Caitlin Dean for Middle of the Map (c/o Ink Magazine) and Midcoast Station

Radkey

75 and sunny with fluffy clouds sailing lackadaisically across an azure sky. An all-access wristband, my trusty Moleskine in my bag, and a thirst to be satisfied only with some Jameson neat. My kind of wonderful. This is my Middle of the Map.

I spent Saturday traipsing Westport with near and dear friends, my only instructions to experience the buzz of the festival and later, bring it to life for readers. I obliged. MOTM swept me off my feet, cradling me with saucy whiskey, hours of dancing, and and a wonderful new appreciation for everything Kansas City offers, particularly the widespread drive to share art and let it live loudly. Does this sound like a love letter? It is. I love you, Kansas City.

I indulged in local acts. First thing, Hearts of Darkness had me dancing on my tiptoes at Buzzard Beach’s outdoor stage, laughing and smiling unashamedly, even if most of Kansas City refuses to do much more than bob its collective head slightly at shows. I sneaked a few peeks across the crowd and was pleased to see a handful of others moved by the music. I chased the white rabbit bus down at a stoplight, jumped aboard, and bumped over to RecordBar where Y(our) Fri(end), a standard solo act accompanied by a drummer buddy for the day, left my heart aching and yearning in the most beautiful, haunting way. I eavesdropped on The Sluts drummer analyzing Catch-22 (and its decidedly poorly written sequel) with a concert-goer, felt like a dick for pulling out a leather notebook to scribble thoughts in a bar, and bought a round of shots for friends.

Back at the outdoor stage, a friend insisted I see his friend’s cousin’s (…) band, Radkey. Comprised of all-under-20 brothers, this St. Joseph trio commanded the stage with the excellence of a much older and experienced band. Big instrumentals and even bigger vocals burst forth from this impressively seasoned family. Lead vocalist Dee teased the crowd into titters when he explained that the next song would be about “the first time [he] saw boobs.” Keep an eye on this punk band. You’ll be hearing more from them.

A hop, skip, and a jump transported me back to RecordBar to catch just a few songs by Grand Rapids natives the Soil & the Sun, a self-described amalgam of “experiential spiritual folk-rock/New Mexican space music.” Mmm. the Soil & the Sun blended oboe, violin, guitars, accordion, percussion, piano, and vocals to deliver sweet melodies saturated with emotion and a certain je ne sais quoi that left me refreshed and newly awakened with life. This was easily my favorite performance of the festival, and I’m sorely sorry that I couldn’t soak up more of their set.

The rest of the evening disappeared in a blur of Freebirds burritos, rocking with Lawrence’s (by way of Chicago) The Noise FM, nodding appreciatively to Kansas City’s own Soft Reeds while an older man danced with his hands in the air outside the venue gates, and, impressively, enjoying heavy rockers Maps For Travelers (I don’t normally care much for music that involves any kind of screaming). I decided to call it a (very successful) night after my gal pals lost track of me and broke into a bathroom using a debit card, concerned I’d passed out on the floor. I was actually down the hall, sitting in an office cuddling a puppy and piecing together my notes from the day. I was exhausted. Bedtime.

Soft Reeds

I missed Thursday and Friday evenings. I missed everything after 10:00 Saturday night. But what I did take in was an incredible reminder of how tightly knit, dedicated, and talented the Kansas City music scene is. These bands self-promote year-round, working endlessly to be heard and connected. In only its third year, the Middle of the Map Festival brought together top-notch acts from all over the country, while still retaining its vital focus on KC’s greatest musicians and making them the true focus of the weekend. This was a wonderfully orchestrated festival, and I look forward to seeing it grow in the coming years.

See a gallery featuring Friday & Saturday artists here.

Caitlin

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There is little hipper than nostalgia.

And that is all the intro you need to understand why Midcoast Station is sharing Strawberry Shortcake movie reviews with you today.

You’re welcome.

Berry Brick Road

This DVD started off as pure disappointment. I tore off the cellophane eagerly, excited to reach the dazzling, sparkling film beneath. Unfortunately, this:

was actually a façade for this:

I judge books (and movies) by their covers. Suddenly this allegedly holographic, whimsical retelling of The Wizard of Oz looked like nothing more than a flat, stale remake of the movie that terrified me for over 20 years. In the name of journalism, I swallowed my disdain and pushed forward. Unfortunately, I found little improvement.

I saw The Wizard of Oz in its entirety for the first time six months ago. After a lifetime of half-formed nightmares, I was relieved to learn that my terrors had a reasonable basis. Had I seen this Strawberry Shortcake retelling of the movie first, I’d have been entirely unafraid but substantially less likely to pursue the original film adaptation. Pros and cons.

Berry Brick Road deserves little positive review. The creators opted for the easy-in framework of Strawberry reading the story of The Wizard of Oz to her pets (immediate thumbs-down in my book). Pupcake, Strawberry’s dog, talks without moving his mouth — creep alert. And to top it off, Strawberry’s voice reminds me of Dora, which any parent of a child under 7 knows is a terribly grating sound. Unexpected musical numbers. Worst of all: an inexplicable second “episode” based on Strawberry returning to Oz to help fight an impending environmental apocalypse. I…what? L. Frank Baum, author of the original Oz books, penned 14 novels. I haven’t read any of them, but I’m pretty sure none of them deal with Munchkins (or, in this movie, Berrykins) using their power resource, Gem-Berries, all willy-nilly and needing a stern lecture from Dorothy (Strawberry) to set them straight again. I can appreciate a lesson in environmentalism, but half of this movie strayed completely from its origins. I just can’t do it.

Since I hate to be a complete downer, here’s what I did enjoy:
1. The good witch is a complete nerd, glasses and all. Too cute.
2. This film included lasers.

There’s a chance I took this movie too seriously.

Bloomin’ Berry Garden

I also viewed Strawberry Shortcake’s Bloomin’ Berry Garden, which was a markedly better film. Left to their own plot designs, the geniuses behind Strawberry Shortcake created a superior storyline to the half-adaptation that is Berry Brick Road. Plus, there was no deception in the cover of this DVD.

In Bloomin’ Berry Garden, Strawberry and friends tackle three related adventures. In the first, the girls learn that sometimes the most outlandish answer is the resolution, such as a packet of seeds labelled “daisies” turning out to be corn seeds — a very dangerous plant in a place as tiny as Berry Bitty City. In the second adventure, the citizens of Berry Bitty City discover their plants for the Flower Festival disappearing, and the girls learn a valuable lesson about not jumping to conclusions. In the final episode, Raspberry Tart spritzes the Berrykins with a special perfume that quadruples their size, putting the entire city in danger as the Berrykins can’t run their tiny machinery
when they’re as large as the girls.

I enjoyed this DVD’s combination of an ongoing storyline, a clever plot, no musical numbers, real-life lessons (that were slightly less pushy than those in Berry Brick Road), and girl power in the cutest possible way. Parents, this is a show for kids that you won’t mind watching quite so much.

This reviewer gives these films one giant thumbs down and one bigger thumbs up. One out of two — not so bad. There’s hope for you yet, Strawberry Shortcake.

Strawberry Shortcake: Berry Brick Road DVD Special Features

• Printable Coloring Pages

Strawberry Shortcake: Blooming Berry Garden DVD Special Features

• Printable Coloring Pages
• Sunshine Girls Dance Instruction Video

Caitlin

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Sunday night I danced in the most carefree way, wondered what Ferris Bueller was doing on stage, swore I saw a better version of Kings of Leon and watched one of my favorite musicians play in a parking lot. One concert. Okay.

Locals O Giant Man opened Sunday night’s show at Record Bar, one of my favorite Kansas City venues. With a drum kit iced in white Christmas lights, the members bounced around stage to their own happy, peppy beats. The lead singer sounds pleasantly like The Kooks’ Luke Pritchard. Be still, my heart. O. Giant Man trademarked its sound with a range of acoustics I haven’t heard from a live band in quite awhile, a refreshing change that added a little something extra to the group’s already cohesive, solid sound. As a final note, I would like to award O Giant Man with the esteemed Least Sweaty Drummer Ever award. I perspire more at my job hocking iPads than he did in a 20-minute set and he was working hard. Magnificent!

White Girl piqued my interest immediately. The four-piece’s warm up involved a lot of deep, resonating notes and the set-up of a projection screen. My toes tingled with the anticipation of dancing to sweet beats, but, alas, White Girl did not deliver as hoped. Though the group brought a big presentation, the members themselves lacked the energy needed to fully hype the crowd. Meanwhile, too much music seemed to happen at once, turning quickly to mush in the small venue. Bethany and I discussed it, and we see a good future for the group writing soundtracks to 1980′s flashback films. Consider this, dudes. Bethany also noted that the group sounds like a “sad Owl City.” This writer whole-heartedly agrees. Miscellaneous kudos include: lead singer Martin Bush’s impressive commandeering of higher-range notes, my undying appreciate for anything that sounds remotely like the 80s and Bush’s eerie resemblance to Matthew Broderick, circa “Ferris Bueller” days.

The show shifted vastly when Tennessee indie rock band The Features took the stage. Forget the pep and electronics of yore, these guys filled the room with a serious, guitar-driven sound. My notes from halfway through their opening song probably best sum up the entire set: “These dudes do not fuck around.” I  enjoyed listening to the group start a song with a simple theme and then play with and distort it through the piece, as well as the major intensity The Features brought to their set — and managed to sustain appropriately throughout. The group has a great understanding of how to taper things at the end of a song to let the audience down gently…and then picks right back up at full force with the start of the next song. I felt exhausted in the best possible way by the end of the set. True sign that The Features are doing it right? The two bros (backwards ball caps and all) directly in front of me danced like crazy for the entire set.

Of particular note in The Features’ set, the drummer had some of the tightest drumming I’ve ever seen. Every beat was perfectly on point, and I noticed that he drummed on his leg throughout the set to ensure he kept accurate time. Overall, if you’re looking for an intelligible, in-tune version of Kings of Leon (for whom, coincidentally, The Features have opened on a few tours), these are your guys.

And at the end, there was Kevin Devine and the Goddamn Band. Oh, Kevin. Kevin, Kevin, Kevin. He melts my heart every time. Let’s not pretend this section is an unbiased review. But let’s pretend.

Devine played a few songs off his new album, Between the Concrete & Clouds, which was released last Tuesday, a few days after the show. This album, as well as Devine’s performance Sunday night, showed a great deal of growth from his earliest shows and recordings. While his lyrics have remained heartbreakingly honest and poignant, his vocals and instrumentals have matured vastly, giving his newer work a recognizable, consistent sound.

Devine opened with “You’re My Incentive,” eliciting plenty of squeals and cheers from the crowd. From there, he transitioned straight into my favorite, “No Time Flat.” He slipped in some new lyrics to more accurately reflect the current state of political affairs, and, per usual, he delivered it all with the ache of someone who genuinely cares. This performance marked Devine’s first time in Kansas City in over a year, since he last played The Midland with Thrice, and also served as his first headlining tour since the “Brother’s Blood” tour (2009). Based on the crowd’s reactions, this visit, not to mention this tour, was long overdue. Certainly Devine’s fan base in Kansas City has grown substantially — Record Bar was teeming with enthusiastic, dedicated fans.

Due to Record Bar’s strict curfew rules, and what seems to have been an extra opening band, Kevin Devine and the Goddamn Band skipped most stage banter in favor of more time spent playing — no one in the crowd complained. Despite this, 11:45 rolled around all too soon, and the venue brought up the house lights halfway through the band’s final song, “Brother’s Blood.” The band finished up, despite a half surprised, half irked expression from Devine. Record Bar shooed most of the crowd out immediately following this, but a reluctant handful lingered around the merch tables chatting with Devine until staff starting pulling drinks straight out of hands. The remaining 30 or so fans trickled into the evening, only to be followed by Devine, who pulled an acoustic guitar from his van and treated the group to an additional five-song set.

And with that said, well, I’ve seen Kevin Devine play several times, but none were quite as excellent as this. Crushing on him and obsessed with his music already or not, I have a lot of respect for an artist who will hang out with fans after the venue shuts him down so he can finish his set in a parking lot. Devine created an exceptionally notable night for a lot of already die-hard fans that evening, a favor Kansas City won’t soon forget.

*Photos contributed by Bethany Smith

Caitlin

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Party.
After party.
(Hotel lobby?)
Walk of shame.

Next Wednesday, drop the embarrassing stigma from that last step of your night and stumble home, heels in hand, with your head held high: Svedka Vodka has “shamelessly” declared July 27 National Walk of Shame Day.

“Svedka Vodka wants to turn the Walk of Shame into a Badge of Honor,” said Marina Hahn, Chief Marketing Officer in a press release.

The holiday, announced by Svedka on Monday, lends itself well to a pairing with Ricky’s NYC, a beauty and fashion supply store in New York City. The beauty shop will sell Svedka party packs containing morning after supplies like sunglasses, dry shampoo, deodorant, a tote for high heels and, my favorite, a “‘leave behind’ fake diamond earring that gives you an excuse to call your date without parting with your favorite earring.”

I hope it’s small enough to fit in my clutch.

“Establishing National Walk of Shame Day and the accompanying After, After Party Pack is our way to celebrate the next generation of of vodka lovers who proudly and responsibly take the party from night to morning,” Hahn said.

Skeptical about glamming up a Walk of Shame? Me too. But I’m okay giving Svedka props for a PR stunt that openly embraces the realities of a night with its product.

My only question: What would go in the dude version of the After After Party Pack?

Caitlin

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Finally, a bearable version of “Friday.”

Thanks to Twitter’s trending topics for keeping us meme-savvy, and to Geekology for this quality “Best of” Nigel collection.

Caitlin

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