The Stranger

Nearly a decade before Big Brother, internet entrepreneur Josh Harris was playing Big Brother, presenting a series of outlandish and extreme "human experiments" as entertainments for what he dreamed would be an ever-growing audience of round-the-clock viewers on the internet. In the end, Harris drove himself crazy, his company went bust, and, eight years later, award-winning documentarian Ondi Timoner—creator of the classic music doc DiG!—expertly captures the whole brilliant mess on film. (See Movie Times: thestranger .com/film.) by David Schmader

Link  |  Post Comment (1)

Anti-Pop Consortium are to indie hiphop what Sonic Youth are to indie rock. The quartet formed in NYC in 1997, at the very moment hiphop split into an upper world and an underground. AC have always been faithful to hiphop's founding principles: no biting, be true to who you are, and you got to be original. AC's latest album, Flourescent Black, which departs a bit from the futurism of the previous recordings, can only be described as a mass of raw intelligence. It's not easy listening, but it is fascinating, in the way that clouds with flashes of lightning are fascinating. (Studio Seven, 110 S Horton St, www.ticketswest.com. 7:30 pm, $10 adv/$12 DOS, all ages.) by Charles Mudede

Link  |  Post Comment (0)

Seattle sound engineer Scott Colburn has gained notoriety for his studio sorcery with Animal Collective, Mudhoney, and others, but his most interesting work occurs under his Jabon guise. Dressed in a "dark wizard robe and weird harlequin mask" and manipulating a stack of analog keyboards, Jabon subsumes his ego—and his surrounding environs—in chthonic tone poems written in ectoplasmic free verse. It's chilling, immersive stuff that deftly jumps beyond the horror-film audio corn to which much "dark ambient" music stoops. (Sunset Tavern, 5433 Ballard Ave NW, 784-4880. 9 pm, $6, 21+.) by Dave Segal

Link  |  Post Comment (0)

Down East Marginal Way, in the middle of the warehouse district, is the best place to recover from your Friday night. The menu at Hudson is pleasantly surly (the stern mug of an ancestral horse thief stares out from the cover), but the staff and clientele are all charm. It's the kind of place where young bucks show off their new back tattoos and half-deaf old men shout at each other about diodes. Their cheesy grits are the thick, yellow kind with sautéed shrimp on top. They taste like roux and herbs, a little smoky and a lot savory. It's a steaming plate of hangover manna. (Hudson, 5000 E Marginal Way S, 767-4777. 8 am–midnight, brunch until 3 pm.) by Brendan Kiley

Link  |  Post Comment (0)

All this week at the Grand Illusion, it's Burning Fuse, a touring film festival composed of six documentaries, including Pussycat Preacher (a stripper turns evangelical), Sliding Liberia (Liberian surfers, brah!), Soldiers of Conscience (how we condition our children to bypass their morals and turn other children into wet piles of stuff), and Faubourg Tremé (a look at black New Orleans). Your brains are hungry. Go feed them. (Grand Illusion, 1403 NE 50th St, www.grandillusioncinema .org. Nov 20–26, $8–$20.) by Lindy West

Link  |  Post Comment (0)

Over the next few months, you'll be reading a lot about Precious, Lee Daniels's stylish, shocking drama about a New York teen making her way through a life of violent abuse and oppression. Don't let the "Oprah-endorsed Oscar bait" hype stop you from experiencing a tremendous new movie. Precious is far from perfect, but this is a world that's never seen the screen before, brought to life by an extraordinary cast, including Gabourey Sibide, Mariah Carey, Xosha Roquemore, and Mo'Nique. (See Movie Times: thestranger.com/film.) by David Schmader

Link  |  Post Comment (5)