the 941

It’s 2 a.m. on a Friday night. Most years, the party at New College would just be getting started. Not this year. These days, New College’s public parties, known to students as “walls,” are starting, and ending, early.

As tonight’s wall winds down, equipment technicians wait for one last song to play out before they pack up the student government-owned speakers. A few students linger in Palm Court, the Mecca of New College social life. Most, though, simply finish off what’s in their red cups and slink back to their dorms.

New College President Gordon “Mike” Michalson scaled back wall hours late last September as a temporary security measure after a nonaffiliated visitor assaulted a student. Curtailed party hours may sound like a small sacrifice, but for many at the school, the lack of student input in the decision is only the latest in a string of controversies that have some going as far as to say that it’s the end of New College as they know it.

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Galileo Ristorante

3.5 stars

443 Burns Court, Sarasota, 927-9600 or eataliana.com.

Galileo has been part of the Sarasota dining scene for seven years, but you might not know it. Sure, this fine-dining Italian spot has a cadre of committed regulars, but the restaurant’s former location kept it largely out of public view. Boatyard Plaza — just east of the south bridge to Siesta Key, home to Coasters and little else — is a dead zone for many locals. “It was great for the first two to three years,” explains head server Alex Earl, “a bustling little area. Then, one by one, the shops began moving out.”

To be successful, Galileo had to follow suit.

A few months ago, when Uva Rara closed and its primo downtown spot in Burns Court went on the market, Galileo’s chef/owner Tom Harvey saw his opportunity. Central location. Historic building. Large outdoor patio. It didn’t take much thought before he signed the lease and called in the moving trucks.

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Pedro Arévalo, 32, could be called the bass player of Sarasota. Odds are, if you’re out and about and you see someone plunking away, it’s Pedro.

How many bands do you play with around town?

My father has a band called The Acoustic Pete Blues Trio, which despite its name, ranges from four to 10 people. He also has a bluegrass group called Swamp Grass. I have a flamenco group I’ve worked with for many years called The Lotus Fire. I’ll have a project with my brother starting December called Los Mosquitoes. I’ll be playing a few Saturday evenings at the Oyster Bar under my own name. I’ve been playing also with Rastus Kain; he’s a prominent blues guitarist that’s been in the area off and on for decades. The main groups I play with are not local though. Dickey Betts (of the Allman Brothers) lives here in town. I’ve been his bassist for the past five years. We did two tours in Europe over the summer. … Aside from that, I’ve been playing slide guitar with Greg Allman’s son, Devin Allman. The band is called Honey Tribe. We also did a tour of Europe this summer as well. I suppose I’m on the road between 200 and 250 days a year.

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— Outgoing Sarasota County Property Appraiser Jim Todora: still pissed that he lost his bid for reelection this past August. The guy has gone so far as to actually ban fellow Republican and successor Bill Furst from entering the office. “My last day in office will be January 5, 2009, and you will begin the following day,” Todora wrote to Furst. “I hope you understand there can be only one Property Appraiser at a time.” Catty.

— In Bradenton Beach, two men start a bar fight with a third because of his skin color. No, you have not entered a time warp: It really is still 2008, I swear.

— Public housing in Newtown is getting an ambitious and desperately needed rebuild. ABC 7 has an update. Positive vibes all around.

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Ed. note: This article, by Kevin Costello, will appear in next week’s Creative Loafing. A previous version of this post incorrectly referred to San Francisco city supervisor Harvey Milk as the mayor of San Francisco. We regret the error.

In 1983, Jill Hoffman-Kowal moved to Sarasota because the San Francisco punk scene was getting in the way of her art. She never left. Her life trajectory, however, is hardly that simple.

Along with Joe Rees — a video documentarian — Hoffman-Kowal photographed some of the seminal moments of the punk rock era, with a grasp on capturing in video and print the pulse of the chaotic late ’70s and early ’80s. Partnering with Rees, she established Target Video, whose mission was to chronicle those early raw days of punk rock. These performance tapes lie in a vault somewhere in California, no doubt bound one day for the Smithsonian.

Since settling in Sarasota, Hoffman-Kowl has pursued everything from photorealist paintings and drawings to found-object collages made from twigs and bird feathers. These latter objects will be on display at State of the Arts Gallery starting next week, as part of Eco Chic.

Hoffman-Kowal’s journey from punk impresario — dancing to the sound of stacked speakers, surrounded by brilliant crazies powered by sacramental drugs and booze — to an intensely personal woman at peace with herself and her art in a bamboo garden sounds drastic. CL wanted to know more.

CL: Tell me about your work photographing Punk in the ’70s.

JH-K: I was in the habit of carrying my Pentax, then my Nikon, everywhere I went. I took slides with Tri-X B/W. I took slides through my first trip to Europe which was a five-month sojourn of cross-country and western Europe. We went to Dokumenta and the Biennial in Bologna, Italy. I first heard conceptual performance artist Laurie Anderson there.  She played a white violin with audiotape on the bow and an audio head attached to the violin. Brilliant. Anyway, we went from Amsterdam to Positano, Italy, in 1974. I photographed conceptual and performance art pieces, Terry Fox and events at LaMamelle or Site which were alternative art spaces in San Francisco. The Sex Pistols were my first punk band to photograph.

CL: What are the circumstances for you taking shots of the Sex Pistols?

JH-K: Joe and I were somehow lucky to get into that historic show, which turned out to be their final performance. We were in the balcony and Joe snuck his 8mm film camera in and I had my Nikon, no flash, but a telephoto lens. I took two rolls that night.

CL: What Kind of person was Johnny Rotten?

JH-K: I was his tour guide in NYC while working for Richard Branson’s Virgin Records. No one else wanted that job, but I sure did. I was so impressed with his work. He was cute, articulate, smart, spoiled. He was easy to please and liked all the lowlife clubs I took him to.

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First things first: A review of the 2-disc Blu-ray edition of The Dark Knight.

New on DVD or Blu-ray today: Hancock, A Colbert Christmas: The Greatest Gift of All, Fred Claus

Variety reviews The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, starring Brad Pitt and directed by David Fincher. Spoiler: They like it.

William Shatner gives his two cents on the design of the new USS Enterprise. Spoiler: He likes it.

Sarah Jessica Parker reveals that Sex and the City 2 has a story and may be released in 2010. Oh joy, another reason for girls loopy on Cosmos to tell male movie critics to eat shit.

Tim Blake Nelson talks about becoming villain The Leader in an Incredible Hulk sequel. Which doesn’t even have a script yet.

Twilight of Bond: Tween vampire flick overtakes Quantum of Solace at the box office. Hit movies based on young adult novels about girls infatuated with pretty boys who drink blood must surely be a sign of the apocalypse.

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Ed. note: This notice comes courtesy of big brother Wayne Garcia at The Political Whore.

Breaking news:

MIAMI - A Miami Dade Circuit judge ruled today that a gay man and his partner should be able to adopt the two foster children they have raised for four years.

Circuit Judge Cindy S. Lederman “these children are thriving. These words we don’t often hear within these walls. That’s uncontroverted,” said Circuit Judge Cindy S. Lederman.

“They’re a good family. They’re a family in every way except in the eyes of the law. These children have a right to permanancy,” the judge said. “The only real permanancy is adoption in the home where they are thriving.

“There is no rational basis to preclude homosexuals from adopting,” Lederman continued.

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The most hyped record in rock history begins with a big noise — but it’s ultimately more of a whimper than a bang. The opening title-track amounting to a Pro Tools mess of guitar processing that pours out of the speakers loud and hard but never rocks, never swings, never grabs you the way, say, the entire first side of Appetite for Destruction did. Axl Rose’s voice, though, remains an awesomely sadistic growl, a reminder that, yes, it has truly been missed during the past 15 years.

Chinese Democracy improves with the industrial-informed freak out “Shackler’s Revenge” and again with the muscular guitar kiss-off “Better” - because no one delivers bitter quite like Axl. The same theme is explored on the power ballad “Street of Dreams” (previously leaked as “The Blues”). Keyboards, strings, face-melting guitar solos (courtesy of both Buckethead and Robin Finkck), it’s Axl, the music mad man genius at his post-modern Wall of Sound best. The only bummer is when the singer dips into his lower register. I can’t help but hear Forgetting Sarah Marshall’s “Dracula’s Lament.”

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Singer/songwriter extraordinaire Geri X is freezing her ass off in Wisconsin and has decided to return to Tampa Bay— permanently.

Which makes us very happy.

“So, we are coming home for good in December,” she says via email. ” 24HR Service Station records signed us and we are doing some work with John Wesley at Red Room Recorders working on the next CD. We’ll be releasing it Jan. 16 at State Theater.”

Have Gun, Will Travel, The Beauvilles and Vega Star, of Wisconsin, are also scheduled to be on the Jan. 16 roster.

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On 2007’s masterful Hissing Fauna, Are You the Destroyer, of Montreal frontman/visionary/songwriter Kevin Barnes got up close and personal, expressing his fears, frustrations and failures against rainbow-hued synth-pop with a funky, disco-fied swagger.

Skeletal Lamping finds Barnes in much better spirits and back to mining his psyche for material, the album playing much like you’d imagine his psyche actually works — jumping from one memory to another, lingering on sexual fantasies and depravities, stopping to muse and ruminate on this incident or that person, mood-shifting from confident to downtrodden, from high and happy to contemplative to spazzed-out, thoughts and ideas spurting forth lucid and witty, or as disorienting streams-of-consciousness. Soulful ditties and synth-pop dance numbers mingle amid songs-within-songs that are made up of a few or more wildly divergent electro-symphonic movements, each with its own rhythm and sound and feel that either fits comfortably or crashes inelegantly into the movement before or after it to create an interesting and truly exceptional, if sometimes chaotic and sonically challenging, whole.

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