2007-02 Vital Source Mag – February 2007
Hat Trick – Third time’s a charm for Al and Susie Brkich
By Catherine McGarry Miller + Photos by Kevin C. Groen Cranky Al’s Bakery, Coffee & Pizza 6901 W. North Avenue 414-258-5282 Hey, Mikey, I got your pizza ready,” Cranky Al Brkich hails a customer. “I only dropped it twice!” Mikey shrugs his shoulders and smirks, “That’s better ‘n last time.” There’s a round of giggles from patrons steaming up the windows at Cranky Al’s this winter night with animated conversations over pizzas and garlic bread. I’m not one to go around outing people, but the truth is Cranky Al is a phony. He’s about as cranky as Rachel Ray accepting applause for yet another miracle recipe. A small warning sign on the door hints at Al’s true nature. It reads, “All unattended children will be given two shots of espresso and a free puppy.” Al is loath to admit it, but “cranky” actually references the hand-cranked donuts he turns out every morning for lines of neighborhood enthusiasts. For owners Susie and Al Brkich, this bakery and pizzeria is a hat trick. They’ve had two other successful eateries. The first was Crabby Al’s, a seafood shack that lit up the dark skies of the Menomonee Valley and then tumbled into a dissolved partnership. Second was Mrs. Java and Company, just four doors down from the new Cranky Al’s, which died last year when the building was sold to another restaurateur who wanted the space for a bistro. The news was sudden and devastating to the couple, who had hoped to buy the building themselves. “We didn’t know if our customers would come back,” Susie says with her chin crumbling and eyes moist with deep appreciation for the support of the community. It took the Brkichs the better part of a year – and every penny of their resources – to relocate, gut the property and install a kitchen in two storefronts that had formerly housed a used auto parts and a vacuum cleaner store. It was a stressful time for the Brkichs, not knowing if their new enterprise would fly. But just a few months into it, this place has all the signs of being yet another success for the hard-working restaurateurs. High windows fill the spacious room with light, the dark woodwork, molded ceilings and pews from Pius X Church – which serve as bench seating – all lend an air of comfortable charm, as do the smells of fresh-brewed coffee and handmade donuts and pastries. This, as everything in their lives, is a joint venture. After two decades of marriage, Al and Susie are still thick as thieves. Al insisted that Susie be there for our interview and every time Al got up during our chat to attend to the business, Susie gushed about him. For their opening in December, she bought him his first chef’s coat. “Same old Cranky with a new coat on,” he boasts. “That’s right, kid, I’m fancy now.” Al, who grew up near State Fair Park and attended Solomon Juneau High School, met Chicago […]
Feb 1st, 2007 by Cate Miller
The Early Years
Already in play to sell Nike shoes, the single “All Ones & Zeros” gets The Early Years’ debut out of the blocks at lightning speed; but it’s false advertising for the record as a whole. Although the intro song is a propelling dash, what follows lacks similar kinetic force. Intentionally. This three-piece, comprised of a drummer and pedal-happy guitar duo, adamantly refuse to chase after the skinny-tie, post-punk revivalist trend. Instead of worshipping Gang of Four, the self-proclaimed “experimental” band cite Neu!, Television and Mogwai as influences. If experimental means ambience, feedback and droning, and the preceding bands were reputably boring and uninventive, then these guys are spot on. The Early Years sound more confident when they aren’t trying so hard. The majority of songs, including the utterly beige “Brown Hearts,” are like a game of hot/cold (getting warmer…even warmer… ). The musicians find direction as the tracks count down, leaving questions as to how much improvisation they employed while recording. Likewise, the last two and a half minutes of “High Times And Low Lives” show potential and should have been the project’s starting line. Here, parts move – the darling avant-garde electronics live rightfully among the twangy guitar and incisive percussion. Regrettably, the disc’s closers, though pretty, deflate any remaining hope of resurrecting the buzz. The Early Years live up to their name; they play a diluted imitation of art rock’s early years, contributing little more than better technology. They’re on the heels of something good, but until their sophomore release, why buy a knock-off when you can just as easily listen to the real thing? VS
Feb 1st, 2007 by Amber Herzog
The Shins
The advent of the Shins’ latest sees them with not an entirely clean bill of health. They’ve paled from the short-term convalescence that the indie film and television world has bled them into. Yet they’ve somehow grown a muscular sonic extroversion from this bloodletting, while still managing to leave their lyrical core of persistent pathos intact. James Mercer’s sweet tenor will never quite echo the nerviness of The Fall’s Mark E. Smith, but it’s more of a “hell yeah” than an “oh, hell.” “Sleeping Lessons” is a fantastic kickoff, much in the way “Kissing the Lipless” was for Chutes too Narrow. Creeping in quietly, it assaults the unsuspecting listener’s ears with the volume cranked up to catch the Lewis Carroll references, blasting a train-chugging bass and a quick-click drumbeat with upswept, Beach Boy vocals. “Phantom Limb” catches the band at their wistful best, creating an atmosphere of ‘60s jangle-pop with an ‘80s bass line often associated with teen films, and a plotline to match. To hear Mercer sing the oh-wah-oh chorus is swoonable. The album is sonically variant starting with “Phantom Limb;” that track, “Sea Legs” and “Turn On Me” are all illuminating. The best surprise is “Sea Legs.” Containing a prominent Beck-ish bass line, flute and lounge piano chords, it features a smokier-voiced Mercer. “Red Rabbits” is another variation, but simple innovation and keyboardist Marty Crandall’s keyboard noodling is not enough to create a decent song. Wincing amps the listener up first with its familiarity, then further with a swing into the new, but fails to push through at the end. It’s promising, but The Shins are apparently still in that awkward stage; they still have plenty of room to grow. VS
Feb 1st, 2007 by Erin Wolf
Your last/next month
By Matt Wild Your last month has been rife with unexpected changes, moments of self-loathing and at least one severe car accident. The New Year – still so new! – has left you reeling. It would be easy, therefore, for us to look back and catalog your last month, to dredge up and analyze its highs and its lows. But let’s be honest; the past is for suckers. Instead, let’s pretend your last month is your next month; let’s rewind the Cassingle? of your life all the way back to the first yawning minutes of 2007. There you are – bleary-eyed, drunk and hopeful – kissing the strange/familiar boy/girl next to you, blissfully unaware of what will happen over the course of the next 31 days. This, in fact, is what will happen: You will make a trek back to your hometown to spend time with your family. You will go bowling, smoke some shitty cigarettes and drink an alarming amount of alcohol. One night – while rocking out to William Shatner’s version of “Common People” – you also manage to rear-end another driver, nearly totaling your girlfriend’s car. In the ensuing 48 hours, you will learn a series of valuable lessons: 1). Never give a fake name, number and address to the 17-year-old girl you just hit. 2). Never assume, in a town of barely 5,000 people, that the cops won’t somehow track you down and impound your car at 5 in the morning. 3). Never drive a vehicle off a tow lot – even if it’s your own – without politely asking first. By the end of the weekend you will become small town gossip fodder and rack up nearly $3,000 in damages and fines. Nevertheless, you’re thankful no one was hurt and that your arresting officer graduated high school with your younger brother. Back in Milwaukee, you will decide to keep your nose clean and your head down, your chin turned away in anticipation of the next blow. You will attend any number of dreadful events: hipster dance parties, adult spelling bees, trivia nights. You will make a vow to forever avoid any event prefaced by the word “adult” (kickball, dodge ball, lawn darts). You will start taking more cab rides and keep feeling bad about your girlfriend’s car. Your long-time East Side neighborhood continues down the fast track to becoming a condo-littered strip mall, leaving you bitter and disenchanted. You fall out of love with your city and consider hopping on the “We’re moving to Portland!” bandwagon popularized by that one Dead Milkmen song. You will go out and see some rock shows (the excellent Candliers prove to be a revelation), smoke some shitty cigarettes and drink an alarming amount of alcohol. In spite of all this (or perhaps because of this), you feel bad for yourself a great deal, and often contemplate running yourself through with a 10-inch railroad spike. A concerned friend will eventually calm you down and tell you that trying to off […]
Feb 1st, 2007 by Vital Archives
