By Anna Pulley
By Erin Sherbert
By Chris Roberts
By Erin Sherbert
By Rachel Swan
By Joe Eskenazi
By Erin Sherbert
By Erin Sherbert
Though I spend several months every year planning and pondering the chimeric configuration of the SF Weekly Music Awards, I never actually know what will happen. We hire the talent, pack the Bay Area's most fervent supporters of independent music into one nightclub containing 250 musicians, 13 trophies, one spotlight, countless enormous egos, and an open bar, and then we shake. The result over the years has been ridiculous, delightful, inspiring, and, sometimes, a bit dangerous, but never boring. I've seen presenters and recipients fall off the stage, rip their pants, lose their tits, lose their lunch, and make out with their drummer's girlfriend. I've been swept away by masked wrestlers, dancing gorillas, incoherent comics, lascivious marching bands, and a small, bubble-chomping dog. I've cringed as bottles were hurled at music critics, chairs were hurled at promoters, and insults were hurled at everyone. I've watched musicians arrive in limos, coffins, loincloths, and cocoons. I've giggled at fans trying to pass themselves off as nominees and nominees trying to pass themselves off as voters. I've pulled the remnants of a drumstick out of my best friend's face before the show's grand finale and swept up the remnants of all the major-label records we smashed in boozy abandon afterward.
Mostly, I've heard a lot of people over a lot of years thank each other for the music.
Here's the SF Weekly Music Awards 2002 winners list:
Dave Gleason's Wasted Days
The Fucking Champs
Call and Response
And here are a dozen, plus two, memorable moments:
1) The show is sold out by 9 p.m. Out front, people yell and cheat and steal and pout -- and tap dance.
2) Project: Pimento takes the stage amid liquid lights, shadow dancers, and fluorescent-paint-splattered go-go dancers. Someone in the crowd asks me about the theremin, and, refusing to believe the tones are not a recording, then asks someone else.
3) The Coup and Ledisi win long-overdue awards for years of inspiring music and independent fortitude. The award is a well-heated lava lamp, shaped like a rocket.
4) The Phenomenauts arrive in a silver car shaped like a spaceship. They take the stage, firing toilet paper cannons, CO2 canisters, and science fiction-fueled rockabilly into the crowd.
5) Resplendent in a fur minidress that would have made Jane Fonda blush, MC LeMay sprinkles her introductions with copious references to human genitalia. "Theremin Guy" asks me if Steven LeMay is a man or a woman. He doesn't like my answer, so he asks someone else.
6) DJ Zeph's acceptance speech takes the form of praise and adulation for his longtime idol and fellow nominee, DJ Disk.
7) Lifestyle nominee eXtreme Elvis arrives on the scene wearing a giant pig's snout and shoveling barbecue pork into his greasy maw. Occasionally, he offers bites to passers-by. Less frequently, they accept.
8) KALX DJ Kitty is put in the unenviable position of awarding a category in which her housemate and two close friends are nominated. Her housemate doesn't win this year, but she decides to go home anyway.
9) Two enchanting but monstrous puppet beasts from the Shadow Circus Creature Theatre band sneak into the awards ceremony and try to eat my dress.
10) Mono Pause stages a death and a birth, and decides to perform an entire set backward while wearing ill-fitting exercise clothes. Some people don't get it, choosing to express their puzzlement by hurling glow-in-the-dark Super Balls and flying discs at the band members' heads. Others are charmed. Regardless, Mono Pause wins by a landslide in the readers' write-in category for Beyond. One band member expresses enthusiasm, saying, "We've never had things thrown at us before. Wow!" backward.
11) Our fearless, indulgent publisher is one of those who doesn't quite get it, but that doesn't stop him from swiveling his hips like Elvis and offering lucky audience members Arrested Development and MC Hammer DVDs for their winning raffle tickets. The Super Balls fly.
12) A nearly nude, tassel-twirling space chick is abducted from the stage by a gorilla wearing boingy antennae.
13) After irritating the audience throughout the night with shouts of "U-S-A! U-S-A!" punk guitarist Dan Tollbooth, of the nominated band Fracas, throws a cup of beer over the balcony at LeMay. Our otherwise decorous and refined awards girl, Monika Tiki Goddess, grabs the microphone, smooths her satin gown, and offers Tollbooth a serious ass-kicking. Luckily for Tollbooth, security gets to him before the Tiki Goddess.
14) The room suddenly goes dark and a fleet of Lumi-lite stilt-walkers descends on the crowd to take names and rearrange atoms. There is a brief hush in the crowd, and then two Super Balls fly through the air.