Walls of fame
A survey of local signed-photo collections
Audre Krull
Bask in mid-grade celebrity while waiting for a table at Monty's.
It’s an unspoken rule of American commerce: If anyone important enough to tote around publicity stills and a Sharpie visits your establishment, get that signed photo and hang it up like a medal of validation. Some places are more aggressive about it than others, of course. When a place racks up enough of these signed photos to cover a wall or two, it starts to say something about its history. Decider visited four fame walls in Madison to interpret those signals.
The Annex
Marks of prestige: At its best, the wall is a who’s-who of cool acts who either never come to Madison anymore, are too big for our town, or have to play more expensive shows at bigger venues now: Guided By Voices (twice), Matthew Sweet, Burning Spear, Dick Dale, The New Pornographers, Frank Black And The Catholics.
Signs of eras gone by: Anyone up for a scatting session? The Spin Doctors apparently played here in 2005, several years after they ceased to be cool, and a millennium before their single “Two Princes” ceases to be incredibly annoying.
Who the hell are: Buchanan? Research turns up the project of California-based adult-alternative singer-songwriter Jay Buchanan. The first two songs on his MySpace: the blues-y “Satan Is A Woman” and the achingly earnest, harmonica-laced “Need For Sex.”
Blemishes: Tantric, yet another lousy approximation of grunge that refuses to die.
Worth keeping just for the names: Everton Blender. Thoroughly awkward, yet it dances off the tongue.
Message in time: “The life of a mid-sized rock club has its rewards, but it ain’t always pretty.”
Marks of prestige: At its best, the wall is a who’s-who of cool acts who either never come to Madison anymore, are too big for our town, or have to play more expensive shows at bigger venues now: Guided By Voices (twice), Matthew Sweet, Burning Spear, Dick Dale, The New Pornographers, Frank Black And The Catholics.
Signs of eras gone by: Anyone up for a scatting session? The Spin Doctors apparently played here in 2005, several years after they ceased to be cool, and a millennium before their single “Two Princes” ceases to be incredibly annoying.
Who the hell are: Buchanan? Research turns up the project of California-based adult-alternative singer-songwriter Jay Buchanan. The first two songs on his MySpace: the blues-y “Satan Is A Woman” and the achingly earnest, harmonica-laced “Need For Sex.”
Blemishes: Tantric, yet another lousy approximation of grunge that refuses to die.
Worth keeping just for the names: Everton Blender. Thoroughly awkward, yet it dances off the tongue.
Message in time: “The life of a mid-sized rock club has its rewards, but it ain’t always pretty.”
Crystal Corner Bar
Marks of prestige: Much like its music lineup in recent years, the Crystal’s walls are heavy on American roots music but boast a sprinkling of international acts, too. Such blues highlights as Buddy Guy and R.L. Burnside get mixed up with folks like Tito Puente and reggae artist Yellowman.
Sign of eras gone by: A photo of Timbuk 3, the Madison-connected pop duo best known for the 1986 single “The Future’s So Bright I Gotta Wear Shades.” Member Pat MacDonald has long since picked back up on a good solo career in Wisconsin, and plays the Harmony Bar on Friday night.
Who the hell is: Big Time Sarah? A not-unheard-of blueswoman, as it turns out, but the name still sounds like a cute exaggeration.
Blemishes: Drummer Clyde Stubblefield is among the worthier folks on the Crystal’s wall, but his publicity shot finds him in an awkward, grinning pose that pretty much screams: “I am pretending to play drums for the camera—snap the damn picture already!”
Worth keeping just for the name: Sleepy LaBeef. Say it again: Sleepy motherfucking LaBeef.
Message in time: “Madison comes here to feel less vanilla.”
Marks of prestige: Much like its music lineup in recent years, the Crystal’s walls are heavy on American roots music but boast a sprinkling of international acts, too. Such blues highlights as Buddy Guy and R.L. Burnside get mixed up with folks like Tito Puente and reggae artist Yellowman.
Sign of eras gone by: A photo of Timbuk 3, the Madison-connected pop duo best known for the 1986 single “The Future’s So Bright I Gotta Wear Shades.” Member Pat MacDonald has long since picked back up on a good solo career in Wisconsin, and plays the Harmony Bar on Friday night.
Who the hell is: Big Time Sarah? A not-unheard-of blueswoman, as it turns out, but the name still sounds like a cute exaggeration.
Blemishes: Drummer Clyde Stubblefield is among the worthier folks on the Crystal’s wall, but his publicity shot finds him in an awkward, grinning pose that pretty much screams: “I am pretending to play drums for the camera—snap the damn picture already!”
Worth keeping just for the name: Sleepy LaBeef. Say it again: Sleepy motherfucking LaBeef.
Message in time: “Madison comes here to feel less vanilla.”
Monty’s Blue Plate Diner
Marks of prestige: Billy Bragg, Lyle Lovett, The Mighty Mighty Bosstones, Violent Femmes, Cowboy Junkies, Toots, The Wailers, and Ladysmith Black Mambazo are among the respected artists who’ve stopped through, presumably before or after shows at the Barrymore Theatre across the street. Also, there’s evidence Wynton Marsalis has been cheating on New Orleans Take Out at this stylish comfort-food joint.
Sign of eras gone by: Does anything raise a nostalgic chuckle for the days of mid-’90s sorta-alt-rock radio like the phrase “Better Than Ezra”?
Who the hell are: Mango Jam? A 1998 Onion calendar blurb described the Twin Cities act’s music as “benignly multicultural… jam-pop.”
Blemishes: An unsigned photo of a young Elvis seems wedged in here for no good reason. Maybe it’s supposed to balance out the signed photo of Elvis impersonator Gary Raye.
Worth keeping just for the name: Humpty Hump, an alter ego of rapper Shock-G. Right here in this family restaurant, he’s pictured wearing a sign that says, “Fuck ’em if they can’t take a joke.”
Message in time: “Famous and semi-famous musicians enjoy conveniently located restaurants.”
Marks of prestige: Billy Bragg, Lyle Lovett, The Mighty Mighty Bosstones, Violent Femmes, Cowboy Junkies, Toots, The Wailers, and Ladysmith Black Mambazo are among the respected artists who’ve stopped through, presumably before or after shows at the Barrymore Theatre across the street. Also, there’s evidence Wynton Marsalis has been cheating on New Orleans Take Out at this stylish comfort-food joint.
Sign of eras gone by: Does anything raise a nostalgic chuckle for the days of mid-’90s sorta-alt-rock radio like the phrase “Better Than Ezra”?
Who the hell are: Mango Jam? A 1998 Onion calendar blurb described the Twin Cities act’s music as “benignly multicultural… jam-pop.”
Blemishes: An unsigned photo of a young Elvis seems wedged in here for no good reason. Maybe it’s supposed to balance out the signed photo of Elvis impersonator Gary Raye.
Worth keeping just for the name: Humpty Hump, an alter ego of rapper Shock-G. Right here in this family restaurant, he’s pictured wearing a sign that says, “Fuck ’em if they can’t take a joke.”
Message in time: “Famous and semi-famous musicians enjoy conveniently located restaurants.”
New Orleans Take Out (North Side location)
Marks of prestige: One wall of this humble Cajun joint is covered in signed photos from real-live (or dead) New Orleans and otherwise Southern musicians. Owner John Roussos is apparently most proud of the times Wynton Marsalis has eaten here: He’s put up not only a signed publicity photo, but also a photo of Roussos and Marsalis standing in front of that photo. Arguably cooler is one from the recently deceased Bo Diddley.
Sign of eras gone by: New Orleans piano-pounder Marcia Ball has sported a short-haired, aging-gracefully look in recent years, but the photo she left here finds her sporting a sassy dark mane, sweater, and what look to be kinda-loose leather pants.
Who the hell is: That golfer whose photo hangs low and to the right? Why, it’s Madison-born PGA pro Jerry Kelly.
Blemishes: Pretty much everyone on this fame wall sits somewhere between respectable and legendary. But there’s a framed copy of a Doug Moe column about the place headlined “Missing our beans in New Orleans.”
Worth keeping just for the name: You’d think a Cajun place would draw in some crazy-ass names, but they never exceed the only mildly odd nickname of bluesman Clarence “Gatemouth” Brown.
Message in time: “It was good enough for these people, dammit!”
Marks of prestige: One wall of this humble Cajun joint is covered in signed photos from real-live (or dead) New Orleans and otherwise Southern musicians. Owner John Roussos is apparently most proud of the times Wynton Marsalis has eaten here: He’s put up not only a signed publicity photo, but also a photo of Roussos and Marsalis standing in front of that photo. Arguably cooler is one from the recently deceased Bo Diddley.
Sign of eras gone by: New Orleans piano-pounder Marcia Ball has sported a short-haired, aging-gracefully look in recent years, but the photo she left here finds her sporting a sassy dark mane, sweater, and what look to be kinda-loose leather pants.
Who the hell is: That golfer whose photo hangs low and to the right? Why, it’s Madison-born PGA pro Jerry Kelly.
Blemishes: Pretty much everyone on this fame wall sits somewhere between respectable and legendary. But there’s a framed copy of a Doug Moe column about the place headlined “Missing our beans in New Orleans.”
Worth keeping just for the name: You’d think a Cajun place would draw in some crazy-ass names, but they never exceed the only mildly odd nickname of bluesman Clarence “Gatemouth” Brown.
Message in time: “It was good enough for these people, dammit!”
