Thursday
October 15, 2009 at 12am to October 15, 2010 at 12am – Worldwide
Saturday
November 8, 2009 from 2pm to 3:30pm – Germantown Academy, Arts Center
Wednesday
November 11, 2009 at 8pm to November 14, 2009 at 11:45pm – Helium Comedy Club
Thursday
November 12, 2009 from 6pm to 8:30pm – Grand Ballroom of the Park Hyatt Philadelphia at The Bellevue
Wednesday
November 18, 2009 from 8pm to 10pm – Helium Comedy Club
Saturday
November 21, 2009 from 7:30pm to 9:15pm – Germantown Academy, Arts Center
Wednesday
Thursday
May 12, 2011 at 2:45pm to May 20, 2011 at 4pm – Wm Penn High school
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Singer-guitarist Ben Kweller, now 27, is a music biz veteran, having released albums both with his old band Radish and as a solo artist since he was 13. He's been a punk rocker, indie rocker, power-popster, and balladeer, and for his fourth solo LP, Changing Horses, he dives headfirst into much rootsier fare. We hit an upbeat Kweller up for a session of Review the Reviews, wherein we read excerpts from recent reviews and get the reaction of the reviewed.
"Changing Horses, his self-produced fourth LP, isn't quite the country & western crossover most would have you believe, more like the dirt road connecting his previous paths. (Austin Chronicle)
"Right! I mean, the album's way more Jackson Browne than Merle Haggard. Country music and roots music has always been one of the side roads that I take once in a while, and for this album I wanted to make it the main road."
"He's nodded to his Texas roots before, but on this collection meant to play up his twangy side, he seems scared of edging too far into the darkness of country music's long, rich tradition." (Paste)
"Hmm. Whatever. They don't know me. I mean, I opened the album with a whore and ended it with a junkie. I don't need to explain too much. I don't need to prove anything to anybody."
" ... the best is 'On Her Own,' a number in praise of female self-determination with a precise, pedal-steel-driven chorus that would fit nicely on a Faith Hill or Brad Paisley album." (Rolling Stone)
"That's really cool that they would even reference that shit because it's so far from ... I'm obviously not a Nashville pop-country guy. But the whole thing about this album is that all of a sudden there are people in the country side of the business that are finding out about me for the very first time. So for Rolling Stone to even say something like that, I'm psyched. I'm over the whole indie-hip--I just feel like I paid my dues for so fuckin' long in the indie-rock world that if my stuff took off in country, that'd be really exciting and refreshing."
Watch Jeff Fusco's slideshow from the funeral.
It was a fearfully cold day, and thousands of police officers marched past the memorial squad car for yet another fallen officer. They shared the same small steps, the same grave looks, the same stiff backs. They marched into the Basilica of Saints Peter and Paul past a sea of fellow well-wishers who stood outside, cheeks red and cold in the wind. They marched inside until the Basilica was nearly filled with people; those left outside stood solemnly during the Catholic funeral of Officer John Pawlowski.
After the service, the officers marched out, same as before, then police cars zoomed off in an endless line. The hearse carrying Officer Pawlowski was followed by a phalanx of motorcycles and sparkling white cars from the Police Department. The motorcade went up I-95, toward the neighborhoods where the grid system breaks down, where so many of the police officers live in stout postwar houses near the Delaware. (Pawlowski still lived where he grew up, in Parkwood Manor, a stone's throw from the suburbs.)
The procession swept past officers and firefighters on overpasses, past officers paying their respects in solemn roadside salutes. It went into the suburbs and by the schools and strip malls on Street Road. It went through fire-truck arches and past bikers holding American flags in the brisk February winds. Finally, it went through the gates of Resurrection Cemetery.
Yet the number of police officers who memorialize their fallen brother or sister seems to grow each time. The services, the procession, the officers at the cemetery--it all seems like more this time. Even actor David Morse, the guy who played a former Philadelphia cop in the TV show Hack, stands against a light pole outside the church. With each loss, the department grows stronger.
Enormous groups of police personnel gathered in John Pawlowski's memory last week. They lined the pews at St. Anselm's in Parkwood on Monday night. They marched down Academy Road on Thursday at dusk to the funeral home for the wake. They processed in and out of the Basilica and stood still at the cemetery as the cold wind swept across the hillsides lined with headstones. The fierce, consistent presence is an impressive show of unity. It shuts down streets; it silences cities.
They are feared and comforting, loathed and respected. They are always late and always on time. They inspire strong emotions.
So it's fitting the police funeral has become such a spectacle. Police Commissioner Charles Ramsey came here from Chicago, where police funerals almost stop time. He felt Philly needed more pomp and circumstance. He wanted to march with the mayor to the funeral home for the wake; he wanted police recruits to dot the road to the gravesite; he wanted the horse-drawn carriages and the symbolic reminders that one good man is missing.
At the cemetery, helicopters flew overhead in a missing-man formation. Police officers from the 35th District signed off Officer John Pawlowski for the last time: "From members of the 35th District and your entire police family, we thank you for a job well done."
The words of the service, the procession of cars, the final words at the cemetery are ritual and tradition, done the same way many times over the last few months.
But they are done with a precision that shows great care. The pallbearers practiced in the days leading up to Pawlowski's funeral by carrying a casket stuffed with dumbbells. When the time came, they marched despite the cold weather. The spectacle of it all is maybe the most uplifting thing the police department does. They just do it right.
1967-1985
Longtime Sixers (and Warriors) public address announcer Dave Zinkoff was known for his velvety bellow and clever score-keeping ("Two for Shue!" "Gola goal!"). After he died, Zink's mic was retired and his name raised high in the rafters.
1967-1995
Jovial TV/radio announcer Gene Hart was "The Voice of the Flyers," and the soundtrack to just about every Spectrum hockey highlight. His call of the 1974 Cup Finals still gives us chills.
1969-1996
Bodacious Kate Smith's version of "God Bless America" has become a kind of lucky charm for the Flyers. Smith died in 1986, but when her voice has opened a hockey game (live or recorded), the Flyers are said to be 77-21-4.
1972-1996
Dave Leonardi, aka the Sign Man, had something ready for every Flyers home game. After the Flyers beat the Russians, he summed it up thusly: "Bring on the Martians." Sign Man moved with the team into the Wachovia Center.
1973
Before he became a lovably nutty Flyers broadcaster, Gary Dornhoefer was a tough-as-nails right wing with the Broad Street Bullies. His 1973 OT game-winner against the North Stars at the Spectrum remains immortalized in bronze outside the rink.
1976
Kenzo bum Rocky Balboa lost in his Spectrum debut to reigning champ Apollo Creed, which is how million-to-one shots usually end up. The rematch, also at the Spectrum, came three years later with Rocky eking out a win.
1976
According to oft-confirmed legend, Flyers winger Reggie Leach scored five goals in one home playoff game against the Bruins while completely, utterly drunk. Alcoholism!
1976 and 1981
Bobby Knight and his Indiana Hoosiers won two NCAA titles at the Spectrum and they're not even from here.
1977
After fighting and getting kicked off the ice, Flyer Paul Holmgren and Bruin Wayne Cashman continued their fisticuffs in the no man's land between the two locker rooms, leading to the install...
![]() By: Nina Sabatino
Clockwise from bottom left: Rodney Anonymous, Dean Clean, Joe Jack Talcum and Dandrew Stevens
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We're big Dead Milkmen fans here at City Paper — the punk rock legends provided the soundtrack to our awkward adolescence. And we're big fans of their frontman, Rodney Anonymous, too. Rodney cracks us up with his monthly Aid or Invade column (it's supposedly about world music), but we've been looking for an excuse to really turn him loose. When we heard that the Milkmen were officially back in the picture — playing shows, making new music — and blowing it out with a big Halloween bash at the Troc, we gave him a word count and set him free.
WARNING: SIDE EFFECTS MAY INCLUDE ...
There are a thousand reasons why I should have declined the offer to pen this piece, foremost being my firm belief that the only place where musicians should be encouraged to write is on bathroom walls. Sure, Nick Cave's And the Ass Saw the Angel is wonderfully ambitious, but it's also the exception that proves the following rule: "If there were such a place as hell, the waiting room to its lowest level would be well stocked with the literary efforts of Henry Rollins and Jewel."
I also don't want anyone to think that I'm writing this in order to shamelessly plug the concert. Honestly, I don't give a rodent of unusual size's ass whether you attend the show. The opening bands — The Tough Shits and Live Not on Evil — are truly great and there will be short films from the Secret Cinema, so if you leave right before we play, I'm sure you'll have a...
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