“This is not a concert,” says composer Randall Davidson, welcoming the audience to the Southern Theater. For a minute, I was confused; I thought I was at a concert. But Sound Check, a new monthly music series at the Southern Theater, is more than just a chance to hear new music sponsored by the American Composers Forum. It is an opportunity to engage in a dialogue with the composers and performers; to get inside the creative process.

On April 11, the audience at the Southern was treated to five pieces of new music, ranging from operatic art songs to free jazz. Each composer was on hand to discuss their music with Davidson, who served as the moderator. They also took questions and feedback from the audience.

Sound Check is coordinated by the American Composers Forum, a group who, according to their mission statement, is “committed to supporting composers and developing new markets for their music.” You may think that “classical” music is completely irrelevant—the Composers Forum would like to change your mind.

One piece, written by two graduate students at the U, showcased the innovative facets of electronic composition. While a piano, marimba, cello, violin and flute played Elliot McKinley’s menacing song “Speak (no) Evil,” co-composer Josh Clausen sat at his laptop, nodding along with the beat and placing samples and sound bites into the mix. The lights in the Southern Theater went out, and the intense composition took hold of the audience.

This may not be the sort of thing that comes to mind when you think of “art” music, but it should be. Sound Check did an incredible job of demonstrating the versatility of new music, be it jazz, classical or pop.

Genres began to blur at Sound Check as Wade Oden and Kim Sueoka, best known for their work with the rock band Space Station Alpha, played a series of duets by composer Christopher Gable. A far cry from their work in the world of pop music, these songs proved the flexibility of musical styles and the talent of these musicians. The evening was marked not only by the richness of the compositions, but also by the expressivity of the performers.

“It’s much more about the people than what’s written for them,” says jazz composer/pianist Ellen Lease when speaking about her song “Phrenology.” And while Lease was describing the unstructured nature of her free jazz quintet, the statement applies to any act.

Soprano Janet Gottschall-Fried, for example, expressed her emotional connection to the song cycle she sang, titled “Music for Heroines.” The piece was commissioned to commemorate a book about breast cancer survivors, and was premiered in front of an audience full of women featured in the book. Gottschall-Fried said that first performance was so emotional, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to sing it. At the Southern Theater, which was its second performance, she showed an obvious connection to the words she was singing.

Unlike concerts and recitals, Sound Check series lets the audience hear these sorts of insights and background first-hand, from the mouths of the performers and composers.

With its laid back format, Sound Check is a great way to discover the innovations in music taking place right here in Minnesota. Embracing styles as diverse as jazz and electronica, the April installment challenged the commonly held conceptions of art music. Unfortunately, the event was preaching to the choir; the majority of the people in attendance had personal ties to either the organization or the individual composers. The May 23 edition promises to be just as good, featuring new works involving video art and MIDI performances. Hopefully the intriguing lineup will draw a few new faces.

The next two Sound Check concerts are May 23 and June 20. Both shows are at 8 p.m. at the Southern Theater.

“I’ll have the Paralyzed Polynesian.” Our waitress (who looked like Maggie Gyllenhall with tattoo sleeves and half-inch wide black spikes through her ears) showed up before I really had a chance to fully peruse the drink menu. Fortunately, Psycho Suzi’s has devised an ingenious drink ordering system. One can simply drag his or her finger across the mixed drink section of the menu until he or she arrives at the tiki man illustration that represents his or her desired level of drunkenness. I chose the tiki man who had lost his pants.

Psycho Suzi’s Motor Lounge is an odd oasis after a jaunt deep into Northeast Minneapolis. An old A & W restaurant-turned tiki bar, it boasts vaguely authentic island decor, complete with giant red-eyed wood carvings and thick wicker-hatched tiki huts just waiting to go up in flames from patio patrons’ cigarettes. The drink menu ranges from “trailer wine” to “fancy pants wine,” champagne in a can, and wicked concoctions served in “stupid mugs with tacky garnishes for you to ponder.” (I got a little orange monkey—insert squeal of delight here.) They also have an award-winning, foodgasm-inducing pizza menu. We ordered the Fastback, an artichoke, spinach, tomato, and white wine garlic sauce covered pie that just about made me have to change my shorts.

The menus make for interesting reading material, ripe with thinly veiled insults and cheeky footnotes. The price range is fair, no fifty cent taps, but you won’t dump out your wallet either. Mug bandits are deterred by a $4 deposit on all tantalizing beverage containers, which you may choose to forgo at the end of the evening if you cannot bear to part with your ceramic Easter Island head.

The crowd is crust punk, motorcycles and muscle cars, and the tunes are Ozzy Osbourne meets Styx meets the Electric Light Orchestra. Peering through the patio doorway I could see that our jukebox hero was a hyper Billy Idol with extra spike collar and extra jean jacket vest. As an engine snarled and tore out of the adjacent carport, I almost shat myself.

“Ask any dope rat where the junk’s spraying and they’ll say they scraped it off that, who scored it off this, who bought it off someone; after four or five connections, the list always ends with the Pin.” Right there is your typical piece of dialogue from the recent neo-noir Brick. It’s that kind of over-the-top pulp novel speak that will either make you giddy with absurdity or completely turn you off.

The story’s crimes and investigations all happen in and around a California high school, a locale rife for noir treatment. With that as a backdrop, the film creates an interesting, immersive world—as long as you can accept teenagers who live a typical high school life while saying and doing things along the lines of Pulp Fiction.

Brick’s plot has all the essentials of a great, generic, hard-boiled detective story. A tough, street-smart outsider, Brendan Frye (Joseph Gordon-Levitt…yeah, the kid from Third Rock from the Sun), shoves his way into the criminal underworld of his high school after his ex-girlfriend gives him a cryptic plea for help then suddenly disappears. On his way to the truth, he’s forced to deal with the perpetually strung-out drug fiend, the vampy temptress, the high school hired thug and a tough-talking “cop” in the form of a vice principal. There are crosses, double-crosses and plenty of difficult to follow dialogue.

While it sounds somewhat ridiculous—and in many ways it is—Brick still packs some wallops, both viscerally and emotionally. There’s plenty of violence that the faint of heart or stomach may not be able to handle. What works in this odd combination of silly and disturbing is Brendan’s relationship with his ex-girlfriend. She left him because of how fiercely protective he was of her, even when she didn’t want protecting. His love is the most intense type I can think of. It’s not a love of two people mad with passion for each other, but that of a person who’s still able to completely and selflessly care for someone, even after they’ve turned their back.

Brick is the kind of film that really demands multiple viewings. There’s definitely enough plot (not to mention enough crazy film-noir speak) to warrant it. While it doesn’t do anything revolutionary with the noir genre, the film updates it to a very fitting modern setting. Because of this, Brick is more homage than parody, a far-out mesh of neo-noir and high school drama. It works as both because it never winks at the audience. The film knows its audience is smart enough to appreciate the serious and the absurd.

Your shoes stick to the tacky theater lobby as, popcorn in hand, you wait for the orange vests to open the theater doors. A hero’s symbol puffs with pride on your shirt, cracked and faded by years of love. A nervous tic works at your cheek as you tap your watch, unable to believe that after years of waiting, you must wait still. And then, in the ticket line behind you, you overhear:

“How about we see that V for Vendetta movie?”

“Ugh. A comic book movie? Let’s see something good.”

It’s a sentiment uttered far too often, and weighted with enough ignorance to make pre-crisis Superman’s knees buckle. Comic book movies are a longstanding cinematic tradition that date all the way back to 1939 with the Batman serial series. Over the years, comic book movies have become an integral part of American culture; from Superman, which launched Christopher Reeve into stardom; to the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles in 1990, which delighted children and irritated parents. These movies are a stunning and uniquely American form of entertainment.

In present day, with waning ideas, writers’ strikes, and a glut of remakes, Hollywood has come to rely more and more on comic books and their time-tested visual storytelling to keep audiences in theaters. Some of these movies have been complete flops, but their sheer numbers have made this decade belong to superheroes.

X-Men (2000)

Director: Bryan Singer
Starring: Hugh Jackman, Patrick Stewart, Ian McKellen, Halle Berry and Famke Janssen

X-Men went down in history as the first successful superhero-team movie. Focusing on Marvel’s iconic Wolverine, Bryan Singer brought a cast of fan-favorite mutants to life and pitted them against the fearsome Magneto, portrayed by Ian McKellen (of Gandalf fame). Patrick Stewart rose to the role of the wheelchair-bound Professor Charles Xavier, a potent telepath and pacifist with his own team of militant super-teenagers to spread his message of peace (by force, if necessary). Dazzling special effects and a phenomenal effort from the cast made X-Men an instant hit. The movie grossed over $54 million in its opening weekend and put Marvel in the definitive lead for super-hero movies.

Spider-Man (2002)

Director: Sam Raimi
Starring: Tobey Maguire, Willem Dafoe, Kirsten Dunst and James Franco

In 2002, audiences watched Tobey Maguire do whatever a spider can, and loved it. Led by Sam Raimi, a B-movie alumnus who hit the directorial jackpot, this movie is proof of the success that comes from putting a true fan on the helm of a comic-to-movie translation. Special effects weren’t quite up to snuff for the challenge of making Spidey’s 3-D acrobatics visually believable, but that didn’t hinder its success. With an original story which is familiar even to people who have never picked up a comic book, Spider-Man launched a sequel for itself before it even left theaters.

Daredevil (2003)

Director: Mark Steven Johnson
Starring: Ben Affleck, Jennifer Garner, Colin Farrell and Michael Clarke Duncan

Fresh off the success of Spider-Man, Marvel decided to next chronicle the life and times of its blind lawyer-turned-superhero. What else can you do with radar-like sense and a stylish cane, but dress like Satan and wail on mob bosses? Farrell’s psychotic take on the master assassin Bullseye made for some amusing sequences and incredible fights. But mixed reviews and an unenthusiastic reception by fans left Daredevil stumbling in the dark.

The Hulk (2003)

Director: Ang Lee
Starring: Eric Bana, Jennifer Connelly, Sam Elliot and Nick Nolte

One of the disappointments of the comic-movie continuum, The Hulk had potential to be a success but dropped the ball. Special effects have progressed far enough to create an engaging, if not believable, green giant to rampage across the silver screen. Director Ang Lee, fresh off the wildly successful American release of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, created a story with the cadence and flow of a Dickenson poem. Translated to the big screen, it became a long, and, convoluted, two-hour movie intermittent with pointless fight scenes, and capped with an ending that made no sense. To the regret of those who paid to see it, Lee and his production team failed to realize that The Hulk’s reason for being is to smash the fuck out of whatever he sees.

Hellboy (2004)

Director: Guillermo Del Toro
Starring: Ron Perlman, John Hurt, Selma Blair, Karel Roden and David Hyde Pierce

An odd name for an odd hero, Hellboy brought to the silver screen the tongue-in-cheek heroics of Mike Mignola’s demonic comic book character. Ron Perlman, usually thrust into villainous roles for his gravelly voice, donned a massive red muscle suit to battle a reincarnated Rasputin (Roden) and his band of Nazi collaborators. Confused? Don’t worry. Hellboy’s snappy dialogue, unique humor, quirky characters, and fast-paced action made up for its predictable ending.

Elektra (2005)

Director: Rob Bowman
Starring: Jennifer Garner, Terence Stamp, Kirsten Prout and Goran Visnjic

What’s worse than an unnecessary sequel? An unnecessary sequel spawned from a mediocre movie. Jennifer Garner reprised her role as the tertiary Marvel character Elektra…only instead of being a ninja assassin, as she was in the comics, this Elektra is a ninja heroine protecting children out of the goodness of her heart. Huh? With ridiculous special effects, characters that refused to compel us, and almost no story to speak of, Elektra falls squarely into the ‘Why was I made?’ category of cinema.

Constantine (2005)

Director: Francis Lawrence
Starring: Keanu Reeves, Rachel Weisz, Shia LeBeouf and Tilda Swinton

Formula for an Alan Moore comic movie: take one book (Hellblazer); reinvent the main character (wisecracking Brit becomes stoic American); throw in a wooden star (Reeves); ignore source plotlines entirely; serve. While Constantine possessed the star power and special effects to make up for its wafer-thin story and deus ex machina ending, fans of the Hellblazer series were baffled by Hollywood’s need to change a series that didn’t need tweaking in the first place. Still, seeing Reeves giving Satan the finger may be enough for some to justify the rental cost.

Sin City (2005)

Director: Frank Miller, Robert Rodriguez
Starring: Bruce Willis, Clive Owen, Jessica Alba and Benicio Del Toro

Frank Miller’s gritty noir caricature shocked and delighted audiences last year, leaving its mark as the most true-to-source comic book movie to date. Rodriguez worked closely with Miller to develop the visual design and cinematography used in creating this collage of crime, love and violence in sleazy Basin City. Supposedly, the comics themselves were used as storyboards. An all-star cast lifted their characters right from the pages of the graphic novels onto the silver screen, all to a constant narration that broke a fundamental rule of cinema with terrific results. Before Sin City, audiences had never watched a comic book.

Batman Begins (2005)

Director: Christopher Nolan
Starring: Christian Bale, Michael Caine, Liam Neeson and Katie Holmes

Director Chris Nolan set out to reinvent the Batman franchise, and succeeded in a big way. Batman Begins retells the story of the Dark Knight’s legendary origins. Christian Bale became the first actor to persuasively play both Bruce Wayne and Batman (apologies to Adam, Michael, Val and George, but it’s true). With a seedy Gotham City molded from the streets of Chicago, convincing bat-gadgets, and an impressive Batmobile, Batman Begins single-handedly made audiences forgive the franchise for the cinematic cancer which was 1997’s Batman and Robin.

Fantastic Four (2005)

Director: Tim Story
Starring: Ioan Gruffudd, Jessica Alba, Chris Evans, Michael Chiklis, Julian McMahon

Most people don’t know that Marvel’s first family had a movie of their exploits made back in 1992. The result of early ’90s special effects combined with an unwatchable plot tanked the movie before it ever hit theaters. It now circulates on the bootleg market as a curio. The latest attempt looked prettier, but still had a long way to go. With a thin story, continuity problems, and a distinct lack of super-battles, Fantastic Four failed to live up to its 40-plus years of source material. The actors’ devotion to their roles (excluding Alba’s Reed-obsessed Susan Storm) remains the bright spot in this otherwise dim view of Marvel’s iconic family.

V For Vendetta (2006)

Director: James McTieque
Starring: Natalie Portman, Hugo Weaving, Stephen Rea and Stephen Fry

After four previous bastardizations based on his source material, graphic novelist Alan Moore refused to attach his name to this project. Too bad, as this is the first movie to draw from his work that actually follows it. Taking a dangerous stance on the positive, patriotic aspects of violence and terrorism, V For Vendetta took a refreshing chance in an industry riddled with conformity and repetition. Using Natalie Portman’s shaven head as a selling point was an odd, but ultimately successful, marketing ploy, and taught us that bald truly is beautiful.

The Appleseed Cast is no stranger to concept albums. Their seventh CD, Peregrine, shows yet again why the Lawrence, KS-based quartet continue to do it better than anyone out there.

Peregrine goes like this: in a wooded rural area a deranged father copes with murdering his daughter. She returns in the afterlife as a ghost to haunt him, and he struggles to live with the weight of her death on his shoulders. Later, in a type of mercy killing, a peregrine falcon ends the father’s misery.

Pretty heavy stuff, but what about the music? This time around the Appleseed Cast brings it fervently, aggressively and, at times, delicately.

Singer/guitarist Christopher Crisci’s echoed vocals set the scene over distortion-filled, pounding tracks “Mountain Halo” and “February.” Softer tracks “Ceremony” and “An Orange and a Blue” exhibit the band’s penchant of spaciously layered, arpeggio-laden instrumental tracks that 2001’s Low Level Owl executed to artistic perfection.

In the epic finale, “The Clock and the Storm,” a barrage of knife-cut riffs, screaming guitars, and thundering drums escalates to a breaking point.

Peregrine’s success lays in the amalgamation of their past work to the present, giving the band an evolving identity. To their credit, they have managed to combine pieces of nearly each of their albums to create a culminating work that current fans can enjoy.

And for those who are new to the Appleseed Cast: what are you waiting for?

The evolution of the Flaming Lips’ music is nearly as trippy as the music itself. Starting out as a lo-fi indie rock band and progressing to fuzzed-out psychedelia, most recently they’ve been doing some of the best pop-friendly atmospheric noise orchestrations you’re likely to find. Half the fun of listening to their newest album, At War with the Mystics, is finding out what sound the band is taking on now.

The thing is, there is no one sound to this album. It opens with a catchy ’60s-esque psyched-up singalong about the dangers of power, both personal and political. Immediately we’re transported to the ’80s with an electro-funk masterpiece that would make Prince himself proud. Titled “Free Radicals” (the best chemistry puns to ever grace the music industry), the song is a full frontal blast against fanaticism of all types.

What ties these songs and the rest of the album together is the no holds barred lyrics taking on current events. Pop princesses (Britney Spears and Gwen Stefani by name) get theirs, as do superficial minds and rogue politicians. Calling this a political album would severely insult the massive scope of Lips’ singer and songwriter Wayne Coyne’s lyrics here.

The only weak spot on the album is about halfway through when things start to sound a little like their previous albums, specifically Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots and The Soft Bulletin. “Vein of Stars” is the prime culprit, with not enough going on musically and predictable but vague lyrics. But with so many ear pleasing moments like the explosion of pure sonic goodness halfway through “My Cosmic Autumn Rebellion” and the way “It Overtakes Me” leads perfectly into the crazy-catchy, pop-done-right-it’s-scary “Mr. Ambulance Driver,” one weak song is forgivable on an album of well played lyricism and amazing musical variety.

I was listening to “Traces,” the second track on the new Built to Spill album, and trying to figure out why they included some guy saying, “Who is Mike Town?” in the background. But it’s not that bad, I thought, it’s just strange. And after all, it is Built To Spill; there must be some reason. Then I heard it again on the following track “Liar,” and realized I am a fool. The real reason is that I have peeked, opened early. I stole the album and Mike Town is an electronic watermark.

So there. I’m a thief, but it’s only because I am impatient. I own the older albums and I have seen Built To Spill in concert twice and Doug Martsch by himself once. I love this band, and I want to strangle this wise-ass who thought it cool to dub himself in.

Fortunately, this watermark occurs in only four of the 10 tracks. And the sheer volume and eloquence of these tracks buries it like a mountain.

You In Reverse is different from the earlier albums. It is heavier, dirtier, louder. Of course this applies only to the guitars and rhythm, since Martsch’s singing never leaves that sweetheart Neil Young-like tone.

What we get is a powerful album. Only two songs run under five minutes, allowing serious motion and build-up in the longer tracks.

The final song, “The Wait,” embodies the best of their “popibilities,” putting a heart shaped bass line on the end of this combustible album; a perfect piece of music to court this spring season.

It’s too bad that we’ll have to wait until September (and for Doug’s retina to reattach!) to hear this music live.

At least in this album, we’ll have something to hold on to.

With no flashy marquee to announce itself, the Bedlam Theatre took me a while to find, but you know you’re in for an entertaining night when your first task is to find the venue. Located behind Palmer’s Bar, in the shadow of the Cedar-Riverside housing complex, the small theater is easy to miss. The West Bank is home to a staggering number of performance centers, but none of them have the edge you’ll find at the Bedlam.

John Francis Bueche, co-artistic director at the theater, says the Bedlam occupies a “unique niche” in the West Bank in its ability to bridge the local community and the reputation of professional theater.

On April 1, the Bedlam Theatre hosted a variety show like no other: the April Fool’s Romp. A mixture of sketch comedy, video art, puppetry, live music and rodent costumes, the romp was unpredictable at every turn—just like the audience.

An informal B.Y.O.B. policy that evening ensured an inebriated crowd of bikers, punks and hippies at the Bedlam. Cans of beer and 40-ounce bottles were as conspicuous as they were abundant. And as the night went on, the laughs got louder to the delight of the performers and viewers alike.

Bueche describes the romps as, “A celebration of the radical-activist heart of our theater enterprise.” The first of the variety shows was in 1998 and, as Bueche noted, “Romps’ll sell out by word of mouth.” The house was full early in the evening, and when all the seats were occupied, latecomers sat on the floor with no complaints.

The night began with a live “broadcast” of the fake news show WYASKY, in which anchors read headlines and ran video clips on the day’s top stories. Anchors targeted the War in Iraq and immigration policy in the satire, and proved that the Bedlam has no qualms about being outspoken. WYASKY is a recurring skit, and served as entertaining filler between the night’s other performances.

Following the first news segment was the evening’s most unexpected act: a trio of people in rodent costumes. Armed with homemade drums, the furry creatures emerged from backstage and performed their not-so-coordinated drumming sequence to the delight of the crowd. Using only gestures and the occasional squeal, the papier-maché adorned performers earned some of the biggest laughs of the night with their innovative slapstick-style routine.

Regular Bedlam Theatre players took the stage throughout the night in the WYASKY news segments, an ongoing game of Celebrity Jeopardy (á la Saturday Night Live) and a 15-minute reenactment of the movie Rocky. While the other acts of the evening were astonishing, it was these skits, with their inside jokes about the Bedlam, that resonated most with the crowd of regulars.

“Our loyal following sustains the whole thing,” notes Bueche. “There’s been long stretches in the past that we’ve survived without a whole media presence.” And it was obvious that April Fool’s Day at the Bedlam was like a holiday with extended family. So much so that the second to last event of the evening was a marriage ceremony.

When Ivan and Kelly recounted their romance and exchanged vows, I witnessed the most bizarre crowd reaction I’d ever seen. Granted, it’s hard to take seriously a marriage at a theater on a night of practical jokes (it was April Fool’s Day, after all), but no one seemed to be laughing as the ceremony was nearly cut short by a barrage of beer cans from angry audience members. Perhaps they protested the institution of marriage, but the violent reaction to the ritual on stage was disconcerting to say the least. But true to the world of theater, the show went on.

About the only way to recover from the near chaos of a wedding is an awesome set by a group of highly skilled musicians. Enter: the Blackthorns. Armed with classical string instruments, a hard rock rhythm section, banjos and accordions, the Blackthorns have one of the darkest, most original sounds of any local band. And though they were plagued that evening by technical difficulties, they still managed to get through an entire set, even agreeing to play a one-song encore. They were the perfect sendoff after an evening of chaotic entertainment

Those who caught the April Fool’s Romp were witness to one of the great expositions of local talent in a variety of mediums. And while the Bedlam Theatre maintains a year-round schedule of events, there’s something about the romps that accurately evokes the theater’s namesake in a way that nothing else could.

Bedlam Theatre’s next production is West Bank Story which begins a run at the Mixed Blood Theater on June 2. Check for upcoming events and future romps.

For the Master of Fine Arts Exhibitions at the University’s Katherine E. Nash Gallery, a vision is a vision no matter how twisted. The piece entitled “Surreal Fantastic” is not artist Jonathan Bridges’ favorite by any means. In fact, he finds it to be the most random of his selections.

And still, there is something undeniable about it. “Surreal Fantastic” is, after all, an image depicting two nondescript clay bodies sculpted by Bridges in a rather compromising position. To top it off, his head is superimposed over both.

“A woman who saw it said it best,” smiles the Kansas native. “No one knows you better than yourself when you’re getting fucked.”

Bridges is one of five graduate students with work on display at the Nash, each with their own distinct message to send. The exhibit also features Ryan Chamberlain, Patricia Healy McMeans, Eric William Carroll, and Kirsten Peterson.

“An MFA is like an artist’s Ph.D.,” gallery director Nick Shanks explains. “This is the chance for the public to see some really cutting-edge visual work.”

Bridges’ sculptures specifically follow these themes of the beauty beneath the grotesque. The haunting “Guardians of Possibility,” meant as a 21st-century interpretation of ancient Chinese tomb gardens, combine the most graceful and strange of mediums (porcelain, crystals, flush valve seals, taxidermic eyes) with a terrifying exquisiteness.

“I try to examine what’s behind the more unpleasant parts of life,” he continues. “I want to make elegance out of something wicked.”

Patty Healy McMeans, whose white-on-white drawings upon satin canvas, subtle beaded pearl stitching, and screen-printing ink images suggest a quietly blinding world, hopes to achieve similar reactions of understanding. “Much of my work operates from a place of phenomena, that ‘a-ha!’ moment,” she muses. “It’s meant as a slow discovery.”

Eric Carroll, both a photography student and teacher at the university, started creating the work on display through his research in the technological history of the photographic industry.

“I like to start out with ‘real’ three-dimensional experiences, compress them with photography, and then bring them back to 3D through various studio practices, as a way to get to more universal feelings of loss, change, nostalgia, and obsolescence,” he says.

Carroll’s massive “One Year of Taking Pictures—or A Proposed Alternative to the Recent Scrapbooking Craze” is framed by two walls lined with thousands of photographs scooped out of the dumpsters of one-hour photo shops in the last year. The photographic identities are dispelled by 35 mm holes driven through their centers, and in the center of his display are poles speared with stacks of more photos categorized by Landscape, Weddings, Travel, Holidays, and so forth.

“Some people think this is a violent act, but I think photography can be that way,” Carroll says. “It’s all about interpretation.”

Bridges agrees wholeheartedly. “I feel the point of the artist, of myself and the other people here at the gallery, is to help others imagine what we dream.”

The Katherine E. Nash Gallery presents five Master of Fine Arts exhibitions in a show that opens March 28 and runs through April 20, 2006. All events at the Nash are free and open to the general public.

Blake Sennett’s thin, sweaty mustache and greasy, all-encompassing bangs overwhelmed the microphone April 10 at First Avenue. As he belted out the lyrics to yet another pop melody layered heavily with depressing lyrics about his parents and some girlfriend, I thought, “I’m so glad I didn’t pay for this.”

The night wore on, and so did The Elected. Sennett’s mustache became thinner and sweatier, and his songs more and more predictable. They all sounded nice, but every three songs or so I would think, “Didn’t they play this already?” For all I know, they could have been doing some sort of reprise set.

All things considered, The Elected sounded as much as the boy-half of Rilo Kiley would: frustrated yet twangy, with a hint of autumn melancholy. Their second album with Sub Pop, Sun, Sun, Sun sounds sort of like Bright Eyes in a field of wildflowers: wistful, yet maintaining credible levels of sorrow. Expected, I guess, considering Sennett spent a few years under the wing of Conor Oberst, Bright Eyes’ cornerstone member. It seems that despite his new label, Sennett’s alt-country heart still aches for Omaha. No matter how cheery the name of the album is, I’m afraid Sennett and company found themselves in a rut.

Alright, I’ll be the one to say it: Sennett is much better off sticking with Jenny Lewis, Rilo Kiley’s heart throb/powerhouse vocalist. Her solo project sounds like Rilo Kiley distilled down to its more delicate elements, which The Elected unquestionably misses.

The evening’s main act, Metric, managed to take the crowd from bored and somewhat nostalgic to ready for the all-night dance party. Their sound was huge for having just four people on stage, and lead singer Emily Haines drew the crowd in with her white one-piece jumpsuit and variation of the robot.

Formed in Brooklyn in 1998, Metric sounds like new wave experimental pop. They recorded their latest album, Live It Out in their home studio in Toronto. With a peer group containing members of Broken Social Scene and Stars, the band’s sound reflects the ways in which sound and atmosphere is being played with in the Toronto scene. The best part of this combination is that Metric manages to maintain a separate identity and aesthetic, while other bands seemed to have become so intermingled it’s hard to tell one where ends and another begins.

As the crowd drew on the pulse of the bass line, they seemed to forget all about earlier in the evening, when creative rhythm was the last thing on the menu. Kudos to Metric for bringing the good mood, and the fun show. As for The Elected, I’m not sure if they’ll be my band of choice in the future.