Greg Wilson

Ay, muchacha

Heading south, going east: Oakland's new Deep East weekly


SUPER EGO Can't talk long, chicas grandes, I'm winging off to Oaxaca to dance with some gorgeous muxes, hike up lost pyramids, dive into cauldrons of darkest mole, and wooze along to the ethereal, chromatic-marimba sounds of son istmeño, one of my favorite musics in the world. (If I don't come back, give my turquoise witchy retro-'70s thrift store jewelry to Juanita More, to distribute to wee drag newbies in need as she sees fit. And somebody play an accordion by the light of the equinox moon, because.)Read more »

Address of the beast

Nightlife: Stealth clubbing, Claude Young, Greg Wilson, Public Access. Plus: Juanita More's chicken!


SUPER EGO Is San Francisco experiencing a douche drain? Suddenly a heck of a lot of, er, "upscale" clubs are mediating their bottle service images with creative, musically forward parties. I can't think they've run out of Appletini orderers, or that the real nightlife money is in importing obscure Crosstown Rebels label DJs — although maybe all the bachelorettes really have fled to Castro gay bars and the stiff-collar dudes are glued to their Girls Around Me app? I'm loving finally feeling comfortable (and digging the quality sound systems) at some of these shiny joints. Read more »