MusicSan Francisco

Going Under with Tribal Baroque

Underpasses don’t generally lend themselves to good, wholesome fun. I, for one, experienced in a Dolores Park underpass an “Egyptian baptism” by a man wearing a gold turban and claiming to be King Tut in a previous life. He sprinkled me with bottles labeled “opium,” “sunlight,” and “holy water” that he carried behind him in a rolling suitcase. While I’d like to say the experience was fun, it was mostly just uncomfortable, not to mention stupid on my part.

In any case, I have also managed to stumble upon some truly mind-blowing fun in an underpass near Golden Gate Park’s Conservatory of Flowers. On any breezy Saturday or Sunday afternoon, you’ll find a pretty unique musical experience through the tunnel that runs under JFK Drive (roughly around Arguello). Tribal Baroque, a two member band decked out in a tight corset (her), loose loincloth (him), and ankle bells (both), draws a crowd of wanderers sucked in by the strange and haunting sound. Freshly and rather harshly turned down by America’s Got Talent, Thoth and Lila’Angelique sing to a more appreciative audience each weekend.

Classically trained in opera and violin, Tribal Baroque shrieks and chants incomprehensible and bizarrely beautiful songs about…well, I have no idea. According to Tribal Baroque’s website, much of their work centers upon the mythological world of Festad, which Thoth invented at an early age. Listening, you might imagine a camera cutting from a stampeding herd of purple bison to a swooping hawk to a pasture full of elves gathering an autumn harvest of rutabagas. Needless to say, it’s the kind of music that seems really profound on a lazy sunny day.

Tribal Baroque
Saturdays and Sundays, 2pm-5pm
Conservatory of Flowers Underpass
Golden Gate Park

Photo Credit: Tribal Baroque

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Lucy Schiller - Destitute Dispatcher

Lucy Schiller - Destitute Dispatcher

Lucy's been able to live lots of places but holds her cornfed/pie-fueled Midwestern roots most dear, maintaining too loudly and too often that the Outer Richmond is the Midwest of SF: driven through to get elsewhere and knocked around for no reason (but what other neighborhood has bison?!). You can find Lucy letting things languish in her fridge, purposefully (limoncello!) or not (yogurt...), mouthbreathing, scouring Golden Gate Park for apartment-worthy items, sleepily serving up double nonfat half-caf-half-non-caf lattes at a certain cafe, skulking in various other ones, and yelling under cover of night and costume at SF Bike Party.