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Category: Out and About

From Bravo to blues

So many places to drink, so little time, so few appropriate outfits.

For the sheer concentration of Beautiful People and the chance to see the Opera House like it never looks any other day of the year, there was Bravo Bravo on Friday night. It was a madhouse, with more stiletto heels and fauxhawks per square inch than any trendy dance club. The food and drinks were top notch, when you could actually reach them (and let's not discuss the logistics of trying to eat a plate of jambalaya with a cocktail in your other hand - the only way to do it is to put the plate on top of the glass, balance carefully, and go for it.) I made a vow to have a full-size dinner at The Hill soon, and order something involving pomegranate liqueur. Yum.

If the crowd itself was a departure from the usually older and more conservative operagoing types, it was even stranger hearing the Killer Flamingos playing "99 Luftballoons" followed by "Take on Me," straight outta 1985, on the same stage where "Cyrano" knocked 'em dead last fall.

OK, so it's clear that I'm a little uncomfortable in overcrowded places trying not to spill a fluorescent blue Hpnotiq concoction on a stranger's $500 dress. Wow, those drinks were tasty, but my friend Jackie and I lasted only about an hour and a half before heading to the more familiar and laid-back eastside.

Congrats to the Michigan Opera Theater for a sellout event, and I'll be back for the usual opera-type stuff, mos def.

Saturday, I did a 180, and wandered into Nancy Whiskey's in Corktown dressed in jeans and a hoodie. The place is dusty and charming (perhaps the proper term is "historic") and was full of smiling leather-clad bikers, pounding cans of Miller High Life and dancing to the raucous rockabilly of Horse Cave Trio. Not that I don't love wearing stilettos and drinking top-shelf booze in the big beautiful Opera House, but it's always nice to get back to the real.

Category: Television

"Rock of Love II" Season Finale

Is anyone else a fan of "Rock of Love II with Bret Michaels?" I know somebody's watching this show besides me because they brought it back for another season. For those who don't know, it's like "The Bachelor," but with Bret Michaels, front man for '80s pop metal group Poison.

Last night was the season finale. Bret picked Ambre, just like I knew he would. Here's a clip from last night's episode, courtesy of VH1.com.


video.vh1.com

Visit the "Rock of Love 2" blog for interviews with Ambre, the winner and Daisy the runner up, plus more extra coverage.

I can't wait to see the reunion episode this Sunday!

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Category: Music

Dig that Dog

Got a chance to check out that happenin' new jazz joint, the Dirty Dog, the other day, and I must say I left feeling very impressed - and underdressed.

This place is shiny and beautiful in every sense of the word. The decor is right out of a ritzy New York magazine; the food is so pretty you don't want to ruin it with a fork; the baby grand piano sparkled and beckoned me to touch it (which I did, and the keys almost danced on their own.)

Hanging out there with some of the regular eastside jazz cats - the same guys who could be seen in far-less-ostentatious spots like Your Place Lounge and the Cadieux Cafe, where the whole group ended up later - it felt odd to be in such a glamorous setting. It felt odd to have to make reservations and show up at an appointed seating time to hear two half-hour sets by Chris Codish, who plays everywhere in town and generally doesn't wear a tux. It felt odd to have to put on a skirt and some makeup, knowing that the lighting was good enough and the crowd was pretty enough that I'd have to put in a little effort to fit in.

But I'm not whining, I love it. An old-school semi-formal supper club with a valet and $10 Irish coffees? Count me in. But only occasionally; the paper doesn't pay me enough to make it a regular hangout.

Category: Internet

Well if this isn't entertaining...

I was amazed when I saw this video. Watch it and then click here if you want more info.

Category: Out and About

Let's hear it for the corner bars! Part 2

Mom-and-pop corner bar, oh how I love thee. Detroit's full of 'em, and I just love wandering in and feeling that warm "welcome" feeling. You can't get that from some big velvet-roped $6-beer hair-gel-and-lower-back-tattoo joint. Here are three more that made my love list recently:

Your Place Lounge, 17326 E. Warren Ave., Detroit. How, I asked myself, is it possible that there's a hole-in-the-wall bar on East Warren that has such stellar live music, and it took nine years living in the neighborhood to discover it? The free Wednesday open mic night is packed with top-notch jazz players (another blog is forthcoming on that), and barkeep Rick Pinkerton seems as happy to pour 'em as back when he was doing the same at the Music Menu in Greektown (RIP). Dark and unassuming, they don't make jazz clubs more authentic than this.

Roosevelt Bar, 3424 Caniff St., Hamtramck. So it was Friday night at the Blowout, and while trying to make our way from Jos Campau back to Conant, a house fire sent the shuttles off course and the wind was whipping at our faces, so we ducked into the nearest watering hole to warm up. God love ya, Hamtramck, they're every ten yards. And God love ya Roosevelt. While the hipsters were waiting 20 minutes for their Pabst Blue Ribbons and giving up hope on any form of food at the Blowout bars, we were treated to a free second round, complimentary shots of blackberry brandy they called Jezy Nowka (and of course I can't do Polish spelling) and were told to help ourselves to a heaping plate of mostaccioli from an earlier birthday party. I always feel guilty about freebies, but everyone introduced themselves so I wouldn't be accepting them from "strangers." I also felt guilty about missing the local bands for that hour, but Dean Martin was playing on the jukebox. *swoon*

Casey's Pub, 1830 Michigan Ave., Corktown, Detroit. My husband stopped in for a drink while waiting for me to finish up work, then had to step out for a few minutes to pick me up, and when he asked barkeep Patsy to cash him out, she said "nah, I trust you." Yes, folks, this was in downtown Detroit. We returned to feast on a honkin' bar burger and exchange stories about Sunday's parade, and all felt right in the city - well, at least in that little pub.

Again, I'm sending the call out for your favorite corner bars. What constitutes a corner bar? If it has laminated fruity drink menus with trademarked names, nope. If it has a 300-pound goateed bouncer, nope. If the waitress is too busy thinking she's hot to take your drink order, nope. If, on the other hand, your barstool has a few rips in it, your feet stick to the floor, and there's a one-seater restroom with a "please knock" sign on it, that's a contender. Leave a comment or drop me a line at dmcnary@detnews.com.

Category: Out and About

Dorks in Corktown

Och, oy. Me liver is achin' from a festive weekend in Corktown, though you'd think with a last name like mine I should be able to handle it, och.

It started Friday night after work with a bangin' birthday bash for the new-ish owner of the Lager House, P.J. Ryder, complete with a cake reading "LIVE LIFE LOUD" and a stellar couple of sets by reggae-soul outfit King Mellowman and Mellow Runnings.

(OK, in the interest of full disclosure, where do I even start with that one? The ever-so-cool P.J. is married to ever-so-cool News photographer Donna Terek, there were a lot of Newsies in the house, my husband does graphics and print work for the bar and came up with the "Live Life Loud" thing, and he and I both play with that floor-shaking reggae band. Did I miss anything?)

So yes, there are a multitude of reasons to make that one of my favorit-ist bars in town. Besides that, they have a pingpong table, and the restroom has been repainted to make the whole thing a giant chalkboard. Good thing it's erasable, seeing as how a lot of drunken scrawlings don't seem so clever by the light of the next day.

We returned Sunday dressed in green, this time with some eastside pals and their kids, for the St. Patrick's Day parade, and I must say it was more festive than I've ever seen. Maybe it was the relatively pleasant weather, or the gleaming new MGM casino that has perked up the area across the Lodge, or the other parts of Corktown that have seen new life in the past year, but the good vibes were everywhere.


I wore everything green I owned, but couldn't hold a candle to some of the characters walking around.


This guy didn't give me his name, so I dubbed him "the Mayor of Corktown."


It was right about that time that the hulking, windowless Homeland Security bus rolled by with the huge "Kwame M. Kilpatrick, Mayor" painted on the side, looking ludicrously out of place in the parade. No beads? No candy? No music? We joked that Kilpatrick must've been holed up inside, that being the safest place for him to make a parade appearance. (Sorry, I couldn't resist another Kwame joke.)

I wandered into the Lager House a few times, which was crowded enough to suffocate a big gal like me, and congratulated the staff on being in such good spirits. I even got recognized in the crowd from one of the flyers from Friday that was still hanging up (that doesn't get you a drink any faster, though.)

We stayed for most of the parade, and watched as enterprising youths came around with trash bags to pick up a goldmine of empties, so many they were literally growing on trees.

It was evident that all the Michigan Avenue bars were too crowded and too bar-like to attempt to get lunch for a big group including kids, so we - and apparently everyone else from the parade - ended up at Los Galanes in Mexicantown, sipping yellow margaritas in a sea of green.

Now I find out that today is the real St. Patrick's Day, and they're chugging the green beers everywhere else outside Corktown. Thanks, but I'm spent.

Category: Internet

The Kwame jokes, they write themselves

After last night's jaw-dropping State of the City address that looked like it was one diss away from turning into the Source Awards, I don't know whether to laugh or cry. Fortunately, we have the Intertubes. As a Detroit resident and taxpayer, I'll cry later, but for now, Kwame is comedy gold.

Who IS this guy?

Category: Out and About

Schmentertainment

Now that the others who've occasionally blogged in here have gotten their own rooms (check out Melody's, Adam's, and Susan's recently-created corners of detnews.com), we no longer have a dedicated music blog up in here. Weird. And as far as I can tell, I'm the only bloggababy left in this way-too-broadly-named "entertainment blog." So it opens up a whole world of possibilities, eh? Anything goes! Let me randomly share what I've found entertaining in the past few weeks:

* Spying on Canada through the old periscope on a clear, sunny Sunday at the Dossin Great Lakes Museum. Made my right eye hurt and I didn't spot any bacon smugglers.

* Bunches of green bananas dripping banana sweat on my head around the corner at the Belle Isle Conservatory.

* If this song and video don't catapult Ann Arbor's Tally Hall into superstardom, there's something wrong with the world:



* Ah, politics filtered through '80s alternative pop: My head is spinning at the thought of how much editing went into this gem:



* How about this little guy doing a not-too-bad version of "Hey Jude?"

* I just missed the jazz trio playing last Saturday afternoon at the new Trader Joe's in Grosse Pointe, but I had to giggle at the notion of going to a grocery store to check out a band. They say it was part of the grand opening festivities, so they're not planning regular live music in there, but next time they do I hope they don't mind if I bring a lawn chair and pop open a bottle of that Three-Buck Chuck I bought in the corner.

Category: Clubbing

Karaoke night! Want some cheese with that wine?

I really don't go out looking for karaoke nights, honest. But I keep stumbling upon them, and usually it's a long string of bad singers doing the same Top 40 country songs, and it makes me wanna back a pretty little souped-up four-wheel-drive over whoever put those songs in the book.

That's why I dig singing old standards that nobody else does. After all these years, nobody has succeeded in exorcising my inner cheesy lounge singer.

This is my new favorite karaoke song. I definitely don't do it like Ella Fitzgerald, but can't nobody do it like Ella.



And yes, I also do "Misty."

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Category: Music

Oh beautiful, indeed

Detroit's own R&B crooner William Scott made it to Hollywood, but not the final 24 on "American Idol." Such is the biz. But as this clip will show, he's got pipes as good as any of the others who made it through.

Maybe it was his political message that scared them off? "Idol" makes candy music. I mean, really, can you picture Taylor Hicks doing an anti-government protest song?

Still on the "Idol" tip, it was amusing watching the reaction of Danny Methric, lead singer/guitarist of the Muggs, back home behind the bar as "Idol" was on the tube at the Cadieux Cafe. Having seen the inner workings of the Fox music-making meat grinder during his band's run on "The Next Great American Band" (which, yes, we wrote about ad nauseum here in the ol' dusty blog) he was getting a kick out of the whole thing. "These people cry when they get eliminated, and I'm thinking, 'be glad'," he muses. Of the remaining contestants, "they don't know what they're in for."