OREGON BRIDE MAGAZINE: LOCAL WEDDINGS
These originally appeared in the Fall/Winter 2010 issue of Oregon Bride Magazine
MEREDITH GIGLEY & DAVID KREIFELS
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PORTFOLIO
These originally appeared in the Fall/Winter 2010 issue of Oregon Bride Magazine
MEREDITH GIGLEY & DAVID KREIFELS
Juno is a film about every parent’s worst nightmare: a pregnant daughter at sixteen. While this film tackles difficult issues like abortion and adoption under a guise of wit and sarcasm, it ultimately presents a realistic and glass-half-full coming of age story, despite unfortunate circumstances. Writer Diablo Cody manages to create a story that nods to the classic Hollywood ‘growing up’ narrative while simultaneously turning it on its head. Viewers who were just looking for a quirky indie-flick may leave the film with quotable and cynical Juno-isms, but they might also shed a sympathetic tear or two. This film connects with audiences because it’s complicated. Life doesn’t play out like a Hollywood movie, and Juno gives viewers the satisfaction of a happy ending without compromising its complexity.
At first glance, Juno is not the girl in high school who is bound to get pregnant. She is a wisecracking, guitar playing, less-than-feminine misfit who talks to friends on her hamburger phone and downs blue slushees like water. Juno seduces her lanky and awkward best friend Paulie and, after three pregnancy tests and a gallon of Sunny-D, is faced with that “unholy” little pink plus sign. After revealing the pregnancy to her friend Leah, Juno heads to an abortion clinic to “nip it in the bud.” When faced with a pro-life classmate who informs Juno that her baby has fingernails, and the impersonal and sterile medical environment, she storms out of the abortion clinic and hatches a plan to give the baby to “a woman with a bum ovary or a couple nice lesbos.” Instead, she finds Mark and Vanessa, a wealthy young couple looking to start a family. Juno bonds with Mark over a love of alternative music and slasher movies, but is later betrayed when he reveals that he is leaving Vanessa and is not ready to be a father. This revelation tears apart Juno’s vision of the perfect suburban family and is the turning point in the film. Juno returns to Mark and Vanessa’s home and leaves a note at the door for Vanessa that reads: “If you’re still in, I’m still in.” Juno gives her baby boy to Vanessa, and overcomes her cynicism to realize that despite his goldenrod running shorts and obsession with orange tic-tacs, she is in love with Paulie Bleecker.
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This originally appeared here on the Ticket Files blog for the Eugene Register-Guard
Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros put on quite a show at Portland’s Doug Fir on Wednesday night, but the talent and energy of their first-round opener, Los Angeles five-piece Local Natives, was the ultimate highlight of the night.
Local Natives took the stage in front of a crowd that was no doubt expecting to mingle and chat until Edward Sharpe and his gang of nine came out to play their set. Instead, the audience at the Doug Fir was stunned by the beguiling layered-folk sound of Local Natives.
The band’s soaring harmonies, crisp guitar work, and incessant percussion had the crowd dancing along by the second song. Their cover of Talking Heads’ “Warning Sign” is debatably better than the original, with three of the members singing whole verses together with an enviable combination of enthusiasm and precision. When all five band members screamed “Hear my voice. Move my hair. Movin’ it around a lot. I don’t care what I remember,” in the middle of the song, it was clear that the audience was hooked.
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This originally appeared here on the Ticket Files blog for the Eugene Register-Guard
Spoon has a sizable Portland following, and on Friday night at the Crystal Ballroom, they played for a full house of devoted fans. Like the Vampire Weekend show I saw the night before, this performance was part of the 94.7 FM December to Remember concert series. Although this was my first Spoon experience, it wasn’t all that memorable.
I’ve only ever been a selective Spoon listener, picking out a few tracks at a time and never replaying an album in its entirety. It was clear that I was in the minority Friday night, although the crowd was shockingly lifeless for much of the show. I could tell that these were longtime Spoon fans, but with the exception of their best pop tunes, there were only subtle head bops from the crowd of predominately 30-something guys.
Whether you are a Spoon fan or not, front man Britt Daniel’s star presence is undeniable.
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This originally appeared here on the Ticket Files blog for the Eugene Register-Guard
Vampire Weekend showed up to a packed and sold-out Crystal Ballroom for 94.7 FM’s December to Remember concert series Thursday night in Portland. It was a perfect setting for the New York prepster-pop quartet. The chandeliers that hang from the ceiling oddly resemble the one featured on Vampire Weekend’s debut album cover, and the paintings on the walls are reminiscent of art history class.
They are all Columbia graduates. They wear fitted plaid shirts and sing about Cape Cod, Oxford commas, and girls named Bryn. You want to hate them, I know. But in reality, Vampire Weekend is disparaging their East Coast upbringing as much as they are paying it homage. Perhaps this explains the phenomenon that is nearly a thousand Pacific Northwest hippies and hipsters alike showing up to hear them play songs about people who “summer.” More likely it’s their unique high-energy brand of pop that stems from classical, African, and indie influences.
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Cindy Lee stands perched inside her “The Great Philly Steak Sandwich” cart chopping a mix of steak, mushrooms, onions, and green peppers on a searing hot griddle. Steam rises up from the griddle as she continues to chop with a pleasant smile. Her skin is tan and weathered, but her brown eyes sparkle in the sunlight. She is wearing a pink tee shirt, matching baseball cap, and a bright blue apron. “This is made with love, booboo,” she says as she hands a regular customer her cheese steak. “Come back tomorrow, honey!”
Lee has owned the sandwich cart for 13 years now. She used to cook for one of her girlfriends, but after she tragically died of a brain aneurysm, Lee’s brother Doug helped Lee find funds to take over the business. Before she bought the sandwich cart, Lee spent over 20 years working and traveling for large companies that set up restaurants all over the country. She started out in Lawrence, Kansas and worked her way through Missouri and Kansas City. “Those were some of the best times of my life,” says Lee. “22 years old, making $400 a week with a brand new sports car.” She smiles and laughs as if her youth is long behind her.
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This originally appeared here on the Ticket Files blog for the Eugene Register-Guard
Irishman Glen Hansard and Czech multi-instrumentalist Markéta Irglova took the stage to roaring applause from a full house at the McDonald Theatre Monday night. They quietly sat huddled together on the stage in front of a single microphone to play their charmingly low-tech song “Fallen from the Sky,” miniature keyboard and all.
Hansard and Irglova are best known for their performances as a busker and a talented immigrant in the 2006 award-winning Irish musical romance film “Once.” While the Swell Season is Irglova’s first big gig, Hansard has fronted the Irish rock band the Frames since the band’s inception in 1990.
In all honesty, I didn’t know what to expect from these two three years after seeing the film. I wasn’t sure if it was the music that made me love “Once,” or just the enchanting love story. It didn’t take long for me to realize, with relief, that Hansard is a professional brooding rocker, and Irglova is his perfect foil.
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Hannah Carlton and her roommates lived on the second floor of an old apartment building in the middle of Florence, Italy. Their neighbors included several young, professional couples, the mayor of Florence, and an old, cranky lady named Maria. “She was loud, always yelling at us in Italian, and thought we were all a total nuisance.” So it was no surprise to Carlton when they heard a loud knock on the door as they were preparing their Thanksgiving meal. It must be Maria.
When I signed up for my study abroad trip to Tampere, Finland, I was not overly excited for the studying. I wanted to travel. The travel bug bit me on my first trip to Paris at 10 years old, and the curiosity hasn’t let up since. The beauty of immersing yourself in another culture and lifestyle has never been lost on me, and the more I traveled, the more I wanted to explore. A month in Belarus showed me the warmth of a country buried in snow, a week in South Korea taught me that I did not like meals made entirely of pickled food, and a night in the Moroccan desert gave me the most beautiful night sky I have ever seen.
With an already festering love for travel, and my older sister’s lament that it was the one thing she wishes she had done in college, studying abroad was an inevitable part of my college experience. While I had dreamed about studying in northern Italy, the price tag of that program was not going to allow for much travel. So, Finland it was! A friend of mine had applied for the same program, so it was decided that we would be travel buddies, and off we went.
We planned trips to Italy, Ireland, Morocco, Estonia, and France, taking advantage of Ryanair, a terrible but cheap efficiency airline. We roughed it in hostels and slept on airport floors, but the sights we saw were all worth the sacrifice of comfort. We had budgeted carefully, but my friend and travel buddy was the more conservative one. I knew I was going to return home with empty pockets, so I wanted to make the most of my time. When my friend decided that she could no longer afford our planned trip to Paris at the end of the semester, I was heartbroken.
This originally appeared here on the Ticket Files blog for the Eugene Register-Guard
Blind Pilot has a knack for making people feel good. The Portland folk band has won over its hometown with a bright folk sound, a slew of unusual instruments, and just the right dose of modest charm. The band packed Portland’s Crystal Ballroom just a month ago for a midnight show during MusicFest Northwest. By contrast, a Monday night gig at WOW Hall would seem like a small feat. But even for a smaller crowd, Blind Pilot delivered a live performance strong enough to far surpass any recording on their lovable debut album, “3 Rounds and a Sound.”
This was my fifth Blind Pilot show since stumbling upon the group at PDX Pop Now about a year ago. I have not left a show disappointed since. Lead singer Israel Nebeker’s voice is like warm milk and honey against the soft guitar strums, lilting banjo, and thumping upright bass.
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