The re-introduction of A-1 Beer, after a twenty-plus year absence, occurred early in the evening in a combined tasting and photo exhibit at Icehouse Gallery. Later on, The Firehouse Gallery debuted it's First Friday Night Live showcase of local comedy and music.
First Friday Night Live
The far more ambitious first of the evening, which you should catch the follow-ups to on the first Friday of every month through March, was the ensemble sketch-comedy effort First Friday Night Live. Some forgivable opening-night hiccups aside, this event was impressive both for the attendance it drew and for how close it came to the high mark it set for itself.
The idea of a semi-topical but local take on Saturday Night Live has been tried before in the Valley (Citrus Valley Playhouse most recently, and The Gits in the 80's), but FFNL is more true to spirit than the former and has more resources than the latter.
It was also able to attract a standing room only crowd for its very first outing. This must have been a major boost to the cadre of talented writers, actors and producers who are basically devoting a great amount of their spare time to making the show a success, with little hope of compensation beyond the satisfaction of practicing their craft. As one of the principle writers, Alia Souissi, puts it, they are all "doing it for love." That certainly showed on opening night.
Held on the outdoor stage at The Firehouse Gallery, FFNL has been a long-time ambition of Firehouse proprietor Micheal23, who watched the proceedings from the wings with evident delight. As was the Hate House, The Hub and the House Studios before it, the Firehouse has become a nexus for local artists, writers and craftspeople. Unlike its predecessors, though, the Firehouse is going a step further with FFNL and providing not only a haven but an outlet for the talent in its sphere.
Just like Saturday Night Live, not all of the skits worked entirely; but none failed for lack of effort, and that's where the show is to be particularly commended. All comedic bases were covered, from broad slapstick to high-concept, but the show never condescended to the audience. Nor did it put ideology above humor. The opening skit was a case in point, featuring parodies of not only Jan Brewer's hysteria, but also Obama's deadpan and the news media's heard mentality. Funny reigned, and all else took a back seat.
Where the show could have been heavy-handed in its reliance on current topics, FFNL threw plenty of timeless themes and a couple of curve-balls into the mix. One skit imaged a hot and heavy encounter between an oh-so-ready girl and the radio voice of "Smooth Jazz," with the voice pointing out that, while the girl's boyfriend needed to use his penis to satisfy her, the voice only needed his "dic(k)...tionary" to achieve the same effect. Base, true, but clever and funny.
One particularly high-concept piece involved not only illegal immigration, but also the pitfalls of inept communication to produce a punchline of immigrant domestic workers protesting against "ethnic cleaning" and carrying signs denouncing filthy white people.
Another skit, which has the earmarks of a recurring motif, was that of a girl's school teacher whose lessons about haiku invariably careened toward inappropriate sexual disclosure until ALMOST all of the class had finally walked out in disgust.
Though somewhat unpolished due to budget constraints, FFNL is not amateurish. These are not writers trying to be comedic, but comedy writers in the truest sense, trying to connect to an audience.
Each FFNL will feature a special guest personality of local note; the first one having been Peter Petrisko, who seemed to be involved in the vast majority of vignettes. October's guest is New Times writer Leslie Barton, and local windsurfer-cum-painter (or is it the other way around?) Mike Little will fill the bill in November.
Musical guests will rotate through as well, with the debut having featured Underground Cities (who did a fantastic job, btw), Travis James on tap for October and The Haymarket Squares in November.
Those who can't catch the performances in-person can still watch them live via a stream on strivedreams.com. Mark your calendars!
As writer Souissi puts it, "This is our chance to show the world that Phoenix has some intelligence."
A-1 Beer
In the the mid-Twentieth-Century United States, having a beer almost invariably meant a domestic, U.S. brew. Imports, where available, were not yet in fashion. Then as now, Budweiser, Coors, Pabst and Miller were major players among the several nationals responsible for roughly half of all U.S. beer production.
The OTHER half was produced by regional breweries, most of which would eventually be swallowed up by the majors. New York had Reingold, Cincinnati had Hudepohll, the midwest with its high concentration of German immigrants had Point and many others.
Arizona had A-1 Beer, with its pop-western custom artwork and almost industrial-looking "A-1" logo topped by the American Eagle. From shortly after its emergence in the early 1940's, the local popularity of A-1 increased until it rivaled that of any of the individual nationals. When the Phoenix Suns would score, spokesman Al McCoy would announce that it was "good like A-1 beer!"
Although it lingered for some 40 years, its real heyday was brief; and by the late 1950's changes in brewery ownership and increasingly aggressive competitive practices on the part of the better-funded nationals were dealing the label blows from which it would never fully recover. By the late 70's, the once proud lager whose label boasted it to have been "judged the finest by the world's beer experts" was by all accounts a watery vestige of its former self and was being sold at bargain prices. The brewery closed in the early 1980's and the A-1 brand became inactive.
Until now, that is. Nimbus Brewery of Tucson (they have the bottles with that chimp on the label - yeah? No?) purchased the rights to the brand and relaunched it with a new label and a new recipe. Distributed by Alliance Beverage, A-1 can already be found in bottles at Whole Foods, and Tops, and on tap at (appropriately) Yucca Tap Room, Roosevelt Bar and Time Out Lounge. According to Nimbus, other outlets will be announced in October and MAY include BevMo, Total Wine, Sprouts and Sunflower Market.
The "launch" event at Icehouse Arts and Entertainment received the desired publicity, but was curiously lackluster otherwise; giving the overall impression that it was either thrown together in haste or otherwise not taken seriously. The cavernous aspect of the outer gallery hall was not assuaged in the least by the presentation from Nimbus, as there were virtually no props or decorations, with the exception of a large banner featuring a carrousel of old A-1 cans. There was no beer for sale, and attendees had to stand in a long line to finally receive a 2oz (not kidding) sample from the lone brewery representative, who was manning the keg. A second sample meant a second period en queue.
Across the floor and against the opposite wall from the overburdened keg table, looking exactly like the crusty old cowboys they more or less are, brothers Herman and Marvin Dickson sat with a small display of reproductions of original A-1 promotional artwork. Herman had been such a fan of the original commissioned pieces, paintings by artist Lon Megargee III, that he had secured the reproduction rights, unaware that they would come in handy so soon. Brother "Big" Marv, himself a notable local who has been head cook at Pinnacle Peak Patio for the last 48 years, was apparently along for the night out.
Both men were amiable in an authentically old western way that juxtaposed humorously with the crowd of late-twenties to mid-fifties hipsters. When asked if he remembered what the old A-1 had tasted like, Herman replied, "Eh...like beer, I guess. I dunno. Beer is beer, right?" Refreshing.
Photographer William Legoullon occupied the inner art space with his "A-1 Country" photo exhibit. Consisting of straightforward shots of old A-1 cans as well as macro-shots of old beer caps and promo items, as photography it was competent. The real value was in seeing how some of the labeling had changed over time which, with the total lack of promotional collateral from the brewer, provided the only hint of context surrounding the brand re-launch.
The beer itself was certainly tasty - undoubtedly more so than its prior iteration had been. Perhaps the strategy was to leave one unsatisfied and wanting more. In this, the event was an unqualified success.
What genius!
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