In March, Adewole finally decided to take things into her own hands: She opened FolaFela, a small Nigerian restaurant tucked into a strip mall in East San José. It’s the South Bay’s first proper brick-and-mortar Nigerian restaurant.

The shop has only a handful of tables, along with a mini African grocery store in the back. But the menu is surprisingly expansive, featuring dishes like gizz dodo (fried gizzards and plantains) and asun coconut rice. The main draw is the assortment of fourteen Nigerian soups, served with starchy dough balls known as swallows or okele. Already, the thick, complex soups have been a hit, drawing flocks of diners from as far away as Santa Cruz.

Adewole didn’t have any restaurant experience before opening FolaFela, but she has been selling Nigerian dishes since her youth. Growing up in the city of Ile-Ifẹ, in Nigeria’s Osun state, Adewole would help her mother prepare and sell ofada rice — a rice dish topped with a crayfish and pepper stew that now serves at the restaurant, using the same recipe. Soon after she settled in San José, she decided to fill the culinary void by making Nigerian plates to share with coworkers and friends from church. By 2021, she was catering for events with as many as 300 guests. So, after much encouragement from her customers, she decided to open the restaurant while still juggling her day job as a registered nurse at the Stanford hospital. 

Over the course of several visits to the restaurant, the jollof rice was my favorite dish on the menu. The tomato-infused rice tastes like it was cooked over a campfire due to its bold, smoky aroma — a signature of the Nigerian style. 

“A lot of people think jollof rice can only be smoky if they burn it,” Adewole says. “But it doesn’t have to be like that.” 

Instead, Adewole develops layers of flavor by using a thoughtfully curated selection of smoked and toasted spices including ginger, garlic, rosemary, nutmeg and star anise. The jollof I ordered came with fried plantains and a maroon-colored chicken leg that melted off the bone. You can swap out the poultry for goat, fish or beef.

Most of FolaFela’s soups, on the other hand, highlight leaves and seeds native to Nigeria. The most popular one is a Yoruba dish called egusi soup, named after the dried ground melon seeds used to thicken it. Adewole’s version is specked with bitter leafy greens and served with poundo yam, a type of swallow made with yam flour. The stretchy, pillowy dough balls have been trending on social media lately, as mukbang influencers post videos of themselves dunking them in stew and theatrically chewing on each sauce-soaked bite. 

Adewole decided to focus on soups because it’s a food that’s deeply nostalgic for West African people, in particular. Since the soups are often associated with celebrations and other large gatherings, she offers them in increments of up to four liters.  

“I have customers come in asking for particular soups that their grandma used to make,” Adewole says. Meanwhile, she recognizes that other customers might be having Nigerian cuisine for the very first time. For those newcomers, FolaFela can be a great place to learn about the origins of the food. 

“A lot of Africans in the Bay Area are very scattered,” Adewole says. She sees her restaurant as a place for the community to congregate  — where African immigrants can have conversations about what part of the continent their family is from and chat about their regional dishes. The grocery store section provides another point of connection, as Adewole travels to Los Angeles and Sacramento to stock the shop’s pantry and freezers with hard-to-find flours and spices. Her largest struggle is sourcing frozen and dried kote fish, or horse mackerel, which she serves fried and in stews.

Although FolaFela is still in its early stages, Adewole has ambitious ideas for where it’s heading next. Eventually, she hopes to open a second FolaFela location somewhere near Palo Alto to make Nigerian food more accessible to people on the Peninsula. And she is developing recipes to expand her menu to include dishes from other Nigerian ethnic groups like the Hausa. 

“What I would love to do is bring more Igbo food onto my menu,” Adewole says. “I’m thinking of doing a white soup with cocoyam.”

FolaFela is open Tuesday to Saturday 11:30–9 p.m., and Sunday 3 p.m.–9 p.m. at 2762 Aborn Rd. in San José.

Bucking that trend, Aurora Theatre announced its return on Monday under the new leadership of Artistic Director Jennifer King and Managing Director Jenn Ruygt. The theater will return to producing shows in the 2027/2028 season.

Both King and Ruygt have a history with the company. King was a frequent Aurora actor and director; she directed The Search for Signs of Intelligent Life in the Universe, Aurora’s last show before the 2025 closure. Ruygt was previously the company’s production manager.

When the theater closed last year, it had a $500,000 operating deficit. “We’ve taken the past nine months to really get our ducks in a row so we can move out of having to be in crisis management,” King told KQED. “That means being really responsible, both fiscally and artistically, with our community.”

Many details about Aurora’s return are yet to be determined. King and Ruygt hope to remain in Berkeley — whether as a roving project or a brick-and-mortar space, which may be decided by trying out both.

“This is the first update in a series of updates,” Ruygt said.

Aurora fans may also be wondering about the theater’s distinctive thrust stage, the one that made audiences feel like they were part of the action. King said that even if their future space lacks that specific characteristic, that “intimacy” will be part of the experience.

Founded in 1992 by Barbara Oliver, Aurora Theatre became known over the decades for its high-quality productions with talented local actors. By restarting the program, King and Ruygt inherit Aurora’s reputation with both audiences and the local theater community.

“We look at Berkeley Rep, we look at ACT, and they’ve really moved to a different model. They utilize local actors, but they really have become places where you’re seeing things either come from New York or move on to New York,” King said. (Aurora has also produced New York-bound shows, including the Tony Award-winning Eureka Day in 2018.)

King’s point is that Aurora played an important role in the ecology of the local theater scene — what theater critic Lily Janiak called “a ladder from ‘Here I am making theater with my college buddies on $1,000,’ to something with more prominence and more reach.”

“What we heard over and over again is that artists and artisans reached for the opportunity to work at the Aurora,” King said, explaining that bringing it back isn’t about staking a personal claim. “It is the Bay Area’s theater company.”

Don’t worry, he hasn’t. In fact, he’s on fire, making a movie that feels like the kinds he used to churn out regularly in the first half of his career.

And he doesn’t make you guess for long where he’s going: The camera soon finds the one person in this frenzied crowd who is as worried and befuddled as we are: His name is Daniel Kellner, he’s played by Josh O’Connor (the perfect “grown up” Spielberg kid), and he is already in the middle of his adventure. The suits have found him, put a gun to his side and confiscated his backpack. A girl, Jane, has been taken hostage. And we as the audience are on a non-stop ride of discovery, wonder and thrills and, thankfully, no more wrestling.

Disclosure Day, in theaters Friday, is a classic, big-hearted Spielberg adventure through and through, with ordinary people rebelling against shadowy secret keepers in the name of the truth. Indiana Jones wanted antiquities in museums for all to see. Daniel, and the team of people who convinced him to steal files from a private cybersecurity firm, want the world to know that there is life elsewhere and they have made contact.

Nearly 50 years after Roy Neary’s close encounter, Spielberg isn’t so much asking questions this time: He’s blowing the whistle, in classic paranoid conspiracy thriller style (although this is decidedly more romantic than ’70s-era cynical), with a turtlenecked Colin Firth as the malevolent leader of WARDEX, the company seeking to keep this information under wraps.

The story, conceived by Spielberg and scripted by David Koepp, finds us in a time and place that looks like our own. Attention is on a global conflict brewing — there are passing references to World War III, and some hysterical hoarding at the local gas station — but on a certain level everyone is going about business as usual, including local Kansas City, Missouri, broadcaster Margaret Fairchild (Emily Blunt), who is trapped in weather girl mode but dreams of reporting serious news.

She’s a little flighty and unsettled, we’re told, but then things start getting deeply weird: Suddenly she’s slipping in and out of different languages, knowing extremely personal details about strangers, and divining all sorts of information about Daniel and the other players in this operation. Margaret and Daniel are clearly on a path toward one another, with the men in the black SUVs on their tail.

As in many Spielberg films there is a spiritual element to the proceedings of Disclosure Day, with the believers, the skeptics and the scared all crashing into one another and slouching toward revelation. Daniel’s girlfriend, Jane (an excellent Eve Hewson), is a former nun who has questions and concerns about the utility of the information. And the maestro of this operation is Hugo, a calm and somewhat inscrutable former WARDEX employee, played by Colman Domingo. He is soft coaching his unlikely heroes through the situation while he oversees what appears to be the construction of a set. It always comes back to movies, doesn’t it?

Many of the greatest pleasures of Disclosure Day are wrapped up in our own Spielberg literacy. The movie language is unmistakably his, with shadows and lens flare and smoke, blown out lights and wet streets and all. His set-pieces are old fashioned, tactile and delightfully sane, from car chases to a thrilling sequence involving a train — apparently a dream of his since he made Duel. And the John Williams score, a very undeniably John Williams score, is the kind that may produce goose bumps.

You’re never not aware that you’re watching a movie in the silly ways too: Blunt’s hair and makeup are suspiciously styled throughout, even after a rainstorm and days on the run. We’re never quite rooted in a place despite all the talk otherwise: One might think with all the driving everyone is doing that the distances between Kansas City, Indiana and the D.C. area aren’t all that far. The CGI animals look like CGI animals. And for all the specificity of a specific date for a specific character’s childhood, in 1996, said child’s bedroom, and pajamas, look perhaps more suited to 1966. But maybe these are just details that stick out on the first watch, the ones that will fade into the scenery as the decades go by.

While the emotional trajectory of these characters was not something I found myself especially wrapped up in, despite the good acting and sharp script, the film itself is a profoundly emotional experience in other ways. Spielberg’s last three movies have all felt like farewells in some way, but maybe that’s just projection. It would be wrong to think of West Side Story, The Fabelmans and Disclosure Day as part of an encore. But they do share an unapologetic sentimentality. Spielberg has often been wistful, warm and glassy eyed in his films, but maybe this is the kind of poignancy that comes with age. It just hits a little harder.

Did Disclosure Day make me believe in aliens or want to seek out truther documentaries about “unidentified anomalous phenomena” however? Eh …? Mostly, it just reminded me that I believe in Spielberg. Always have.

‘Disclosure Day’ is released nationwide on June 12, 2026.

The move and reopening, scheduled for August, will cap a period of uncertainty for the organization. SCRAP — the Scroungers’ Center for Reusable Art Parts — has long known its days at its current location were numbered.

“Anybody that’s been to SCRAP for the last few years, it’s just so obvious that we were busting out of our seams,” said Terry Kochanski, the nonprofit’s executive director since 2019. 

A larger space might have remained a far-off dream. But in November 2024, a move was all but forced by voters, who approved a $790 million bond measure to fund improvements at SFUSD sites, including creating a central kitchen for student lunches. The site of that planned kitchen is the warehouse where SCRAP currently pays just $1,240 a month for its 7,000 square feet of space. 

So many arts nonprofits in San Francisco have faced similar challenges in recent years: a ticking clock, a tech-inflated real estate market, a strained funding landscape. The details are different, the outcomes familiar — closure, downsizing, “going nomadic.” 

Not SCRAP. Living up to its name, the nonprofit has now achieved the seemingly impossible: purchasing a building and moving on its own terms. 

Scrapper’s delight

Founded in 1976 by Anne Marie Theilen and Ruth Asawa, SCRAP was created to support San Francisco’s Neighborhood Arts Program. While grant funding paid for professional artists to teach in public schools, there was no budget for their art supplies. Theilen and Asawa gathered donations and redistributed excess materials (like fabric offcuts and product overruns) across the teachers’ classrooms.

Susan Green, 76, relied on SCRAP over two decades ago as a teacher. On a recent visit from Denver for her grandchildren’s high school graduations, she made sure to check in on the depot. “I just love this place. It’s a touchstone place in my life,” she said. “Wherever I go, I have to see what that city is doing. Are they doing anything like this?”

These days, SCRAP remains a crucial resource for the region’s art classrooms, hosting two teacher giveaways a year. It’s a place where people can take workshops and learn new art skills. And it’s the most affordable art supply store most artists have ever seen. 

SCRAP processes about 1,000 pounds of material a day. Donations pour in by the carload: empty frames, mannequins, buckets of photographs and years’ worth of National Geographics. Inside, “scrappers” roam the aisles, sifting through piles of ready-to-be-transformed stuff. 

The nonprofit has grown dramatically in recent years, from an operating budget of $335,789 in 2019 to just over $1 million in 2024, according to tax filings. In 2020 they began sending materials and lesson plans directly to classrooms with the “SCRAP in a Box” program. SCRAP’s sustainable fashion design curriculum, an after-school program for middle and high school students, currently has about 200 participants, and takes place across 10 sites.

Room to grow

“We could have looked for five more years and I honestly don’t think we could’ve found a better forever home for SCRAP,” Kochanski said.

Located on a triangular lot at the corner of Industrial Street and Quesada Avenue, the site boasts a fenced-in parking lot, a 26,000-square-foot two-story building, and a bit of dirt that Managing Director Danielle Grant is already excited to landscape with drought-resistant plants. 

On Industrial Street, SCRAP will double its indoor square footage. More space means being able to accept a larger volume and variety of donations — an additional 100 tons per year, they estimate — and more turnover for regulars.

The staff (SCRAP has 20 employees and 150 volunteers a month) hopes the easy parking and more visible location will increase visitor numbers, not just for shopping, but for events and workshops. Already, they’ve been trying to couch fears that a move means fundamental change. Interior signage will remain hand-drawn in blue Sharpie. Containers labeled one thing will still charmingly contain another thing entirely.

At the new site, SCRAP will also have space to grow behind the scenes. Instead of just one room for both sorting and workshops — with major reshuffling in between — the new building is a warren of rooms.

SCRAP’s current facilities, its home for the past 25 years, are tight, to say the least; office staff work nearly shoulder-to-shoulder. When Kochanski is on site, she’s relegated to the “conference room,” a slightly gussied-up shipping container outside. The current break room is a fridge, a sink and a tiny bit of counter. SCRAP shares one bathroom with the entire SFUSD warehouse.

“I mean, in raising money for this capital campaign, it helps when donors are like, ‘Okay let me come talk to you,’” Grant said, gesturing at the conference room, “and they’re like, ‘These people need it.’” 

‘For everyone’

SCRAP purchased the new building from the bank for $5.3 million, after the previous owners, Calvary Hill Community Church, went into foreclosure. The church now occupies the building’s second floor as SCRAP’s tenants.

SCRAP has entered into a partnership with Oliver & Company, a local construction and development firm that has helped other nonprofits gradually purchase their buildings. So far, SCRAP has raised over $1.8 million towards a $7.5 million capital campaign. 

“[The partnership] gives us a huge security blanket,” Kochanski explained. “They are willing to be there for us for five years, for 10 years, for whatever it takes for us to feel comfortable, to pay them off and then to move forward with 100% ownership of the building.”

Much work remains to be done at Industrial Street, and SCRAP must be fully out of the old building by the end of July. At a certain point, it will make more sense to give certain things away rather than transport them.

“I think we’re gonna have to be aggressive in our generosity,” Depot Manager William Barros said of the move. After all, even free giveaways help spread the practice of creative reuse. 

“We say SCRAP is for artists and designers, but really SCRAP is for everyone,” said Deeya Laki Rajan, the nonprofit’s communications and development manager. “If you can imagine that a binder clip can be five other things, that a button can be used in 20 different ways, SCRAP is the place you didn’t know you needed.”

Then there’s Elektra, a 117-year old opera currently running the War Memorial Opera House in San Francisco, a Richard Strauss bloodfest of beheading, stabbing, bathtub murder and night terrors. Here’s the twist: at 1 hour and 44 minutes, it’s even shorter than Obsession or Backrooms. 

As staged by Keith Warner and last seen at San Francisco Opera in its 2017 U.S. premiere, this Elektra is set inside a 21st century museum, its revenge drama unfolding overnight through the eyes of a stowaway visitor after closing time. In addition to a wonderful set with video tableaus and rooms that slide in and out of the museum’s walls, aided by stellar lighting, this voyeuristic framework lends the staging a Rear Window quality that’s engrossing and fun.

It’s also a little bit convoluted. As the museum visitor, and simultaneously Elektra, Elena Pankratova doesn’t display the acting skills to really sell the gambit. I found myself discarding the entire premise of the museum exhibit coming to life, and focusing instead on the sheer endurance of her marathon singing performance (one in which she’s onstage for nearly the entire show, which at times showed in her voice).

Without having to deplete her lungs over and over like Pankratova, Elza van den Heever brings projection and rounded tone to the role of Chrysothemis as Elektra’s sister. Unlike her siblings, Chrysothemis does not seek revenge upon her mother Klytemnestra, played by Michaela Schuster, for having an affair with Aegisth and killing her father Agamemnon.

But the two women nonetheless convey the story’s necessary suspense and anguish. Meanwhile, Kyle Ketelsen as the avenging Orest is resolutely delightful, and William Burden as Aegisth is appropriately bumbling.  

The real star of the show, however, is below the stage.

Elektra brings with it the largest orchestra the Opera House has ever seen: 95 musicians, fueled by Eun Sun Kim’s baton and charging through Richard Strauss’ score like a locomotive. At the moment when Elektra recognizes her brother Orest, it’s as if the orchestra’s train crashes through an entire city block — Notes! Notes! Notes everywhere! — bleating a full-volume, clustered chord. What follows is one full minute of dynamite slowly morphing into a feather, a moment as powerful as it is wondrous, while Kim very gradually applies the brakes.

The despair in this staging never decelerates, however. Elektra unfolds in a milieu where happiness is a burden, and the Gods determine that anyone having too much fun must die. If that sounds like the setting of a horror movie, then bring on the dread and unease.

One last thing: you’ll never look at a kitchen sink in the same way again.

‘Elektra’ runs through June 27 at the War Memorial Opera House in San Francisco. Tickets and more information here. 

But in the modern age, TV never sleeps, so streaming and premiere television outlets have lined up a slew of attention-getting new and returning shows competing with vacations and sunny days over the next few months to pull in viewers and attention.

Fans can choose from remakes of classic films and TV shows like Cape Fear and Little House on the Prairie, the final season of FX’s fading dramedy The Bear, Larry David’s intriguing new HBO project made with Barack and Michelle Obama’s Higher Ground productions and the return of a series many fans thought was over and done with — Apple TV’s hit comedy, Ted Lasso.

Here’s a look at what’s coming when, and why it matters:

Cape Fear, Apple TV, June 5

It’s tough to imagine an actor who could bring a creepier vibe than Robert DeNiro in 1991’s film thriller Cape Fear — playing a wiry, pathological felon who blamed his public defender for purposefully tanking his case. But Javier Bardem is that actor, raising the stakes for Apple TV’s modern streaming series with a deliciously wily performance as Max Cady — a man exonerated after serving 17 years in prison for murder.

Amy Adams is Anna Bowden, the former public defender who defended Cady, but wound up marrying the prosecutor that put him away, raising all kinds of suspicion over how she handled his case. Lots of it is preposterous and heavy-handed, but Bardem plays Cady with more intelligence and sophistication than DeNiro’s version, dismantling his former lawyer’s perfect life with horrifying glee. Toss in as executive producers Steven Spielberg and Martin Scorsese — who directed the 1991 version, itself a remake of a 1962 classic — and you’ve got a powerful combination.

Earth, Wind & Fire: (To Be Celestial vs That’s the Weight of the World), HBO and HBO Max, June 7

R&B stars Earth, Wind & Fire provided the soundtrack for Black America in the late 1970s — a hit machine which cranked out classics like “Shining Star,” “That’s the Way of the World” and “September,” courtesy of driven bandleader Maurice White.

Tonight Show bandleader Ahmir “Questlove” Thompson — who has made a name as a Oscar-winning documentarian with groundbreaking films on the 1969 Harlem Cultural Festival, the music of Saturday Night Live and Sly Stone — offers a relatively traditional look at the band’s story. He covers all the bases in the arc of White’s own story, from his roots as a drummer for jazz legend Ramsey Lewis, to his eventual death in 2016 due to complications from Parkinson’s disease. But with on camera sources ranging from Barack and Michelle Obama to Stevie Wonder — who reveals how “Shining Star” inspired the writing of his hit, “I Wish” — Thompson still manages an enlightening, compelling story.

House of the Dragon Season 3, HBO and HBO Max, June 21

This feels like a make-or-break season for HBO’s Game of Thrones spinoff, following a lackluster collection of episodes last year which some critics — OK, me — lambasted for too little forward motion. Based on events in the Game of Thrones prequel novel Fire & Blood, this season focuses on a bloody civil war between two factions, the Blacks and the Greens, for rule over the fictional continent of Westeros. Early press indicates this season will feature lots of dragons and epic battle action, which seems necessary. It’s been two years since the second season, so that level of spectacle might be needed to remind viewers about this long-running franchise.

The Bear Season 5, Hulu, June 25

FX’s towering dramatic comedy will present its final season here, dropping its last eight episodes at once. It’s an opportune moment to conclude the story of driven chef Carmy Berzatto’s bruising efforts to build a Michelin starred restaurant from his family’s humble hole-in-the-wall Italian beef shack in Chicago.

The show has a maddening habit of presenting standout episodes even during mediocre seasons. But critics have cooled on a show where the number of unspectacular episodes has grown and the latest plot twist — Jeremy Allen White’s Carmy deciding to leave the restaurant, forcing the family of workers he assembled to seek that Michelin star without him — feels perilously close to a Hail Mary pass thrown by writers running out of ideas.

Life, Larry and the Pursuit of Unhappiness: An Almost History of America, HBO and HBO Max, June 26

Higher Ground, the production company founded by Barack and Michelle Obama (Rustin, Leave the World Behind), takes its biggest swing yet here — producing a sketch series from Curb Your Enthusiasm star Larry David. The show celebrates America’s 250th anniversary a little differently, offering seven episodes filled with sketches lampooning key historical moments, featuring David — whose history as a failed writer for Saturday Night Live might not inspire loads of confidence. Still, the Obamas have assembled an impressive track record as producers and David remains a quirky, effective comedic voice who could have easily sat back on his Curb laurels, rather than offering a bold counterpoint to the official celebrations of America’s history.

Little House on the Prairie, Netflix, July 9

Gen Z viewers likely don’t know the original series which dominated ratings back in the mid-’70s and early ’80s, featuring Michael Landon as the patriarch of a family struggling to establish a home in Minnesota during the late 19th century. Netflix’s series returns to the largely autobiographical books written by novelist Laura Ingalls Wilder as inspiration, featuring the family struggling to stay together after moving to Kansas not long after the Civil War.

The initial series debuted on NBC back in 1974, when family-oriented shows like The Waltons were still popular. But will today’s streaming audiences embrace a series which brings a modern lens to questions of slavery and white people moving into the American west?

Star Trek: Strange New Worlds Season 4, Paramount+, July 23

It’s one of TV’s longest-running science fiction franchises, celebrating its 60th anniversary this year. But the future of Star Trek remains uncertain, as Paramount finishes production on two live action Trek series, with no new iterations yet planned for TV or film.

This season of Strange New Worlds — centered on the adventures of the Starship Enterprise before the days of Captain Kirk depicted in the original series — is the second-to-last batch of episodes for the series, which will end with an abbreviated fifth season. Strange New Worlds has a bit to prove, coming off a third season largely considered a disappointment by many fans. Ultimately, producers have admitted the show will conclude with Kirk taking the captain’s chair — but it’s going to take a lot of attention-getting episodes to get there.

Ted Lasso Season 4, Apple TV, Aug. 5

Many fans thought this series effectively ended after its third season back in 2023, when the show’s folksy lead character returned home to America after leading a British soccer team to success. But never underestimate TV’s urge to keep tapping into a hit — star and executive producer Jason Sudeikis found a new story to tell about Coach Lasso, who returns to lead a second division women’s football team in Britain.

Over its first three seasons, the show emerged as one of Apple’s most successful series, with a slew of Emmy, Golden Globe and Critics Choice awards. This fourth season will have to answer a new question: Can lightning strike twice for the same series?

Lanterns, HBO and HBO Max, Aug. 16

This series offers a chance to reinvent one of DC Comics most beloved superheroes for today’s TV scene, casting Friday Night Lights alum Kyle Chandler as Hal Jordan — a grizzled hero with a power ring capable of creating any construct from the energy of his will.

Jordan is a Green Lantern, part of a corps of intergalactic space cops handed the rings by a powerful group of immortal beings. That all sounds like a lot for a streaming TV series; initial teasers for the show focus on Jordan’s work training/vetting new Lantern candidate John Stewart, played by Aaron Pierre. The two will work to investigate a murder on Earth in an uneasy alliance which feels an awful lot like the first season of HBO’s True Detective — balancing a gritty, authentic environment with a ring that allows flight, space travel and lots of superheroic adventures. This superhero nerd absolutely cannot wait to see where it all goes.

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Instead, in her first public program at Davies Symphony Hall since being appointed as the Symphony’s next Music Director, Chan rose to the night’s three-point challenge. One, to win the hearts of her new city’s audience. Two, to establish a continuum with the symphony’s past. And three, to plant herself artistically and make a statement of her own. 

By the end of the program, the 39-year-old conductor not only achieved all of the above, but steered attention away from herself and to the guest soloist, the orchestra and the audience.

“As we start this new chapter, I don’t want any barriers between us,” she said. “We need the audience to give this music its meaning.”

A woman of her word, Chan finished the concert and then wandered out onto the street in front of Davies, among the people, and just started hanging out with everyone.

But back to the music. After a sustained standing ovation at her entrance that rendered Chan visibly emotional, she began with the Wagner, and its beautiful chords and phrasings that danced and swelled. The Prelude is fragile; in the wrong hands it can get mushy. Chan kept the orchestra restrained and united, controlling the dynamics with delicate skill until the piece’s huge, final rapturous climax.

It was as if Chan had absorbed all the love from the past two weeks since her appointment, and sent it right back into the audience. It also constituted one of the most exhilarating experiences I’ve ever had inside a concert hall. Win the audience’s hearts: check.

For the Berlioz song cycle Les Nuits d’été, Chan let the remarkable mezzo-soprano Sasha Cooke take the lead. Chan has generally downplayed the focus on her historic appointment as the first woman to lead a “Big 7” orchestra. But as she conducted the songs in her outgoing, flamboyant style, and as Cooke drew out the meaning of the words with perfect tone and emotive body language, the power of two overtly expressive women taking center stage at Davies was unmistakable.

Then, for an encore, Cooke introduced Michael Tilson Thomas’ “Ich Lebe mein Leben,” from his Meditations on Rilke. Thomas’ spirit has lingered at Davies since his death just six weeks ago (a tribute exhibit is currently being displayed in the lobby). As Chan and Cooke worked their magic, it was fully present.

As if to pass the torch, Cooke explained that Thomas had once kissed the hem of her skirt after a performance — and then promptly kissed Chan’s. Establish a continuum: check.

That left the final goal of making a personal statement. Chan made two. One was artistic, furthered by a sweeping performance of Debussy’s La Mer. Chan has spoken of her affection for the “Sorcerer’s Apprentice” sequence in Disney’s Fantasia; her magic trick is not to conjure waves and lightning, but to turn the orchestra into a single living, breathing organism. Despite its many moving parts, La Mer in Chan’s hands felt as one whole, a swirling, subtidal journey.

The other statement she made may be more important: that the conductor is not the be-all, end-all star of the show, nor the single person upon which the success of an orchestra rests.

We’ve gotten to see plenty of Chan’s fun personality. The polar opposite of her stoic mentor Bernard Haitnik, she conducts with a physical exuberance, as if prodding and dancing around the notes. She speaks like a normal human, calling the orchestra “so cool,” and says she likes the classics along with the “friggin’ new,” “wacky” contemporary pieces. She loves La Taqueria burritos and Karl the Fog. She even forgot to bring her baton onstage last night for the second half. (Conductors! They’re just like us!)

Or, take the scene witnessed at concert’s end, when Chan hoisted her hands to form the millennial-coded hand heart. During the long standing ovation, in the 14th row stood an 80-something man, raising his own hands to return the same gesture. Or how about Chan, upon being presented with a large bouquet, removing its contents one by one and running through the orchestra rows to excitedly give the musicians their flowers?

This relatability will go a long way in San Francisco, where we’re a little suspicious of people who take themselves too seriously. Combine it with the breathtaking artistry she displayed at Davies on Friday night, and you’ve got the beginnings of a conductor, a city, and a beautiful friendship.

Last year, emerging Oakland rapper Seiji Oda released “no fillins²,” bringing fresh energy, and a new generation of listeners, to the classic song. “A lot of people tried to remix that beat, man,” F.A. reflects, “but they never could get it right.” 

Seiji Oda did. The remix sparked a collaboration that evolved into a new full-length album, RIGHT BACK IN, summoning the Trunk Boiz back outside. 

Seiji Oda, 28, was just nine years old when “Cupcake No Fillin’” started blasting out of car speakers across Oakland. Now, as the “third Trunk Boi” and producer of the album, he architects a soundscape textured by voices, nature sounds and sideshow sonics. 

Gentle rhythms interlace with signature drum kicks, pushing each track open like a window into the nuanced contradictions of life in the Bay. The avant-garde sound reminds listeners of why we say music slaps to begin with. 

“He enhanced our sound,” F.A., 37, reflects. “Like we got the banana split, but he’s like the cherry on the top.” 

“[Seiji] brings another special element, like a missing puzzle piece,” B*Janky, 38, adds. “[He] helped us showcase our growth and our versatility.” 

As a producer, Seiji Oda approached the artists from a place of deep respect, studying their discography far beyond their sprinkle of hits. He asked himself, “How can I just be of service, and try to make the best thing possible using their [different] styles?” 

At times, it meant setting aside egos and doing what was right for a song. For “I Can Tell!,” he handed the reins to producer Oliver McDaniel. Featuring Ajaya Jones and Oda Kai, the track weaves together five voices to rap about the clues that give away if someone’s really from the Bay: “Look how they slide, look what they drive,” they echo on the hook. It’s a standout sure to become a staple at house parties this summer. 

The bulk of the project was recorded at Red Heron Studios, in the heart of Oakland’s Chinatown. In addition to the voices on “I Can Tell!,” Fijiiana features on “Sky Scraper,” Michael Sneed appears on “KARMA” and Cait La Dee sings on “Out There,” a remake of a song she originally recorded with The Jacka.

Recently the trio has been showcasing their synergy on stages across Oakland. 510 Day, a community festival and act of defiance against displacement, served as the perfect backdrop to their latest video, “GO DUMB!” A nod to the phrase that defined the hyphy movement during the 2000s, the track is dedicated to the overthinkers who need a push to start creating. “The flow state won’t come, because you’re thinking about it too much,” says F.A. “The best thing you can do as an artist is keep your flow state, go dumb.” 

At 510 Day, kids jumped double dutch, turf dancers battled and a crowd of over 100 people stood watching, soaking in the last rays of sun as it set over Lake Merritt. As the track started, Seiji Oda glided through the crowd, inviting people to join in as they filmed. 

“We want to make that feel-good music,” B*Janky insists. “It was all age groups out there, all nationalities. We from the Bay, you know what I mean? That’s what we grew up with.” 

Before RIGHT BACK IN, the Trunk Boiz had another project they decided to scrap. F.A. believes it was the right move; he now feels it would have brought “negative energy.” B*Janky agrees: “We’re tired of the negativity, that rap that’s getting people killed and going to jail. We want to change the narrative.” 

“This feels right. I can put this out and wholeheartedly promote it,” F.A. says, “let my kids sing it, let other people’s kids sing it, old people sing it. It could potentially be on the radio.” 

For Seiji Oda, creativity begins with preparation, the kind that allows you to be a vessel when the magic surfaces. “If you listen to the background of ‘GO DUMB!’ there’s a really high voice that’s like, ‘Going, going, going dumb.’ It sounds like a kids’ choir or something,” he notes. In reality, it’s F.A. singing in the studio, which Seiji Oda quickly captured. “If you prepare really well, then you’re prepared for something you couldn’t have even thought of.”  

The Trunk Boiz are used to being resourceful with their artistry, or “getting it out the trunk,” which is where their name comes from. B*Janky remembers the BART tours, a masterclass in marketing: “We’d be at the BART station, at the popping gas stations, selling CDs all over. We’d have rappers, singers, turf dancers with us.” 

When potential customers hesitated, unsure if they wanted to commit to a CD of music they didn’t know, the Boiz would step in, and one of the artists would sing or rap right on the spot. “Once they hear that voice, that CD sold,” B*Janky continues. “Once we showed them the talent we had.” 

That drive and dedication inspired Seiji Oda, who’s part of a generation hustling their art through streams and algorithms. He attributes the depth of face-to-face connection to why people have such a deep affinity for “Cupcake No Fillin’” to this day. 

Yet the Trunk Boiz aren’t interested in simply swimming in nostalgia. They’re invested in evolving, adapting to express what feels current and alive for them today. They recently performed with Seiji Oda in front of thousands of people at an Oakland Roots game.

“Music is not an age,” F.A. says. “You could be 50 years old and still make really good music. 2 Chainz didn’t start poppin’ ’til he was like 35.” 

F.A. reflects on the need to stay grounded while pursuing a dream on the intro track, “Pick It Up.” “We ain’t really make it, but we made it,” he raps. Today, making it carries a weight that’s far from superficial. 

“Me and [F.A.] are the way out for our family,” B*Janky explains. “We ain’t go to the league, to the NBA or NFL. It’ll really be like a load off my shoulder, and feel good, to have my family right.” 

Their resilience is evident in lyrics that nod to their younger selves, yet make space to show up as the people they are today. Fulfilling a commitment to pick up that dream and jump right back in. 

“Sometimes you got to put it down, reevaluate your situation, and come back to the drawing board,” B*Janky says. “If we would have just stopped making music, they probably wouldn’t be talking about us right now.”

The first Cape Fear movie was in 1962, starring Robert Mitchum as ex-convict Max Cady, and Gregory Peck as attorney Sam Bowden. Peck’s Bowden was heroic and strong, but Mitchum’s ex-con was a playful, vengeful force of nature. One of the most powerful scenes in that movie was when Cady cornered Bowden’s wife, played by Polly Bergen, in a kitchen, grabbed and crushed a raw egg, then smeared it across her exposed shoulders as she shuddered with fear.

Mitchum’s very verbal sociopath has provided the template for dozens of movie and TV predators since. Those would include, most prominently, the eccentric killers played by Javier Bardem in No Country for Old Men, and Billy Bob Thornton in the first season of TV’s Fargo. And Robert De Niro, of course, who played Max Cady in the 1991 remake of Cape Fear, opposite Nick Nolte as the defense attorney.

The most gripping and uncomfortable scene in that version, which was directed by Martin Scorsese, may have been the moment in which DeNiro’s Cady is alone with Bowden’s teenage daughter, played by Juliette Lewis, and approaches her with a mix of charisma and menace. Scorsese kept Cady as evil as before, but made Bowden a much less noble protagonist. And that’s why, I suspect, Scorsese has returned as an executive producer, along with Steven Spielberg, to present Apple TV’s new, expanded version of Cape Fear. This time, the shades of gray are everywhere you look.

Nick Antosca, who created and oversaw this new miniseries, has made some bold choices from the start — beginning with the casting and the primary characters. In the two movies, Bowden’s wife and family were targeted by Cady purely to get revenge on Bowden. In this new story, Bowden’s wife, Anna, was Cady’s defense attorney, and Bowden was the prosecutor. It puts her in the narrative more centrally, and pays off.

Amy Adams and Patrick Wilson are really, really good as the Bowdens, and play their parts with shifting layers of innocence and guilt. And playing Cady? It’s none other than Bardem, who already has embodied one world-class villain — and here he comes again.

Apple TV provided eight of the 10 episodes for preview, so I don’t know how this Cape Fear ends. But I know how cleverly it updates and expands the story. It’s set in today’s world, so there are cell phones, podcasters, rideshares, catfishing and public shaming — all of which figure into the plot.

There are also flashbacks, not only to Cady’s prison years, but to Bowden’s childhood, which is similarly fleshed out. And best of all, major new supporting characters are presented — some of whom inherit the stalking behaviors exhibited by Cady in the film versions. And those films are echoed with respect. Just as Scorsese found room for Peck and Mitchum to appear as other characters in his 1991 remake, this new Cape Fear pulls the same trick by casting someone from Scorsese’s film.

Bardem is riveting here, but he’s by no means the only reason to watch. The story may be familiar, but this new Cape Fear rolls out one surprise after another. Some scenes are scary, some are violent and some are creepy. And part of the suspense, in this new adaptation, is figuring out who the creeps really are — and where the evil really lies.

Copyright © 2026 NPR, Fresh Air

Here in the Bay Area, there are many ways to honor Juneteenth, be it an extravagant parade, an outdoor performance by jazz legends or a Valkyries pregame party. Note: The festivities kick off well before June 19 proper.

Juneteenth on the Waterfront

Sunday, June 7, 11 a.m.–4 p.m.
Embarcadero Terminal Ferry Plaza, San Francisco 

The sixth annual Juneteenth on the Waterfront celebrates its biggest year yet, with nearly 30 Black vendors selling food, drinks and other goods. Activities include live music, food demos from local Bay Area chefs and craft making.

Oakland Interfaith Gospel Choir 

Friday, June 12, 7:30 p.m.
The Freight, Berkeley

Members of the Oakland Interfaith Gospel Chorus (over 300 members strong, with singers ages 5 to 100) bring together community, culture, and music. Attendees are invited to sing along. 

Juneteenth Freedom Day Celebration

Friday, June 12, 5 p.m.–9 p.m. 
Temple Art Lofts, Downtown Vallejo 

Vallejo’s art scene takes center stage during the city’s 2nd Friday Artwalk. Expect an exhibition of local artists, music and live poetry performances. 

Healdsburg Jazz Juneteenth Celebration

Saturday, June 13, 2 p.m.–8 p.m.
Town Plaza, Healdsburg

A free outdoor jazz concert in the town square with jazz all-stars George Cables, Rufus Reid, Billy Hart, Bobby Watson and Craig Handy; also performing are the Sundra Manning Organ Quartet and Carlitos Medrano & Sabor de mi Cuba. Greg Bridges from KCSM hosts throughout the day, which also includes workshops and art exhibits. 

Juneteenth in the Streets 

Saturday, June 13, 12 p.m.–7 p.m. 
SoFa District, Downtown San Jose 

In its 45th year, the African American Community Service Agency hosts San Jose’s Juneteenth celebration with R&B trio SWV headlining the event.

Juneteenth Freedom Celebration Carnival 

Saturday, June 13, 11 a.m.–6 p.m.
Fillmore District, San Francisco 

A free-to-attend carnival spanning over eight blocks, this year’s theme is “Celebrating Joy, Preserving Our Freedom.” Details are still to be determined, but expect live performances, a fashion show and over 80 retail and food vendors, as well as a classic car show.

San Bruno Celebration 

Saturday, June 13, 11:30 a.m.–3 p.m.
San Bruno City Park, San Bruno 

The cities of San Bruno and Millbrae come together for a Juneteenth festival hosted by educator and award winning author J.R. Rice. Hip-Hop BBQ Shack caters food, live music is provided by Pure Ecstasy and Dj Olga, and storytime takes place with Kirk Waller. 

Sonoma County Juneteenth  

Saturday, June 13
MLK Park, Santa Rosa

One of the Bay Area’s oldest ongoing Juneteenth celebrations celebrates its 56th anniversary this year. Cover group the Konsept Party Band headlines the event. Expect activities for kids, cultural exhibits, and food and merchandise vendors. 

Welcome Black Weekend 

Friday, June 19–Sunday, June 21
Various locations, East Palo Alto 

A weekend full of events in East Palo Alto. Friday is a jubilee concert and dinner at the East Palo Alto Center, Saturday is a celebration at Bell Street Park and Sunday is a gospel showcase at the community church. Check back for updates. 

Juneteenth Kickoff 

Friday, June 19, 5 p.m.–8 p.m. 
Bello Haven Community Campus, Menlo Park 

This Menlo Park celebration includes fun treats, food available for purchase, performances from Myke tha Kidd, storytelling and Caribbean music by Asheba and the Menlo Park Soul Line Dancers. 

Juneteenth Community Celebration 

Friday, June 19, 9:30 a.m.–4:30 p.m. 
Children’s Discovery Museum, San Jose 

Ghanaian-born performer, educator and composer Pope Flynn hosts a drumming workshop, with the opportunity to try your hand at traditional African drums. Crafts available to make include friendship bracelets and a percussion instrument. 

Valkyries Juneteenth Celebration

Friday, June 19, 4 p.m.
Thrive City, San Francisco 

Juneteenth and Ballhalla collide in collaboration with the Black Joy Parade for this pregame celebration. Alongside local vendors are performances from majorette dance company, Heatline Dance and the Black Joy choir.

Juneteenth! at the Museum

Friday, June 19, 11 a.m.–4 p.m. 
Oakland Museum of California, Oakland

In collaboration with the Black Freedom Fund, the Oakland Museum of California opens its doors to a day of events. Activities include live music at two different stages, a craft making station and turf and soul line dancing workshops. Also, after a screening of Memories in Motion: Selected Stories of Mildred Howard, Mildred Howard and the director of the documentary appear in discussion. 

Juneteenth: A Freedom Celebration 

Friday June 19, 4 p.m.–8 p.m. 
Williamson Ranch Park, Antioch

The fifth annual city-sponsored Juneteenth celebration in Antioch includes performances by Durti-Ryce featuring Deron and Monique Renee. Expect games and rides, food and retail vendors.

Hella Juneteenth Festival 

Friday, June 19, 12 p.m.–6 p.m. 
Cloud Park, Downtown Oakland

As Hella Creative’s flagship event of the week, this festival brings together live DJs, food from Black chefs and restaurants, dancing and games. 

Vallejo Juneteenth Parade and Festival 

Saturday June 20, 9 a.m.–5 p.m. 
Barbara Kondylis Waterfront, Vallejo 

Vallejo celebrates Juneteenth with both a parade and a day of festivities along the Napa River waterfront. Expect both practical offerings (info on local volunteer opportunities) and celebratory vibes (face painting). Musical acts to be announced. 

San Francisco Juneteenth Parade 

Saturday, June 20, 11 a.m.–4 p.m.
Market Street at 2nd Street to Embarcadero Plaza, San Francisco 

San Francisco’s fourth annual Juneteenth Parade starts at 11 a.m. at Market and 2nd Streets, running through to Embarcadero Plaza, where the celebration continues. More details posted soon. 

Juneteenth Fathers Day Festival 

Sunday, June 21, 12 p.m.–6 p.m. 
Gilman Park, San Francisco

Presented by the African American Arts and Cultural District, this Bayview Celebration boasts performances from R&B trio Next, funk band Lakeside, and Bay Area hip-hop supergroup 1 Umbrella. Retail and food vendors will also be available. 

Berkeley Juneteenth Festival 

Sunday, June 21, 11 a.m. – 7 p.m.
Alcatraz at Adeline, Berkeley

Berkeley’s Juneteenth celebrations are centered on family entertainment. Hence: jumpers, a rock wall, and clowns! (A more adult-geared stage will host up-and-coming performers.) 

It’s a sultry deep-purple, interspersed with shades of bluegrass. Certain notes carry the worn-leather brown of a good country twang, and others are pure white robes of a full choir. Her lyrics paint a dark angsty hue of ’90s alternative R&B, rich with self-prescribed affirmations.

And as the 25 year-old musician celebrates her debut album Yellow House this week with a listening party at Oakland’s Blk Girls Green House, she continues to fine-tune her sound.

As for that rich, multi-hued voice? “I’m still finding it,” Satya tells me.

Given that her album addresses maturation, healing and honoring the agency that comes along with adulthood, she’s finding her voice in more ways than one.

An Oakland School of the Arts graduate who studied vocal arrangement, Satya also plays piano and guitar, and is learning the bass. She loves playing and singing with others, working on harmonies and making songs that have a “a full sound,” she says.

“I grew up listening to Aretha Franklin,” Satya tells me, explaining a love for gospel music and “wide sounds.” Now, as she matures, she’s learning to experiment with lower and softer ranges, while still relishing in large soundscapes.

Yellow House showcases her far-reaching vocal range, interwoven with the production of Nashville-based musician Colin Linden. Now based in Los Angeles, Satya recorded the entire album in Tennessee. Along the way, she made a stop in New Orleans for college — an experience that truly set her on her musical path.

While studying the music industry at Loyola University, the pandemic hit and school shut down. Uninspired by online classes, she dropped out. “And I just stayed in New Orleans,” she says. “And I fell in love with it.”

Through her circle of friends, Satya traveled the South. But the Crescent City had her heart.

She cut her teeth as a musician in the Big Easy, performing original music and gigging around town with a band. Looking back, “New Orleans shaped me so much as an artist and a musician,” she says.

Years passed and she moved back to the west coast, landing in Southern California and chipping away at her first album. Though she eventually recorded it in Nashville, the songs on Yellow House draw heavily on her experience growing up in Oakland.

The title track, “Yellow House,” is about the actual home she lived in as a kid.

In the song, the guitar and drums are dark and heavy, and the lyrics pull from past trauma. But a tempo shift toward the end of the track connotes optimism; as the guitar strums build, Satya shares details of her house: “Yellow house, lemon trees, wooden floor, she laid face down / Yellow house, dead birds, pill bottles missing from the cabinet/ What if I say that I / Say that I’m done with all your madness?”

In just under a minute, Satya juxtaposes dark grey memories with a slice of light. Sonically, it’s as if a character in a noir film walked into a scene wearing a canary-colored sundress.

Immediately following is “Circles,” the first song Satya wrote for the album, which starts with a dark simple guitar riff and builds to a crescendo of keys, drums and vocals. With lyrics like “I dream of the hallway,” the song references that same yellow house.

“When I was tracing feelings back and memories back,” Satya reflects, “I sometimes felt like my energy was in that house still.”

Album closer “Cicadas” directly draws from Satya’s time in New Orleans, complete with the sound of raindrops falling. Two covers — the Grateful Dead’s “Box of Rain” and Lucinda Williams’ “Fruits of My Labor” — show that she’s not limited by genre.

But it’s in “Heaven’s Cry” where Satya speaks directly to her transformation process.

Over a bright melody, Satya sings, “Fell from the sky, don’t know how, don’t know why / Closing my eyes, take one step at a time.” As the track unfolds, she describes persevering through rough waters, guided by voices from heaven.

“I grew up with a lot of imbalance,” she says. “A lot of open-endedness, a lot of loose ends.” Transitions and grief were a constant, she adds. “I really just had to make a decision to leave home because it didn’t feel safe anymore.”

Satya’s goal now is to be the fullest form of herself.

“I want to be expressive, and follow what really gives me joy,” Staya says. Living without fear and resetting her body are part of it. But ultimately, “it’s about knowing that I’m safe.”

Satya’s ‘Yellow House’ is available June 5 on streaming platforms. She hosts a listening party at Blk Girls Green House on June 6. Details and more information here.

The inaugural grant recipients include publishers, residency programs, book festivals and workshop organizers. The fund acknowledges that the literary arts are “the most underfunded artistic discipline in the nation.”

“The grant includes a five-year funding commitment toward general operating expenses for Transit Books,” publishers Adam Z. Levy and Ashley Nelson Levy told KQED via email. “To have financial support to run Transit Books as well as a fixed, multi-year commitment is the best resource we can possibly ask for right now, particularly in a time of federal funding cuts that have affected so many arts organizations.”

The Literary Arts Fund (LAF) was created in October 2025, but was several years in the making. The need is urgent. The Trump administration continues to threaten the National Endowment for the Humanities and the National Endowment for the Arts. Last May, more than a dozen Bay Area arts nonprofits received notices that their NEA grants had been canceled. Though many organizations were eventually able to restore those awards, the funding landscape was thrown into disarray.

The LAF was established by seven philanthropic institutions: the Ford Foundation, the Hawthornden Foundation, the Lannan Foundation, the John D. and Catherine T. MacArthur Foundation, the Mellon Foundation, the Poetry Foundation, and one anonymous foundation.

To Michael Holtmann, president of the Center for the Art of Translation (CAT), the LAF grant represents what he calls “an incredible boost to our mission for years to come.” Since 2000, CAT has been focused on bringing the work of underrepresented global writers to English-language readers. But this grant is particularly well-timed: in 2027, CAT will open its first brick-and-mortar location — complete with an event space and a bookstore — in downtown San Francisco.

“This grant comes at a thrilling moment of momentum for CAT,” Holtmann told KQED Arts. “This extraordinary show of support ensures that global writers and the translators who bring their work into English will continue to inspire readers and challenge our culture.”

Small Press Traffic Director Maxe Crandall says the support from LAF “makes a huge impact on what we can dream for experimental Bay Area poets and artists over the next five years.” The “seedbed” for boundary-pushing poets puts on talks, events and performances and hosts visitors to its print collection reading room, located inside Et al. gallery in the Mission. Since 2022, Small Press Traffic has also run an interdisciplinary publishing platform called The Back Room, which put out a summer issue on June 3.

“We’re inspired by the swift action of the Literary Arts Fund, in their response to grant cuts and the already abysmal funding for the literary arts in the country (1.9% of arts and culture foundation funding),” Crandall told KQED via email.

Only two other California nonprofits received the inaugural LAF grant — the Los Angeles Review of Books and Kaya Press — both of which are based in Los Angeles.

Playing “September” and “Celebration” is often what’s most required. As one member of the Bride and the Groove, the band at the center of John Carney’s new film, puts it: They’re not rock stars. They’re human jukeboxes.

But in Power Ballad, a wedding band singer and pop star cross paths. For one night, all of the stratification of the music world falls away. Power Ballad starts like a fairy tale.

Since 2007’s Once, the Irish writer-director has focused his films on the redemptive capacity of music. Carney, who was once a bassist for the Frames, knows from experience. From Sing Street to Flora and Son, he has made unabashedly earnest tales where a song, or just picking up an instrument, changes lives.

This can, undoubtedly, lead Carney into sentimental territory. Lucky for him, his chosen subject — music — is more worthy of sentiment than almost anything else. Yet the song doesn’t quite remain the same in Power Ballad, a movie that begins with the gentle sweetness Carney is known for, but detours into something more discordant.

Rick (Paul Rudd) is an American musician who gave up on his once-promising rock band’s future to instead live with his wife (Marcella Plunkett) and teenage daughter (a spunky, underused Beth Fallon) in Dublin. His former group was called Octagon, a perfect former band name if there ever were one.

But for years, Rick has fronted the Bride and the Groove. It’s an unromantic day job (or rather a night one) that hasn’t entirely sapped his belief in his own songwriting. During an encore at one wedding, he plays an original tune and is mentally transported to an arena full of swaying fans. When he snaps out of it, he’s staring at an empty dance floor and faces that say: That wasn’t Kool & the Gang.

At another wedding at at a castle, the band is asked to let a friend of the newlyweds sit in. They reluctantly agree, and are surprised to see the very popular boy band veteran, Danny (Nick Jonas), step on stage. He sings Stevie Wonder’s “I Wish,” and it’s great. Though Rick had just dismissed Danny’s music as “manufactured content for young, excitable teens,” he discovers Danny is a genuine musician.

But, later that night, something even more remarkable transpires. Rick bumps into Danny, and the two quickly hit it off. They begin jamming together and sharing songs that need work. They are both so jazzed by their unlikely collaboration that they play into the next morning.

The actual moment of artistic creation, and the craft it requires, is something the movies almost always skip over. But capturing collaborative juices flowing is exactly what Carney excels at. You can feel his joy in it. So it’s fitting that one of the unfinished songs Rick plays for Danny, “How to Write a Song (Without You),” is about creative invention.

It’s here when you wonder where Power Ballad is headed. Is this, for Rick, the beginning of a beautiful friendship? Will they turn into the next great songwriting duo, lifting Rick out of weddings and proving to the world that Danny is more than a boy-band pretty face?

That is very possibly the movie Carney might have made a decade ago. But Power Ballad, which he co-wrote with Peter McDonald (who also co-stars as a band member), shifts six months ahead in time. Rick is standing in a shopping mall when the familiar lyrics of “How to Write a Song” softly float through the stores. He stands dumbfounded in the gleaming halls of commerce, a befuddlement that slowly turns into outrage the bigger and bigger Danny’s smash hit grows.

Power Ballad loses some of its steam in its second half, which follows Rick’s struggle for justice. Making things considerably harder is that he can find no recorded demo of the song. His family and his band don’t even really believe him.

But even as the movie struggles to sustain its opening refrain, Carney’s film is always riffing on ideas of authenticity and aspiration in music. That Jonas is, himself, a former boy band star who has at times gone it alone, lends the movie a direct connection to contemporary music, where tussles over authorship are increasingly common.

Jonas has been good in other films (notably the Jumanji movies), but this is his most ambitious and convincing performance to date. It’s a testament to the movie that Danny’s theft isn’t a purely villainous act. He gives the song a bridge and the vocal power to take it to another level. He’s under mounting pressure from his label to deliver a hit. An executive (Jack Reynor) wants “Danny 2.0” but has little faith he can supply it.

But it’s an even more well-tailored role for Rudd. He memorably and very goofily played a bassist in the 2009 comedy I Love You, Man. But while he sings well, it’s not his musical chops that lift the performance. It’s more that Rick, a contented family man with unrealized rock-star dreams, gives the exceptionally genial Rudd more notes to play as an actor. Rudd makes for a very likeable everyman out to convince the world he is capable of a beautiful song.

And that’s the abiding belief of Carney’s. No matter all the struggles, the artistic injustices, the corporate hegemony, he still believes that if you make something truly soulful, it will break through. It will claw its way to the surface, and move people. It’s undoubtedly gotten harder since Once, this movie seems to admit. The world is against you. But what one person can offer, a ballad or otherwise, still has power. Fairy tale or not, that’s worth believing in.

‘Power Ballad’ is released nationwide on June 5, 2026.

Oddly, one of the most revealing things in the Vallejo Naval and Historical Museum’s new exhibit is an overwrought denunciation of Black drag queens dating from all the way back in 1893. One Dr. Charles H. Hughes of St. Louis (clearly incensed) had his note published by a medical journal of the era.

It states, in part:

I am credibly informed that there is, in the city of Washington, D.C., an annual convocation of negro men called the drag dance, which is an orgy of lascivious debauchery beyond pen power of description.

(Imagine hearing the phrase “orgy of lascivious debauchery” and thinking that was a bad thing!)

Dr. Hughes’ quote is part of the introduction to I Live the Life I Love Because I Love the Life I Live: A Celebration of Trans People of Color, a collection of photos and ephemera honoring gender nonconforming people of color from recent history. Curated by Ms. Bob Davis of the Louise Lawrence Transgender Archive, the exhibit includes Bay Area queer and trans folks (including legendary nightclub dancers, Vicki Starr and Li-Kar), alongside their spiritual siblings from around the world. I Love the Life I Live was previously exhibited at the GLBT Historical Society Museum in San Francisco.

While fairly hodgepodge by nature — there is no linear throughline or singular geographical focus — I Live the Life I Love does successfully provide a number of fascinating starting points for future research.

The exhibition introduces the likes of the Takarazuka Girls, an all-female revue from Japan who performed as all genders at the 1939 Golden Gate International Exposition. There’s also Felicia Elizondo, a trans woman who attempted to suppress her gender identity by enlisting in the Vietnam War, only to transition in 1972 and become a vocal LGBTQ+ campaigner. The show also gives a brief overview of the charitable efforts of Brenda Lee, who turned her São Paulo house into a group home for trans women and people living with HIV and AIDS in the ’80s.

Taking us back further in time are Victorian dancers from a show called Les Joyeux Nègres (The Merry Negroes). Duos included Charles Gregory and Jack Brown, who danced the “cakewalk” wearing Civil War-era attire — Brown in a multi-tiered dress, Gregory in a colorful suit. In the same troupe, two women utilized drag as “Mr. and Mrs. Elks.”

A comprehensive overview of the history of trans and gender nonconforming people of color, this is not. Neither is it particularly focused on any one subculture related to the community. But if you treat I Live the Life I Love as a mini buffet of fascinating moments from LGBTQ+ history, you’ll find a smattering of very tasty morsels.

‘I Live the Life I Love Because I Love the Life I Live: A Celebration of Trans People of Color’ is on display at the Vallejo Naval and Historical Museum (734 Marin St.), June 5—26, 2026. An official opening reception and Pride flag raising takes place on June 12, from 6 p.m.

Now, married hosts Monique and Alejandro “Baby Gas” Meraz are taking the show on the road with a California mini-tour that kicks off its Bay Area portion in San José on June 13.

“It’s some fun chaos,” Baby Gas says.

Saying What You Won’t leans into the raunchy and explicit. In episodes, well-known entertainers detail their sex lives. And at live events, audience members share intimate details with complete strangers.

“You might leave more open-minded,” Monique says.

Monique and Baby Gas set the tone for transparency by talking about their particular style of non-monogamy, where they both date women outside their relationship. The judgement-free zone they’ve created offers a bit of a balm for a contentious topic: the Bay Area’s dirty dating scene.

“It helps the general public by opening up conversations,” Baby Gas says. “Take one of our clips and show your partner. Spark that convo you’ve always wanted to spark.”

Since launching the show, first as an Instagram Live series during pandemic shutdowns, Monique and Baby Gas have covered a range of topics: favorite sexual positions, dreams about ex-lovers and even the art of feeding your blindfolded partner something random from your cabinet.

“If you got some cumin in there, give her a spoonful of that,” Baby Gas jokes, referring to an earlier segment. And while there’s plenty of humor and a bit of shock value, there’s also some profound points about how we can all more genuinely relate to one another.

“We’re living in a generation where the divorce rate is high as hell,” says Baby Gas. “Marriages are down. Commitment? People are scared of commitment. Dating in the Bay Area? People have certain fears or PTSD.”

Baby Gas says this region “is super player,” and unfortunately the term has two definitions.

“You can either keep it player” or “be a player,” he says. Keeping it player refers to being transparent and putting all your cards on the table, letting your partner make an informed decision.

Baby Gas puts it simply: “If you want to rock with me, you’re going to rock me.”

On the other side of the coin, “being a player” alludes to a trickster — someone who uses their “mouthpiece” to mislead.

“That’s why people have insecurities,” he surmises, noting that dishonesty is not gender-specific. Having hard, transparent conversations in a safe place is the remedy.

That’s not only the basis for the podcast, it’s the foundation for Monique and Baby Gas’ friendship, a bond that has grown into a uniquely Bay Area version of a healthy relationship.

“We just we talk a lot of shit to each other,” Monique says, reflecting on their union and the origins of the podcast. They regularly debate about aliens or the type of women she likes versus the type he likes.

“We started as friends first,” she adds, “and we’ve just always kept that, we still talk to each other like friends.”

The husband and wife come from different backgrounds. Baby Gas is an outspoken lyricist from the hood, and Monique is a relatively shy creative from the suburbs.

Baby Gas at one point held down the Oakland imprint of the Thizz Latin label. After releasing notable songs like 2016’s “30 On Me” and 2019’s “Life In The Ghetto,” featuring E-40, he took a brief hiatus from music to focus on family. He returned to the scene at the top of 2026 with his album Ghetto Vato 2: Siempre Ghetto, which features the anthem “La Raza.”

“I definitely make sure that I utilize my platform for my people,” says Baby Gas, whose parents are from Mexico and El Salvador. Raised in East Oakland in a majority African American community, Baby Gas recalls performing tributes to Harriet Tubman and singing the Black National Anthem, “Lift Every Voice and Sing,” as a kid. Those experiences still influence his art.

“I speak for Black and Brown communities at the end of the day,” he says.

Monique, who is from Vacaville, was born to a Salvadorian mother and a Creole father whose roots go back five generations in Richmond. Growing up as a mixed kid, she says, came with its own particular set of challenges. “My school was predominantly either white or Hispanic, so sometimes it was hard for me to fit in,” Monique says.

Monique found solace in storytelling, and is now getting ready to publish her first book later this summer.

“I have a character, it’s called Demohnia” she says, describing an animated being with horns and a halo, an ode to the duality of her Gemini astrological sign. Based in a dark fantasy, complete with metaphors and parallels to her own lived experience, Monique says creating this story has been a form of therapy for her.

“It’s not super bright rainbows,” she warns. Her world is murky with traces of light piercing through. “Demohnia was a character that just lingered in my head as a kid,” Monique explains. “She’s really like my alter ego.”

While discussing the couple’s many creative pursuits, Baby Gas is clear: “Before the artistry, we’re parents.” They’re raising five children, which adds fodder to their podcast discussions. “We talk about kids, we talk about the struggles and the things that we run into while being a blended family,” Baby Gas says.

Much like their relationship, there’s a certain balance to the podcast.

In one episode, East Oakland standout rapper ALLBLACK shares that his idea of intimacy is “living” in his partner’s skin. And in another episode, Stockton rap star EBK Leebo opens up about growing past “thugging” and enjoying child-like joy with his friends.

In the end, each conversation revolves around sharing tender truths.

“Everybody always says ‘communication is key,’ right?” Baby Gas says. “But we believe that transparency is the key to it all.”

It took growth to get to this level of understanding, the couple admits. “If I say how I really feel or my opinion on this, I feel safe having conversations even if he might disagree,” Monique says.

“She’ll drop her opinion, I’ll drop my opinion,” adds Baby Gas, “and then we talk about it there, or once the guest leaves and the cameras stop rolling.” Never straying too far from the origins of their connection, he says, they readily take time to ask each other the hard questions: “So, what do you really think about that?”

The ‘Saying What You Won’t’ podcast has live shows throughout June and July in San José, San Francisco, Modesto, Fresno and Los Angeles. Event details here.

Fast-forward to 2026, and the 20-year-old, Petaluma-raised director has broken multiple box office records, with his feature-film debut Backrooms boasting an $81 million domestic opening weekend. Globally, his film earned a whopping $118 million.

Chidel, Parsons’s film teacher from fall of 2019 through spring of 2022, first met Parsons at an interview for his film program at Marin School for the Arts (MSA) when he was still in eighth grade. 

“He was very smart, very bright,” Chidel told KQED. “He showed me a couple of his visual effects stuff that he was, you know, self-taught on Blender. It’s pretty impressive that he would just take that initiative at that age, and he already had a following and was very driven and dedicated — even then.” 

Parsons had confidence, too. Chidel’s room is decorated with various movie posters, and Parsons once told Chidel that one day, a poster for one of his own movies would be up there next to the others. 

A drive to keep creating

At the time, Parsons had two years of experience in KTV Media Production classes at Kenilworth Junior High in Petaluma, where he and fellow students cycled through different production roles, collaborating with one another to produce student news. 

His teacher at Kenilworth, Isaac Raya, oversaw the seventh grade class, and was unaware of Parsons’ interest in filmmaking until a colleague asked if he’d seen Parsons’ YouTube channel, Kane Pixels. 

“Most of the kids do have lots of creativity,” Raya told KQED. “But what they don’t have is the drive to keep on creating. And then to keep on going in a very specific direction, which is what Kane did in 4th, 5th, and 6th grade. That is what is most impressive to me, was his drive to keep on creating elements of the story, and that he had written episodes.”

In Raya’s class, Parsons made a short film, Cave, that won a first-place award in a Petaluma City Schools district contest. Raya recalls being “amazed” by Parsons’ work, and his ability to learn and use tools – like Adobe Suite – that weren’t taught in his class.

While an 8th grader at Kenilworth taught by Laura Bradley, Parsons’ short film “Late for School” won the the district’s 5-Minute Film Festival in the 7th–12th grade category, as well as first place at the California Student Media Festival for the Middle School Craft Fiction category. 

‘He lives, eats, sleeps, and breathes film’

It came as no surprise, then, when Parsons was accepted into the MSA film program, where he continued to refine his work. When views on Parsons’ original Backrooms video skyrocketed, gaining attention from the internet and potential producers, Chidel was “over the moon,” and mentored him through the increasing interest in his work. 

But his sense of pride came way before Parsons’ mainstream success. 

“Kane, from day one, has always been sort of obsessively dedicated to everything he does,” Chidel said. “I mean, he lives, eats, sleeps, and breathes film.” (Parsons, who made a surprise visit to Petaluma’s Boulevard Cinemas over opening weekend, has said in interviews that he worked 21-hour days to finalize Backrooms before its release.)

That dedication is paying off. At 20, Parsons is now the youngest director ever to have a No. 1 global box office film. He can also claim the biggest opening weekend for an original feature film made by a first-time director. 

In a full-circle moment, Parsons invited Chidel to Los Angeles for the premiere of Backrooms. Chidel was happy to report that despite the film being a big Hollywood feature, it was still very much representative of the Parsons he knew.

“Five days ago, so many people outside of the internet world didn’t know who Kane was. They didn’t even know what Backrooms was,” Chidel said. “And now, suddenly, he’s like the next Spielberg or the next George Lucas, you know? And frankly, in my mind, rightfully so.”

The show, hosted by Saturday Night Live’s Colin Jost, is modeled like traditional Jeopardy but focuses on categories associated with film, television, music and internet culture. The Oakland team is made up of two friends: Joshua Bote, a journalist (and former intern with KQED Arts), and Erica West, a social worker.

In one episode, Jost asked them to explain their team name “Oakland Spirit Tunnel.” It’s a reference to the viral online segment from Jennifer Hudson’s talk show.

“It’s the name of our group chat actually,” Bote said on the show. 

Both Bote and West said their bar trivia sessions at Temescal Brewing in their home neighborhood paid off in the process to get on the show, which involved an online quiz, several Zoom interviews and a mock game. 

The friends are proud to represent the Bay Area, which is also home to Jeopardy champion Amy Schneider. She holds the second-longest win streak in the program’s history, behind Ken Jennings, the show’s current host.

“Last year, I was at the Trans March and saw Amy Schneider. I was too afraid to go up to her. I was so starstruck,” Bote said. “To even get the chance to continue the legacy that she continued in our small, silly way of being good at Pop Culture Jeopardy, it was a dream come true.”

West, also a big fan of Jeopardy, echoed this sentiment.

“They pan to my mom in the audience who watches Jeopardy every single day. We would watch together all the time. To be on the Alex Trebek stage, even holding the buzzer, I felt emotional. It means a lot.”

‘Pop Culture Jeopardy’ is streaming on Netflix now.

Isaac Fitzgerald is in a sorry state. He’s been drinking a lot and praying a lot. He’s about to turn 40, he’s not married, he’s had a bad break up, has no job and, worst of all, he’s back in the middle of dreary Massachusetts visiting his family. His — let’s say difficult — father, and his mother, who’s dealing with mental illness, still live in the old family farmhouse taking care of Fitzgerald’s centenarian grandmother. It’s a scene straight out of Ethan Frome, but after the sledding accident.

Fitzgerald knows he’s got to do something with his life and quick — or else. So what does he decide to do? Walk the entirety of the Johnny Appleseed Trail of North Central Massachusetts, naturally.

And so begins Fitzgerald’s new book, American Rambler. 

With a tent, a tarp, hiking boots, even a ride snagged from his dad, he finds himself at the Johnny Appleseed Visitors’ Center next to “‘The Big Apple of New England,’ a ten-foot-tall red apple that is ‘the largest apple sculpture of its kind in all of New England.'” Looking for the trailhead and wondering how many other big apple sculptures there could be, he soon discovers there is no trailhead because there is no trail. It’s all just a tourist trap. And now he’s stuck there along the side of Rt. 2 in Leominster, 25 miles from his parents’ home. It’s the perfect loserish beginning to a truly loserish plan.

Why Johnny Appleseed? The iconic barefoot American arborist and Swedenborgian proselytizer, whose real name was John Chapman, grew up just down the road from Fitzgerald’s “run-down family farm.” But the real inspiration to follow in Chapman’s footsteps wasn’t about the legendary stuff he’d learned as a child; rather, it was the walking. As he describes it: “In a way, prayer and walking have a bit in common. A repetition. A solitude. They’re both ways of getting out of one’s own head—or at least away from one’s more perilous thoughts, if only for a little while. (Drinking, come to think of it, has a similar effect.)” An escape route, in other words.

Undeterred by the false start, he vows to continue his American ramble in search of Johnny Appleseedom. For an entire year, starting at Warren, Penn., and ending in Fort Wayne, Ind., with many nowhere places in between, he barhops (lots!), floats, wades and walks along Johnny Appleseed’s “path,” stopping at the many related markers, monuments, statues, festivals, properties, trees and gravestones — most of which are dubious, unverifiable.

And at every step along the way, Fitzgerald makes us party-to an endless stream of mind-expanding-and-contracting digressions, detours and deviations about his tortuous tent set up, car’s mechanical troubles, drug and alcohol abuse, ideas regarding the complexities of an orange’s true flavor, King Phillip’s War, criticism of his friend’s life in suburban Ohio, lumberjack competitions and competitors, hangovers, hallucinations and on and on.

But Fitzgerald also meets plenty of authentic, quality folks at the end of his favorite bar — and it is those barroom conversations, like the apple seeds that John Chapman once disseminated, that bear rich American fruit in clear, crisp, red-white-blue-and-tattooed, truths and consequences. It is in these serendipitous encounters with the locals that Fitzgerald’s mission is both validated and fructified, as they provide many of the missing pieces of himself that he so desperately seeks. By embarking on what might seem to many like a silly, year-long pilgrimage in search of a Disney cartoon character, Fitzgerald, albeit often verbose and obscene, overcomes some (but not all) of his problems. And, in so doing, he manages to bestow upon his interlocutors a comforting and hopeful message.

American Rambler is a humorous narrative with moments of brilliance that can make you chuckle, or in some cases, spit out your beer. In the final analysis, it is a line reminiscent of Major Gen. Thomas Waverly’s dressing down speech to his troops in White Christmas that, perhaps, expresses it best: I am not satisfied with the conduct of the main character in this book. He’s sloppy. He’s unserious. He’s unruly. He’s undisciplined… And I’ve never read anything so wonderfully relevant in my whole life.

‘American Rambler: Walking the Trail of Johnny Appleseed’ by Isaac Fitzgerald is out now, via Knopf.

Richard Horan is a novelist and nonfiction author, best known for his nature and literary-themed work, including ‘Seeds: One Man’s Serendipitous Journey to Find the Trees That Inspired Famous American Writers’ and ‘Harvest: An Adventure into the Heart of America’s Family Farms.’ He also wrote the novel ‘Goose Music.’

Copyright © 2026 NPR

The Midnight Diners is a regular collaboration between KQED food editor Luke Tsai and graphic novelist Thien Pham. Follow them each week as they explore the hot pot restaurants, taco carts and 24-hour casino buffets that make up the Bay Area’s after-hours dining scene. 

Tita Becca’s is the kind of restaurant that almost doesn’t seem real. 

What do you mean there’s an old-fashioned Filipino diner right smack in the middle of downtown Oakland where you can sit on a ’50s-style bar stool eating some of the most delicious pork sisig and kare-kare you’ve ever tasted — as late as 2 o’clock in the morning, no less? 

Even as we savored each bite, it felt like some kind of fever dream. At the time of our visit, a couple weeks ago, the restaurant had no Yelp reviews and barely any social media presence. The lone “Tita Becca’s” sign painted on the wall outside gave no indication of what kind of food we might find inside (though a Pinoy would have recognized the bright yellow sun in the logo). The only reason we’d heard of the place at all was because of a kind reader who emailed us a glowing report.

When we pulled up to the restaurant at a little before 10 p.m. on a recent Friday, an older Filipino dude in a Warriors jersey and flip-flops was posted up outside, nursing the last few sips of a bottle of beer. Inside, the dining room was set up like the kind of old-timey diner you might see painted on a picture postcard: the long counter, the vintage stools, the nostalgic red and turquoise color scheme. The restaurant was almost entirely empty — just one young Filipino guy sitting at the counter, ladling pork sinigang over a bowl of white rice. The R&B playlist blaring from the speakers consisted almost entirely of sultry Mariah Carey jams. 

Already, the place passed the vibe check. A perfect hundred out of a hundred points.

What you might expect to find at a restaurant that looks like this are three-egg omelettes and big stacks of pancakes with a pile of hash browns on the side. (We found out later that until late last year, the space had been home to a more classic American greasy spoon called Leo’s Diner.) Instead, Tita Becca’s serves a full — and surprisingly extensive — menu of homestyle Filipino dishes.

Chatting with the staff a bit, we learned that the restaurant is a family enterprise through and through. Mark, a gregarious middle-aged Filipino American with a wispy beard, is the main owner and public face of the business. His adult son was working up front, behind the counter, taking orders. And though she only popped her head out of the kitchen once or twice, we could see that Mark’s mother, the Tita Becca herself, was the real heart and soul of the restaurant — the one whose recipes made us start to feel homesick and nostalgic for her food even before we’d finished eating.

To put it plainly: Everything was mind-blowingly delicious. We started with an order of shrimp lumpia — whole large shrimp, their tails still attached, encased by the wrapper and deep fried until they were super-crunchy and almost too hot to eat. These were deeply satisfying, with or without the obligatory sweet chili dipping sauce. 

Meanwhile, the Pampanga-style pork sisig was a revelation of textures and flavors. There was the crispiness of fried pork skin, along with the soft fat and the meaty, gelatinous bits. There was the heat of the chiles, the crisp tanginess of red onions and also an earthy undercurrent from the bits of chicken liver that they’d mixed into the sauce. Most of all, there was this wonderful brightness, from calamansi and lemon juice, that cut into the richness of the dish. Ladling the sisig over rice, we were able to keep eating it and eating it without ever getting tired of the taste.

Later, the owner confided that this wasn’t even the full version of the dish. They’d run out of the pig’s head meats — the ears, cheeks and so forth — that usually go into it, so they made a cobbled-together version using chopped up lechon.

If we’d known that ahead of time, we probably wouldn’t have also ordered the lechon kawali, the beloved Filipino dish of fried skin-on pork belly. We didn’t exactly have anything to complain about, though — it was one of the moistest and most jigglingly tender versions we’ve had in the Bay, with some of the crunchiest skin. The fatty pork was especially nice with either of the vinegar dips the shop offers, one spiked with chiles and the other with both chiles and chopped tomatoes. 

And perhaps everyone knows by now that I can’t ever not order oxtail kare-kare if I see it on a menu. The peanut sauce in Tita Becca’s version was rich and velvety; the eggplant, bok choy and string beans were all cooked to exactly the right texture. And while the oxtails were small, there were a lot of them — the meat was so tender, and it was so very satisfying to suck on the bones.

Most impressive of all? Tita Becca’s makes its own bagoong (fermented shrimp paste), the salty-funky condiment traditionally served with kare-kare, in house, so that it was less aggressively salty than the jarred kind, with the same pungent umami punch. We kept stirring it in, and the dish kept tasting better and better. We could’ve eaten infinite amounts of rice.

In the end, our only regret was that we only had the stomach space to try four dishes — that we’d missed out on the other homey stews like the sinigang and the Bicol Express. How could any of it not have been delicious? Someone’s mom was cooking for us back there, probably the best home cook we knew in our circle of friends. That was the feeling we got, anyway.

By the time we finished our meal, only a few more customers had straggled in through the door. A millennial Filipina who sat at the restaurant’s one larger table and ordered a family-style meal for her group of non-Filipino friends. A couple of takeout customers bringing food over to the queer bar next door. It really felt like we had stumbled on a secret hiding in plain sight. And after we walked out at the end of the night, I started to worry, sincerely, that maybe we’d dreamed the whole thing. 

Tita Becca’s is open Tuesday to Thursday 5–9 p.m., Friday 5 p.m.–2 a.m., Saturday noon–2 a.m. and Sunday noon to 6 p.m. at 400 15th St. in Oakland.

The meme-rooted Backrooms is the latest movie to pull its mounting horrors out of liminal spaces. Exit 8, released earlier this year, was set entirely in a subway corridor. In Backrooms, a struggling furniture salesperson discovers beneath his store an underground labyrinth, all lined with yellow wallpapered walls and fluorescent lighting.

Where Backrooms came from is more interesting — and potentially meaningful — than the result. The movie, directed by 20-year-old YouTuber-turned-filmmaker Kane Parsons, is a fitfully unsettling nightmare that never convincingly builds beyond its creepy, dated-decor premise.

But the Backrooms backstory is more intriguing. In 2019, an anonymous post on 4chan creepypasta — an online repository for internet-created urban legends — provided the initial image of the seemingly infinite Backrooms with a caption describing “nothing but the stink of old moist carpet, the madness of mono-yellow, the endless background noise of fluorescent lights at maximum hum-buzz.”

Like many others, Parsons — who has posted under “Kane Pixels” — picked up the idea and ran with it. His YouTube series expanded on the 4chan post, adding a found footage approach. Eventually, A24 greenlit his movie, the big-screen product of an internet-born concept.

But while the hive mind of the internet can produce some glorious things, movies require closer to a single author. And Backrooms, written by Will Soodik and produced by Osgood Perkins, struggles to retrofit a compelling story to match its disquietingly banal imagery.

Clark (Chiwetel Ejiofor) is the not-exactly-proud owner of Cap’n Clark’s Ottoman Empire, a sad and empty furniture store located in a 1990s strip mall. He has plenty of concerns — his failed architect aspirations, the end of his marriage, any customers at all — but unexplained electric troubles at the store also nag him. The lights keep flickering.

When Clark inspects the circuit breaker, there are odd, irregular breakers at the bottom of the panel. Who put them there? What are they for? If there’s one thing Backrooms gets spot on, it’s the mysteries of the circuit breaker. One night, Clark goes looking in the store’s lower floor when he unwittingly passes right through the wall, and into the Backrooms.

Wonderland it is not. The seemingly never-ending chambers almost resemble vacant, nondescript office spaces. But they’re stranger, like art installation versions of office space. There are piles of furniture, shrunken doors and disturbingly random things like a stop sign or a cardboard cutout with a cassette player saying hello in different languages. Clark later describes the rooms as though they were made “by a bunch of construction workers on acid.”

The uncanny dimensions and strange recesses of modern workplaces have been a common motif lately, from Severance to The Chair Company. And it’s hard not to see the endless iterations of the Backrooms as a metaphor for the internet itself.

But Parsons pushes the setting into a psychological realm. One of the only other characters we see Clark interact with before he grows obsessed with exploring the rooms is his therapist, Mary Kline (Renate Reinsve). “We all have our loops, our habits,” she tells him in a session.

The subterranean labyrinth increasingly begins to resemble a warped version of Clark’s own looped psychology. Its many doors go deeper into his psyche, and Mary (whose new book is titled The Window Within) becomes trapped too.

As a horror, fluorescent-lit riff on Michel Gondry’s Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Backrooms doesn’t quite work. While the movie finds a potentially insightful pathway to a story, it can’t bridge its very physical, wall-to-wall-carpeted labyrinth with Clark’s mental state. A movie with so many doors ultimately can’t find the right one.

Despite a paper-wall-thin concept, both Ejiofor and Reinsve give Backrooms some depth. Ejiofor has almost always been a supremely level-headed screen presence, but here embraces a latent capacity for fevered mania. Reinsve, the star of The Worst Person in the World and Sentimental Value, proves especially absorbing in her first horror film. She gives the movie a slinky intelligence.

But the real star is Danny Vermette’s production design. Banal and bizarre at once, the Backrooms serve as a mysterious rabbit hole. Horror films have long found trouble down the stairs, but the movies — like 2022’s Barbarian — seem to be digging even deeper. It’s no wonder the movie gets lost down there, too.

‘Backrooms’ is released nationwide on May 29, 2026.

Swedes make a strong showing on both days of the Portola Festival, with dance icon Robyn headlining Saturday, Sept. 26, and Swedish House Mafia occupying the same spot on Sept. 27. Co-headlining with Robyn is Dog Blood, a project by Skrillex and Boys Noize, reuniting for the first time since 2019 in their only performance of the year.

Other big names on Saturday include big beat veteran Fatboy Slim, pop artist Tove Lo (another Swede), and a DJ set from Melanie C on Saturday. On Sunday, Tiësto plays in the Warehouse, while hitmaker Zara Larsson (yet another Swede!), indie electronic artist Four Tet, and in-demand producer SG Lewis (performing live) take to the outdoor stages. 

Despacio, the James Murphy (of LCD Soundsystem)–designed “immersive audio experience,” returns to the festival for the entire weekend. Last year, KQED described the all-vinyl sound system as a room that “made it easy to lose track of time.”

Passes go on sale Tuesday, June 2, at 12 p.m.

Here in the Bay Area, however, the Indian diaspora has mostly had to settle for a sad, fibrous version of the fruit. But a group of San Franciscans of Indian descent are hoping to change that, introducing Americans to the glories of the Indian mango. On Sunday, May 31, from 1–4 p.m., San Francisco resident Darshil Patel will host his third annual grassroots mango party in the Mission alongside co-organizers Deep Mehta, Fareeha Salahuddin, Parth Patel and Dylan Patel.

For mango lovers, the day has come. Hundreds of Indian Alphonso and Kesar mangoes will be distributed for free, as volunteers peel and slice the fruit on the spot. (Pre-cutting degrades quality.) 

At last year’s edition, some attendees brought mango desserts, like mango sticky rice and mango sablée tartlets, to share with the group. Partygoers picked up free “Mango Tango” T-shirts and joined spikeball games while a DJ performed. 

Sunday’s party should be another wholesome event. Last year, a toddler tried her very first mango.

What began as a casual meeting of eight friends sharing a box of mangoes in 2023 has ballooned into an hours-long extravaganza backed by silent sponsors, who help cover the cost of the mangoes. Roughly 250 people are expected to attend this year. 

It started in 2024, when Patel tweeted about throwing a mango party to gauge public interest. The response was overwhelming, as dozens of mango lovers replied, expressing their curiosity about Indian varieties or, in many cases, their longing for a taste of home.

Like Patel, many of the people who were most excited about the party have roots in India, where the mango is the national fruit. There, the fruit is so beloved it’s woven into cultural traditions, from hanging mango leaves during weddings and housewarmings for good luck to stories in Hindu mythology: Ganesha wins a divine mango of knowledge, while mango blossoms tip the arrows of the love god Kama.

For Indians today, particularly those living abroad, the Indian mango is a nostalgic reminder of childhood and family. 

Co-organizer Deep Mehta has visceral memories of his grandmother hand-feeding him pulped mango at home in Mumbai, in the state Maharashtra, where Alphonso mangoes —  “objectively the best,” Mehta says — are native.

“When I see a mango [in the U.S.], my brain is thinking, ‘This is going to be super sweet and juicy,’ and then it just doesn’t meet those expectations,” he says.

Sarv Kulpati, who left India at 9, vividly remembers his grandmother cutting mangoes “hedgehog style” (crisscrossing the fruit and turning it inside out) while the family gathered around the table, hands sticky with juice. “A mango means a bunch of people sitting together,” says Kulpati, who attended last year’s event. “Honestly, I do not have any memories of eating mango by myself.”

Patel recalls eating mango ras (blended ripe mangoes) with his cousin every day after school in India, where he lived until he was 8. “It would just put us to sleep because there’s so much sugar,” he says. 

Ultimately, Patel and Mehta argue, most Americans don’t know what they’re missing. “It’s like a different fruit,” they both say, citing the sweetness, flavor and sheer aroma. Mehta can’t bring himself to eat an American mango. “It just doesn’t hit the same.”

Mehta’s a purist, but he might have a point. 

The mangoes most commonly found in U.S. grocery stores are the Tommy Atkins variety, sourced almost exclusively from Latin America, which accounts for roughly 98% of mango imports. Originally cultivated by a farmer named Thomas Atkins from Broward County, Florida, Tommy Atkins mangoes are known for their unremarkable flavor, dense fibrousness and extreme durability — the last of which ultimately led to commercial success. But from the outset, the mango had critics: In the 1950s, the Florida Mango Forum rejected the Atkins mango multiple times because of its disappointing flavor profile.

That’s the mango most Americans grew up eating. For many South Asians, then, President George W. Bush is remembered not only for 9/11 and the War on Terror, but for the 2006 “nuclear mango deal,” which ended a 17-year U.S. ban on Indian mango imports.

Which isn’t to say that it’s easy to find Indian mangoes here in the Bay Area. 

Dealing mangoes can be something of an extreme sport. The Wall Street Journal recently covered hustlers powering the Indian mango supply in the U.S., including a senior tech manager in the D.C. area who moonlights as a mango dealer during the fruit’s short season, picking up hundreds of boxes of mangoes at Virginia’s Dulles International Airport multiple times a week. 

These days, you can buy Indian mangoes by joining WhatsApp groups and monitoring the chat for shipment details and updates from a particular dealer. A few websites offering hyperlocal mango delivery, often powered by small teams of fruit vendors, have also sprung up. Today, a six-pound box of Indian mangoes — roughly nine to 12 fruits — costs $50 to $60, inflated this year by tariff uncertainty and increased fuel prices from the Iran war. 

For previous mango parties, Patel would call a local Indian grocery store every day. When the mango shipment finally arrived, it’d be a race to the store to buy the boxes he needed before they ran out. This year, he’s providing mangoes through AumPi, a Bay Area–based grassroots mango distributor that donates its profits toward tackling malnutrition in India.

If getting the fruit takes persistence, enjoying it on Sunday will not. For Mehta, the party at the park is a way of “spreading the love” of a tasty fruit. Indian mangoes are a “largely undiscovered” treasure “that should be shared,” he says.

This year’s mango party will be held at a park in the Mission — the organizers aren’t publicizing the exact location for fear that too many people will show up, and they want to make sure there are enough mangoes for everyone. Those interested in attending can send a brief love letter to mangoes via email to Patel, who’s working with his co-organizers to curate the guest list. Space is limited.

So far, Patel says, three different people have sent him photos of their cats named Mango. They’re in. 

The mango party will take place on Sunday, May 31, 1–4 p.m., in San Francisco’s Mission District. Email the organizers to get on the guest list and to receive the exact location. Editor’s note: As of May 30, the organizers say the event has reached capacity.

Still, it’s hard to imagine that a quiet chat about the weather — and why it isn’t boring — could be an emotional high point of a feature film. Especially when that film is about World War II, one of the most cinematic subjects in history.

But that’s before you watch Andrew Scott, who could make the phone book sound exciting — or at least, poignant and nuanced.

People often talk about whether it’s raining, his character, Capt. James Stagg, argues at one point in Pressure, the story of how meteorology saved D-Day. But do they consider WHY it’s raining? Or, what actually makes it windy? And how, he asks, can that be boring?

There are times when Pressure, directed and co-written by Anthony Maras, feels like a series of similarly elegant speeches. That makes some sense, since it’s based on a play — the 2014 drama by David Haig. Telling the relatively little-known story of how forecasters made the crucial call of when to land on Normandy’s beaches, the film pits two men against each other: Scott’s introspective, stubborn, even sour meteorologist, and none other than Dwight D. Eisenhower, celebrated general and future president, played by Brendan Fraser.

Fraser’s Eisenhower is physically imposing — much more than the real man — and stubborn too, though in a louder way. But he’s frankly less interesting than Scott’s multifaceted Stagg, a character and performance that elevates an otherwise efficient, well-made war movie into something more intriguing.

The film begins with soldiers lying dead on a seashore, near bloody waters — a reminder of the catastrophic rehearsal for D-Day called Exercise Tiger, which resulted in hundreds of deaths of American servicemen. It’s a way for Maras to remind us not only of the human toll, but also the potential for more catastrophe.

A few months later, in June, Stagg reports for duty at Allied headquarters. The Scottish meteorologist, unhappy to leave his pregnant wife at home, has been brought in to work on Eisenhower’s planned invasion, which will rely on the element of surprise. And also, crucially, on the weather.

Stagg is summoned to see Eisenhower, via his trusted aide Kay Summersby (an excellent Kerry Condon, bringing verve to a role that does not further speculate on her relationship with the general). Eisenhower tells him that the very fate of the war hinges on the operation. “We invade France Monday,” he says.

But the commander needs a good forecast. The operation will require a full moon and clear skies for air support, as well as calm waters. And Eisenhower wants a go-ahead — which his own trusted forecaster, Irving P. Krick (Chris Messina), is happy to give. Based on historical patterns, Krick insists that June 5, 1944, will be calm and sunny.

Krick is everything Stagg is not — outgoing, brash, confident. He even sings and dances. Stagg, though, begs to differ from the American’s assessment. “Get me the data,” he growls. Historical patterns mean nothing in this unpredictable region, he insists.

Demanding data from any weather station or balloon within 2,000 miles of Normandy, Stagg argues two storms are coming. A June 5 launch will kill countless men, he says. In fact, the right weather conditions may not emerge until June 18. Nobody wants to hear this — not Eisenhower, not Krick and definitely not Field Marshal Bernard Montgomery (Damian Lewis, leaning into the flamboyance). “My men are ready and primed,” Montgomery insists. “Get them onto the beaches, and leave the rest to me.”

As we know from our history books, D-Day was not June 5. Eisenhower ultimately chooses to postpone based on Stagg’s forecast, vindicated when Sunday’s sunny skies suddenly shift to stormy ones during morning church. But just when it appears the opportunity has been lost, Stagg detects a brief break in the weather. He recommends — spoiler alert — that the invasion proceed a day later, on June 6.

For action on the beaches, Maras turned to archival footage — he’s said he was inspired by Peter Jackson’s stunning World War I documentary They Shall Not Grow Old — colorizing it and blending it with his own scenes of terrified troops. There is, somehow, palpable suspense when Eisenhower and others gather in the command center.

Nearby, quietly, stands Stagg. Like his character, Scott does more with less. The actor may be known for acclaimed turns in Fleabag, Ripley and Sherlock, but he’s also a skilled stage performer, and his work here recalls the layered performances he gave in Vanya, the Chekhov update in which he played all eight parts. Among Scott’s most moving scenes: when he learns devastating news by phone at a key moment in war planning. His agony is obvious, but somehow he conveys little outward expression.

“The weather feeds us,” Stagg says a bit earlier, arguing his case that weather is nowhere near boring. In fact, it is meteorology itself that plays the starring role in Pressure. The film recounts an anecdote in which John F. Kennedy, on the way to his inauguration, asked his predecessor what had given the Allies their edge.

“We had better meteorologists than the Germans,” Eisenhower replied.

‘Pressure’ is released nationwide on May 29, 2026.

On stage, wearing an all-black ensemble complete with golden rings on her fingers, her trademark auburn-colored hair flowing beyond her shoulders, 10-time Grammy Award-winning vocalist Chaka Khan danced as well.

The crowd had just taken in a fireside chat that covered a range of topics from Khan’s career: Sarah Vaughan’s influence; her experience with the group Rufus; raising children while traveling and performing; and the feeling of owning 80 acres of land in Georgia.

Khan opened up about her time as a member of the Black Panther Party for Self-Defense in Chicago, where she was a friend of the late Chairman Fred Hampton. And she took questions from the crowd; at one point she got an aspiring singer to perform on the spot.

During the event, Khan also sang, performing the songs “Destiny,” “Alfie,” “I Love You Porgy,” and “Love Me Still” to thunderous applause.

The flowing performance and intimate conversation was a product of the renowned artist’s relationship to the host, filmmaker and longtime friend of Chaka Khan, D. Channsin “Chann” Berry.

“We’re spiritually aligned,” Berry tells me while discussing their friendship. “And have been for many, many, many years.”

Ahead of the event, while sitting in a dressing room with white walls and a soft evening light coming through a western-facing window, Berry tells me all about his connection with Khan and why he chose to kick off his Conversations in Music live podcast series in Oakland.

A musician and filmmaker himself, known for producing and directing Dark Girls (2011) and Dark Girls 2 (2020), as well as The Black Line (2013) and The Church House… Sexuality In The Black Church (2015), Berry is originally from New Jersey. After attending Rutgers University he launched his career by taking a cross-country leap. 

“And it was where God wanted me to be,” Berry says, discussing his move to Oakland in the 1980s. “There’s something magical and special for a young Black man coming from New Jersey or New York, and landing in the Bay.”

As an artist, he found this region nurturing. “It was just positive energy that came to me and from everybody,” says Berry, “whether I’m in Oakland or I’m in San Francisco, or I’m in Sausalito, Marin or Tiburon.”

He harnessed that positive energy and support, and over the span of a decade he produced his first film, titled My Father’s Music… Jazz. The documentary featured Dizzy Gillespie, Max Roach, Miles Davis, Mary Stallings, Stanley Turrentine, Oscar Peterson, Joe Williams, Chaka Khan and Carlos Santana.

“It premiered at the Castro in San Francisco to a packed audience,” says Berry, who at the time was terrified because he pieced the whole film together with pocket money earned while working multiple media-related jobs, including as a jock on 102.9 KBLX. “I saved up my coins — and a lot of people helped me out as well — and did my first film.”

Berry later moved to Los Angeles. For eight years he worked in development for feature films at Disney, delivering million dollar checks and learning how the industry works. “I got a chance to find out what the business was all about from the mouse,” Berry says with a laugh.

A filmmaker and songwriter, his career has included collaborations with the likes of Bill Duke, Oprah and Prince. 

“I wrote a song for Rosie Gaines,” Berry says, referring to the singer from Pittsburg known for her hit song “Closer than Close,” and her duet with Tevin Campbell from the film A Goofy Movie, “I2I” (Eye to Eye). 

Gaines, a member of Prince’s New Power Generation group, worked with Prince to “Pain,” a song Berry wrote. Then she called Berry. “She told me to sit down,” says Berry. “Prince gets on the phone, and then he’s like ‘Nice to meet you. Funky song, man. I hope you like what I did to it.’” The musicians then played the song over the phone. 

“I was just laid out, man!” Berry exclaims, eyes growing wide behind his glasses. 

Due to Prince’s conflict with Warner Bros. at the time, their version of the song was never released. Berry took it back and Chaka Khan later recorded it. “Pain” appeared on the soundtrack for the hit TV show Living Single. 

But his connection with Khan goes back far before that track, and prior to Berry’s first film.

“I was like 16, she was 21,” Berry says, discussing their first interaction. “She was with Rufus, and they had come to North New Jersey, to Symphony Hall, to do a concert. And I was a fan.” He met her backstage and their friendship developed from there.

As Berry worked, he learned to navigate “the system” by retaining independence as a film producer. He locked in on telling stories that center Black women, tailoring his works for Black audiences. And at the same time, Khan’s career progressed profoundly.

Now, after numerous hit songs and dealing with the highs and lows of stardom, Khan is a member of the Rock & Roll of Fame. 

Her music has influenced generations, and her songs have been widely sampled. One of Kanye West’s first hits, “Through The Wire” was pulled from Khan’s 1985 groove “Through the Fire.” And Mac Dre’s classic “Too Hard for The F*ckin Radio,” which was recently interpolated by Drake, was built on a sample from Khan’s “Tell Me Something Good” (which was written by Stevie Wonder).

When asked why he’d start his series of live podcast events by interviewing Chaka Khan, Berry simply retorts, “Because she’s an icon.”

He adds that Khan is one of “the last great vocalists of our time.” He puts her alongside Aretha Franklin, Mahalia Jackson and Barbra Streisand as voices we’ll never hear again. 

Despite the lofty admiration, their close relationship was on display all evening. The audience laughed and made comments as the duo talked like two old friends having a phone conversation. And at the end of the event, they showed just how in-step they are.

As “Like Sugar” played over the sound system and the audience got up to dance, Khan’s old friend was the first one two-stepping alongside her.

It shouldn’t come as any surprise, then, that one of the Bay Area’s most promising new pizza pop-ups would be stationed in front of a Richmond cannabis shop. Every Sunday and Monday, 7 Stars Holistic Healing Center regulars line up at the little tented food stand right outside the dispensary to snag a piping-hot, oil-slicked pepperoni or whipped ricotta pizza. It’s some of the tastiest East Coast–style you can find in this stretch of the East Bay.

The pop-up is called Goldpie, and it’s the brainchild of Scott Hataye, whose day job is as a “budtender” at 7 Stars. For the past seven years, though, he’s also dabbled in the pizza world, moonlighting as the doughmaker at Emeryville’s Rotten City Pizza, a New York–inspired pizza restaurant that closed last summer after an impressive 17-year run. (When I first moved to the East Bay in the late aughts, Rotten City was the closest thing I could find to a proper New York slice shop.)

“I love that pizza and actually really, really miss it,” Hataye says of his time at the restaurant. 

When Rotten City closed last June, he took it as a sign that maybe it was time for him to launch his own pizza business. There’s a bit of Rotten City Pizza in the bones of Hataye’s pies, mostly in terms of the dough, which he says is very similar to Rotten City’s, made with a blend of Central Milling 00 flour and bread flour and cold-fermented for up to 72 hours. The biggest difference, Hataye says, is that he makes a denser, richer red sauce, by cooking down Bianco DiNapoli brand crushed tomatoes (Rotten City was a raw sauce pizzeria). And because he bakes the pizzas in portable Gozney mini pizza ovens, which get as hot as 1,000 degrees, they’re smaller and less floppy than your classic foldable New York pizza. They’re about 12 to 13 inches in diameter, the perfect size for one hungry pizza eater (or two slightly daintier ones). 

The finished product is a stylistic hybrid, Hataye says — sort of a cross between Neapolitan, New York, New Haven and Chicago-style tavern pizzas. 

The important thing is that Goldpie’s pizza is legitimately tasty. The top of each pie is slicked with oil, and the crust is quite thin and crunchy-bottomed, with dark blistered spots verging on burnt toward the edges — in a really delicious way, if you’re a fan of that charred flavor, as I am. 

I loved the “Heaven on Earth,” with its salty-sweet palette of pepperoni, pesto, hot honey and fried garlic. The sausage pie, meanwhile, was a more straightforward East Coast–style pizza — an ideal union of oozy cheese, zesty tomato sauce and a flavorful, crispy-chewy crust.

Other top sellers include the classic pepperoni and the “Brooklyn” (garlic, olive oil, whipped ricotta), which is Hataye’s take on a New York–style white pie. Whichever pizza you order, make sure to ask for a little tub of the housemade candied jalapeños — a truly excellent pizza condiment.

Hataye says a few customers have asked whether he ever infuses marijuana into his food (he doesn’t), but in general, he doesn’t have any intention of veering toward gimmicky “pothead pizza.” 

“I think they’re pretty satisfied with the pizzas as they are,” he says.

In the end, the best part of the experience is the fact that Hataye and Mike Bennally (a former Rotten City general manager who helps out on pop-up days) make every pizza to order right in front of you, tossing and stretching the dough, and then lovingly tending to each pie the entire time it’s in the oven. 

That level of personal care has started to pay off. Slowly but surely, a nice little community has formed around Goldpie, as more and more customers who aren’t even affiliated with the dispensary now go out of their way to visit the pop-up. Some wind up staying to eat at the table that Hataye has set up outside, watching one of the ’80s and ’90s cult classic movies they have playing at all times.

Eventually, Hataye says he would love to turn that community into a full-blown restaurant, though for now he’s mostly focused on just getting the word out about the pop-up. But he and Bennally have already talked about the prospect of opening a brick-and-mortar pizzeria of their own — maybe in Pinole — some time in the next year.

“I would love to be able to do that,” he says.

Goldpie pops up outside 7 Stars Holistic Healing Center, at 3219 Pierce St. in Richmond (across the street from the 99 Ranch Market plaza) on Sundays and Mondays, 11:30 a.m.–7:30 p.m. They currently sell whole pizzas only, for $15–$20 a pie. Customers can call or text 510-529-5007 if they want to place their orders ahead of time.

Our book critics have previewed what’s coming to the library and bookstores this summer. Here’s what they are most looking forward to reading — and seeing you read too.

Water in the Desert: A Pilgrimage by Gary Paul Nabhan

I love books that explore nature through a sociocultural lens. Lebanese American Gary Paul Nabhan’s new book traces the story of his unusual life. Nabhan grew up along Lake Michigan’s southern dunes and was negatively singled out as a student with “disabilities.” He found his path through ecology, poetry, travel, studying Indigenous Mexican communities, becoming an Ecumenical Franciscan brother and exploring his own ancestry — all of which shape his view that Earth is “the original scripture.”

An ethnobotanist, Nabhan was awarded a MacArthur “genius grant” for “insights into the relationship between culture and land.” I can’t wait to read this book. (June 2) — Martha Anne Toll

Muñeca by Cynthia Gómez

Natalia Fuentes has a plan. Violeta, the only child of the Miramontes family and the last in a long line descended from Spanish settlers and Mexican rancho owners, is magically trapped in her own body, and Nati is going to break her out. For a fee, of course. With the help of a doll, she finds a way to communicate with her client, and an unexpected romance sparks between them. But she also attracts the attention of the person who cursed Violeta, and they would do anything to stop Nati from interfering.

This gothic horror tale touches on colonialism and colorism, queerness and feminism, generational trauma and familial curses. It’s at once romantic and frightening. We may be only just heading into summer, but this one is already in my top 10 for the year. (June 2) — Alex Brown

The Book of Birds: A Field Guide to Wonder and Loss by Robert Macfarlane and Jackie Morris

Whenever I encounter a belted kingfisher here in coastal Virginia, my spirits rise as I gaze at a bird with a spiky mohawk and an attitude to match. My summer nonfiction reading will kick off with The Book of Birds: A Field Guide to Wonder and Loss by nature writer Robert Macfarlane and illustrator Jackie Morris, which celebrates the lives of declining or endangered birds from kingfishers to avocets, nightingales and yellowhammers.

Though British species remain the book’s focus, the joys of bird-watching span the globe, as does this pair’s invitation to revel in and protect the multispecies worlds of which we humans are one part. (June 9) — Barbara J. King

Earth 7 by Deb Olin Unferth

I discovered Deb Olin Unferth’s work years ago via her flash-fiction piece “Likable,” which became a staple on my syllabi. Years later, and now firmly a fan, I was thrilled to learn about her forthcoming novel, Earth 7. A story about a decimated future Earth and those working to collect DNA samples from its past in order to rebuild it, the novel is also about love — between two people, yes, but also the broader, more universal love their work entails. After all, preservation of what was and hope for what will be are both acts of immense care for the world. (June 9) — Ilana Masad

Twenty Minutes of Silence by Hélène Bessette, translated by Kate Briggs

This riveting translation at once slays and reinvents the mystery genre. Set in an affluent villa in Manche, France, this 1955 “poetic novel” reconstructs the clashing narratives around the 20-minute interval between a patricide and the arrival of the police. The titular concept of silence, purportedly about the accomplices’ erasure of evidence, in fact represents a linguistic and structural red herring. The articulate, seemingly uncounseled testimonies of the deceased’s adulterous wife and abused son, along with biased speculations by the chief inspector, his deputy, the journalists and the bookseller, are replete with operatic revelations. (July 14) — Thúy Đinh

Charity and Sylvia by Tillie Walden

Tillie Walden’s long-anticipated Charity & Sylvia is a graphic biography in five parts, tracking the love story of two women who openly lived together for 44 years in Weybridge, Vt., in the 1800s.

Walden builds on an archive of letters, journal entries and various biographical material to offer this moving portrait told in vignettes, most captured as delicately drawn, copper-tinted, nine-panel comics. Family affairs, religious musings and intimate scenes between the two women are set against the backdrop of a young country, and state, moving through constant, and colossal, transformation. The effect is a slow, dense, contemplative read — a rare gem of a book. (June 16) — Tahneer Oksman

Names Have Been Changed by Yu-Mei Balasingamchow

There have been a slew of entertaining novels in the past few years about average people stumbling into criminality — think Kirstin Chen’s Counterfeit and Nina McConigley’s How to Commit a Postcolonial Murder, to name just two. But I’m especially looking forward to Names Have Been Changed.

Ophir, the Singaporean protagonist, is on the run from the law for her involvement in a money-laundering scheme, and she podcasts about it from an undisclosed location. This picaresque is off to a rocking start, the first-person narration is charmingly self-effacing, and the story promises depth as well, exploring the emotional toll of being a fugitive. (June 23) — Leland Cheuk

Dead But Dreaming of Electric Sheep by Paul Tremblay

Paul Tremblay has made a career out of reinventing himself as an author with every novel, and in his upcoming Dead but Dreaming of Electric Sheep, he does it yet again. The book is a creepy and unexpectedly humorous science-fiction romp about a young woman who takes a job using a cellphone/remote control to pilot a man in a vegetative state from California to the East Coast while the man goes through a surreal nightmare. A master storyteller, Tremblay’s b(l)ending of genres here truly is a perfect beach read. (June 30) — Gabino Iglesias

Country People by Daniel Mason

I so loved Daniel Mason’s North Woods, which spans four centuries in the life of a Massachusetts house, that I’m eager to read whatever he writes. Country People is quite different. His first contemporary novel spans just one year — the length of a visiting professorship that brings Kate and her family from California to Vermont. The hope is that her husband will finally finish his long-overdue dissertation on Russian folktales, but instead he gets pulled in by some colorful locals and a bizarre, fantastical legend.

It’s apparent from a quick peek that Mason has fun exploring marriage, friendship, parenthood and the beguiling allure of storytelling and fantasy in this upbeat romp. (July 7) — Heller McAlpin

An Infinite Love Story by Chanel Cleeton

An Infinite Love Story is a sweeping romantic drama with a touch of magical realism from the bestselling author of The Lost Story of Eva Fuentes. Chanel Cleeton is one of my auto-buy authors — and I was hooked on this new book immediately. Cleeton’s ability to pull readers in quickly and deeply through her storytelling makes her a go-to author for an immersive reading experience.

Set during the Space Race of the 1960s, this story follows the wife of an astronaut who is lost in space, who refuses to believe her husband is gone forever. Vivian and Joe’s love is unforgettable, and so is Cleeton’s writing. She had me from the dedication. (July 7) — Denny S. Bryce

The Great Wherever by Shannon Sanders

After winning the LA Times Book Prize for her story collection Company, expectations were running high for Shannon Sanders’ first novel. A playful and poignant intergenerational saga about a haunted farm in which ancestors watch over and critique the living for posterity and entertainment, The Great Wherever leaps over that bar.

The story pays tribute to the lasting legacy of Sanders’ ancestors (land that’s been in the family for a century), while creating something inventive and new. From an undead perspective, haunting is believably bittersweet; it’s “better than the best reality TV,” but “lesser, of course, than the thrill of both seeing and being seen.” I was hooked from the first sentence. (July 7) — Carole V. Bell

Data Empire: The Power of Information to Organize, Control, and Dominate by Roopika Risam

Data centers have been making me anxious for a while, largely because of the environmental impacts — the massive draw on the electrical grid, the millions of gallons of clean water they require for cooling, the massive carbon footprint. The harm caused by data center infrastructure is only part of the problem, though.

Roopika Risam’s newest book, Data Empire: The Power of Information to Organize, Control, and Dominate, explores “how data has always been the seed of power,” tracing its centrality from Mesopotamia to today. A book that promises not to just show how empires have collected and weaponized data over the ages, but also how we can resist, is an easy must-read for me. (July 14) — Ericka Taylor

Catch the Devil: A True Story of Murder, Deception, and Injustice on the Gulf Coast by Pamela Colloff

I have been a fan of Pamela Colloff’s investigative journalism since 2018, when ProPublica and The New York Times Magazine published a narrative feature on junk forensic science. Her first book builds on her 2019 feature about a con artist who became one of America’s most prolific jailhouse informants. Despite his reputation as a liar and grifter, prosecutors were all too willing to believe the “useful” stories he spun — including about defendants who were ultimately sentenced to death.

Unfolding in cinematic detail, Catch the Devil offers a riveting and disturbing account of the potentially fatal consequences of a criminal legal system that is more concerned with securing convictions than determining the truth and delivering justice. (July 14) — Kristen Martin

Yellow Pine by Claire Vaye Watkins

I’ve been an admirer of Claire Vaye Watkins since her debut book, the story collection Battleborn, was published in 2012. As good as that book was, I was blown away by her novels, Gold Fame Citrus and I Love You but I’ve Chosen Darkness, both of which brought the American West to life with Watkins’ formidable wit and audacity. I can’t wait for her new novel, which follows a single mother living in an intentional community in the Mojave Desert.

Watkins is known for taking risks, and she never repeats herself — I’m betting that her latest book will showcase her genius at storytelling and her love for the rugged landscape of the West. (July 21) — Michael Schaub

Dèy by Edwidge Danticat

Edwidge Danticat is an author whose work truly captures the Haitian American immigrant experience with prose that is so languid and all-consuming that one never wants to be released from its grasp.

In her first novel in over a decade, she offers a beautiful exploration of migration, gentrification and political instability. The title — Dèy, the Haitian Creole word for “mourning” — immediately caught my attention, as many Americans are in this state today, for their own country. The novel introduces us to Magnolia, a successful real estate agent in Miami whose outlook on life changes after she is caught in a mall shooting. A story that allows us to reassess love and grief, Dèy is a novel of now. (Aug. 25) — Keishel Williams

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‘Scary Movie’

In theaters June 5

Sooner or later, every horror franchise gets a reboot, so why shouldn’t a horror parody series? This sixth banquet of Wayans brothers spoofery brings together much of the original gang. And it’s the first series installment since 2013, which means there’s a lot of new material to mock — from M3GAN to A Quiet Place, Get Out and Sinners.

‘Disclosure Day’

In theaters June 12 

Steven Spielberg’s been making the world safe for aliens since E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial and Close Encounters of the Third Kind, so who better to let us know that off-worlders not only exist, but are already among us? Josh O’Connor’s the cybersecurity expert who’s ready to blow the whistle on a decades-long coverup.

‘The Death of Robin Hood’

In theaters June 19 

Hugh Jackman isn’t playing the cheery, rob-from-the-rich-give-to-the-poor archer we know from dozens of Sherwood Forest chronicles. His Robin is critically injured and grappling with the pain he’s caused in his life of crime and murder. Along for the dark ride are Killing Eve’s Jodie Comer and Hamnet’s Noah Jupe.

‘Toy Story 5’

In theaters June 19 

A comic tale of Toys vs. Tech: the playthings that launched a zillion Pixar classics return to the big screen to battle a tiny screen. Young Bonnie’s been playing with Jessie (Joan Cusack), Buzz (Tim Allen) and Rex (Wallace Shawn) when a child-friendly tablet named Lilypad (Greta Lee) takes over her life. Keep fingers crossed that Woody (Tom Hanks) has a solution.

‘Leviticus’

In theaters June 19 

The love between two teenage boys in a conservative Christian parish in Australia is threatened when a supernatural force takes the form of the person they desire most — each other. The force is released when the parish elders subject them to a violent ritual designed to erase their queer feelings for each other — conversion-therapy as a literal horror story.

‘Rose of Nevada’

In theaters June 19 

When a fishing boat shows up in a harbor three decades after it disappeared, two fishermen (George MacKay and Callum Turner) sign on as its crew and take it out to sea. But when they come back, they find themselves 30 years in the past, mistaken for decades-gone fishermen, and unable to find their way back.

‘Supergirl’

In theaters June 26 

The Man of Steel’s disaffected cousin Kara Zor-El (Milly Alcock) appeared briefly at the end of the most recent Superman epic. She’s something of a loner, but when an intergalactic bad guy poisons her dog Krypto, she springs into action, and we’ll get to see if she can carry the new DC Universe forward on her own.

‘Minions & Monsters’

In theaters July 1 

This seventh film in the Despicable Me universe is a prequel set in the 1920s, when a tribe of Hollywood Minions decide that to make their own monster movie, they should try to summon a real monster. What could possibly go wrong?

‘Moana’

In theaters July 10 

The animated sequel wasn’t great, maybe the live-action remake will be? Dwayne Johnson voiced the disgraced demigod Maui the first time, and he’s back in the flesh (and in a seriously silly wig), opposite newcomer Catherine Laga’aia as the famously “not-a-princess” chief’s daughter chosen by the ocean to restore a mystical relic and save her dying island.

‘The Odyssey’

In theaters July 17 

Christopher Nolan’s epic will hark back to Hollywood’s Golden Age, both in star-studded fealty to Homer’s Greek epic and in its visual breadth. To play Odysseus returning from the Trojan Wars, Matt Damon spent a year growing a beard (can’t fool IMAX 70 mm cameras), and he’s backed by Anne Hathaway, Lupita Nyong’o, Robert Pattinson, Tom Holland and Zendaya among many others.

‘Motor City’

In theaters July 24

If you’ve ever wished the hero of an action movie would just shut up and action, this one’s for you. Set in 1970s Detroit, it follows an ex-con (Alan Ritchson) who’s seeking revenge on the gangster who framed him, and during its 103 minute runtime, hardly a word is spoken by anyone.

‘Spider-Man: Brand New Day’

In theaters July 31 

At the end of Spider-Man: No Way Home, Doctor Strange averted a multiverse collapse by wiping clean the world’s memory of Peter Parker as a superhero. So when we pick up four years later, Spidey has a fresh shot, but also new pressures that spark physical changes just as he’s facing a new threat.

‘Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma’

In theaters August 7 

Cult filmmaker Jane Schoenbrun (I Saw the TV Glow) chronicles what happens when a queer director (Hannah Einbinder) is tasked with rebooting a Friday the 13th-style horror franchise, and persuades the possibly unbalanced original lead actress (Gillian Anderson) to take part.

‘The End of Oak Street’

In theaters August 14 

David Robert Mitchell, the writer/director who came up with the horror hit It Follows, has kept this one under wraps, beyond a general notion that an ’80s suburban family headed by Ewan McGregor and Anne Hathaway “start to notice bizarre happenings in their neighborhood.” The trailer has hints — a precipice at road’s end, a dinosaur drifting past the window — but that’s all we know.

‘Coyote vs. Acme’

In theaters August 28 

In this long-delayed comedy, Road Runner’s Looney Tunes nemesis, Wile E. Coyote, hires a down-on-his-luck lawyer (Will Forte) to sue the Acme Corp. for repeatedly selling him faulty products. The animation/live-action hybrid has had a rocky history, with Warner Bros. Discovery initially opting to shelve it and take a tax write-off — then reversing course amid a public backlash to sell it to Ketchup Entertainment, which is releasing it.

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All Alice Piper wanted was a well-rounded education. But for an Indigenous girl growing up in the 1910s and ’20s, accessing one was no easy feat. Piper’s family lived in Soha-witü in Inyo County, and her earliest education was at a Native school in Big Pine, 40 miles from her home. At the government institution, Piper was trained in little more than laundry duties and canning vegetables. Understandably, she yearned for more.

When Big Pine public school opened in 1921, Piper jumped at the chance to attend. After she was refused entry based on her race, she fought back. With the assistance of San Francisco lawyer J. W. Henderson, and alongside the families of six other Indigenous children, 16-year-old Piper and her parents filed a petition directly with the California Supreme Court, arguing that her exclusion from Big Pine violated the 14th Amendment.

In June 1924, the court unanimously decided in Piper’s favor, forever changing the education opportunities available to Indigenous Californians. (Piper’s case was also cited as a precedent during Brown v. Board of Education in 1954.)

Now, a new book charts Piper’s victory in ways specifically designed to teach kids not just her heroic story, but also the long history of prejudice against Indigenous communities across the West. Alice Piper Speaks Up combines beautiful illustrations by Morgan Thompson with emotive prose written from Piper’s perspective.

The book — the third in Heyday’s Fighting for Justice series for children — is particularly successful in portraying Piper’s story in ways that are relatable for all ages. Her love for her family and for the traditions she shares with her people, the Numu, are portrayed vividly. So too are her longings for a better life and the fear and confusion she experiences during her court battle.

One section reads:

Alice studies the judges, silent and focused.

She wonders:
Do they see me and think I’m dirty?
Don’t they know that I’m the same as they are?
Don’t they know how badly I want to learn?

Her father’s hand,
rough and scarred,
grips hers tight.

At the end of each short chapter are additional pages of facts and photos that place Piper’s story within a wider historical context. These more overtly educational pages are tailor-made for the classroom and clearly explain the clashes between settlers and Indigenous communities. They also feature simple timelines of events, as well as sidebars with useful word definitions.

The book’s handy juxtaposition of kid-friendly storytelling and educational content makes Alice Piper Speaks Up an essential purchase for any parents looking for accessible ways to teach their kids about civil rights. The first two books in the Fighting for Justice series — one about Biddy Mason’s fight for freedom from slavery; another about Fred Korematsu, who railed against Japanese internment — offer similarly valuable lessons.

A statue of Alice Piper was erected outside Big Pine High School in June 2014. It stands as a permanent reminder that ordinary people like her can make extraordinary differences. It’s refreshing now to see Alice Piper Speaks Up impart that powerful message to a wider audience.

‘Alice Piper Speaks Up’ by Sage Andrew Romero and Loralee Sepsey is out on June 2, 2026, via Heyday Books.

No one knew it’d be their final concert. But no one knew, either, that singer Bradley Nowell would be found dead of a heroin overdose the next morning at a motel in San Francisco.

Sublime would go on to sell over 17 million records, and their last show in Petaluma has attained mythic status. An audio bootleg exists; legal issues over still-unreleased video footage have continued for years; and people still talk about it around Petaluma. But fewer than 900 people witnessed Nowell’s final performance. The rest of Sublime’s millions of fans always want to know: what was it like?

I was there that night, and left after four songs. My band had played the Warped Tour with Sublime the year before, and I’d had my fill of them, to say nothing of Nowell’s impulsive behavior. (He once sicced his dog on a skateboarder and then expected me to back him up in a fight.) But I’ve always wondered how the rest of the night went down.

So to mark the 30th anniversary of Sublime’s last show in Petaluma, I’ve decided to pull together those memories, stories, and loose threads—from regular showgoers, people behind the scenes, performers on stage and band members themselves.

Stand by Your Van

Eric Wilson (Bassist, Sublime): We had just finished the album. For two or three years before that, we had gotten a really strong cult following, just from playing up and down the coast. We started packing in 2,000 people just from word of mouth, before we even had any deal with a record company.

Rick Bonde (Booking agent, the Tahoe Agency): In the time I worked with them, they made it to every gig, we really tightened up the scene, Brad had gotten clean. From my memory, he’d been clean for almost a year. They were going to go to Europe, Brad had a brand-new wife, a new baby.

Lil’ Mike: I was gonna meet ’em at the Glass House in Pomona. They were supposed to play there the week before, and I was gonna jump in the van with ’em and head up the coast. But they canceled the Pomona show. I went down to the club that night, and they were like, “Nah, they’re not coming.” I was worried there had been an O.D.

Jason Boggs (Filibuster): They’d come to Sacramento and open up for us and play for 30-40 people at little dive bars around town, and they’d crash on our floors. But they’d really started to blow up right around then, with “Date Rape” on KROQ.

Tom Gaffey (Manager, Phoenix Theater): We were just starting to see more ska and less punk. My punk crowd was just starting to finally turn 21. Ska was the next thing. The youngsters loved it. Most of our crowd for the Sublime show was under 18, and definitely under 21.

Rick Bonde: I was with them the night before up in Chico. That was one of the most insane, crazy rock ‘n’ roll shows I’ve ever seen in my life. There were probably 2,000 people there. The fence got torn down, security was overwhelmed.

Eric Wilson: It was in a park, with a traveling circus. All these people with tattoos and piercings, the freakshow thing.

Rick Bonde: At one point I saw an opening in the crowd and I thought someone had gotten hurt and gone down. So I jumped off the stage, right in the middle of this crowd, and there was nothing there, but everyone was looking on the ground. I’m like, “What are we looking for?” And some guy yells out, “A finger! A fuckin’ finger!” And I’m like, “What do you mean, a finger?!” So we’re all there looking around for this guy’s finger.

Eric Wilson: In Chico, there were a lot of drugs. We stayed over at some college girls’ house and smoked crack for breakfast. So it wasn’t really surprising that that’s where Brad found his last bag.

Rick Bonde: At the afterparty, Brad came up to Mitch, who was the bodyguard we’d hired to protect Brad from himself. Brad walked up and said, “Gimme some money.” And Mitch was like, “No, I’m not giving you any money.” And Brad got really upset and was like, “It’s my money! Gimme my fuckin’ money!” And Mitch was like, “I’m not giving you any money.” Because we all knew what that was about. But the unfortunate thing is that Brad didn’t need money to score, you know what I mean? So I’m convinced he got it that night.

Eric Wilson: I slept hungover on the way to Petaluma. And so did anybody else that was in the van. We had a big old junker motor home and we had our own bunks. That was like a tour bus to us.

Boots Hughston (Manager, Maritime Hall): We had ’em at Maritime once before, and we had ’em at the Phoenix a couple times. They were kind of wild and crazy. Bradley was a little bit out of control, but he wasn’t a bad person or anything. I liked him. I thought he was cool. They were booked at the Phoenix one night, and the Maritime the next night.

Rhi Smith-Guerrero: I was 19. A bunch of dudes were going. My best friend had just met a guy, and his roommates were all like, “Let’s go see Sublime!” So I hopped in with the roommates and left her behind with her boyfriend, which she still regrets to this day.

Josh Drake: Earth Crisis played at the Phoenix with the metal band I was in and there were maybe six people there. But whenever there was a big ska show at the Phoenix—Let’s Go Bowling, Skankin’ Pickle, Reel Big Fish—lots of people would go to the ska shows, so you would just go to whatever show it was.

Lil’ Mike: Everybody’d be singing along and know all the words, even if the record wasn’t out! They just had that contagious enthusiasm. I’ve never seen anything like it.

Tom Gaffey: That was their third show here. The first time they came in was as the support band and absolutely stole the show. So we brought them back on their own two more times. Their guarantee in those days was probably $1,500 plus backend. In those days, backend was still at 70 percent.

Boots Hughston: They probably got three grand.

Rick Bonde: I would guess that their guarantee was probably in the $2,500 range. And right now, they’d be playing for no less than $250,000 or $500,000 a night.

Tom Gaffey: Here’s one of the differences that I noticed. The first couple times that they came through, they’d get here early, they’d do their soundcheck and then they’d hang out with all the skater kids. The skater kids would be going onto their RV and watching videos with them and hanging out. The last time through, the RV was not open to skaters. They weren’t hanging out as much. Bradley wasn’t skating with the kids like he had before. That was the first sign that something was a little bit wrong.

Work That We Do

Jason Boggs (Filibuster): It was the Ziggens, us, and Sublime. We had a 27-foot 1967 school bus that we took around on tour, so we rolled up in that, and all the guys from the band hung out in there. That was like our little backstage party zone.

Hollie Simons: I remember lots of frat boys, which was weird for the Phoenix, and the crowd that usually went there. It was never the college boys, it was the punk rockers and skaters. I went with my girlfriends.

Tyson Engel: Brad was hanging out with people out front. He was excited with the new record coming out. I gave him a cigarette, but I didn’t really talk to him that much.

Hollie Simons: I thought it was incredibly cool that before they played, Brad was in the crowd, drinking and hanging out.

Eric Wilson: I remember before the show—it was in the Bay Area, with a college crowd—and there were some guys discussing politics. I said what I thought about it, which wasn’t much, and then the guy put me down for a couple minutes in a real intelligent way.

Josh Drake: The way the Phoenix used to get when there were tons of people in there, it was so hot that you had to try to crane your head up to get fresh air. With the crowd, and the heat, it was tough to breathe.

Hollie Simons: It was an awesome concert, and a huge party. The energy level was just insane.

Jason Boggs: Sublime killed it that night. They did a great, great job. Considering how much we’d all been partying before the show, I was very, very impressed at how tight they sounded.

Tom Gaffey: I think I read somewhere that said he’d called home, and said he was having the best show he’d ever had. I don’t want to go against what common belief is, but I do recall that I was kind of bored with that show. I’m sorry to say that. It just didn’t have the energy the other shows had had.

Sara Sugrue: I recall feeling sheer disappointment. I thought it sounded awful, especially Brad. I feel a little bad saying it, being that he’s passed.

Drew Hirschfield: It was my second time seeing them and I just remember Brad looking just awful. He was smoking lots of cigarettes during the set.

Josh Drake: When Sublime was on, I went up to the balcony where they had the fire escape doors open, and you could get some fresh air. And of course, there were some guys with big army jackets standing around clearly smoking weed, and me, sidling up to them, trying to stand in the circle hoping they’d pass it to me. It was a gross-tasting wooden pipe that everyone’s mouth had been on, it was disgusting.

Tom Gaffey: In those days that was acceptable behavior. Nowadays, our rules are stricter and stricter. The party finally ate us up.

Jared Powell: I left the show. I was like, “Whatever, I’ll see them play again.”

Drew Hirschfield: It was a show I was stoked about because I had become a real fan, and then there was something worrisome and sadly disconnected about the band.

Eric Wilson: It was a hit-and-miss thing for us. We used to drink a lot. A lot of my older acquaintances would say, “I would never know if you guys were going to sound like total shit or play great.” We didn’t have our professional skills going on back then. We just thought the world was ours, or whatever.

Jason Boggs: They had the halfpipes at the front. It was almost like a rec center, the way it was set up.

Hollie Simons: There were pro skateboarders skating on the ramps while they were playing, and people were just going nuts. I wanna say Mike Carroll was one of them? My friends I was with, they were more in awe of the skateboarders than the band itself.

Rhi Smith-Guerrero: I stayed in the back. I remember that the pit was pretty rowdy. I was being a little more cautious than I would have been in the past couple years prior to that. I had pit injuries.

Sara Sugrue: There was this one guy that I couldn’t take my eyes off of. I recall him being dressed in all black, and wearing a skirt, and he decided to dance ballet-style in the pit. He would pirouette through some macho douchebags that were pushing people around, and he looked so free, without a care in the world of what others thought.

Faith Corrien Valdez: I just remember their Dalmatian running around.

Eric Wilson: Lou Dog running around on stage, that was typical, yeah. He probably bit somebody too.

Josh Drake: I still have a cassette tape, a Skunk Records sampler, that I think the Ziggens threw out to the crowd.

Rhi Smith-Guerrero: My friend was up in the front, and I guess he buddied up to this big, burly, muscly black dude who was their merch guy, and so he left with a bunch of stickers, pins and t-shirts and stuff.

Lil’ Mike: Sublime would give you 10 copies of their records, and be like, “Give these to your bros, let people know about us!”

Hollie Simons: We snuck backstage, which was amazing for us, in our Osh-Kosh overalls, and really curly hair, with a Mickey’s 40 oz. poured into a Big Gulp cup. I was 19. There was lots of weed, and it was crowded. We just stood there in the corner, in awe, drinking out of our 7-11 Big Gulps full of beer.

Eric Wilson: It was always a scene backstage. We had our guard down, so we didn’t see what [Brad] was up to.

Waking up to an Alarm

Tom Gaffey: Rick Bonde called me the next day and said, “Tom, I want you to know this wasn’t your fault.” I said, “What are you talking about?”

Eric Wilson: I was asleep in the motor home. We woke up to have bloody marys, and I sent my friend inside the hotel to get some ice for the bloody marys. And he came back frantically crying.

Rhi Smith-Guerrero: I was at my parents’ house and I woke up and poured myself a bowl of cereal and was sitting in front of MTV. And the MTV News splash was “Bradley Nowell Dead at 28. Died in San Francisco.” I just about spewed my cereal.

Rick Bonde: Bud [Gaugh, Sublime drummer] found him. What I heard is that Lou Dog was on the bed, licking Brad’s face. Bud looked at him, and there was zero question. Lou was licking the vomit off of him, his face was green-colored. There was no saving him. Obviously it was over.

Boots Hughston: At first I thought it was bullshit. I thought somebody was pulling my leg. That’s the kind of band they were, always goofing off. “Tell the Maritime promoter that Bradley died and then he won’t give us any shit for missing soundcheck.” That’s what I was thinking. But then this girl I talked to, who was hanging with the band, she got real serious and real quiet, and she said, “No, no man. He’s not here anymore.”

Eric Wilson: It killed part of me. I don’t really like talking about it.

Jason Boggs: From what I heard, there were a bunch of people in San Francisco that got the same batch, and there were a bunch of O.D.’s that night.

Drew Hirschfield: The next day during recess at Montgomery High my pal John told me he heard about the overdose. I was shocked and a bit scared. I think we felt sacredly important that we were at their last show ever, ’cause we were a bunch of 17 year old punks.

Josh Drake: It was on the news. And I got that kind of excitement that I was part of news! Like, “I was at that show!” I know that that’s insane, taking someone’s death and turning it into a win. But when you’re that age and nothing ever happens to you, it was at least some excitement in our small town.

Tom Gaffey: Three or four creepy downtown denizens in town tried to claim responsibility, tried to say that they were the ones that sold him the drugs, as a source of pride. How ghoulish is that? What a bunch of idiots. And I wasn’t the only one who heard stuff like that. It’s like, is that your stupid way of at least being able to say you were a part of history? That’s how you want to be known, as the guy that sold Bradley Nowell the drugs?

Rhi Smith-Guerrero: I heard a lot of rumors about where the drugs came from. I heard people say, “Yeah, my friend was the guy that sold him the dope,” and all that. It sounded like a lot of exaggeration and rumor.

Jared Powell: Everybody says they know someone who did something. There are rumors that seem plausible, but it’s also coming from people who want to hang onto some celebrity moment, and that’s just scumbaggy anyway.

Rhi Smith-Guerrero: The rumors were nasty, about who was trying to boast about it.

Rick Bonde: I’m convinced he got it in Chico. And here’s my theory. I think that Brad knew that he was going to be home, seeing his wife and baby in a few days, and I think that he got high that night and probably decided he needed to just finish it off so he wasn’t tempted to do it the next day. So he could clean up for a couple days before he needed to see his family. That’s been my gut this whole time, and believe me, I’ve thought about it a million times in the last 20 years.

Look at All the Love We’ve Found

Boots Hughston: Their fans were incredible. When the show at Maritime was canceled, instead of freaking out and demanding refunds, they just came and were, like, really sad. They didn’t care about the money they paid for the tickets. I probably only refunded 10 or 20 people out of 1,500 tickets sold. Usually when something like that happens, people start to demand their money back right at the door. It wasn’t like that. They were just sad that it happened. The whole space in front of the hall turned into a makeshift wake for Bradley.

Tom Gaffey: In the next five to ten years we were getting a lot of people coming through taking pictures of the place. That’s dropped off, of course.

Rick Bonde: The president of MCA Records met with me about a month later. I was in his office, and he told me that he was not going to release their record. He said, “I’m done, Rick, I can’t do this. I’ve spent half a million dollars on Brad’s rehab, and now we don’t have a band to tour behind it, I’m just gonna shelve it, it’s not going to work, it’s never going to be successful.” I was like, “I’m not leaving until you promise to put out this record.” I wouldn’t let up on him. And like, 20 minutes later, he was finally like, “Okay, I’ll try it. I’ll put it out and see what happens.” And now… how many millions of records later?

Josh Drake: I was into punk bands and more underground music, so in that scene, we all rejected Sublime once their big album came out, and the horrible scarring of the musical landscape they caused by telling bands it was okay to play this crappy reggae music.

Jared Powell: Now, everyone says they were at that show. If everybody who says they were at that show was actually at the show, it would have been thousands of people.

Tom Gaffey: The other guys came back here a few years later with Long Beach Dub All-Stars, and painted a mural backstage for Brad.

Eric Wilson: That would have been done by Opie, the singer. He’s the guy who drew the sun [on 40 Oz. to Freedom]. He’s a tattoo artist.

Tom Gaffey: It lasted forever, until last year when some idiot came and painted a mural over it.

Jared Powell: Tom went apeshit. He started screaming and yelling, and this young little 18-year old grafitti writer that didn’t know what was going on was almost in tears.

Tom Gaffey: That was a painful thing. It was a beautiful piece. I’d invite them to come back and redo it, because I’d love to have it back.

Jim Agius (Phoenix Theater in-house promoter): There’s actually audio from the show out there on the internet. The story I heard was that a girl recorded it from the balcony with a Walkman, and she and her boyfriend put it out on CD with money she made as a stripper.

Eric Wilson: I haven’t heard that recording. Did we sound good? I hope we sounded good.

Lil Mike: It wasn’t great audio quality. But yeah, she had this little Walkman, a hand-held thing. You can hear the whole thing on the internet, because I gave the tape to these internet guys after a while, they were just hounding me. It was called “Play Nice in the Pit,” because that’s what was painted on the wall of the Phoenix, so she went home that night and wrote that on the tape. We put some of the better-sounding songs out on a CD called It All Seems So Silly in the Long Run with some other recordings we’d done at Klub Komotion, and I sent ’em $1,000 each. Bud and Eric told me that was the most money they’d gotten from their music at that point. Their album was out and selling millions, but they hadn’t seen any money because they owed so much money to MCA for Brad’s rehab, which I’d heard cost half a million dollars. So the only royalty check they received at that point was from a bootleg!

Jim Agius: The other thing is that there’s video footage of the whole show, but it’s never been released. After Brad died, there was some ugly legal battle between the guy who filmed it and the band, and he’s just sat on the footage all these years, not doing anything with it.

Eric Wilson: I’m sure it’ll come out sometime, but I don’t know anything about the politics of it.

Sara Sugrue: It’s also where I first met my ex, on the stairs of the Phoenix. Initially I was planning to say that it was a night I could have done without. However, without that night and the next few years of hell with my ex, I may have never been at Gale’s that one night where I met my amazing husband. Seventeen years together this year! So, with that thought, I am so happy that I have that disastrous night in my history. If I didn’t go to that show, I honestly would not be who I am now.

Hollie Simons: I remember telling my husband, “Ah! I was at their last show!” when a Sublime song came on the radio when we were driving to Disneyland with our kids. He’s like, “No you weren’t!” I was like, “No, they played their last show at the Phoenix!”

Boots Hughston: I didn’t really expect it to happen. Bradley, he was crazy and partying, but I just never got the vibe that he was going to check out like that.

Rick Bonde: You know what was really going through my mind after he died? I swear this is true, that as sad I was for myself, and for my business, and obviously Brad’s wife and family, and the band—the thing I thought about the most was that the rest of the world didn’t know what they just lost.

Jason Boggs: I think Brad would have gotten a lot more seasoned. I think he might have started to realize that he was a voice. He never got a chance to see how much influence he had on people, or how his music affected people in such a good way; he brought that positivity that I think he understood about reggae and rocksteady and even punk rock. He was a very positive person.

Eric Wilson: He’d probably be playing music. Probably with me, but he might have gone solo. But who knows? We’ll never know.

Some of my issues with Fat Mike (real name: Mike Burkett) are petty — like the time I saw him skip to the front of a very long bathroom line at a show and respond to objectors with the words “But I’m Fat Mike.” Some of the things that turned me off were full-blown controversies — like the time he gave his own audience shots of tequila that may or may not have contained his pee. Or the time he publicly made a tasteless joke about a Las Vegas mass shooting.

Truthfully, most of the things that have soured me on the vocalist/bassist are behind-the-scenes tales that I’ll not risk writing about here because I am aware that NOFX as a unit can be rather litigious. (I once received a “cease and desist” notice from the band’s lawyer for attempting to sell a punk rock dog hoodie on Etsy that included one of their patches.) Refreshingly, NOFX’s penchant for legal wrangling is reflected immediately in the band’s new documentary — an honest move, given that they produced 40 Years of Fuckin’ Up themselves.

The first words the viewer sees on screen are as follows:

In 2024, the punk rock band NOFX ended their 40 year career after a worldwide final tour. At the time of filming, some of the band’s members were no longer speaking and involved in legal disputes. This is the last time they will ever be seen on film together.

This is in reference to the fact that guitarist Eric Melvin served Fat Mike with legal papers requesting financial records to make sure he had been paid appropriately for his work. Or, as Fat Mike puts it in 40 Years, Melvin accused the front man of “skimming millions of dollars from NOFX.”

40 Years, then, does a decent job of reflecting the messy goings-on in this band. The film is not a tell-all, exactly — despite some revealing moments in one of Fat Mike’s BDSM closets and some graphic cell phone footage of the night he almost died — but it is a good summary of much of what they’ve been through together. A lot of which appears to revolve around Fat Mike’s long-documented dependencies on drugs and alcohol. (“They act like they’re worried about my health which is total fucking bullshit,” he says at one point. “They’re worried about their fucking paychecks.”)

The movie is broken down into five broad chapters. The first covers NOFX’s earliest days, slogging it out in a van with small audiences and even smaller financial returns. The second sees the band turning a corner and takes the viewer behind the scenes for the recording of 1994’s Punk in Drublic, the quartet’s breakthrough album. The third documents NOFX’s marriage to a DIY ethos and their reasons for actively swerving major label interest. The fourth is almost entirely about drugs and health problems. The fifth covers NOFX’s emotional final shows. Throughout it all, Fat Mike is portrayed as a savvy businessman, despite his many issues.

If there is a hero of the piece, it turns out to be NOFX drummer, Erik “Smelly” Sandin. His recovery in the band’s early days, from a serious heroin addiction (“a bottomless pit of misery,” he reflects) makes for one of the most engrossing portions of 40 Years. Possibly because of that personal experience, Smelly now seems like the most level-headed person in his band. There is gravitas to his words when he talks of Fat Mike’s predilection for inhaling substances. “When you’re doing drugs, you’re stuffing your internal voices that are telling you you’re not worthy,” he says. “You’re a scared little boy.”

Fat Mike’s own words in 40 Years reflect this at times. “I don’t like performing anymore,” he says, “I don’t want to be the center of attention.” (Which is an odd thing to assert for someone who spends ample time on camera here, indulging in bondage-related situations.) In another interview, the front man reiterates: “I can’t pretend to rock out to these songs I’ve been playing for 40 years unless I’m loaded.” (In the next breath, he refers to NOFX’s stage shows as “absolutely authentic.” Make of that what you will.)

Regardless of the band’s inherent messiness, the sheer number of very famous punk musicians featured in the film reflects the fact that there remains a mountain of goodwill towards everyone in NOFX. Interviewees include members of The Offspring, Descendents, Youth Brigade, Against Me!, The Vandals, Less Than Jake, Bad Religion, Fishbone, RKL, The Exploited, Good Riddance, Bad Cop/Bad Cop, Hi-Standard and Pennywise. (Wil Wheaton also shows up for some reason.)

It’s an inescapable fact that a lot of bands have longterm careers because of Fat Wreck Chords, the San Francisco-based record label that Fat Mike co-founded with his then-wife Erin Burkett back in 1990. The fact that Fat Wreck’s impact doesn’t feature more directly in this documentary is a little confounding. Especially considering that half of NOFX’s back catalog was released through the label.

40 Years is — unsurprisingly for a movie about pop punk — an overwhelmingly male affair. Dance Hall Crashers’ Karina Denike appears only briefly, despite being referred to as “the actual 5th member of NOFX” in the movie’s credits. 40 Years would have benefited greatly from hearing her perspectives on the band, especially as she performed alongside them on their (clearly fraught, at times) final tour.

One of the most remarkable things about 40 Years of Fuckin’ Up is that it is wildly entertaining throughout, whether or not you find Fat Mike profoundly irritating. (This offers a clue to their sustained success.) Whichever way you slice it, NOFX’s history makes for fascinating — and if you’re a DIY musician, educational — viewing.

By the end of the two-hour film, you’ll wonder how this band didn’t slide off the rails and burst into flames many, many years ago. But you’ll also appreciate the fact that they had the good sense to document the bedlam.

‘40 Years of Fuckin’ Up’ screens May 28, 2026 at the Roxie (3117 16th St., San Francisco) as part of the 25th San Francisco Documentary Festival.