3 Door Jam

Arena rock hits the PAC

As I waited with the rest of the packed house at the North Charleston Performing Arts Center on Thursday, I heard the sounds of Led Zeppelin over the house music speakers. While Mississippi rockers 3 Doors Down were no Zep, they sure tried to play like it. On tour in support of their forthcoming self-titled album, 3 Doors Down came right out of the gate with their 2000 hit “Kyrptonite.” The crowd was amped, and it really set the mood for the night. Big riffs and killer drumming by Greg Upchurch were the story for most of the night. The band’s encore song “When I’m Gone” was perfect, given their strong military fanbase (they even showed a slide show of veterans, soldiers, and American flags as the played). They were heavily in tune with their fans, throwing picks into the crowd and giving high fives at any chance. While the show seemed to be a bit on the short side, these guys gave it their all and the sound in the PAC was phenomenal. —John Zara


Costner hits one out at the Farm

Out in cattle country, there’s a squat old roadhouse I know pretty well. Some of the bar stools that were new when boys began coming home from the Good War still form a wobbly line at the wood-grain laminate counter. There’s a 28 inch TV hanging off the wall between two fine examples of large mammal taxidermy and a sign that reads, “Local [image-3]checks only.” Since the whole town draws its water supply from a hot spring aquifer, there’s no cold water in the restroom taps and the toilet gives off steam like a porcelain hot tub. On Friday nights, the bar does a good rib-eye dinner special, and later there’s a band — usually pretty good, always pretty loud. My thought the other night was this: I know they sold out the Music Farm on Saturday, but if Kevin Costner and Modern West are looking for a steady gig, I’d tell them about this joint. They’d fit right in. K.C. could get onstage with his shirt tail hanging out and swig beer from the bottle just like he did at the Farm. His six-piece band might have cramped quarters, but they’d get the same enthusiastic reception for their straight-ahead rock. They’d have cold, cheap beer all night and, if they needed one, a jump start for their truck after the gig. It’s no field of dreams, but on some nights, you can almost see it from there. Let me know, Kev.—Jon Santiago

Massive Attack

Cyclists take to the street

Critical Mass keeps growing, and Charlestonians are noticing. An international event celebrated the last Friday of every month, Critical Mass draws a posse of self-propelled activists. Meeting at 5:30 p.m. below the columns at Cannon Park, the Charleston chapter featured a huge crowd of people on bikes, scooters, and skateboards. Their mission: To take to the streets during rush hour. The rules are simple: 1) If the light is red, everyone wait. 2) If the light is green, go and keep moving, even if it turns red. 3) No one is in charge and no real direction is mapped. Tourists gawk, motorists honk. What did you expect? Enjoy our public realm and get out of your freakin’ car. Seriously. —Svetlana Minx



High fashion comes to the Holy City

Fashionistas around town have no doubt been suffering a champagne-induced hangover since Saturday night’s Charleston Fashion Week finale. The week of fashion shows, which took place in a cluster of modest-looking white tents in Marion Square, made clear what we’ve known for awhile: Charleston is a fierce little fashion hub.

CFW, hosted by Charleston magazine, kicked off on Tuesday night with six shows from shops like K. Morgan, StylExchange, and Putumayo. Continuing through Thursday, numerous local shops showed off new looks from national and local designers, from Brooks Brothers to LulaKate. Friday night’s Emerging Local Designer showcase was a definite highlight of the week, with impressive shows from six of the city’s very own. The City Paper-sponsored after-parties kept the revelry going late into the night, every night.

On Saturday the shows started early, with the newly-added mimosa-heavy Bridal Couture Show kicking things off. That night the red carpet was laid out for the finale, and the search lights were turned on. The week definitely brought the most stylish, beautiful Charlestonians out in droves, but the gala was almost ridiculous — statuesque, studly models were everywhere I looked. Thanks for intimidating a 5’5″ girl in a boring black dress. Fortunately, the open bar and dance floor brought everyone closer together. The only complaint I heard concerned the lack of food. The oysters and veggie plates were good, but disappointing, especially when they were removed altogether early on in the night. I guess that’s what you get for hanging out with starving models.


We can hardly wait for Fashion Week 2009, but if local designers keep churning out world-class clothes, and the city’s stylish keep strutting down King Street dressed to impress each week, we might be able to hold out until next March. See calendar.ccpblogs.com for detailed coverage of the week. —Erica Jackson

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