Letter from the Editor
Mesh 3: Here we are once again, with another thrilling issue of Mesh Magazine. Our most
exciting addition is from a contributor named Matt Gonzalez. You may have heard of him.
For reasons unbeknownst to me, he has agreed to write a regular column in Mesh covering
local and national politics, and whatever else may strike his fancy. As president of the San
Francisco Board of Supervisors, Gonzalez has fought tirelessly for small business owners,
tenants, artists and the homeless. As a mayoral candidate, he galvanized the City’s
progressive community like no candidate before (despite being outspent by a five to one
margin) and we are extremely excited to bring his voice to the people.
Also in this issue, we feature Z-Man, who, as the first artist to thank Mesh in his liner
notes, will become the first musician to be inducted into the Mesh Magazine hall of fame.
After touring with Bay Area hip-hop legends Hieroglyphics, Z-Man’s been wowing crowds up
and down the West Coast and has just dropped his latest album, Dope or Dog Food?, on
Hieroglyphics/Refill Records. Also featured is Oakland’s own indie-pop darling band, Rogue
Wave, artist Rachel Dawson, who painted our amazing cover this month, and Isaac McKay-
Randozzi’s interview with San Francisco metal gods, Hightower. Plus, we’ve got four more
bits of genius from Those Two Bustas, Aye Jay and Matt Loomis, in the form of Lil’ Ol
Dirty.
The Code Duello: As the publisher of a San Francisco magazine myself, I thought I’d do a
little research into the history of the newspaper business in our City by the Bay. To that
end, I’ve been reading The Gaudy Century by John Bruce, an excellent book, published in
1948, that covers the first hundred years of San Francisco’s storied newspaper industry. It
turns out that many of the editors of local papers in the 1840s and ‘50s were disreputable
characters who gave and took offense quite easily (though, of course, this no longer the
case). Such offenses would be settled as gentleman, by putting a slug in the chest, arm, leg
or neck of the adversarial party at 40, 30, 20, or for those aim-challenged fellows, at 10
paces.
In 1852, Edward Gilbert, editor of San Francisco's Alta California, was killed by
General J.W. Denver (yup, that Denver) in a duel in Sacramento. Editor G.P. Johnston killed
State Senator W.I. Ferguson in a duel at Angel Island, and so on, and so on. Duels were
fought throughout downtown, near Lake Merced and continued even after 1854’s anti-
dueling legislation was passed. In honor of this fine tradition, I decided that it is my duty to
challenge a party that has offended me to a duel. As I perused my list of offenders, I
decided I couldn’t challenge, as was often the case of the day, any politicians, because
someone might take it seriously and I could end up down in Guantanamo Bay (birthplace of
my mother, incidentally) without a lawyer, never to be heard from again. So, who—who
could I challenge?
I could challenge Giants owner Peter McGowan for not signing Vladimir Guerrero or
Richie Sexton, for letting Benito Santiago get away and for not supporting unions; but hey,
the guy kept the Giants in San Francisco in the best park in baseball, and did it without
taxpayers’ money. Not bad, not bad at all.
JT Slow? Sure, I’d love to blame Snow’s huffing-and-puffing performance heading home
from second base against the Marlins in last year’s playoffs for ending the Giants’ season,
but there were other things they did wrong too. Plus, Snow seems like a likeable enough
guy.
So, the logical conclusion I came to was to challenge San Francisco art rockers, Crack:
We Are Rock. Having had the misfortune to spend $8 to see them at the Bottom of the Hill
about a year ago, I took it as a personal offense to have to sit through a set by the
performance art group that some people mistake for a band. If I want art, I’ll go to the
MoMA, not Bottom of the Hill.
The hype surrounding them is ludicrous. So many writers in this city pick up on any ironic
band, wanting to be “in” like the Bay Guardian’s Jimmy Draper, who called C:WAR “one of
the Bay Area's best rock creep-outs.” The Guardian also claimed C:WAR “blew the lid off
this town with their squinty, mangled, aloof, and precious live techno.” Um, yeah.
When I brought up the duel idea to my roommate, she suggested that Crack: We Are Rock
could use their music as their weapon. I completely agree.
Fronted by Le Kim and L’Erin, the band should seriously consider a name change to Le
Suck (although that may be potentially libelous to a much better band, Le Shok), or perhaps
just Crack: We Are Suck. Le Kim and L’Erin are further proof, much like T.A.T.U., that
attractive women bring all the boys (and girls) to the yard, no matter how god-awful and
contrived the music might be. They are also further proof that a gimmick can take you
further in San Francisco than talent and practice. Which reminds me of that old joke:
Q. How do you get to the Bottom of the Hill?
A. Gimmick, gimmick, gimmick.
But Mesh is here to change all that; we will have no features on Arnocorps, Elio Estevez
or any other joke-y/ironic band. So, Crack: We Are Rock, I challenge you to a duel, your
choice of weapon (though actual, physical injury should be avoided at all costs), your
choice of distance. Since I don’t own gloves, I’m unable to challenge you with a slap to the
face in the traditional manner, but I would be happy to slap you in the face with a copy of
Mesh.
New Blood: Our new Advertising Sales Director is the phenomenal Liz Ross. Her energy,
optimism and business savvy are unbelievably great. She is an incredible addition to Mesh.
She’s spreading the gospel and taking us places. Thanks Liz.
Also on board is my main man, Max Sidman, former managing editor of Chico, CA’s
Synthesis and www.synthesis.net. He has interviewed almost everyone in the music
business, from Hope Sandoval to Kool Keith, Ian MacKaye to Shock G, Dwight Yoakam to
Nelly, and he’s even sat around drinking rum with Lemmy. He also shares my intolerance for
bullshit and I am extremely lucky that he’s joining Mesh.
And I’m Out: There are a million more things I want to write about, but I don’t have any
more space. So let’s just sum it up: Bush is a fraud…and that doesn’t mean I’m un-
American. Outrage over a boob is ludicrous. Beards are played (see: Ashton
Kutcher/Gideon Yago). The ‘80s are played. The early ‘90s are coming back big time (um,
was that a Tony Toni Tone I spied in a new hip-hop video)—break out your Cross Colors
and Guess? overalls. Has anyone watched the local news on channel 3? Are those anchors
animatronics? And finally, my nominees for the next season of VH1’s Bands Reunited: Drive
Like Jehu, Cars Get Crushed, Track Star, P.E.E. and the Pixies, but—oh snap!—that one’s
actually happening.
-Brian Brophy
Send me some hate mail: brian@meshsf.com.
Or better yet, send me some fan mail.