from shopping to hiking in the same day. Jen is wearing a skirt and shirt from the Gap, accessorized with a hat from H&M and sandals from Forever 21.

 

Categories
Arts

Wilco cruises into Pavilion with good vibes

Bassist John Stirratt (far right) is the only original Wilco member other than front man Jeff Tweedy, but the band’s a happy, well-oiled Americana machine. Feel the love on Thursday at the Pavilion.

Wilco is in a good place. The band’s near-two-decade slog through the music world has had its fair share of adversity: addiction, line-up shuffles, and a gut-punch rejection from Reprise Records of what turned out to be its most successful album (2002’s Yankee Hotel Foxtrot). Now, the band has held the same crew together for the past seven years—a dynamic sextet that has solidified the group’s evolution from alt-country pioneers to big-stage experimental rock heroes.

An encompassing tour of the group’s sonic tastes was released last fall in its eighth studio album, The Whole Love. The effort runs the gamut of Wilco’s broadly constructed cosmic Americana. From to the sunny pop-rock title track to Nels Cline’s explosive free-form guitar licks in the off-kilter opener “Art of Almost,” to the wandering, finger-picked 12-minute folk meditation “One Sunday Morning (Song for Jane Smiley’s Boyfriend),” the group found plenty of different aural avenues for the ever-expanding songbook of front man Jeff Tweedy.

Bassist John Stirratt, the band’s only remaining original member besides Tweedy, took questions by phone before Wilco’s return to the nTelos Wireless Pavilion on Thursday.

C-VILLE Weekly: When I first heard The Whole Love, the immediate impression was that it was all inclusive of the sounds Wilco has touched on over the years. Did the band have this sense as well?

John Stirratt: “There was an idea that the record didn’t have a linear quality from a sound standpoint—the way Yankee Hotel Foxtrot or A Ghost is Born did. That’s a challenge we wanted to take on—making something sprawling that’s all over the map, but still a great listening experience. We tried to not be afraid to present songs that might seem incongruous to other people.”

How does the band determine if a song should be more experimental or straightforward?

“That’s all part of the work. We generally move forward until we’re all enjoying a song. Often, there are different threads that seem to present themselves during recording sessions. We’ll start doing some spacey country stuff, which yielded “Open Mind” and “Jane Smiley” on this album. Generally, we reach a point on a song where we’re comfortable, and at that point we know there’s no other way to present it.”

Would you say the band is in the most stable place it’s ever been as far as the line-up?

“Without a doubt, having this line-up together for the past seven years has allowed us to get really deep, especially from a live standpoint. It can be daunting when you’re making a record, because we have so many options with this big of a band. But there’s so much musical empathy and everyone listens to each other; we’re in a really good spot right now.”

You’ve played a staggering number of shows over the years, and your road schedule has been pretty constant since releasing the latest album. What keeps it fresh from night to night?

“There’s a great culture and intensity around the fandom of the band. On a tiny level, it’s a little bit like what the Grateful Dead had. It’s great when people care that much. There’s a celebration existing outside of the band, and that vibe definitely keeps us inspired. The other thing is the catalog. Since we’ve been around for so long we can mix up the tunes and find new ways that songs work together. Little things like that can make a difference.”

Wilco had a well-publicized record label struggle. Was it a relief to start your own label and have that part of the equation removed from the business of making music?

“I don’t know if relief is the right word, because now it’s a lot more responsibility. We’re happy that we started the label, but it’s honestly the only way it can work. It’s great to have the creative freedom, but on the business end it’s challenging to sell records. We’re doing the best we can.”

What’s the plan after this touring cycle behind The Whole Love—back to other musical outlets like your band Autumn Defense with fellow Wilco member Pat Sansone?

“We had a big session with Autumn Defense earlier in the year, so we have a few things recorded. I think we’re sounding better than ever, and we’re planning to squeeze some more things in between Wilco dates. There are quite a few other projects on the table. Jeff is going to be working on another Mavis Staples record, and as the touring eases up next year Wilco will get back in the studio.”

Categories
Arts

Freedom is just another word for Kris Kristofferson

At some point quite early in your long life it dawned on you that you had already written the words the world is going to want to see on your tombstone. That’s not a particularly easy thing to live with. You wrote them in the song “The Pilgrim: Chapter 33” about a rogues gallery of men you ran with or admired in the 1960s—Chris Gantry, Dennis Hopper, Jerry Jeff Walker, Johnny Cash—men who at the time were busy crucifying themselves on drugs and alcohol and bad behavior. Some of them, like you, found a way down off the cross. But the words stuck, and they still hang about you:

“He’s a poet, he’s a picker, he’s prophet, he’s a pusher

He’s a pilgrim and a preacher and a problem when he’s stoned.

He’s a walking contradiction, partly truth, partly fiction

Taking every wrong direction on his lonely way back home.”

Now, in retrospect, it seems like old tales about pills and the bottle are the least interesting thing about you. But when you’re Kris Kristofferson, even your least interesting feature is pretty damned interesting to the rest of us.

Let us count the ways: Rhodes scholar, boxer, degree in Literature from Oxford, trained as an Army helicopter pilot, Airborne Ranger, assigned to teach English at West Point. He then walked away from it all to move to Nashville to write country songs. For years he worked as a janitor in a recording studio, taking occasional stints flying choppers to oil platforms. He was on a long slow drive down the road to nowhere, but always refining his craft. He wrote some of the most recorded songs in country music history sitting on an oil rig in the Gulf of Mexico with barely a penny in his pocket, and his feet coming out the bottom of his shoes.

Kristofferson’s breakthrough came in 1970, after he landed a helicopter on Johnny Cash’s lawn and gave him a copy of the song “Sunday Morning Coming Down.” The stunt worked. Cash recorded it, and it topped the country charts, winning CMA Song of the Year. From there, the trajectory headed straight up. In 1972, three of the five Grammy nominees for Best Country Song were his. He won for the exquisitely crafted erotic ballad “Help Me Make It Through the Night.”

Rolling Stone called “Sunday Morning” “the greatest song ever written about a hangover.” It’s easy to see why. The first lines alone are quintessential country: “Well I woke up Sunday morning with no way to hold my head that didn’t hurt. And the beer I had for breakfast wasn’t bad, so I had one more for dessert.” The song shambles along for a couple of evocative, desolate verses. Then it does that gospel lift-off, with the music reaching for the rafters just as the words nosedive to the emotional bottom:

“And there’s nothing short of dyin’

Half as lonesome as the sound

Of a sleeping city sidewalk

Sunday morning comin’ down.”

With everything else he’s been—movie star, singer, Golden Globe winner (for A Star is Born), sex symbol, activist, hellion—it’s easy to forget that Kristofferson is among the best songwriters Nashville has ever produced. He’s penned at least a dozen that are now an indelible part of the country songbook: “For the Good Times,” “From the Bottle to the Bottom,” “To Beat the Devil,” “Loving Her Was Easier,” “Why Me.” “Me and Bobby McGee” belongs in the pantheon with a handful of the greatest American songs—right up there with “Over the Rainbow” and “Like a Rolling Stone”—each of them a meditation on freedom and longing.

His leftie activism has alienated a few people over the years. He once told Esquire magazine: “I’d be more marketable as a right-wing redneck. But I got into this to tell the truth as I saw it.” Still, Nashville has never stopped recording his songs, and his country audience is finding its way back. Fans and critics are raving about the stripped-down concert act and the finely-honed writing and studio work of his latest albums. Once his songs were about freedom, loneliness and desolation. Now he writes minimalist, gem-like lyrics about transcendence and grace—laced right down among the sorrows of life.