Art on the Green: Four Musical Acts

Local Musicians a Highlight of Art on the Green Festival

Next weekend’s Art on the Green is the annual festival’s 39^th year of bringing regional fine art, endless expensive pottery, legendary German sausages and unique performances to the lush campus of North Idaho College. Every year, festival organizers have a true knack for selecting top-notch local entertainment for both the main North Stage and the smaller South stage. Performers on the North Stage this year range from the grand Coeur d’Alene Symphony to Laura Hamilton’s perpetually amazing North Idaho Dance Ensemble to folk dancers representing Ireland, the Ukraine, and the Middle East. However, for music fans, the South stage will be where you’ll want to stake your claim to a shady patch of grass. A diverse assortment of musicians will be entertaining the crowds, including four acts who were gracious enough to discuss their music with me and answer some of my silly questions.

Singer/songwriter Cheryl Branz is excited about returning to the NIC campus when she performs on Friday evening. She attended classes here for two years before relocating to Colorado, where she earned a Vocal Music minor and a Journalism major. She looks back fondly at her time at the college by the lake, professing that “You just can’t beat the beautiful campus with its shade trees and knowing that the water is just across the road. Daydreaming about that water helped me through many of my classes!” After a brief spell in California, where she married her husband Clint, Branz settled once again in her hometown of Spokane, where she has been performing ever since.

She had been singing all her life in school choirs, in churches, at weddings and funerals, but six years ago it dawned on her that she was missing something important: a guitar. Inspired by artists such as the Indigo Girls, Jewel and Sarah McLachlan, Branz mastered the instrument and began writing her own original acoustic folk/pop songs. She’s been playing area coffee houses, wineries and festivals in earnest ever since, and has recently recorded her first professionally produced CD, Disappear. On the album, Branz’s voice is clear and strong, the tunes are highly melodic, and her lyrics range from intensely personal on songs like the title track and “I Judge Myself”, to rather silly tunes like “Flip Flops”, in which she cleverly describes said footwear as “an island vacation for my feet”.

Branz praises another act performing at this year’s Art on the Green, Sidhe. Their album Carnival is her absolute favorite local CD, and she enthuses that “Michael Millham is one of the finest guitar players in the region.” I obviously hit a sweet spot when I asked Branz to describe her music as a flavor of ice cream. She chose Rocky Road, musing “I can be a bit nutty on stage, but I can also sing about serious, sticky situations (enter the marshmallows). The chocolate part is just because I love chocolate. Mmmmm. Chocolate.” Cheryl Branz performs on the South Stage, Friday 8/3 at 6 p.m.

Sylvia Lazo of Brazillian Jazz act Olinda Duo loves performing at Art on the Green. “The event is so attractive and diverse and the audience warm and enthusiastic,” she says. “They come to enjoy the artists and an alluring summer day, two things that inspire me to get out there and sing." The Spokane twosome is comprised of soprano vocalist Lazo and classical guitarist Paul Grove, who also teaches the instrument right here at NIC. Olinda Duo perform a broad variety of material by mainly Latin American composers, from ballads and love songs to upbeat jazz and bouncy pop. The classical guitar is perhaps an unusual instrument for this type of music, but Grove adapts the instrument masterfully, creating lovely backdrops for Lazo’s slightly operatic Spanish vocals.

Sao Paolo native Lazo studied Jazz Improv at the Berklee School of Music, and has charmed audiences in four continents both as a soloist and as a member of several Latin ensembles. There’s an alluring sense of warmth in her voice, and Grove’s many years of experience shine through in his innovative and masterful instrumentation. Together they make a perfect match, like sweet corn on the cob and melted butter, which along with dazzling festival goers with their performance, must certainly be on Olinda Duo’s Art on the Green agenda, followed by a scoop or two of ice cream. Lazo describes her music as “an Acai ice cream, a delectable Brazilian fruit with a berry-coconut taste. I try to bring to my performances a nectarious selection of things I’ve grown accustomed to love, hear and play: Brazillian music, Jazz, and Spanish classical songs. The music is at times cool and intimate and other times spirited.” Lazo names the Latin fusion sounds of Milonga as one her favorite local acts, and also recommends jazz diva Shirley Horn’s album The Main Ingredient as essential summer listening. Olinda Duo play the South Stage, Saturday 8/4 at 2:30 p.m.

“Songs that echo in my soul like the sound of that freight train leaving the yard” is how Summit Sound owner Mark Stanton describes the music of Northwest folksinger Laddie Ray Melvin. Melvin’s songs are like a well-worn heirloom quilt, woven together from threads of traditional Americana, country, blues and a bit of Dylan-esque folk rock. His voice is weathered and rich, and his songs are dusty landscapes of life experience written from the perspective of a mature soul. His performances are captivating like hearing old ghost stories late at night around the crackling campfire.

Over the last ten years, Melvin has independently released two CDs, most recently In The Aftermath, which he describes as “a collection of tunes that considers what it means to be a human in times of trouble.” He has played countless festivals and venues throughout the Northwest, and his songs are frequently featured on local public radio shows, including the “Nacho Celtic Hour.” He says he is looking forward to playing at Art on the Green. “Any gathering of artists is bound to be a great time.” His music would be “homemade” if it were a type of ice cream, and when asked about his favorite local artists, he takes a democratic approach. “There are many, many songwriters in the region whose work I appreciate. I’m a member of the Spokane Songwriters Association and I encourage folks to check out the website.” Laddie Ray Melvin plays the South Stage Saturday 8/4 at 5:30 p.m.

Married couple Michael and Keleren Millham have been performing as Sidhe for over a decade and have become one of the most beloved and popular acts in the Inland Northwest. Their intimate performances are unforgettable, and their sound is truly uncommon among Spokane acts, or anywhere else for that matter. Michael’s intensely intricate and physical finger style guitar work has been known to make audience’s jaws drop. It’s difficult to succinctly describe the sound of Sidhe, although the Millhams do make an attempt with “Progressive Acoustic”, a term which may be too broad to really give an accurate impression of their ethereal, otherworldly music. Put traditional music of the British Isles, sufi, classical, Latin jazz, and art rock all into the proverbial sonic blender with Keleren’s opulent voice and evocative lyrics and you’ve got an addictively singular concoction.

Sidhe recently spent a packed three weeks touring, and according to Michael, the CD that saw the most airplay in the car was British cult folkie Nick Drake’s Way To Blue compilation, which gives you an idea what kind of music inspires them to greatness. They’ve graced Art on the Green with their presence before and Michael reveals that their favorite thing about the festival is “the visual art, the constant stream of music that is not our own, the competent sound guys, and the shuttle bus that goes close to Java on Sherman for a pick up (in more ways than one).” Hm. We’ll assume he’s referring to the café’s famous lattes, and not their attractive employees. If Sidhe were an ice cream it would be “gelato, heavy on the chocolate, but swirled with myriad flavors that have yet to be invented,” says Michael. For an act whose music is so hard to describe that it has caused myriad writers to summon up vague and cliched adjectives like “ethereal” and “otherworldly” (see above), that sweet metaphor is about as accurate a descriptor as any. Sidhe play the South Stage on Sunday 8/5 at 10:30 a.m.

Wah Hing , Kellogg

Wah Hing Restaurant
215 McKinley Ave., Kellogg
208-783-3181

I’ve heard it said many times in recent years and sadly, I have to agree: there just aren’t any really great Chinese restaurants in Coeur d’Alene. There is one in town that I consider to be acceptable, but it only creates a mild twitch on the Richter scale of excitement. Chinese is probably my favorite cuisine, and I’ve spent a lot of time and lunch money exploring the literally endless cache of Chinese joints over in Spokane. I’m pretty sure the Lilac City has more Chinese restaurants per capita than almost any other city - just drive north on Division and you’ll find dozens. Most are better than anything Coeur d’Alene has to offer, so whenever I long for the really good stuff, I head over the state line and pick one of my many favorite spots. With no place in Coeur d’Alene really getting those mouth juices flowing, I’ve just resigned myself to making that familiar jaunt westward whenever I need a fix of the perfect Almond Chicken.

Whenever this dilemma comes up in conversation, someone inevitably mentions the Wah Hing Restaurant in Kellogg. “Oh, you’ve GOT to go and check it out, it’s really good, the best Chinese place in the whole area…” So on a recent blazing hot Friday morning, Q. and I recharged our camera batteries and windexed our sunglasses and headed out for a day in the sunny Silver Valley.

When Noah Kellogg’s donkey went wandering astray on that fateful September morn so very long ago, it’s hard to imagine that he ever thought his little galena mine would one day turn into endless rows of shiny new Dodge trucks. The sprawl of the Dave Smith auto dealership has taken over easily half this small town. It’s a little surreal driving through parts of Kellogg where car lots butt up against more car lots, and just when you think there can’t possibly be more car lots, you go round the bend and run into even more car lots. We headed up the hill toward downtown and had no trouble finding a parking spot right in front of the restaurant. It was still a little early for lunch, so we decided to work up an appetite by exploring the area.

It was a little depressing to see that easily seventy-five percent of the storefronts in downtown Kellogg were sitting vacant and quickly deteriorating. On the brighter side, someone has purchased the old YMCA building and is turning it into “lofts” (read: high-priced condos), so maybe the Richy Rich folks that move in there will snap up some of the empty shops and revitalize the area with their Fruit Smoothies and Shabby Chic.

Meanwhile, the shopping scene here is obviously a little on the scant side, but worth mentioning is Papa’s Barn, an antique/vintage/thrift place that goes on forever, taking up three entire large connected buildings and their full basements. We lost an hour in there looking at amazing things like a large collection of Pez dispensers, a complete set of Kiss dolls, and a dusty box of vintage Playboy magazines from the ‘50’s and ‘60’s. They’ve converted one section of the basement where there’s an actual old mine shaft into a makeshift museum. It’s a dank little room with some abused looking mannequins sporting the hottest fashions of 1893 and a full human skeleton wearing a miner’s cap and leering up from a dark alcove. I ended up scoring a perfect copy of “50,000,000 Elvis Fans Can’t Be Wrong” and a disintegrating copy of the Spokesman Review dated October 9, 1951.

We were definitely hungry by the time we shuffled out of Papa’s Barn and out into the blistering sun. When we walked into the Wah Hing, I was hit by the powerful chemical aroma of some cheap cleaning agent. Granted, there are worse things you could smell when you walk into a restaurant, but it took a little getting used to. More importantly, the place was air-conditioned and cool to the max, and the waitress brought water and hot tea immediately. I wouldn’t have thought to order hot tea on such a sizzling day, but I poured a cup and it was so fresh and sweet tasting, it was actually refreshing.

The restaurant was percolating with lunch goers and our girl Terri seemed to be the only waitress on duty. To her credit, she never once slacked or lost her cool. We got the impression she’d been serving food here for many moons, and she fit into the natural scheme of the place just like one of the paper lanterns hanging from the ceiling. Some string-laden Asian pop music crackled out through dusty speakers, mixing with the dramatically punctuated Chinese-language conversation being held by the kitchen staff, lending the Wah Hing an authenticity that seemed oddly out of place in little old Kellogg. A stern-faced older Chinese woman emerged from the kitchen and sat down to relax a while amidst the chaotic lunch rush, and we assumed her to be an owner, sipping tea and eyeballing the proceedings like a hawk.

The menu itself was quite varied with both the usual suspects like Mongolian Chicken, Szechwan Beef, and Kung Pao Shrimp as well as some enticingly unusual items like Golden Crown Bird Nest (a combo of meats and veggies served in a nest of noodles), Westlake Fried Duck, and Dragon and Phoenix Special (includes lobster and chicken, cleverly). Naturally, a selection of American fare is available as well, although I don’t know anyone over the age of ten who goes to a Chinese joint and orders a grilled cheese sandwich. I almost always go for a combination lunch, since it’s the best way to really get an impression of what a Chinese place is all about. Q. and I usually try to order something different so we can taste a wider variety of items, but this time we both picked Combo Number 2 and neither one of us wanted to budge.

I must have looked totally stunned when Terri asked us if we wanted Egg Drop or Hot and Sour soup with our meals. This is a standard option in many regions I’ve visited, but in these parts it’s always Egg Drop only, even in most of the Spokane places I’ve dined in. Tears of joy welled up in my ever-so-jaded eyes as I ordered the Hot and Sour. I told her to start us off with some Fried Won Tons as well, which she brought out with our soup. Hot and Sour soup, if done well, is a miracle substance known to clear sinuses and cause happy brain tingle. Wah Hing’s version was perfection, crispy bamboo shoots and shitake mushrooms mingling gently with stringy pork pieces and white chunks of tofu. It was so good I pondered if maybe I should have just ordered an extra large bowl of the soup and called it a day. I was impressed that they actually put a garnish of shredded greens under the Fried Won-Tons, and thin carrot strips to jazz up the delicately sweet dipping sauce. So many places just throw them on a white plate and serve them with that toxic red goo, but Wah Hing obviously takes care in the presentation of their food, even with such a simple dish.

Terri brought out our two Number Twos and after admiring the visual beauty of the cuisine, we dug in. The batter coating the Sweet and Sour Chicken was incredibly light in texture, almost like a Tempura. The glaze was decidedly fresh and made from scratch, simply delicious with hints of sweet orange, making me wonder what that brown glop is that many Chinese places pass off as Sweet and Sour. Fried Rice and Chow Mein seem like they would be difficult to really screw up, but I have had many forkfuls of nastily burnt tasting rice and overly slimy, bland chow mein in my long Chinese-food eating career. Wah Hing avoids these pitfalls and serves fresh, fluffy rice sprinkled with green onions and BBQ pork shreds, and the chow mein is crisp and savory, with a sauce light enough that the noodles remain crunchy throughout. Both of us finished everything on our plates, a rare occurrence indeed. We cracked open our fortune cookies. Mine: “Do something unusual tomorrow.” Q’s: “A pleasant surprise is in store for you.”

People were indeed correct: Wah Hing is a great hidden small-town gem and is well worth the short drive east. We waddled out of there after leaving a twenty dollar bill on the table, astoundingly cheap considering that included both meals, the appetizer, the tea, and a well-deserved fiver for a tip. We decided to vacate Kellogg and spent the rest of the blazing afternoon swimming around in the cool exhilarating waters of the North Fork of the Coeur d’Alene River.

Tour of Midtown Cd'A Thift Stores

Thrifting. For some it’s an art; the thrill of the hunt, the promise of a real find. For some it’s a gift. They’re able to notice fabulous things sitting amidst the clutter of thrift store racks, things not visible to the untalented eye. For those on a budget, thrift shopping is often a necessity. For many these days, it’s a living. They arrive early and strip the place of anything that they think might have some remote value to some collector out there on eBay, from troll dolls and disco 8-tracks to actual antiques. They’ve made it harder and harder for the average shopper to score any treasures.

Old time thrifters often talk about the glory days before the internet and the emergence of overpriced clothing re-sell boutiques that snatch up the coolest thrift garb before anyone else gets a chance and then mark it up to near designer prices. That faded old Def Leppard shirt you donated to Goodwill is likely hanging from the rack of an über-trendy clothing shop with a price tag that reads something like this: “Retro - $35”. Recently, many thrift stores have gotten into the act as well, with roped-off collectible sections and high-priced “funky” racks. This is probably great for the various charities that benefit from the sale of these items, but frustrating for shoppers looking for cheap thrills.

Regardless, hardcore thrifters carry on, realizing that items still sometimes slip through the cracks, unnoticed by mark-up vultures. In a way, it makes the discovery of cool stuff even more thrilling. There’s an addictive quality to the natural rush one feels when that impossible search ends in a brilliant thrift coup. Coeur d’Alene, like many towns, has a large and voracious thrifting cult. For some, it’s a fun game of hide and seek, and for others it’s a down-and-dirty, ruthless competition.

Making the rounds from store to store on a weekly, sometimes daily basis, they recognize faces but don’t speak. They exchange glares that say “what are you doing in MY territory” and jealously eyeball the contents of each other’s carts. They know every staff member of every thrift store in town, and they shamelessly befriend them in hopes of a discount. Frankly, I think it’s fantastic and fully admire their inventive viciousness. After all, these are the folks who come away with the gold.

I’ve been thrifting in this town for eons, and there have been times when I’ve come perilously close to joining the mad cult, but normally I prefer just casually looking around to see what random items turn up. I’ve come to know the local thrift stores and all their quirks. Seasoned thrifters know that each store has its own personality with high points and low points.

We are fortunate to have a killer thrift mecca located right here in Midtown Coeur d’Alene, with no less than six stores perfectly arranged all on the same small stretch of land. I recruited my friend M. to provide a needed female perspective, and we headed north on 4^th street for a sunny day of bargain hunting mania.

The Idaho Youth Ranch Thrift Store (811 N 4^th) is known for its large Rock-n-Roll mural and it’s suck-you-in first aisle full of knick-knacks and foofaraw. Sad clown statuettes mingle with faberge eggs and aquarium décor in an attractively random, anything-smaller-than-a-breadbox kind of way. There’s also the never-changing tragedy of the “new merchandise” section. I’ve had my eye on a “new” kitschy Asian lamp here for years, but the un-thrifty high price never drops. This place is good if you’re looking for appliances and furniture which always appear to be clean and still-functioning, and with such low prices, items don’t stick around for long. Youth Ranch tends to be rough when it comes to men’s clothing, scant racks of faded flannels and ‘80’s Kmart sweaters, as if the donations just dropped off about twelve years ago. M. describes the women’s clothing section as having a “seriously spooky vibe, like someone in back is watching me shop on closed-circuit TV.” She did score a few recent Dean Koontz novels in the pretty okay book department, but I was disappointed that the once overflowing record shelf had shrunk down to a few mildewy stacks of reject vinyl.

Located across the street, the Women’s Center Thrift Store (848 N. 4^th St.) is astonishingly well-organized. Crocheted potholders go in the crocheted potholder bin and fringed denim vests go on the fringed denim vest rack. Clothing is arranged in rainbow order, and the wee book department is broken into a dozen labeled categories. The kitchen section is arranged museum-like with delicate oddities that rattle ominously when you walk through. Despite the neatness, I don’t think I’ve ever found anything substantial here. I’ve trawled through the men’s section many times, but it always seems like somehow everything has shrunk in size. Even the 2x items here look like Ls, way too small for this big thrifter. “Drag Queen heaven” is how M. describes the ladies department. “Who else wears a size 22 neon purple sequined gown?”

We head around the corner to the barn-like Humane Society Thrift Shop (916 N 3^rd St). I’m an animal lover so I always want to spend some bucks here, but I only occasionally have much luck. Once, a rare Devo CD box-set sat on the front counter with a $4 price tag, causing me to have a thrift meltdown right in front of the poor old woman volunteering behind the counter, who I can tell thinks I’m a psycho to this day. Recently, they’ve slapped some paint around and rearranged a bit, making for an artificially fresh experience. Neither M. or I bother with the clothes, knowing from past experiences that their racks represent the lowest-of-the-low 1997 High School Car Wash t-shirts and wide-waisted polyester pants. I did manage to find a set of retro-cool wall hangings from the ‘40’s featuring garish color photographs of landmarks like Snoqualmie Falls and the Grand Tetons. A dollar each: score!

M. swears by Goodwill (1212 N 4^th St.), but the trick is getting there exactly when they’re putting out the carts of new stuff. This place is usually crowded with screaming kiddos and the fluorescent lights always make me want to start photosynthesizing, but the 80’s music is always good here, allowing me to tune out the chaos and enjoy my shopping experience. I have found some good clothing items here – in fact, out of all the stores on this list, they seem to have the healthiest selection of men’s apparel. Barely used dress shirts that are still semi in style and lots of name brands. M. says she has acquired an entire season’s worth of new outfits in a single afternoon in the overflowing Goodwill women’s section. Men never try stuff on in thrift stores. They just buy it and if it doesn’t fit, oh well, it was only a couple bucks. However, I did wait patiently for M. to try on a pile of shorts and tops, and in the end she emerged victorious, buying four pairs. I chanced upon a like-new pair of black Sketchers shoes while I waited for M. to try stuff on, and I decided they were well worth the six bucks. And they even fit when I tried them on later at home.

Obviously, St. Vincent De Paul (108 E Walnut St.) is named after the patron saint of thrifting. If they gave annual awards for best Midtown CDA thrift store, St. Vinnie’s would take home the trophy year after year. The store has countless rooms full of ever-changing thrift goodness, and the place just goes on and on forever, until you reach the backyard area, which is also overflowing with miscellany. I always find something here, and have learned that it’s physically impossible to just run in and out really quick. Better give yourself at least an hour. It takes me at least that long just to look through the shelves and shelves of books and records. M. says the main women’s section is mostly useless dreck. “I was attacked by gem sweaters, I nearly lost an eye,” she says. I’m not always lucky with the clothing section either, but I might buy a shirt I don’t even really like just because it’s half-off day and the darned thing is only 75 cents. I never have enough patience for the famous discount clothing bins but M. loves digging around in there. She is the type with a real gift for thrift and isn’t afraid to get dirty, always pulling the most amazing cool stuff out from those dank depths. They have a great wall art section; my house is decorated mostly with items from here, including one of my all-time great finds, an original Picasso linocut print which I’ve yet to have appraised, but have seen similar items on eBay for upward of $1000. You truly never know what the Saint will have in store for you.

The last stop on our agenda is the Hospice Thrift Shop ( 1823 N. 4^th). M and I decided we’re a little scared of this place because the ladies who run the show here are notoriously cranky. Once I spent an hour here shopping, loading my cart with stuff. When I went to pay I was told that they don’t accept debit cards. It was like they’d never heard of the concept. Bewildered, I asked the clerk if I she would hold my items so I could run to the ATM and get cash and she told me no, and made me put everything back, which I did because her demeanor made me feel guilty for even causing the whole scenario. Sheesh. As far as merchandise, the crap-to-gold ratio is high, making this another place where you just want to skip the clothing department, and the book department, and the dish department, and every other department. They have some great overpriced, outdated technology – I don’t think these ladies realize how obsolete that Betamax is, as evidenced by the $40 price tag. The Hospice Thrift store is the kind of place where you might want to take granny when she’s got a jones for some crochet supplies. Maybe M. and I were just experiencing thrift burnout, but we both decided this old place needed a facelift.