The Tippling Bros.' Tad Carducci | Interview

by John Dugan


The men behind Mercadito’s drink menu take charge of the cocktail list at sister spot Tavernita. By John Dugan

Published: August 31, 2011

Following their success at sex-Mex spot Mercadito, New Yorkers Tad Carducci and Paul Tanguay (known as the Tippling Bros.) are designing the ambitious drink list at Mercadito sibling Tavernita. The Mediterranean/Spanish spot takes over the former Martini Park space with chef Ryan Poli at the helm.

What are we going to see on Tavernita’s drink menu?
At Mercadito, we only use tequila and mescal, but here we want to use a variety of spirits. Gin and tonic is the national drink of Spain. We’ll play with that idea. [We’ll use] indigenous Spanish ingredients and flavors…. Spanish wines and liqueurs, spices [like saffron and turmeric]. Who knows, at some point maybe we will fat wash [the process of flavoring liquor with rendered fat] some ham ibérico into a drink. …Five to six [cocktails] will be served on tap. In Barcelona, you can go to bars and have vermouth on tap. We’ll be making our own vermouths and serving them on tap.

Vermouth is one of those things that Americans just don’t get.
It’s a crying shame because it’s a wonderful aperitif. It’s a great alternative to drinking spirits on the rocks or a cocktail.

I’ve heard you call Barcito, the bar within Tavernita, a “playpen.”
It has its own street entrance. It will have its own set of cocktails, its own wines, its own beers. We’re gonna have a guy behind the bar making tapas right there.

A good niche for you guys?
The Spanish and, moreover, Mediterranean, culture that surrounds food and family, friends, conviviality and socializing [is] something we are really excited about. I don’t think any of us thinks we’re gonna knock Chicago’s socks off with something it hasn’t seen before. We just wanna open a great spot.

Tavernita


Cool and Collected: highs in the fifties

by John Dugan


Published in the Chicago Reader, March 7, 2002

By John Dugan

Last year was a dark one for the big auction houses, with the economic slump and September 11 hitting an industry already rocked by the Sotheby's and Christie's price-fixing scandal. But according to Richard Wright, his young West Loop auction house is on the upswing. "Our business has thrived, while Sotheby's closed the Chicago location," he says. "I just see that there is a place for someone who is not a multinational corporation." Except for Phillips (the number three house), he also thinks the bigger houses haven't picked up on the recent surge of interest in midcentury design: "They are missing the boat. A lot of this work is important and will go up in value."

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The utopian, largely American-led school of design that characterized the 50s has been rediscovered in recent years thanks to magazines like Wallpaper, which packages modernism as a lifestyle. Now names such as Eames, Knoll, and Saarinen roll off the tongues of those who grew up with neocolonial and Ethan Allen. Wright attributes the rediscovery to "a generational thing," but also to modernism's inherent integrity, optimism, and utility. Also, modernism was a bit ahead of its time on the first pass. An original Isamu Noguchi paddle fin table can now fetch $18,000 at auction, but it flopped in the marketplace when copies of the ovoid, three-legged table were mass-produced.

"I feel really strongly about the postwar period. It was the first time that America led the design world," Wright says. Between 1945 and 1958, modern design was informed by a populism and idealism that could be construed as naive today, but for Wright it's infinitely preferable to the elitism of the French deco that preceded it. A prime example, Wright says, is one of Arne Jacobsen's late-50s egg chairs. "These things weren't done tongue-in-cheek like you see now. They felt they had come to the right solution." Now the egg chair has "that nostalgia factor," like a James Bond film. "It's over-the-top."

A native of Portland, Maine, Wright got hooked on modern design in the mid-80s, when he dropped out of the University of Massachusetts to sell entry-level collectibles like 50s plastic clocks and boomerang ashtrays at east-coast flea markets. It would be several years before he developed an interest in furniture, and a few more before egg chairs started popping up in New York Times Magazine design issues. "I would tell people I was looking for things from the 50s and people would laugh. Now people take it very seriously."

In 1987 he drove his hatchback to Chicago with his girlfriend Martha Torno (now an owner of Wicker Park's Modern Times). For two years they ran a shop called Torno-Wright on Lincoln Avenue before parting ways. Next, Wright built up modern sales at Oak Park's Treadway Gallery, which did most of its business in Arts and Crafts furniture. Wright left in 1999 and opened Wright Gallery in 2000 with his wife, Julie Thoma-Wright, an interior designer.

He's been in the business for almost 16 years and notes that there have always been those who lament the passing of the "good old days, when you could just go out and fill up a truck." But, he says, "it hasn't dried up. If you collect Arts and Crafts, it's all recycled through collections." Wright's items come from all levels of the food chain: pickers, the hunter-gatherers in the field, dealers, and original owners and estates. Over five auctions the house's reputation has grown and Wright draws pieces from all over the country. "The work starts to find you," he says. "You sell a Bertoia sculpture, and someone sends you four more."

The next auction, on Sunday, March 10, features iconic pieces such as tables and chairs by Charles and Ray Eames, George Nelson's marshmallow sofa, Jacobsen's egg chair, and prints by Andy Warhol, but also some pieces that have yet to enter the lexicon, such as boldly colored Italian glassware by Fulvio Bianconi and translucent acrylic columns by Vasa Mihich. And Wright swears that buyers don't need deep pockets. "I'm committed to things that have design integrity. We've tried to do that from a $300 item to a $30,000 item."

Wright Gallery is at 1140 W. Fulton, 312-563-0020, and is open Monday through Friday from 10 to 5 and Saturday and Sunday from 11 to 5. If you don't want to spring for the $35 catalog, pieces from the upcoming auction are available on the Web at www.wright20.com, where previous auctions are also archived.


Nick Waterhouse | Interview

by John Dugan


The R&B obsessive isn’t your average soul revivalist. By John Dugan

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Published: October 3, 2012

What if we wake up in 2013 and all the cool kids are listening to Mel Tormé? It’s not as ridiculous as it sounds. R&B disciple Nick Waterhouse makes a studied but lively revival of the kind of music the Velvet Fog specialized in during his younger days, jazzy but rockin’. Back then, it was considered pretty cool, and to Waterhouse, it still is.

“When I was a teenager I started to figure out, hey, some songs didn’t ever make it to CD,” says the L.A.-based Waterhouse. Now 26, Waterhouse discovered 45s in high school, but the responsible, college-bound vinyl enthusiast kept his music ambitions under his hat, even after finding some success playing guitar with a snotty, Spencer Davis Group–like outfit called Intelligista. The band won a contest and ended up recording at the vintage-audio-outfitted Distillery Studio in Costa Mesa, just ten blocks from where he grew up. He would return to the studio again and again, putting to tape the tunes that became his debut, Time’s All Gone, released earlier this year.

It was a move to San Francisco for college and stints working at Rooky Ricardo’s Records between 2005 and 2010 that opened his ears to a people’s history of American music: “I started as a customer and spent enough time in there that I started picking up odd jobs for the owner. He would say ‘You have this big hold stack, if you do this favor for me, I’ll give you these holds.’ One day, he gave me a key so I could lock the store.”

A fan of music historian Peter Guralnick’s books, Waterhouse would while away slow days soaking up soul and R&B from Maxine Brown to the Marquees, but also gaining a wider understanding of garage rock’s place in American music. His musical journey was largely unguided by a scene—“That was important because I feel like then I wasn’t following some sort of dogma. I was more just cycling through the great weird wilderness of American music that ended up on 45s from the early ’50s through the early ’70s.”

At the shop, his boss noted how Waterhouse was beginning to listen like a musician, which boosted the young musician’s confidence. “I realized I could just do this,” Waterhouse says. Finding it difficult to translate his vision for local rockers, Waterhouse decided to make his own record with help from friends in the similarly retro Allah-Las. The result was “Some Place,” a 7" single self-released in 2010. “Having that record suddenly set the agenda for anyone who wanted to work with me,” says Waterhouse, whose ragtag group, dubbed the Tarots, has been on the road for roughly a year now.

Time’s All Gone is sophisticated stuff that sounds effortless, meticulously recorded and lacquer-mastered to analog specs. It also bucks the soul-revival trend, flirting instead with early rock & roll and R&B that swings. Rollicking barrelhouse vamps power “Is that Clear,” while Waterhouse croons like an early ’60s heartthrob on the tambourine-etched ballad “Raina.” What’s more, Waterhouse makes good on that garage education with a soul send-up of the classic made famous by Them, “I Can Only Give You Everything.”

But one thing Waterhouse wants us to know is that his attention to detail and his encyclopedic knowledge of soul, R&B and obscure record labels doesn’t make him a nerd. He’s just passionate. “I am so haunted by this music that obviously I want to figure out how they did it.”

Nick Waterhouse plays Lincoln Hall Wednesday 10.

Time’s All Gone is out now


The Lana Del Ray Affair

by John Dugan


I wrote about Lana Del Ray and the blog backlash for the Economist Prospero blog.

March 12, 2012

AMERICA'S well-documented independent music scene once valued tour-van mileage, lean living, anti-commercialism and a layer of sonic inscrutability. The DIY work ethic of the 1980s and ‘90s meant everything from booking your own gigs to pressing your own debut single, if necessary. Would-be scribes wrote criticism in Xeroxed zines, published in copy shops. It was more concerned with a grassroots revolution in sound than SoundScan figures—the pre-internet gauge of sales. 

In the past decade, indie music blogs—often American, each fancying itself like a mini-NME—have become increasingly influential. Pitchfork and Stereogum, in particular, had the power to break bands from independent labels with every thumbs-up they give. Acts such as the Arcade Fire and Fleet Foxes owe much of their commercial viability to enthusiastic online editorial coverage. The online hype machine—which drops new tracks and videos along with breathlessly excited text, plus the usual reviews and interviews—can easily make a musician that has never played a live concert a buzz-worthy act over night. Often the more mysterious the act, the better for the site that breaks it. Traditional media blogs have restyled themselves along the same lines—Rollingstone.com for instance. In this day and age, that online hype may not translate into massive sales, but it can mean a career in music with potentially lucrative touring and licensing. Publishing and live performance are the profit centres in the industry these days.

(Complete article at Economist.com)

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