the 941

You heard the “Intro” here last week — now click here to download this thing in full. For. Free.

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James McMurtry and the Heartless Bastards w/Ronny Elliott Band, 8 p.m. Fri., Dec. 5, Skipper’s Smokehouse, Tampa, $17 advanced, $20 door. Photo Craig Seth.

James McCurtry might not be a name on par with, say, fellow Texans Lyle Lovett or Steve Earle, but the singer/songwriter and bad-ass guitarist is still a revered act in the Americana world. McCurtry’s latest album, the outstandingly incendiary, darkly humorous, wonderfully emotive and rustically rocking Just Us Kids, has garnered glowing write-ups in glossies such as Blender, Mojo and Entertainment Weekly, the latter of which showered the disc with superlatives like “brilliant,” “hilarious” and “poignant” in giving it an A- grade. Just Us Kids is selling, too. It has reached a very respectable No. 18 on Billboard’s Top Independent Albums chart.

So it’s surprising when I’m given McMurtry’s mobile phone number and instructed to ring him in the afternoon. Any afternoon. Easy as that, the PR person says. But I’m skeptical. Usually when dealing with an artist of McMurtry’s status there’s a set time, date and minute count to which, you, the interviewer, are supposed to stick. Twenty minutes is the norm.

I dial the digits and hear a gruff “hello” that could only be James McMurtry’s. “Give me a moment to pull over,” he says. “I’ve got a manual transmission.” He steers his automobile into a nearby parking lot to grant an interview on a recent Tuesday afternoon. McMurtry has been driving around his hometown of Austin, running the same mundane errands you or I might conduct on an off day. He good-naturedly refers to the interview as just another duty after I apologize for interrupting his daily routine.

The Americana music icon speaks slowly. His voice is deep. His answers are straightforward and marked by an economy of words - and a drawl that reflects both his native Virginia and decades spent in the Lone Star State. You get the sense he’s incapable of feeding you bullshit, and it’s the same way with his music. Whether recounting the machinations of a crystal meth cooker in the fan favorite “Choctaw Bingo,” or telling me how his world-famous father Larry McMurtry’s one shortcoming as a novelist/screenwriter is that “he always gets firearms wrong,” the younger McMurtry’s words smack of integrity.

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Thanksgiving Weekend just didn’t provide enough do-nothing time for me so I decided to take this entire week off and have me a stay-cation. I’m going to re-alphabetize my CD collection, dust my apartment, finish a couple books, write haikus and whatever else I feel like doing. Which will surely include some light blogging. Here are the tunes going through my head:

Top 10: Vacation songs

1. Vacation, The Go-Go’s
2. Holiday Road, Lindsey Buckingham
3. Fish and Whistle, John Prine
4. Too Much of Nothing, Bob Dylan and the Band
5. It’s My Lazy Day, Willie Nelson and Merle Haggard
6. Situation Vacant, The Kinks
7. Lazy Days, The Byrds
8. One Big Holiday, My Morning Jacket
9. Home Sweet Home, Breaux Freres
10. Another Sunny Day, Belle & Sebastian

The Go-Go’s — Vacation

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Monday’s choice tidbits are few and far between, but duty, as they say, calls. And my post-Thanksgiving gift to you: No Star Trek or Watchmen updates.

Black Friday, indeed: Steve Guttenberg says sequels to Police Academy and Three Men and a Baby are in the works. Ha, ha, good one, Steve. Seriously, stop kidding around. No, really. Shut the fuck up.

Joss Whedon ready to bring Buffy the Vampire Slayer back to the big screen.

Hold on to your hormones, ladies: Johnny Depp and Christian Bale are respective adversaries John Dillinger and Melvin Purvis in Michael Mann’s Public Enemies, a Cream Team pairing sure to keep theater ushers everywhere on “moist-seat alert.” Have your canisters of talcum powder ready, boys!

Tom Tykwer’s The International is set to open next year’s 59th Annual Berlin Film Festival. Normally I wouldn’t post this kind of Eurocentric fare, but Tykwer’s Run Lola Run is one of my favorite films, and with Clive Owen and Naomi Watts starring, I can’t wait to get a look at this. (Unless, of course, the buzz is really bad, in which case I’ll slam the film sight unseen.)

And finally, some strong Oscar buzz is swirling around Clint Eastwood’s performance in the upcoming Gran Torino.

See, I told you there’d be no Star Trek or Watchmen. Have a great Monday.

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Monte Kiffin headed to Tennessee?

Ed. note: This post comes courtesy of Eric Snider and The Daily Loaf.

If ever there was a game that underscores the importance of turnovers, it was the Bucs’ win over the Saints. The Saints offense outgained the Bucs 332-254. Saints QB Drew Brees looked imposing most of the game, going 25-47 for 296 yards and two touchdowns. But Brees three three interceptions, all of them at crucial points in the second half (including one that set up the winning Bucs field goal, and another that ended the Saints’ comeback chance).

By contrast, Bucs QB Jeff Garcia was a fairly pedestrian 9 for 23 for 119 yards and one touchdown. He did not, however, throw an interception. (Garcia helped his cause immensely by rushing seven times for 42 yards, including a couple of key runs.) The Bucs only turnover was an early fumble by WR Michael Clayton, who was stripped in the first quarter. The Saints couldn’t turn it into points, though, giving the ball back after a 4th down play.

Ronde Barber continued his redemption effort with another good game, including a tipped ball that led to a key interception by Cato June. Barber was called for holding on Jeremy Shockey, which nullified a Bucs interception. The play looked to me, and I’m assuming pretty much everyone who calls themselves a Bucs fan, that Barber merely held his ground and Shockey ran into him.

A top candidate for Bucs game MVP was Saints RB Reggie Bush. He dropped several passes and, on punt returns, did his Dexter Jackson act by running backwards and sideways (and losing a ton of yardage).

Bucs returner Clifton Smith had another really good day running straight ahead, and — yeah! — he didn’t fumble.

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The text on the Tastebook site calls its own product “stunning and unique.” For once, I’ll have to agree with the PR flunkies. With just a little effort, you can create a recipe book of your own family favorites that’s miles ahead of the old-fashioned box of handwritten note cards.

The process is simple: just upload you recipes (with a picture if you have one), tag them into sections, title your masterpiece and pay the $19.95 (plus shipping). The resulting cookbook has the classic Betty Crocker look, with a hard cover, labeled tabs delineating sections and full-color, ringbound pages.

You can also share recipes with the Tastebook community, pull recipes from its database for your cookbook, or order Tastebooks created by other people — some of them recognized chefs like the editors of Epicurious, Cooking Light or Food & Wine.

In these days of throw-away, consumable crap, a personalized cookbook like this is the kind of thing that people will hold onto for generations. If your recipes are any good, that is.

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— Lockheed Martin starts, starts, to make amends with Tallevast families by putting them up in a hotel while the company demolishes its groundwater-polluting weapons plant. Given all the back history, it seems like the least they can do.

— Does your thirst need equalizing? A Sarasota businessman’s got the solution.

— Representative Vern Buchanan might have crushed his opposition in his bid to retain his District 13 House seat, but those pesky lawsuits (11 in total) keep hanging around.

— Sarasota plots a couple new downtown roundabouts.

— Those roundabouts are probably just one of the issues new Downtown Partnership Executive Director Debra Torres will be taking up as part of her gig.

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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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