Timothy Bieniosek via Flickr

Timothy Bieniosek, or relaxing on Flickr, posted some great photos of this weekend’s Tweed Ride on City Paper’s Photostream. I am in love with just about everyone in these. Click here to see more.

Did you see the cover of City Paper today?

The story is about the resurgent punk forefathers The Dead Milkmen, written by Rodney Anonymous himself — with the band’s signature smiling dead cow carved into a pumpkin. (Read the story here.) FYI: That wasn’t Photoshop, people.

Ryan Keerns carved the pumpkin.

Mark Stehle took the photo.

Reseca Glasser designed the cover.

AND did you see all those amazing shots with the story itself? That was the work of Nina Sabatino — none other than DM drummer “Dean Clean” Sabatino’s sister.

On Flickr, Nina goes by Blueberd, and her stuff is excellent. Besides her righteous DM stuff, she’s also got photo sets on Art Brut, Camper Van Beethoven, and a ton of other cool things.

Courtesy of Varga Bar

Our Critical Mass intern dishes on what it was like to be a Varga pin-up girl, after being selected by Varga Bar for its 2010 calendar. Interested? They’re still accepting submissions.

It must have started with Bettie Boop. The pin-curled hair, the red lips, the long dress with the big slit … or, thinking about it now, perhaps it was Jessica Rabbit? Either way, I grew up idolizing that old Hollywood style, and once I was too old for cartoons it was a different kind of illustration that caught my eye: pin-up portraits by Alberto Vargas, a Peruvian-born artist who glorified the American girl most notably in Esquire in the ’40s and later in Playboy.

The Varga girls’ ethereal, glowing sex appeal comes from their innocence, confidence and humor. Varga Bar (941 Spruce St., 215-627-5200), which opened in May, uses Vargas’ art to decorate the cozy restaurant. The vintage-themed dĂ©cor, complete with kitschy black-and-white tile, is centered around a handful of Varga girls painted over the bar.

But Restaurateur George Anni wanted to incorporate real, local women into the bar’s theme. So he and Philly-based photographer Christopher Gabello launched the Make Me a Varga Girl contest this September. They set out to find 12 local women to be transformed into modern-day Varga girls for a 2010 calendar. “We’ve received hundreds of submissions so far,” says Kate Ryan, Gabello’s managing agent. “We’ve had a really good response and girls are still contacting us.”

I entered a few weeks ago, and soon after, Ryan asked me to be a part of the calendar. Two days later, I arrived at Ettore Salon at 12th and Market streets to have my hair and make-up done for the shoot at Gabello’s Center City studio. Owner Ettore Mastroddi welcomed me to the salon, but I could tell by a quick flinch that something was wrong. As I sat down with the hairstylist I could hear Ettore, just a few feet away, complaining that my hair was too short and it didn’t go with Vargas’ style. I shot a dumbfounded glance up at the hairstylist who, with a look of disgust, rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Don’t worry about him,” she assured me.

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Amelia Merrick

I’ve never been brave enough to abandon society (and regular meals, heat/AC and bathing) completely and go train-hopping for an extended period of time. I’ve met many people who have, though, and they’re some of the wisest, most exciting people I know. And I did do it once — only from Cumberland, Md. to somewhere in Ohio, but still. The nervousness, the joy of getting away with it, the sky as you’ve never seen it before at night, the ability to travel cheaply — it was a thrill.

Amelia Merrik has documented her train-hopping adventures — or her time of “of being a dirty kidd,” as she she says — in an exhibit titled “A Photographic Journey of Riding Freight Trains Across America.” It’s going up today, Sept. 11 at Benna’s CafĂ© (Eighth and Warton streets, 215-334-1502). There’ll be an opening exhibit from 7 to 9 p.m., and Merrik will be there. Talk to her if you can. I’d be shocked if she didn’t have a million wild yarns to tell.

The Rolling Stones at The Spectrum, June 29, 1975

Annie Leibovitz read excerpts from her new book, At Work, last night at the Free Library. She recalled with fondness the concert
the Stones played at the Spectrum on June 29, 1975. She was on tour
for Rolling Stone when
someone told her to come out from backstage and hear the performance.
They both thought it was the best show they’d heard the band play.

“When
I think of Philadelphia, it seems all the best shows were there, I
remember that concert well.”

She told the crowd she brought her tennis
racket on tour thinking she’d be able to play during the day.

“I realized after the first show I wouldn’t see the light of day.”

The story ran on the cover of Rolling Stone, July 17, 1975.

Photographs by Michael T. Regan

Quick hits:

• He did two sets. The first was all Beach Boys songs. The second was his new album That Lucky Old Sun.
• His band was pretty sick. Drums, percussion, bass, three guitars, saxophone, keys, vibes, and a back up vocalist. Nine voices, including Brian, were harmonizing together.
• He opened with “California Girls.” Other popular Beach Boys songs included “Little Surfer Girl,” “I Get Around,” “In My Room,” and “Do You Wanna Dance?” among others.
• Two guys got in a fight. One in his 50s, the other in his 30s. The younger guy was being too loud for the older guy. They had words, the older guy pushed the younger guy’s face, an ambulance came for the younger guy because his contact rolled back in his eye.
• I had to split at intermission, so I don’t know if they played “God Only Knows.”

James David Saul

Ottawa birds sit outside a prison windowpane.

From the tooting-our-own-horn department: a pair of City Paper contributors with heavy wanderlust and good eyes for composition held First Friday photo openings this month. Rick Valenzuela and James David Saul’s respective shows are both on display throughout the month of January.
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Photo | John Vettese

Don’t believe them, don’t believe them. Question everything you’re told.

That photo was taken, believe it or not, at World Café Live. No, mohawk dude is not in the band. See the blurred hands to the right? A roadie, getting ready to grab the hyperexcited punk and toss his ass out the backstage door to Lower Walnut Street. Even beyond this climactic chaotic fray, the evening proved to be quite eye-opening, and for everybody’s benefit, I’ve compiled a list of Five Myths Dispelled by Monday Night’s Stiff Little Fingers show: Click For More »