So many of my favorite Friday nights begin sprawled out on red satin sheets. This is a luxury that I am not often afforded, so you can understand my delight when I discovered Ari Herstand’s Happy Hour Happenings at the Varsity Theater in Dinkytown. It’s tough to find a more perfect marriage of great local music, a gorgeous venue (air mattresses!), free admission, and killer drink specials.

Ari’s happy hour performance at the Varsity Theater is an acoustic pop/rock genre bending treat from one man, one guitar, one trumpet, one piano, and one loop station. His fusion of folk, hip-hop and jazz breathes much-needed warmth and verve into the acoustic rock formula. You may have OD-ed on Dave Matthews Band in the smoky haze of freshman year, but Ari has enough raw talent and charismatic energy to drive you into an acoustic addiction relapse. (He also has enough teeth in his smile to appeal to the 15-year-old girl in all of us.) The lyrics are positive and intimate, and Ari’s angelic vocals tug at your heartstrings like an episode of Dawson’s Creek. His emotionally evocative performance is punctuated with politically provocative commentary. He plugs Feingold for president in 2008 with a gentle and enthusiastic optimism.

Ari has become an artist to watch in 2006. His infectious popularity was evident in the fact that he nearly sold out his CD release show for Baby Eyes without any previous releases to his name. Ari is humbled by his fans’ overwhelming support. “Most people aren’t going to give up an entire Friday night and pay $5 for an artist that is basically unknown and who doesn’t have any music out there,” he says. Ari does have some impressive credentials—he has played the trumpet at Carnegie hall, shared venues with Ben Folds Five, Ben Harper and Buddy Guy, and has just returned from playing two shows at the South by Southwest music festival in Austin, Texas. Ari has had a lifelong love for music and performing. His influences include Dave Matthews Band, Damien Rice, John Mayer and, yes, even Eminem.

Ari Herstand’s Happy Hour Happenings can be enjoyed on the second Friday of every month from 5-7:30 p.m. Each evening begins with performances from up-and-coming Twin Cities area artists, hand-picked by Ari himself, followed by Ari’s 45-minute performance. The events are all-ages (two-for-ones on non-alcoholics too!). April’s Happy Hour Happening is unfortunately cancelled, but you can catch Ari with his full band on Friday, April 7 with God Johnson (also at the Varsity). Watch for the next “Happening” on Friday, May 12.

Times are bleak, my friends. As we arrive back from our respective spring breaks, we are faced with the most horrifying of truths: the rest of the semester is downhill from here.

Fear not. Out of the darkness shines a light, something to strive for: music festival season! And what a good season it promises to be. Naturally, one cannot peruse such offerings without proper guidance, so we’ve whipped up a handy little chart devoted to the best of the best:

Coachella
April 29-30
Empire Polo Field in Indio, California
Tickets: $85/day, $165 for limited weekend passes

This beloved arts and music festival celebrates its fifth year in Coachella Valley with an appealing lineup of headlining performances from Depeche Mode, Tool, Madonna and a horde of other acts including Cat Power, Animal Collective, Wolf Parade and Art Brut. It is a bit pricey and quite the trek for us Midwesterners, but the chances of finding another festival with such a diverse offering is pretty slim. Plus, it’s California. Heat!

Sasquatch! Music Festival
May 26-28
The Gorge Amphitheatre in George, Washington
Tickets: $165 for three day passes, $55/day

Sasquatch! also turns five this year on Memorial Day weekend, and Bauhaus, Neko Case, the Flaming Lips, Sufjan Stevens, Beck and Nine Inch Nails are going to be the cool kids at the birthday party. The distance is just as considerable as Coachella’s, but for a somewhat better price. If nothing else, go because the festival’s three stages are named Mainstage, Wookie, and Yeti.

Bonnaroo
June 16-18
A 700-acre farm in Manchester, Tennessee
Tickets: $169.50 to $184.50

Bonnaroo has been previously pegged as the hippie festival. This time around, they’ve ditched the Dave Anastasio Band and Grateful Dead impersonators, and instead threw in hipsters Sonic Youth, My Morning Jacket, Clap Your Hands Say Yeah! and a wee band called Radiohead, on tour for the first time since their 2004 Coachella appearance. The cost isn’t terrible, and as a bonus, it’s totally held on a 700-acre farm! Like, woah. Vastness.

Intonation Music Festival
June 24-25
Union Park in Chicago, Illinois
Tickets: $20/day, $35 for weekend passes

Intonation, curated last year by Pitchfork Media, has separated itself from its former sponsor (see below), though both festivals will take place in Chicago’s Union Park. This time around, Vice Records is footing the bill for Intonation, with label bands Bloc Party, the Streets, Lady Sovereign, Annie, the Stills and Jon Brion scheduled to play.

Pitchfork Media Festival
July 29-30
Union Park in Chicago, Illinois
Tickets: $20/day, $30 for weekend passes

It seems Mommy and Daddy had a little disagreement, and now Pitchfork Media has branched off with its own festival that certainly takes the prize for most tantalizing. Out of the 38 bands performing, only 15 have been announced, but who’s complaining? Devendra Banhart and Destroyer were just added to an already-stellar lineup including Spoon, Mission of Burma, Ted Leo/Pharmacists, Mountain Goats and Jens Lekman. The best part? It’s grossly inexpensive and not that far from the home front.

Lollapalooza
August 4-6
Grant Park in Chicago, Illinois
Tickets: $130 for three day passes

Though this particular festival is quite far in the future, you are invited to have your fill of 130 artists including Broken Social Scene, New Pornographers, Blackalicious, Feist and Of Montreal, all for about a buck a band. It’s a bloated festival with eight stages, but should not be overlooked, especially since the original Lollapalooza was responsible for triumphant festival revival.

Three cases of beer, four and a half jugs of vodka, and two dozen bottles of wine fueled patrons and partygoers down Quincy Street’s crumbling brick road for Art on Quincy, an art crawl in Northeast Minneapolis. The participating galleries—Altered Esthetics, Density, and Q.Arma—presented three distinct atmospheres for one night of visual sensation. And despite the copious amount of free booze, no one got down on their hands and knees to explore the exhibit’s 160-plus works by more than 60 artists.

Sin is sexy at Altered Esthetics

Stepping from a winter-darkened landscape into Altered Esthetics is like crawling out of a black-and-white TV and into the Garden of Eden. The aging warehouse walls have been painted Granny Smith green, Red Delicious and Ginger Gold. It’s an appropriate décor leading into “The Art of Sin” exhibit, a hodgepodge of over 100 works lining the gallery’s lengthy halls and two small rooms.

Jamie Schumacher, a sprite of a woman even in 6-inch tall platform boots, curated the show. “I wanted to do a religious theme,” she said from behind a small table serving blood-red wine in clear plastic cups. What she got were multiple interpretations of the seven deadly sins, plus a peep show (“Given–The Curiosity,” Tim Guthrie), and a bible which was dyed, shredded apart, and sewn into banners worthy of the Renaissance Festival (“Untitled,” Emily Newman Kelley).

A surprising number of works—including a triptych of a nude woman swathed in plastic lined with rows of oranges, and a woman bound in a lace-up leather costume—were described as self-portraits on the white description labels beneath. And then there was the artist Pee Monster, who used the space to announce, “I was born on a pirate ship.” Take that, Johnny Depp.

Drinking and dancing at Density

The second stop proved light on art, but high on fashionable young things prowling for free fruity drinks—three and a half cases of vodka worth, to be exact. They weren’t exaggerating on their website, which claims, “We also can probably drink you under the table.”

In a large room, DJ Bach remixed hip-hop tunes and dance hits (think remixed Michael Jackson) under haphazardly strewn Christmas lights, while guests, either in pale pink button-ups or toe to neck black, spazzed before the Windows Media Player-like graphics projected onto a wall.

Josh McKevitt, wearing a black hat, black and white pin-striped blazer over a pink tee, skinny pants, silver chains and checkered shoes, appeared as cartoon-like as his images hanging in the neighboring room. Against bright pink backgrounds, a woman with nipples like the end of a plunger, a phallic monstrosity, and gushing blood competed for attention.

Hidden maps unfold at Q.Arma

Q.Arma’s large white walls glowed under spotlights wired to exposed pipes jutting from the ceiling. In front of Dan Forslin’s abstract paintings, The Overcomers Garage Band Trio played for the literati crowd sipping Savignon Blanc and bottles of beer. Across the room, Rachel Mayer’s acrylic paintings brightened the already cotton-candy walls on which they hung.

“History puts the saint in every dream” and “Each one other is having a different weather” are just two works in her collection, which is dominated by pastel shades rushing together in jagged edges; the kind formed when water droplets slip from paintbrush to canvas after a dip in cleansing waters.

“Basically I think of all my works as maps to places that I don’t know and haven’t been to,” said Rachel, a pixie-cut blonde and recent University of Minnesota graduate, with a BA in Fine Art.

Upstairs, the crowd dined on appetizers stationed near a group of framed Rift Magazine covers and a spine-tingling mixed media installation of large sea-urchin-like creatures creeping up the wall and clinging to a wooden ceiling beam (“Migration,” Alonso Sierralta). Three mini-dogs constructed of wire and stone (Mark E. Trelstad), and a vibrant painting commenting on the July 7 terrorist attacks in London (“On Guard,” Matt Sesow), added to the eclectic mix.

This winter’s art crawl was the second time the galleries joined creative forces, unlocking their doors and uncorking their liquor cabinets–and it won’t be the last. Art on Quincy will take place quarterly from here on out. For updates, check out www.artonquincy.com.

Altered Esthetic, 1330 Quincy St. Hours: Tuesdays and Thursdays from 6-8 p.m., Saturdays 1-5 p.m. and by appointment.

Density, 1300 Quincy St. Hours: Wednesdays 6-9 p.m., and by appointment.

Q. Arma, 1224 Quincy St. Hours: By appointment only. E-mail Jonathan at to schedule.

March was an odd month. The weather proved to be unpredictable, and spring break was over before the untimely snow even started melting. Luckily, Jenny Lewis with the Watson Twins brought some stability to this bizarre time of the year.

Lewis, known best as the vocalist for the indie-rock band Rilo Kiley, is touring in support her first solo record, titled Rabbit Fur Coat. On March 12, the singer and her band provided their audience with an evening of simple, earnest, and beautiful music—proving that these things still have a place in the realm of rock.

Matching the simplicity of the music was the venue itself, the Woman’s Club of Minneapolis. Looking like your typical high school auditorium, the theater inside the Woman’s Club seats about 400 people on the floor and more than 200 in the balcony. The size of the venue and the minimalist stage setup ensured that not a single sound was lost throughout the night.

The first of two opening acts was a four piece from Los Angeles called Whispertown 2000. While their songs were fun and creative, the band itself was in need of a little work. Vocalist Morgan Nagler had trouble finding the right notes and their overall impact was underwhelming.

Following Whispertown 2000 was singer-songwriter Jonathan Rice. With his wide vocal range and competent guitar playing, Rice was able to immediately grab the audience’s attention. Accompanied by a lap steel player known only as “Farmer Dave,” Rice delivered a set of poignant songs and exchanged hilarious banter with his audience, accusing them on several occasions of being too serious. At the end of his set, Rice joked, “You’ll see us sooner than you think … in about twenty minutes. We’re in the band.”

As promised, Rice and Farmer Dave returned to play guitar and lap steel respectively for main set. They were joined by a drummer and a bassist to back Lewis along with harmony vocalists Chandra and Leigh Watson. Lewis and the twins took the stage with the a cappella opener from Rabbit Fur Coat, “Run Devil Run,” and immediately established the power of their combined voices. Throughout the set, Lewis demonstrated her malleability as a singer—fitting her voice into the loud, full sound of tunes like “Rise Up With Fists!!” and acoustic numbers like “Rabbit Fur Coat.” In any milieu, her voice sounded perfectly placed.

The live show also contained a lot of dynamic contrast, something that is missing from the record. The drummer and bassist were able to gradually work their way into a song without being conspicuous. Even on slower numbers like “Melt Your Heart,” they tastefully employed their skills in a way that complimented the vocals.

And while the band behind her was above average, Lewis still managed to outshine them. Her clear, steady voice was impossible to ignore from the moment she took the stage. This is a noticeable point of departure from the singer’s work with Rilo Kiley, whose sound has a tendency to distract and wash out the vocals. And as that act continues to play to larger and larger crowds (they opened for Coldplay’s arena tour in 2005), fans should relish the chance to hear the intimacy that the Woman’s Club Theater had to offer.

Lewis’ earnest delivery of these melancholy songs struck a chord with listeners, who sat quietly through the performance, absorbing every word. The singer said very little to the crowd that night, often taking the time between songs to drink from a bottle of water. The few times she did speak were to introduce new songs, of which she played two, or on one occasion, to dedicate a song to her father, who was in the audience that evening.

If there was one thing that detracted from the show, it was the stage gimmicks. From the choreographed movements of the Watson Twins to the all-black, urban cowboy garb that the entire band wore, the stage was full of nuances that seemed too well planned. The music was solid, and this was a group that didn’t need to fall back on these sorts of distractions, which have the potential to cheapen the entire experience. In spite of this, the music was easily able to make itself heard.

In the lobby of the theater after the show, there was talk of Lewis’ new, refreshing spin on “country” music. And while the harmonies of the Watson Twins and Farmer Dave’s lap steel add a distinct twang to the sound, it can hardly be called country. After all, it is one of forbearers of rock—there are bound to be similarities. So while Lewis’ folksy songs sound more like Nashville than Los Angeles, they’re a far cry from thoroughbred country music.

Having heard Rabbit Fur Coat, I went to the Jenny Lewis with the Watson Twins show with a fear that the evening was going to be slow paced. What I found, however, was that Lewis is the kind of singer who I could listen to for hours, and her band has an acute sense of what every song is in need of—something that is comforting any time of the year, and especially in March.

The 1 Second Film is a collaborative animation project that will literally be over before you can say, “One Mississippi.”

The film, which lasts one second and is followed by 90 minutes of credits and a “making of” documentary, is financed by donations from thousands of producers who can buy a credit for as little as $1. Anyone from Kevin Bacon to your mom will be listed as producer. Additionally, to fulfill every movie maven’s wet dream, each producer’s name will be posted on www.imdb.com.

The one-second animation is created with 12 giant frames that were painted simultaneously by hundreds of people during an all-night live music, free beer, carnival-style bender on International Women’s Day in 2001. What could a one-second film possibly be about? The film’s heart is certainly in its process, a bringing-together of thousands of people for one perfect moment, but you narrative junkies out there can expect to be treated to a one second excerpt of a woman’s orgasm.

Donors may select from the following options:

$1-$9.99 for Associate Producer

$10.00-$99.99 for Producer

$100.00 and up for Executive Producer

Proceeds from the film will be donated to the Global Fund for Woman.

The finished film will screen only once theatrically, and your name must appear in the credits to attend. So slide your hand between the couch cushions and buy a credit at www.the1secondfilm.com.

Russ was doing his job, shoving rowdy fans back into the mosh pit to protect the camera guy. He didn’t even see it coming.

A fist flew—thwack! Blood poured. His retina detached.

Russ, part of the film crew, was helping local production company MarcusBrox Ideas shoot footage to create a documentary about the thriving music scene of the Twin Cities. The documentary, Find Your Own Way, debuted March 9 at the Varsity Theater, following performances by local bands Throw the Fight and Down and Above.

In an orgy of stylish film work and raw amplification, co-directors Jason Brox and Tyler Marcus interviewed and filmed local bands like American Head Charge, Gingerjake, Skywynd, Banehinge and Black Flood Diesel, among many others. The co-directors, who are also roommates, had been working for local metal bands creating music videos before they decided to make their first full-length film.

The unique coupling of a live rock show with a big-screen release “solidified the camaraderie” between the filmmakers and bands, Brox said. He explained how a mutually beneficial relationship is formed when film is used to show bands and their experiences creatively.

Throw The Fight played on stage before the screening of Find Your Own Way. They led the night with screaming energy. Unfortunately, the crowd didn’t reciprocate. The Brandon Boyd-like singer tried to regain the attention that was lost amidst the droning, distorted guitars. The stale performance ended with the guitarist smashing his instrument against The Varsity’s stage. The seated crowd just looked at each other. Huh?

Down and Above saved musicians and fans alike that night. The melodic three-piece played emotionally and professionally. The crowd woke up and many massed in front of the stage. Their accessible lyrics and smooth songwriting explains why they’ve been a Minneapolis favorite for so many years. Down and Above’s “Son of a Gun” is the documentary’s theme song, according to Brox.

When the documentary began, the tension in the room was thick. Most of the bands featured in the film had members and fans bubbling with pride, anticipating their own appearance in the movie. Sections of people cheered wildly throughout the screening. The dual presence of community and competition within the scene was plain to see. The bands understand each other’s struggles and encourage success, but they are all contending for limited attention from record labels, venues, and fans. And in this case, for screen time.

The film was not glued to a single narrative storyline. It gyrated around the Battle of the Bands like Gingerjake’s Amanda Harris did to her mic stand.

The documentary might have been hard to follow if the experimental editing techniques didn’t color the screen so brightly. The filming itself was also surprising. Some shots showed the sweat, the passion, the pain and the spit sparkle on their lips. That compensated for how hard it was to hear some of the interviews.

People get more for their money and an element of surprise when they choose local music over national acts, agreed Brox and producer, Joe Salomone.

In Salomone’s words, “Do you really want to be 400 yards away from the damn stage?”

The year is 2020. The world is in many ways different, and in many ways the same. Using fear and xenophobia, a totalitarian government similar in appearance and function to the Nazi party has taken over Britain. Personal freedoms are non-existent. Censorship and lies rule the government-controlled media outlets. This is the kind of place heroes were made for. However, the hero of this place is pretentious, deranged and not entirely moral. He’s like Batman with a better vocabulary and little regard for others. He also wears a Guy Fawkes mask (Guy Fawkes attempted to blow up the British Parliament in 1605). His name is V. Welcome to the world of V for Vendetta.

You know you’ve stumbled onto a good film when it’s so enjoyable that you can ignore otherwise destructive plot holes. V for Vendetta has more than its share of problems in that department, yet it absolutely held my attention for over two hours. This movie also has plenty of super-stylized violence (it was written by the co-creators of the Matrix and directed by on of their protégés). It even has some rather high-brow drama, a smattering of great dialogue and plenty of thought provoking questions, most of them going unanswered. Basically, V for Vendetta is like an ass-kicking discourse on the relationship between government and violence.

Now when I called V the hero of the story, I was oversimplifying things. He’s really either a terrorist or a freedom fighter, depending on who you ask. Among other things, V bombs buildings, assassinates political figures and causes the deaths of several innocent civilians. Whether V represents good or bad is up to the audience, though sympathy is definitely cast in his direction. Some may not like the moral ambiguity, but I found it very fitting to the story’s premise.

In fact, one of the biggest short comings to me was how glossed-over some of the morals get. Though V never kills a civilian, he most definitely causes the deaths of several. I would have liked to hear a character challenge this. What V really lacked was a good foil—someone to make him own up when his actions aren’t entirely noble. His vendetta is both universal and personal, meaning the things he does aren’t always in the best interest of his cause or those who would help him.

Amazingly enough, V for Vendetta is a movie that I can see many people enjoying. It has enough action and drama for those only looking to be entertained, though an oddly paced mix of the two. But it also makes a willing viewer think enough to be fairly rewarding. There’s a lot in this film to talk about, whether relating to current or past politics. It’s still a comic book action movie, so those unwilling to see a person get shot outrageous amounts of times and still knife the crap out of people may not have the kind of suspension of disbelief necessary. Their loss.

A Perkins menu with none of the Perkins ambiance: This is the vibe given off by the Dinkytowner Café and More, located on 14th Avenue. With an all-day breakfast menu and reasonable prices, one would assume that this restaurant would be clean-cut and family-oriented. One should never assume.

The Dinkytowner looks like a bar. In fact, it is a bar that moonlights as a café, and it would be hard to miss if it weren’t for the large yellow and black awning above its small door on 14th Avenue.

To enter The Dinkytowner, you have to walk down a steep flight of stairs. Once inside, the first things you notice are the dark crimson and purple walls, the dirty gray carpet, and the large bar. Bright red booths run along the far wall, which would give the place an almost 1950s diner feel if the wall wasn’t covered in mirrors and illuminated by red neon lights. Overstuffed chairs and sofas are scattered near the entrance, making it look more like a basement than a café.

There is a small stage and projection screen tucked into a back corner, and the rear of the restaurant is occupied by pool tables. The Dinkytowner features nightly live entertainment and drink specials. There is plenty of seating available, but surprisingly little table space, which is uncharacteristic for a restaurant, suggesting that “The Dinkytowner Bar and More” might be a more appropriate name. The atmosphere can best be described as “grungy.”

Luckily, the Dinkytowner has great food—the café’s saving grace. An extensive breakfast menu is offered all day, featuring about five or six specials. Appetizers, sandwiches, and burgers are also on the menu, and the bar offers a large selection of beers on tap.

I ordered a Rachel, which is a hot sandwich made with turkey, Swiss cheese, Thousand Island dressing, and sauerkraut on toasted wheat bread. Although the chef went a little overboard on the turkey, the sandwich was delicious. The entrees come with crispy fries, which was the best part of the meal.

Though there was only one waitress on staff when I visited (which was 11 a.m. on a Wednesday), the service was timely and friendly. My food arrived promptly, and I was checked on multiple times.

The meal was great, but I wish I could say the same about the restrooms. The ladies’ bathroom is done in stainless steel, and is very tiny. The facilities were not particularly clean for 11 a.m. (I would hate to see them at 11 p.m.) and there was no soap left in the dispenser—ew. The interactive ads on the inside of the stalls were pretty sweet, however.

The Dinkytowner walks a thin line between collegiate and dirty. Its good food and nightly entertainment make it a cool hangout, but rule this one out as an acceptable date location. In the end, it’s a place with good food and poor atmosphere.

The voices of incoming guests rose steadily at The Black Dog Cafe as my conversation with Nick Golfis turned towards the Chinese influence and delicate chaos of his work. Golfis, an employee at the Guthrie Theater, was joined by four other co-workers and artists in the inaugural showing of the recently created painting collective, G5 (Guthrie Five).

Their work, while not uniformly themed, managed a unique balance of the artists’ skills and emphasis. There was Ben Olson’s large, color-soaked portraits with paint heaped onto faces and poses of torpor-laced expression. Hanging beside Olson’s work was the gentle atmospheric paintings of Brooke Helgevold. The wall across the room held Golfis’ optimistically apocalyptic paintings, which blend Chinese fine art and violence. Hanging next to these were scenes from South Africa done by Jean Leuthner. And in its own corner rested Craig Fenholz’s poetry, arranged in collages and written on large and small canvases.

The relationship between the painters in G5 and their first collective show represent a burgeoning theme among artists in the art world: a collaborative identity. By mixing styles and effort, these collectives are changing the way art is expressed and valued from its conception to its final presentation.

Golfis and three other members of G5 are also part of the much larger and more sophisticated collective, Ground Up, whose network of artists throughout Minneapolis and St. Paul have abetted showings like the one at The Black Dog Cafe.

Ground Up, like G5 and other artist collectives, effectively attracts and blends a variety of talent and experience. Founded early last year, Ground Up has accumulated 50 full-time members and artists who have independently ran two large shows and numerous smaller events, including an appearance at the St. Paul Art Crawl. Painters, poets, musicians, fashion designers, models, sculptors, designers, filmmakers, web designers and even bakers fill the ranks of this collective and all events and promotional effects are self-created and self-funded.

What makes Ground Up unique is the mode in which it operates and its backing philosophy found in their mission statement. In contrast to the traditional idea of the individual artist, where creativity is kept private and profit afforded the only means of survival, Ground Up pursues a consensus-based effort in an atmosphere where competition is non-existent and artists are encouraged to help one another experiment.

Underlying this effort is the determination to incite social change by exposing their collaborative art to broader audiences, while not capitalizing on their own work.

This organized cause promotes a diversity in expression that otherwise could not be reached. And through Ground Up, individual artists find a fast avenue to greater exposure while benefiting themselves and other members in the contact between varied creativity.

These values in collaboration are integral to Ground Up’s growth and future as they welcome more contributors. Aiming to make more alliances, Ground Up is seeking association with other collectives around the Twin Cities like Ephemeral Space and as far away as in New York City with a collective called YB1.

Ground Up’s next event will take place April 21-23 at the St. Paul Art Crawl. It will feature 10 bands, a fashion show on Saturday night and at least 10 visual artists in varied mediums. In keeping faith with cooperation, all are welcome.

When I first heard Chris Koza’s debut CD, Exit Pesce, I was blown away by the album’s consistency. It had the maturity of a well-planned record—something you don’t usually hear the first time around. His follow-up, titled Patterns, proves that the success of the first CD was more than just a fluke.

It was only recently that local critics started paying attention to Koza’s music. Several months after its release, Exit Pesce began to get good reviews, and Koza was named Best New Artist of 2005 at the Minnesota Music Awards. “It’s no big deal to me,” he says. “I haven’t gotten a free meal out of it or anything.” As his local fame began to grow in late 2005, the singer was already hard at work on the new album.

On April 1, Koza will play a CD release show at the Turf Club for Patterns. The disc prominently features Koza’s band, and is comprised of a lot of songs left over from his debut. “The hard decisions had to do with what songs to use,” he told me. Koza also says that making the record was a little more stressful this time around: “There weren’t any expectations last time…so I guess that was a difference heading into this record.”

Consistent from album to album are the clever lyrics, catchy melodies, and Koza’s clear, strong voice. There’s something persistent about his music. If you’re a passive listener, his songs will seep into your head without you knowing it, and if you listen carefully, the music will continue to surprise you with its seemingly infinite subtleties.

I was interested to know about Koza’s songwriting process. “There are several techniques that I try, but there’s not really one way that I write a song,” he says. This can be heard in his music, which varies stylistically from track to track, but retains an element of familiarity in the singer’s voice.

The increased presence of the band on Patterns shows that Koza’s songs work in a variety of musical settings. The mostly-acoustic sounds of his debut are fleshed out on the new album without being overwhelmed. This is due in large part to the talents of the other musicians. “They bring their own personal flare to the music,” says Koza of his band mates.

Drummer Luke Anderson uses tasteful beats and impressive flourishes to accentuate the rhythms heard in the guitars and vocals. Meanwhile, Justin Blair lays a steady foundation with his bass. Complimenting the overall sound is the electric guitar of Peter Sieve, whose playing offers dynamic and sonic contrasts to Patterns that were lacking on Exit Pesce.

Though they’ve gone through several name changes, these four musicians have been playing together for years. The quartet first went by the moniker Katnapping and then The Channels before deciding to use their singer’s name. “The music has changed a lot as we’ve changed names,” says Koza. “There’s a stylistic difference to this material.”

Patterns, in local stores on April 4, shows signs of a songwriter and a band that are increasingly confident in the music they’re making. As Koza continues to play shows and get his music heard in the Twin Cities, he says, “it gets better and better … it’s what I want to be doing every night of the year.” If Chris Koza continues to make records like Exit Pesce and Patterns, he may find himself doing just that.

Chris Koza is playing a CD release party for Patterns on April 1 at the Turf Club with Coach Said Not To and Fitzgerald.