The Cheerful Cynic

02 November 2007

Curb your design enthusiasm


Communal dining in style at 3 Square

By Julianne Gorman, Special to Metromix

June 29, 2007

(Photo Credit: Kenesha Sneed)




3 Square exudes design-geek curb appeal. The front of the restaurant is floor-to-ceiling glass with wood tables that slide through the panes, increasing or decreasing seating capacity on either side. (Wood-working hobbyist, owner Hans Rockenwagner actually built the tables himself.) But if the face of the restaurant is all style and austerity, the inside is the opposite: warm and bustling and nothing if not communal.

When we visited, 6 p.m. on a Saturday, the place was packed -- and there was a rollicking group at the communal table by the kitchen. Anonymity immediately went out the door as my date and I contorted to shoot photos from 6 different angles. Our neighboring diners inquired, so we revealed our underlying purpose. Then they surprised us with a counter-reveal: the blond gentleman to my right was actually the restaurant's chef, Wolfgang Gussmack. Yikes. Pressure. We chortled; small-talked; then—poker faces firmly intact—we tasted.

The salty, gooey corn crepes stuffed with black forest ham, fontina and roasted bell peppers, were a favorite. But the avocado fries were something of a let-down. Gussmack’s wife divulged that a marriage proposal would be forthcoming at the far end of the long, family-style table. Much like the showroom at Design Within Reach, the room's vibe isn't exactly romantic—but the familial energy warms it up. We tacitly agreed to photograph the unfolding romantic subterfuge.

Then: More food. Mercilessly, I pit burger vs. burger in the mini burger trio. Hands down winner was the beef burger on a pretzel roll. It was cheesy and salty, with a firm skinned roll complimenting the tender, perfectly done patty. "Get the Mac N' Cheese Souffle," a knowing chorus chimed. Dusted with those ubiquitous breadcrumbs, the puffy dome emitted a satisfying curl of steam when pierced with a spoon.

Meanwhile, rumors indicated that future groom will wait for a more private setting. Ahhh, well. Our dessert, a trio of contemporary Bavarian delights, quelled any disappointment at missing the 2-carat presentation. And the promise of love lingered in the air, regardless.


Food: A succinct collection of Austrian comfort foods and a smattering of Americanized options. Veggie options few and far between.

Scene: Warm, bustling and communal—with style.

Insider Tip: The wine list is small, but very carefully selected; ask chef Gussmack for a recommendation—he's more than happy to kick in suggestions.

So Long, Suckers - Al Jourgensen of Ministry


Ministry releases its swan song, but frontman Al Jourgensen will not go quietly

By Julianne Gorman

Special to Metromix
September 19, 2007

(photo credit: Steffan Charazi)






A Republican in the White House always seems to equal better songwriting for Ministry, the Chicago-born band who originated a heavy industrial sound spotlighting, among other things, co-founder Al Jourgensen’s hatred of political corruption, especially on the right. The band’s latest album, “The Last Sucker,” is no different, chugging and hissing with the political disdain and rumbling machinations that have been Ministry’s trademark for the past decade. It’s also purportedly the final Ministry offering, before Jourgensen refocuses his energy on his El Paso, Texas recording studio and label—both under the 13th Planet moniker.

As he prepared to unleash “The Last Sucker” on audiences, Jourgensen discussed politics, overcoming drug addiction and plans for Ministry’s final tour.

The tour kicks off March of 2008?
Yeah. Seven weeks in North America, 10 weeks in Europe and that’s it. We’ll have one final Revolting Cocks record and tour. Then I’m a full time record exec.

Do you have a vision for 13th Planet Records?
We’ve got some pretty varied stuff…it’s not just gonna be a metal label. For instance, Burton Bell from Fear Factory. We just got done with [Bell’s] Ascension of the Watchers record, which is coming out in February. People are going to be pretty freaked out. It’s very ambient, like Nick Cave meets Jesus and Mary Chain back in the day or something. The guy is an artist. He’s willing to experiment; he’s willing to expand. I don’t have to baby-sit him. [He doesn’t] require a limo from the airport…we don’t do that shit.

I think those days are long gone. It’s a very DIY landscape now.

You’d be surprised. Ninety-nine percent of the music populace in Los Angeles is still living in the ‘90s. They really are. Their idea of success is not writing a kick-ass song or doing a kick-ass album. It’s getting on retainer for some actor’s kid who’s starting a band, who needs some good musicians. [Laughs] I think [today’s bands] are just jealous of us old drug addicts from the ‘90s—we got all the perks and accoutrements of the thing and now they want it too, but the industry has morphed into something different.

I visited the video shoot for “Lay Lady Lay” in 1994 and I have to say, I was a little concerned…

[Laughs] You have no idea. That was probably the closest to death I [ever] was, in that period between “Filth Pig” and “Dark Side of the Spoon.”

What made you realize you had to be done with that stuff?

It was the classic tale of an addict bottoming out. I had a 12-bedroom house in Austin and blah, blah, blah…I went down to literally a knapsack of underwear and t-shirts and one guitar, sleeping on a crack addict’s couch. I’d lost everything. I just woke up [one] morning feeling particularly aggravated at the whole situation and decided that either I should shoot myself through the mouth that day or do something about it. I chose the latter and that’s a good thing.

It’s been…
Five years clean.

So when you’re signing a band to your label, if someone’s got a substance problem…
They can come back when they’re serious about their art, instead of serious about the party surrounding the art. Because you know, almost 10 years of my life are a blur and a waste. I have talent and I have passion for what I do and I squandered it. So I don’t want to waste my time chasing people around who want to squander talent and passion.

Does your audience connect with the politics of Ministry?

We get some uneducated, right-wing skinheads who like the power of the music and just go to the mosh pit to beat people up. And we have other people that the politics resonate with, young and old. Last tour, we had some contest winners backstage—a meet and greet thing—and we had three generations: a grandmother, a daughter and a granddaughter. They were all into Ministry. [Laughs] I felt like Wayne Newton in Vegas. It was pretty strange, but cool.

Do you participate in any political organizations?
I sit on the board with punkvoter.com. We registered almost 30,000 people to vote in the last election at our shows—and plan on doing the same this election.

So what would be the best possible outcome, next election?

A gigantic revolution on the streets. Burn down K Street in Washington DC and hang all the lobbyists, and [do] a forced diversion of all military spending into social programs. Hang all the oil executives and the lobbyists—how’s that? Let’s throw the oil executives in there, too. [Laughs] But that’s not really going to happen.

With all this non-stop political inspiration, how will you refrain from writing Ministry songs post-retirement?
That’s where my label comes in. I don’t have to do it myself anymore. Now I can get other people who’ll yell about this shit.

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Ben Harper, Au Naturale


The soulful rocker went to Paris and back to basics for his latest, 'Lifeline'

By Julianne Gorman

Special to Metromix
October 25, 2007

(Photo Credit: Scott Soens)


Ben Harper seems to shine when the clock is ticking. His 2004 collaboration with the Blind Boys of Alabama started as a “just a few tracks” and hyper-evolved into a Grammy-winning album during a mere eight days in the studio. Maybe that’s the kind of kick-started creative evolution that Ben Harper and the Innocent Criminals had in mind when hatching the plan behind “Lifeline,” their most recent release.

Tapping into the raw energy propelling their eight-week concert tour, the band wasted no time getting into a Paris studio to capture that post-tour electric high. Stoking the situation with self-imposed technical limitations (no Pro Tools, the audio editing software that’s become the industry standard), they knocked out the album in a week.

As he prepared to return to the road, Ben Harper discussed the creative process behind “Lifeline,” the importance of writing non-political songs and his newfound love of YouTube.

You recorded in seven days, with no Pro Tools or computers, directly after completing your European tour. How did that impact the momentum and feel of the album?
The concentrated amount of time gave the music an urgency and a sincerity—not that it wouldn’t have had otherwise—but I think [the album] found its strongest voice by having limitations.

How did you pick the Studio Gang location in Paris?
Once we decided on it definitely being an analog record, it instantly limited our options. Of those options, it was clear Gang was the only option: A, it’s in Paris and B, it’s just got the right feel.

Did you know that it was going to be just a seven-day affair?
I imposed a six-day limit that got stretched to seven days.

Did the fact that you weren’t going to use technology sit in the back of your mind during the recording? Did it affect the process?
No, we let go of that. [Imposing] the time restrictions and the technological restrictions—it’s not showing off, and it’s not nostalgia for the past, either. It's just knowing what’s going to give the strongest voice for this particular group of songs. I love Pro Tools. I think it’s great. But with that said, I’m very excited about revisiting analog for my next couple of records. I’m just a huge fan of the saturation that the tape brings. And for extended listening, I think you can’t beat it.

Were all the songs completed before you started your last tour?
They were written on tour, by the band and myself.

Did you work out the songs live during the shows?
We wrote and rehearsed these songs on the two-month tour of Europe. Because we were playing such big places, [there were] people who were taking the tickets, cleaning up, the ushers…so that by the time we were done rehearsing there were 100-plus people kind of hanging out and listening. But we never formally tested the songs under the lights, at a gig.

In fact, I saw a YouTube posting of you playing “Fool for a Lonesome Train” in a Brussels hotel room, during that tour. Are you a fan of the YouTube phenomenon?
Yeah, I think it’s great. Especially for us bands who don’t get played on TV. It’s a great way to get your band played on a square box.

You do a lot of festivals—Austin City Limits, Bonnaroo, Lollapalooza. How do you find those experiences differ from headlining?
[There’s] a little different edge because there are a bunch of people who are there, hopefully, to see you—and a bunch of people who aren’t. So, while you’re playing to your fans on a high-powered stage, you’re also introducing your music simultaneously to a bunch of heads. And that adds an edge that I appreciate and that I enjoy.

I understand that at Lollapalooza this year, you joined Eddie Vedder and a U.S. soldier who’d been in Iraq on stage for a song they co-wrote. How did that come about?
There’s a movie about this specific solder; it’s called “Body of War.” His name is Tomas Young. I met him for the first time at Lollapalooza. He is an Iraq veteran, strongly vocal in being against this war, who has seen the underbelly of what it means to have been there. He and Eddie collaborated on the song, and they invited me [to perform it]—and of course, I obliged. I was excited to do it.

Our world is very politically charged these days, and “Lifeline” isn’t. Did you intentionally avoid being political?
Well, I’m coming off a record that’s titled “Both Sides of the Gun.” I’ve always wanted to stray away from repetition—maybe even at my own expense. But I like to make different [music]—I don’t feel one way every day, and not every hour. I’m always switching it up…I don’t want to be the person always singing one style of music.

The comedy is as important as the tragedy?
If you’re always singing songs about social circumstance, it’s going to be expected. And somehow might be less urgent. If it’s expected, then the element of surprise is gone—it takes something away from the process for me. When you’re making music, if you do certain types of songs—ballads, soul music, gospel—it keeps it fresh and real, and keeps it meaning something to me.

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