SF Weekly

Dank Digits

Incorporating weed into nail art is the new way to show your love for the plant.

SF Weekly

feature-nailsWalk into any nail salon and chances are you’ll be greeted with the smells of rubbing alcohol and acetone. But a new trend is sweeping the nail-art world that might introduce another scent into the mix: marijuana.

Dubbed “weed nails,” the style incorporates cannabis products — such as the leaf itself, ground-up bud, or hash oil — into acrylic nails, and using them to create designs. Like flower pressings, weed can be sprinkled into the clear bedrock of the acrylic, color-blocked into a pattern, blended into an ombre, or bedazzled with rhinestones and glitter.

Louisiana “Louie” Pham, owner of the Orchid Nail Lounge in Santa Clara, has even used ash from a blunt and slivers of rolling papers to create decorations on her clients’ nails. On a Wednesday afternoon in February when I visit Pham at her store, she’s in the process of snipping out the “100” from a fake $100 bill to glue into the center of a weed-flecked acrylic nail. For almost four years, Pham has been doing weed nails, and it all started thanks to the customer whose nails she’s currently working on. (Click here to read more)

Like What You’re Hearing?

Thank Clams Casino.

SF Weekly

music1-0908In 2011, Michael Volpe was a 23-year-old physical therapy student who lived in the historic township of Nutley, N.J., with his mom and her two dachshunds. In his spare time, Volpe produced beats under the name Clams Casino and used MySpace to pitch his glitchy, chillwave creations to other up-and-coming artists.

By the time graduation rolled around in May, he’d released his first mixtape, Instrumentals (which Pitchfork would later name the 17th top album of 2011), produced songs for the likes of Lil B, Soulja Boy, Mac Miller, Main Attrakionz, and Havoc of Mobb Deep, and had a record in the works with the then up-and-coming emcee, A$AP Rocky.

With one foot in two worlds, Volpe, who will be performing at Mezzanine on Thursday, Sept. 15, realized he had a decision to make post-graduation: He could either pursue music full-time or use his degree to get a job in physical therapy. With little hesitation, Volpe chose the former.

“I was just like, ‘I’m going to see how far I can take my music over the summer,’ ” he says. ” ‘And, if it works out and I can start making some money off of it, then I’ll just keep going with it.’ ” (Click here to read more)

The Metamorphosis of a Rapper

How Miami emcee Denzel Curry spent the better part of 2015 working on himself.

SF Weekly

music1-1For most of 2015, mum was the word for Miami rapper Denzel Curry. The 21-year-old emcee kept a low profile, only emerging once in June to release the double EP, 32 Zel/Planet Shrooms. Fans took notice of his absence, wondering what had happened to the ambitious young artist who has been churning out a steady stream of music since the age of 16. Had he retired from the music industry? Or was he taking a break?

The answer: neither. Instead, he was plotting his transformation.

Curry’s decision to tweak his image and sound came after a conversation he had with André 3000 — “my idol,” he says — at an art gallery in the Wynwood District of Miami at the tail end of 2014.

“I knew that if I was going to ask him something, I wasn’t just going to ask for a picture,” Curry says. “I was going to ask him something that was going to change my life, and really, that’s what happened.”

He ended up asking André 3000 a few questions, like “What do you do to stay relevant?” and “What keeps you going?” The former OutKast member’s answers were startlingly simple — “He was like, ‘Just don’t get bored. That’s how you succeed and have fun,’ ” Curry says — but it was enough to jumpstart the younger rapper’s ambitions to modify things in his own life and make the mundane less mundane. (Click here to read more)

Who Is Joanna Newsom?

Demystifying Northern California’s enigmatic harpist

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In 19 minutes and 53 seconds, I tried to crack Joanna Newsom. I wanted to figure out who she was, because Newsom, a 34-year-old singer and harpist raised in Nevada City, is an equation that doesn’t add up.

Since Newsom emerged on the scene in 2004 with her debut studio album, The Milk-Eyed Mender, fans and journalists alike have been trying to figure her out. (She’s even had problems with stalkers.) With her long, flaxen hair, whimsical song titles, poetic lyrics, and ethereal, polyrhythmic song structures, there’s something otherworldly about her. (Tolkienesque terms like “Elfin princess” and “wood nymph” are frequently used to describe her.)

In her music, Newsom is haunting and cryptic. Though her sound is firmly rooted in folk, it’s not the happy, cutesy folk of Simon and Garfunkel or Peter, Paul, and Mary. Instead, she sings about loneliness, loss, regret, and misunderstanding — that is, if you can understand any of her lyrics in the first place. Newsom’s voice is high-pitched and quivering, and her lyrics are couched in metaphors and symbolism — so much so that one fan has created a website devoted entirely to deciphering her lyrics. (In “The Things I Say,” Newsom even sings a few lines backwards.)

(Click here to read more)

Metal 101

Gary Holt, The Guitarist For Legendary Thrash Metal Band Slayer, Explains The Genre to a Novice

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Last month, I went to see Metallica perform at AT&T Park the day before the Super Bowl. It was the first metal show I’d ever attended — and it was terrible.

The music was loud and clamorous, the vocals were sinister and throaty-in-an-evil-way, and the overall experience was much darker and ominous than I’d expected. I spent three hours with my mouth agape in horror, resisting an urge to cover my ears.

But as I looked around the audience, I saw 40,000 people were vibing to the music. Cacophonous, raucous, and scary though it was, these people — normal-looking, not-dressed-in-black people — were digging it. Like, really digging it. The guy next to me stood up for the entirety of the show, and the guys in front of me couldn’t contain themselves from throwing up devil horn hand symbols every few minutes. It was clear something was afoot. But what?

I needed help. I would never be converted, but I needed to understand why people listen to metal. And who better to explain metal than Slayer, another legendary metal band of the 1980s?

From a hotel room in Wisconsin, Slayer guitarist Gary Holt took the time to explain the genre to me and provide some insight into why people are drawn to it. I still don’t get metal, but I at least now sort of understand the genre from a metal lover’s standpoint. (Click here to read more)

Racing Goosebumps

How DJ Jazzy Jeff and 20 others spent a week creating an album.

SF Weekly

music-jazzyjeffIf there’s one thing you should know about DJ Jazzy Jeff, it’s that even though he lives in the woods outside of Philadelphia, there’s almost always a few people at his house. In fact, it’s for this very reason that he was 30 minutes late to our phone interview.

“I’m sorry,” he tells me when I finally reach him. “I had some family members stop by.”

For someone who averages 160 shows a year and always seems to have his hands in a new project or two, you’d think the constant deluge of visitors to Jeff’s home would be distracting, not to mention unwanted. But he insists it’s not.

“There’s always someone here, but it’s not a bad thing,” the 52-year-old says. “I’m trying to create a creative safe haven for people.”

In fact, Jeff — who most people associate with Will Smith, a longtime friend with whom he formed the two-time Grammy Award-winning hip-hop duo DJ Jazzy Jeff & the Fresh Prince in the mid-’80s — thrives on collaboration and teamwork. It is for this reason that he has hosted biannual workshops and sessions — called the PLAYlist Retreat — for producers, DJs, and songwriters at his house for the last three years.

“It’s like a camp atmosphere,” Jeff says. “We get about 18 to 25 trailers and line them all up outside.” (Click here to read more)

Grooving With Rockin’ Jim

For more than four decades, the KPOO DJ has been spinning ’50s and ’60s tunes on nighttime radio.

SF Weekly

music2-1It’s a little before 8:30 p.m. on a Monday night, and Jim Rigsbee is sitting in the studio at public radio station KPOO, shuffling through a stack of CDs and 7-inch records. For more than 40 years, Rigsbee — better known to listeners as Rockin’ Jim — has been hosting Grinders Grooveyard, a late-night program consisting of pop and rock hits from the 1950s and ’60s.

Rigsbee inherited the show in 1976 from its original hosts, who created the program when KPOO was founded in 1971. A retired customer-service agent and “jack-of-all-trades” for the San Francisco Chronicle, the 69-year-old has long grown accustomed to the show’s nocturnal hours, which are currently 8:30 p.m. to 11:30 p.m. on Mondays, but in the past have continued as late as 2 a.m.

Rigsbee — wearing a crewneck sweatshirt, Manchester United sweatpants, and oval wire glasses nestled halfway down his nose — is an S.F. native who currently resides in the Outer Mission. He remembers listening to Elvis Presley on the radio at the age of 8 and can recall seeing shows at iconic (and now-defunct) turn-of-the-century concert venues, like the Fillmore West and Avalon Ballroom. (Click here to read more)

Inside the Mind of a Slumerican

Alabama rapper Yelawolf reveals his true feelings about women — or, as he calls them, “bitches.”

SF Weekly

music1-2Had Hillary Clinton won the election, this article would have been different. But she didn’t, and Donald Trump did — and now I can’t look at a number of things, including the Southern rapper Yelawolf, in the same way.

The 36-year-old Alabaman emerged onto the music scene around 2005, when he put out his first independent album, Creek Water, an electronic hip-hop record laced with Southern and psychedelic flourishes. At that point in his career, the now almost fully tattooed artist had but a few inkings on his skin, including the word “Slumerican” on the back of his calf, which he’d had done in 2002.

Today, Slumerican is far more than just a fading image on the rapper’s leg: It’s the URL for his website, the name of a song he collaborated on with Killer Mike, an Instagram handle, a Facebook page, an entry in Urban Dictionary, a Tumblr profile, a record label, a soon-to-be weed strain, and Yelawolf’s namesake.

“It started just as a play on words, to be an American from the slums, like mud tires on a big truck with a Dixie flag, with white boys from the backwoods — but they’re bumping Biggie Smalls,” he says, adding that pretty soon, there will be a Slumerican store, barbershop, and tattoo parlor.

If the word rubs you the wrong way, you’re not alone. Though Yelawolf claims it is “an all-inclusive culture and brand,” I can’t help but think of the people that it represents: namely, Trump supporters. After all, wasn’t it White, rural voters who helped The Donald on his road to victory? And wasn’t it Yelawolf — who last year defended the use and wearing of the Confederate flag on Facebook — who said in a 2011 interview with The Guardian, “I represent the people who are the core of America”? (Click here to read more)

When The Going Gets Tough, Growl

Beach Goth 2016 was a fiasco and City Club sounds too polished, but The Growlers don’t give a shit.

SF Weekly

music1-1I’m lucky to get Brooks Nielsen of The Growlers on the phone when I call on a recent Thursday afternoon.

“I do the whole ‘I’m not talking to anybody anymore’ thing a lot,” the frontman says. “Even at this stage, I get people interviewing me who don’t know my music, who’ve never heard The Growlers.”

In fact, as recently as “like, two weeks ago,” Nielsen wasn’t taking calls from journalists. But I’ve caught him at a good time: The Growlers, all three of whom are from Dana Point in Orange County, are home for a week and have some time to spare. It’s a rare occurrence for the garage-rock band that has spent an average of seven months a year on the road since releasing its debut, Are You In or Out, in 2009.

“We didn’t know that we were touring more than anybody else,” Nielsen says of the band’s early years. “We didn’t know how much we were supposed to be touring.” (Click here to read more)

Two Semi-Charmed Hours With Stephan Jenkins

The Third Eye Blind frontman dishes on the band’s next album, trolling Republicans, and becoming ‘a whole person.’

SF Weekly

music1-2Interviewing Stephan Jenkins is like herding cats or trying to get my very untrained dog Mischa to do a trick. He evades questions, changes the subject, gets easily distracted, and takes minutes to finish sentences, often using as many as a dozen adjectives to describe one thing.

“This isn’t really an interview,” Jenkins tells me shortly after we meet up. “We’re just chit-chatting.”

It’s a little after 5 p.m. in the middle of the week, and we’re sitting on the patio at Zeitgeist, a metal bar in the Mission, because that’s where the Third Eye Blind frontman suggested we go.

For more than two hours we sit there, facing each other while seated on the same bench — because the din from the crowd and the live thrash band is so loud that our knees have to be touching for us to hear one another.

“I feel self-conscious,” Jenkins complains, after I ask him to hold my recorder closer to his mouth so that it picks up what he’s saying. “I feel like, ‘Is this really what my voice sounds like?’ Fuck!” (Click here to read more)

Feeding S.F.’s “Heart-Smart,” Low-Sodium Foodies

Planning daily meals for hundreds of seniors is no easy task.

SF Weekly

feature-foodIt’s lunchtime at Rhoda Goldman Plaza, an assisted living community in Pacific Heights, and the 45-table dining room is in full swing. Uniformed and name-tagged waiters zig-zag around the L-shaped space, dodging the clientele’s walkers and delivering steaming plates of vegetarian moussaka, slices of baklava, tiny dishes of ice cream, and bowls of “heart smart” broccoli soup. Diners at one table loudly discuss the “state of Judaism today” a few feet away from a couple who are quietly reading the day’s San Francisco Chronicle.

Corey Weiner, the food and beverage director, is a face that everyone at Rhoda Goldman Plaza knows. For the last 17 years, she and chef Kelly Dame — both graduates of the Culinary Institute of America at Greystone in St. Helena — have planned and cooked all the meals for the dining room, and residents know that if they’ve got an issue with the food, these two are the ones to talk to. So it’s no surprise when that is exactly what happens as Weiner trudges through the carpeted dining area on this particular afternoon.

“They didn’t mix it with anything,” a gray-haired man says as Weiner passes his table. He’s eating the smoked whitefish plate with cucumbers, onions, and crackers, which is one of the two main courses on the day’s lunch menu. “I like it this way. Was that an accident?”

Weiner, who by now is used to these off-hand critiques and compliments, patiently explains to the man that no, the way the smoked whitefish was prepared today was “not an accident,” but she’s happy to hear he likes it. (Click here to read more)

Throwback on Wheels

There’s just something about riding in a vintage Volkswagen van that makes taking a tour of San Francisco so appealing.

SF Weekly

feature-vwbusA vintage Volkswagen van covered in psychedelic, S.F.-centric paintings idles on the corner of Jefferson and Hyde streets, its doors wide open with Redbone’s 1974 hit single “Come and Get Your Love” blaring through its speakers. With cobalt-blue seats, orange shag rug flooring, and plastic beaded curtains, the van looks like a perfectly preserved time capsule from the Summer of Love, replete with a license plate that reads “P4PEACE” and a pair of blue-lensed “John Lennon” sunglasses hanging from the rearview mirror. It’s part of a fleet of four vans — each with their own names, like “American Pie” and “Liquid Dreams”  — owned by San Francisco Love Tours, a sightseeing company that adds a hippie twist to the regular tourist experience.

Started in January 2015, San Francisco Love Tours is the brainchild of Allan and Roberto Graves, two brothers with a passion for VW buses who learned their trade from their father, a longtime tour guide in Costa Rica. Though their buses visit many of the hotspots you’d expect for a tourist-geared business — think Lombard Street, North Beach, the Castro — the retro vans add a fun-loving flair to the experience, as well as a certain level of intimacy, since they can only sit six people at a time.

“We always wanted to create the feeling that we’re driving around our relatives and close friends that are visiting from out of town,” Allan says.

It’s 2 p.m. on a Friday when I arrive at the meeting spot near Fisherman’s Wharf, and I get assigned to a van named Sunshine, along with a family of four from Maryland who are all sipping iced drinks from Starbucks. (Click here to read more)

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