Allen is a former pro basketballer and MacArthur genius who brought farming, food and jobs to Milwaukee. His message is simple: "It's all about the soil." Good soil grows good food, and good jobs.

"Just because the person being arrested didn't agree with how they were taken into custody, how they were handcuffed too tightly or how their arm was twisted, does not indict an entire municipal police department of misconduct."

It is a minority movement, but a voracious, outspoken one. And yet it resonates. Understanding why requires going beyond both the Tea Party rhetoric and the left's blithe dismissals to the reality that there is a fundamental fear both buttressing and drawing people to this movement: They see the world changing, and it scares them.

Dimock is tiny, but busy these days: Helicopters fly overhead, taking underground measurements. Giant tanker trucks barrel up and down the small country roads. And problems — spills, fish kills, well contaminations — are cropping up, and with them, resistance.

Joan Myers Brown isn't into high society. Sure, it's Philadanco's 40th anniversary — prime time for pricey fundraisers and fancy shindigs. And while gala events indeed will be part of this celebration, the troupe's longtime artistic director stresses the importance of accessibility.

The theater-bound rock musical is the slipperiest of slopes.

A Bachelor's Drawer looks down upon a collection of playing cards, risqué photos, spare cash and a pamphlet titled "How To Name Baby."

Philadelphia has Henry Horenstein in some unlikely juxtapositions this spring.

Red-clad dancers weaved in and out of red fabric stretched across the stage as a Philip Glass violin concerto soared above, conjuring notions of fading fear and emerging opportunity.

Few things gladden a critic's heart more than seeing admired artists exceed even their own best work. That's precisely what's happening at Theatre Exile.

Christine Cox hasn't danced on stage for more than two years, but she's had her hands full.

The Krebses aren't well in Luna Theater Co.'s Philly première of Zayd Dohrn's Sick.

If this company's name conjures images of dancers doing naughty things on stage, get your mind out of the gutter.

This year is the bicentennial of the birth of Frédéric Chopin.

The Monitor is the early favorite for most frantically intense of the decade, and Dirty Jerz and the Civil War are its muses.

The Feelies never enjoyed the early-aughts adulation accorded to plenty of their class-of-'80 post-punk peers but lately they've started getting their due.

"Space Rock" conjures images of knob-twiddling excesses — long, amorphous drones punctuated by the occasional blip and bleep, a Pink Floyd (Syd years, natch) beat sometime rising from the haze.

Arty L.A. upstarts Fol Chen seem to be attempting some kind of next-level mindfunk with their shadowy non-identities, fugly cover art and inscrutable dystopian liner-note letters.

It's a no-brainer: Peter Brötzman and Hamid Drake haven't toured together in nearly a decade, so two of the most expansive vocabularies in improvised music are bound to have plenty to talk about.

Think you don't like Renaissance music? Give this vivacious band a shot.

Composer/multi-instrumentalist Tim Hodgkinson's legacy of experimental quirk would be cemented if he had left off after co-founding Henry Cow with Cambridge classmate Fred Frith in the late '60s.

Spring Awakening: An All-Goat Flight | "420: Everybody Must Drink Stone" at Grey Lodge Pub | Uncorked: A Wine Dinner at Valanni | Pub & Kitchen at Pumpkin | The Great American Bake Sale

Though Henry Chalfant began his artistic career primarily as a sculptor, he became fascinated with graffiti and started photographing it in the mid-'70s. New York City was facing financial crisis and widespread poverty, but youth culture flourished on brick walls and the sides of trains with relative impunity to punishment.

The word "prom" conjures mascara-stained memories of prickly corsages, tacky taffeta and mounds of hair. Fortunately, it's these nostalgic horrors that could garner you the crown at Dumpsta' Players' 14th annual Prom Trash debacle.

Now in its fourth year, the Free Library Festival seeks to unite the city through a celebration of books and poetry.

In her latest memoir, Chelsea Chelsea Bang Bang Chelsea Handler rips her aging father a new asshole, admits to having a raging fart problem and paints a much-too-graphic image of her early foray into the world of obsessive masturbation.

Todd Zolecki, the former voice of the Phillies for the Inquirer and current Phils' scribe at mlb.com, is sporting his new bonafides as a recently published author.

Ancient monuments have secret messages for us, so say theosophists, who believe that all religions strive to bring humanity closer to perfection.

Celebrate 4/20 a few days early with the eye-assaulting visual album directed by Danny Perez. The appropriately apeshit score comes courtesy of everybody's favorite musical weirdos, Animal Collective.