Scene & Herd - The Dog Days of Summer

Except with a pig

Atlanta’s nightlife slows down quite a bit in July and August and that poses a problem for me as an entertainment columnist. When nobody shows up to the events I’m covering, it’s hard to find anything interesting to write about. At this point, I’m ready to start making up events to write about until things kick back into gear after Labor Day.

So few people attended the Kiss a Pot-Bellied Pig toga party charity fundraiser at Park Tavern at Piedmont Park Saturday that my rival column, the AJC’s Peach Buzz, based its entire report about the party on me and my date. They even printed our picture in Monday’s paper. I concede that we looked sexy and debaucherously Roman in our vermilion and olive togas, mine accessorized with a sword and hers with a whip, but it’s definitely a sign that a party’s slow when the only person a journalist can find to write about and photograph is the other journalist covering the party.

After a couple of hours, my date and I decided to do as the Romans would do and go drinking. Eager to be seen in our homemade designer togas, we roamed over to The Earl, where we knew we’d stand out among the T-shirt and jeans crowd. Impressed by our boldness, the bartender fueled our two-person Roman orgy with free drinks. His generosity combined with the fact that togas don’t have pockets might explain why I found my wallet on my front lawn the next morning, right next to a piece of my date’s toga. Chant with me now, “Toga, toga, toga ... ”

BOOTY CALL: On Friday afternoon, I attended the Soul Food and Music Festival at Woodruff Park. I wonder if the same people who claimed that the event aimed to promote diabetes awareness were responsible for bringing in the numerous funnel cake and fried food vendors. Perhaps their idea of increasing diabetes awareness is to increase the number of people with the disease.

Other than Woodruff Park’s usual afternoon crowd of homeless people, there wasn’t much of an audience in front of the WILD 96.7 stage. I saw Sonny Spoon performing a song called “Shawty” but could barely hear it because the sound echoed off of the surrounding office buildings. “Shawty” was followed by a booty-shaking contest whose prize was the latest Destiny’s Child album. Despite inviting women on stage for the express purposing of bending over and shaking their asses at the audience, the contest’s emcee still felt the need to hypocritically ask the contestants to “keep it clean for the children in the audience.” It’s good to know that at least one person is looking after the children.

I HEAR A SYMPHONY: Friday night, the DeKalb Symphony Orchestra with guest pianist Eduard Zilberkant performed a crowd-pleasing selection of movie music to a packed house at Marvin Cole Auditorium on the Clarkston campus of Georgia Perimeter College. The high point was the sweeping and elegant performance of music from the 1960 film Exodus, starring Paul Newman. Between musical pieces, conductor Thomas Anderson entertained the audience with his dry, self-deprecating wit. Before the show’s final piece, Tchaikovsky’s “1812 Overture,” he nonchalantly pointed out that the music had appeared in at least one Bad News Bears film.

CUTS LIKE A KNIFE: I attended a one-day workshop Saturday on theatrical sword fighting put on by the Atlanta Opera for its performers. Held in a small dance studio at the opera’s Midtown office under the supervision of Atlanta Opera Company manager and Society for American Fight Directors-certified instructor David Coyle, the class is intended to teach opera members to sword fight in a way that is both visually and musically exciting to viewers. When I pointed out to co-instructor Marcus Durham that his organization’s acronym was pronounced “safe-dee,” he was quick to emphasize that safety was in fact the first thing that he and his fellow instructors teach. I don’t doubt that they teach safety, but handing people swords while emphasizing safety is a little bit like, well, serving funnel cake at a diabetes awareness event. It was very exciting to watch, though.

MARY-OKE: Overhearing a bartender say, “I sure hope the Pat Benatar guy comes in” is a strong indicator that you’re in the right place for karaoke. Despite being a gay bar, Tuesday night karaoke at Mary’s in East Atlanta attracts a diverse crowd. Mary’s karaoke master, known simply as CJ the DJ, is a diminutive man with a fantastic mustache and an abiding love for Diana Ross. He performs approximately every sixth song himself, usually a Diana Ross song, although he started off last Tuesday with Michael Jackson’s “Ben.” For those who don’t remember, it’s a tender ballad about a rat.

Urged on by the DJ, who solicits applause for each performer with, “Y’all, give him the clap,” the crowd is very nurturing. During my performance of Air Supply’s “All Out of Love,” an audience member named Paul joined me at the mic, dazzling the crowd with his seemingly unrehearsed, yet perfect performance of the song’s high harmony parts. Afterward, he confessed that he and his boyfriend have a karaoke machine at home that they use quite frequently and that he knows most of Air Supply’s hits by heart. That might be cheating, but he made us both look good, so I won’t complain.??