The Ties that Bind: Deni Y. Béchard’s Cures for Hunger delivers a powerful bildungsroman about distraught lineage, rootlessness, and the invention of personal identity
5 out of 5 stars
The Ties that Bind: Deni Y. Béchard’s Cures for Hunger delivers a powerful bildungsroman about distraught lineage, rootlessness, and the invention of personal identity
by Evan Giannobile
Deni Y. Béchard’s memoir Cures for Hunger catalogs the search for identity through alienated connections to the past, plucking the resonant and often dark strings which inextricably join the lives of parents and children. Desperate to understand his own motivations and drives, Deni Béchard relies on uncovering the history and true character of his father, Andre Béchard, to help untangle his own identity in a vivid narrative of discovery, longing, and unknown family histories.
Published by the local institution Milkweed Editions, Béchard’s new memoir has been extolled by critics as a hard-earned and honest lyrical exploration into the dynamics of a dysfunctional family and the residue left behind. Having previously won the Commonwealth Prize with his first novel Vandal Love, Béchard now delves into the complicated relationship with his father: a compulsive, criminally-minded, freedom-seeking man who for Béchard had always occupied the fragile space between fear, disgust and admiration. Cures for Hunger is beautifully written and was listed on Amazon Canada as this year’s best nonfiction book, and Milkweed Editions is publishing the first American edition of Vandal Love as well as Cures for Hunger.
Alas, Alas’ debut self-titled LP is evocative and full of imagery, worth the listen
Alas, Alas’ debut self-titled LP is evocative and full of imagery, worth the listen
[UPDATE: Live audio of Alas, Alas' "Whiskey Town" by Jeremy Kleider]
by D. Sykes
Alas, Alas offers a kind of music now very familiar to Twin Cities audiences, a traditional Americana sound that embraces the ragged edges common to hardscrabble traveling musicians. Like many groups you can find at quieter basement shows and stages like the Acadia, they adopt a loose, living-room jam feel, like a bunch of hipster kids who got a hold of their granddad’s fiddle collection—however, Alas, Alas set themselves apart from the vast run of these groups through sheer songwriting quality and musical talent, as evidenced on their debut self-titled LP.
Alas, Alas forego the minimalism of much anti-folk for a ramshackle, wall-of-sound approach, reminiscent of a hung-over Beirut playing in a living room somewhere in Arkansas. At more intense tempos, as on “Whiskey Bound,” they remind one of the alt-bluegrass of Duluth’s Trampled by Turtles. At times the similarities border on appropriation, but there’s only so many chord progressions and picking patterns in the traditional Americana idiom.
He’s not just writing his name: Brian Hart’s light drawings are serious works of art
He’s not just writing his name: Brian Hart’s light drawings are serious works of art
by Kristoffer Tigue
Brian Hart has been drawing since he was a child. When his family took him to the public library, he’d always check out how-to-draw books. By the time he was 15, he was savoring the full works of Picasso and Gjon Mili’s extra-exposed photography. Born in St. Paul, he moved to Sioux City, Iowa with his family when he was six years old. In 2005 he decided to move back to his home state, finding residence in Minneapolis, and has showcased his incredibly textured light drawings at the Cult Status Gallery and the Future Presence Gallery.
An almost serendipitous discovery, Brian started playing around with his phone screen while exposing it to his Digital SLR, when he realized he could do much more with ultra-exposed photography—physically manipulating small LED lights to draw on his camera in the same way that photographers have been taking those cityscape photos with the blurred car lights on the highway. It started with writing his name but has moved onto some pretty incredible pictures. I met Brian at the Star Bucks inside the downtown Minneapolis Target shopping center because we both love corporations. It was like hosting an interview inside some sort of corporate turducken. Good coffee, too.
Band on Band Action: Matt Homan of The Japhies talks about the genuine rock n’ roll of RapeDoor and The Goondas, the nihilistic ways of Brain Tumors, and his fatalistic visions of the Indie scene
In Minneapolis, music is an obsession. Yes, everyone is a music lover, it shouldn’t matter where you’re from, but Minneapolis is different. In short, we’re snobs about it. But it’s much more than that. Our city-life thrives on our music, embracing and nurturing it the way L.A. nurtures film, or the way Miami nurtures tourism, or the way Arizona nurtures intolerance.
It’s more than something that simply exists here, it’s a hub of creativity, a womb of support and love—it’s an integral part of our identity. Our city is rich with art, and we’re proud of it, however, if you’ve lived in Minneapolis, if you consider yourself a Minneapolitan, you know Music forever remains King.
In these series we interview different local bands and have them talk about the music scene that supports them. Specifically, we talk to them about other local bands for, hopefully, some wet, wild, steamy-hot Band on Band Action.
Episode #2: Matt Homan of The Japhies
by D. Sykes
With a rousing live show and a shiny new LP on the way, The Japhies have become a highly respected outlet for the pure rock and roll that many in the Twin Cities have abandoned. A band with much more depth than the average cock-rock outfit, they pursue their music with dedication, without taking themselves too seriously or falling into the quagmire of irony and pretentiousness so common in these trying times.
I met up with their bassist, Matt Homan, to go turn in a jar of change for rent money and play Vice City. We laughed, we cried, we discussed the resurrection of the local rock scene and talked shit about people from Arizona.
Wet Hot Minneapolis Summer
Wet Hot Minneapolis Summer
by D. Sykes
Minnesotans appreciate the summer more than most people on the planet. Each year we suffer through seven to nine months of horrid desolation, snow emergencies, and sliding on ice all the way to the liquor store every night. When the warm months finally roll around, we feel a primal and powerful urge to have as much fun as humanly possible. However, since we’re so adept at complaining, we’re pretty bad at actually enjoying ourselves.
So here’s a quick guide to making the most of your passive-aggressive Twin Cities’ summer, the way we know best: riddled with underlying and often hypocritical criticism.
5.) Build a bike, ride it everywhere, become a superhero and save the world
Scientific studies show that if only 3.3 million people were to completely forego the use of automobiles and ride bikes instead, unicorns would fly out of Mount Vesuvius and fart out ozone-layer-repairing nanobots so fast you won’t even be able to listen to an early Crass EP before trees start growing up through the abandoned streets.
