You know, maybe we really only need a couple of mayoral debates after all.

I say this after attending a forum held last night at the Rivers Club by the African American Chamber of Commerce. Not that the debate, moderated by Pittsburgh Courier publisher Rod Doss, was a bad one. It's just the candidates have already reached that state of political equilibrium in which each candidate tells you what his rival is going to say before his rival says it. ("My opponent is going to complain that I should have handled this differently, but ...") Things sort of take on a ritualized quality, like a shadow-play.

Still, there were some lively moments. Mayor luke Ravenstahl opined that the city's law requiring residents to report lost or stolen handguns was not enforceable. Which raises familiar questions about how the city is going to enforce it. Conversely, challenger Carmen Robinson is sounding more and more like the NRA candidate in the race, to the point of unloading the hoary old "guns don't kill people ..." line on the crowd. 

The debate was also notable for a couple of exchanges where Robinson and city councilor Patrick Dowd tag-teamed the mayor, especially on the question of ethics. I've uploaded some (edited) video of one of these exchanges here. It begins with Robinson faulting Ravenstahl for not listening to his solicitor more often. Strange: I thought the complaint was that the city solicitor only told Ravenstahl what he wanted to hear.

I have to say that I was impressed by Ravenstahl's ability to sit there and take it, and to stay focused on the message. It demonstrates a maturity his critics say he lacks. And Ravenstahl's main line of counterattack here -- Pittsburghers deserve a race focused on issues, not personal attacks -- is OK as far as it goes.

Still, as Dowd rightly notes, an incumbent's record is an issue. So when Ravenstahl is given a chance to respond directly to those allegations -- as Doss gave him last night -- he needs a better response than "I don't even know where I'd begin."

I mean, let's imagine a slightly different context ...

Judge: Mr. Berkowitz, you are accused of being the "Son of Sam," of fatally shooting six people and wounding seven others. You have variously claimed to be a member of a Satanic cult, and to be taking orders from a talking dog. You are further accused of numerous acts of arson, setting potentially dangerous fires throughout New York City. 

Mr. Berkowitz, how do you plead?

David R. Berkowitz: Your Honor, I don't even know where I'd begin. 

For Ravenstahl's opponents, though, there's a bigger problem, which undermines any debating points they might have scored. There were fewer than 50 people in the room watching this debate -- and many of those were candidates for other offices. Obviously, there's a reason why the mayor has been so cautious about participating in more big debates ... or even debates cosponsored by your lowly old City Paper. 

I'll try to post more video sometime in the days ahead, but the Indefatigable Bram was also there with one of those little flip-camera jobbers, and he may beat me to it.  

They grow up so fast! It's hard to believe it, but The Big Throwback is celebrating its third anniversary at Brillobox tonight, from 10 p.m.-2 a.m. In case you haven't already experienced the sweaty melee, the popular night of classic funk and soul grooves is hosted once a month by prominent local DJs J. Malls and Omar-Abdul. Tonight's anniversary installment includes sets by Buscrates, Hank D and Vex.

Brillobox is located at 4104 Penn Ave., Bloomfield. Admission is $5. 412-621-4900

Some weeks you run out of room and/or time before you can give a heads-up in the newspaper about a show that's worth checking out. In the case of The Goodnight Loving, it's happened a few times -- I've been intending to get something written up on this band, but each time they've been through, for one reason or another, I haven't been able to.

They hail from the same garage rock scene that's represented by acts like Pink Reason, but Goodnight Loving represent a more polished, pop-oriented and hi-fi brand of rock. The band's music has country-rock tinges (replete with occasional slide guitar) but is nestled comfortably within the idiom of power-pop (and reps some electric organ here and there as well).

They're showing up Saturday night at Howler's in Bloomfield; Burndowns and Dark Lingo open.

Granted, it's a little early for beach reading. But if you can't wait for Scott Turow's next novel to come out, perhaps this 45-page lawsuit -- filed against the city's health care leviathans this week -- will tide you over.

The lawsuit was filed by West Penn Allegheny Health System against UPMC and Highmark -- the 800-pound gorillas of Pittsburgh healthcare -- in federal court. And it makes a slew of juicy accusations. (Among them, that UPMC head Jeffrey Romoff is "obssessed" with putting West Penn out of business.)  But the gist is this:

In the summer of 2002, the lawsuit alleges, Highmark and UPMC put aside previous differences and forged a conspiracy to become a "super monopoly." As part of the pact, UPMC backed off its efforts to compete with Highmark through its UPMC Health Plan. Supposedly UPMC would also throw up hurdles to accepting insurance from national insurers like Aetna. Given UPMC's regional dominance, that would make it very hard for outside firms to come to Pittsburgh at all.

Highmark, meanwhile, allegedly started paying very favorable reimbursement rates to UPMC ... while shortchanging West Penn, and helping to hobble West Penn's finances in other ways.

For example, the lawsuit contends, Highmark rejected a bid by West Penn to refinance some hospital debt the insurance company held. The suit alleges that in November 2005, the chair of Highmark's board visited West Penn and said "Highmark could not assist [it] because UPMC would respond by either selling the UPMC Health Plan [to another insurance company] or contracting with United [a national insurer]." Either of those moves, the thinking seems to go, would create unwanted competition for Highmark.

The board chair, the lawsuit contends, "characterized Highmark's conduct as 'probably illegal.'"

West Penn also accuses UPMC of sowing doubt and misinformation about its financial health with other potential investors. Moreover, West Penn says, UPMC repeatedly tried to poach its doctors, paying them more than the market would ordinarily bear, just to undermine its competitor's services.

"During this raiding activity," the suit alleges, "UPMC repeatedly informed AGH physicians that UPMC intended to 'bury' AGH and to turn it into a nursing home." I'm assuming that's the ultimate insult in the hospital business.

And supposedly, these weren't just the big-shot celebrity doctors, either: West Penn alleges that UPMC sought to prize away every single anesthesiologist working for its rival. If such an effort were to succeed, it would effectively put West Penn out of business: Not many patients are willing to bite down on a hunk of leather during open-heart surgery. 

It's worth noting, of course, that UPMC and Highmark have already denounced the suit. Highmark points out that it signed a five-year agreement with West Penn last year. UPMC, meanwhile, says it and Highmark remain "fierce competitors." What's more, it adds ... 

UPMC did not cause WPAHS's recent $73 million financial misstatement or the Securities and Exchange Commission, the Department of Justice and the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services investigations into their management practices.

Oooh.

Obviously, none of this stuff should be taken at face value. I mean, I'd be very much surprised if Highmark's board of directors was dumb enough to walk into "enemy territory," and confess that his nonprofit's behavior was probably illegal ... and that it was being extorted by its partner in collusion. Which is more or less how the lawsuit makes it sound to me.

Too, the lawsuit notes that "Beginning in mid-2002 both companies' earnings soared. UPMC's net income rose from $23 million in 2002 to over $618 million by 2007." But UPMC is on the record claiming that the overwhelming majority of those earnings reflect gains in the stock market. That explanation seems quite credible, given how many other enterprises have seen massive profits disappear overnight.

And note too that the lawsuit stops just short of including UPMC's earnings from 2008 -- when the hosptial giant only barely finished in the black. Did the conspiracy suddenly fall apart? Maybe so: UPMC opposed Highmark's own merger aspirations last year ... strange behavior for two entities supposedly in cahoots. 

Then again, like any good conspiracy allegation, the lawsuit sure ties up a lot of nagging questions. I mean, why don't some of the country's largest insurers -- companies that could have you butchered for spare parts anywhere else in the nation -- have a larger presence here?  

Either way, the filings in this case are going to make great reading. And one way or the other, there's gonna be blood on the floor -- and not just in the OR. 

Prior to the announcement that writer and activist Peter Matthiessen would speak here April 15, I wasn't -- to my chagrin -- terribly familiar with his work. Offered the possibility of a phone interview, I boned up with the help of an anthology of Matthiessen's nonfiction, and was quickly entranced by the beautiful prose in books like Wildlife in America (1959), as well as his sense of commitment (In the Spirit of Crazy Horse), spiritual devotion (The Snow Leopard) and sheer fun and adventure (The Cloud Forest). Thus the preview Q&A in the April 8 CP (www.pittsburghcitypaper.ws/gyrobase/Content?oid=oid%3A61520) focused on Matthiessen himself, who gave a gracious interview despite a balky phone connection.

Nonetheless, space precluded much attention to the very reason for Matthiessen's visit: The local premiere of Peter Matthiessen: No Boundaries, an hour-long PBS profile by local filmmaker Jeff Sewald. It's a fine piece of work, as viewers can see for themselves on Fri., April 24, when the film receives its national broadcast premiere.

The April 15 screening, in Chatham University's Eddy Theatre, was the second time I'd seen the film. (I'd also gotten a screener from Sewald.) It held up great on the big screen -- from the vintage photos and home movies from the Himalayas to Sewald and crew's original footage of Matthiessen at home on Long Island and canoeing in the Everglades. The talking-head interviews include the likes of Jim Harrison, Terry Tempest Williams, Tom Brokaw and Steve Kroft; Glenn Close narrates.

Possibly most impressive is how much Sewald packs into an hour: Matthiessen, something of a living legend, has led a very full 81 years. He's a novelist with two National Book Awards to his credit (for At Play in the Fields of the Lord and last year's Shadow Country); a hugely influential nature writer; an activist on behalf of the natural world and indigenous people; and a Zen priest. He also co-founded The Paris Review.

Sewald even manages to cover Matthiessen's brief employment by the fledgling CIA -- an undertaking that helped birth the Review, and a part of his life still little-enough known that its revelation drew at least one gasp of disbelief from the capacity Chatham crowd.

Sewald is a North Hills native who started out a humble newspaper rock-music writer here, and got into documentary film in the 1990s. As noted April 15 in an introduction by Chatham professor and filmmaker Prajna Parasher, in No Boundaries Sewald demonstrates especially a facility for finding visual imagery to echo the spoken language in this richly verbal film. He maintains a fast pace while getting all the key points across, including an account of the epic libel suit over In the Spirit of Crazy Horse. (In the post-screening Q&A, Matthiessen spent a good 10 minutes recapping the case for clemency for Leonard Peltier, the Native American activist who Matthiessen's book argued was railroaded in the 1975 shooting of two FBI agents. Despite international outcry over his conviction, Peltier remains in federal prison.)

One writer who saw the film later told me that while he'd liked it, he wished Sewald had had more time to evoke the sense of space that's found in both Matthiessen's writing and in the globe-spanning terrain he's explored. At Chatham, Matthiessen himself offered a mild critique about the point of view in the film, which also covers his three marriages and sometimes strained domestic life: "It's very much loaded in my favor."

Nonetheless, it's a great introduction to Matthiessen even if you've never read the man, and an engaging recap if you have.

Peter Matthiessen: No Boundaries airs on WQED TV at 10 p.m. Fri., April 24, and repeats at 8 p.m. Thu., April 30.

Before I weigh in on last night's mayoral debate, a bit of disclosure. I don't have cable -- in order to understand the average Pittsburgh voter, I'm still viewing TV the way 84-year-old shut-ins do it. And while I've lived in about a half-dozen neighborhoods, WTAE has never come in very well in any of them. Nor does digital TV help matters -- instead of getting static, images sort of pixelize, looking like the last couple minutes of The Matrix or something.

Based on what I did see, though, the biggest surprise in this debate is that Bram is apparently still using a VCR. I would have sworn all you bloggers had TiVO. 

So yes, the promise of digital television is overstated (if it can't deliver a steady, uninterrupted flow of images of Eva Longoria, what use is it?) And so were the hopes that this debate would deliver a knockout blow. A draw goes to the incumbent, and I think even hostile bloggers are marking this up as a wash.

As a candidate with no previous political experience, Carmen Robinson had the most to prove, and acquitted herself well for the most part. I was a bit mystified by her desire to extend the Pittsburgh Promise scholarship program to middle-school, though. A scholarship program is supposed to keep 13-year-olds on the straight and narrow? How many middle-school kids anywhere are thinking about their college plans at all?

Patrick Dowd got in a flurry of digs, and he's gotten better at delivering his message. He had an especially good line about the city budget -- saying it was balanced only in the sense that your household budget is "balanced," if you take your money from your grandparents and your kids. That pulled together Dowd's concerns about looming deficits and his initiative to deliver more tax relief to seniors ... and it bundled it in a good metaphor. 

Ravenstahl's response, though less artful, was also good: Don't take my word for the city's fiscal situation, he said -- ask the city's financial overseers. Frankly, I wouldn't trust the city's financial overseers to validate my parking ... but we're just discussing the talking points here. 

It's like I've said before: Ravenstahl does fine in debates. He's prepared, and he doesn't get ruffled. 

It was also interesting that Ravenstahl admitted, straight up, that he wasn't ready for the job when he first took it. Like I've said elsewhere, Ravenstahl's most telegenic screw-ups -- like the midnight plane to New York -- took place early in his tenure, before the 2007 election he won in a walk. 'Fessing up to "youthful indiscretions" now not only makes you look humble; it also helps innoculate you against the accusations of your rivals. 

Finally, I see that both newspapers say Ravenstahl is backing a raft of reform proposals councilor Bill Peduto put forward earlier in the day. Ravenstahl must have delivered this message during one of the black-outs in my TV reception, and I was surprised by it. But if it turns out to be true -- and Ravenstahl really and truly follows through -- just remember: You read it here first.  

This show of short pieces, most choreographed by the dancers, alarmingly fell just two weeks after the troupe's spring concert, Exposed. And you could have forgiven the dancers for seeming drained after hustling to get this unique showcase on its feet before their summer break kicked in.

But on the contrary, it was a delightful show, full of energy, and in general a nice contrast to the intensely emotional, often dark Exposed. Alloy on Alloy was tapas dance: an evening of diverse styles, a little something for everyone in the intimate confines of the Alloy's studios, in Friendship.

That spirit was perhaps exemplified by the opening of Adrienne Misko's "String Them Along," whose first performer was a little remote-controlled extended-cab pickup truck. Maribeth Maxa dueted with the vehicle, and then was joined by Christopher Bandy, Stephanie Dumaine and Michael Walsh -- the whole company -- for a series of playful vignettes.

For further variety's sake, there was live music -- by Richard Hutchins and Curtis Boyd, on guitar and vocals -- with "For a Special Someone." This affecting solo, choreographed by Alloy education director Greer Reed Jones, was danced by Stephanie Dumaine, who seldom fails to communicate the essence of a work. Jones herself, meanwhile, danced "Conversation," a very short solo set by Alloy artistic director Beth Corning, and full of Corning's intricate gestures.

The evening's most obvious crowd-pleaser was Michael Walsh's "Soap Box Solo," a sort of illuminated comic monologue in which the Alloy's longest-tenured member spilled the beans on what dancers are really thinking: "You think we do this for you?" The piece was in three parts, scattered throughout. Part one established its intimacy (i.e., brief nudity), while in part two Walsh showed off a little under guise of complaining about choreographers who just can't be satisfied. ("Yeah -- I can do that twice as fast. [Oh, fuck!].") "Solo" was catnip for anyone who's been inside dance -- or thought he or she might like to be (pretty much the whole audience, I'm guessing).

Walsh's stand-up-and-spin-around comedy notwithstanding, the dancer who seemed to have the most to say was Bandy. The Alloy's newest member (he came straight from the Pittsburgh Ballet just last fall) set two pieces. One, the charming "Without You," danced by Dumaine, Maxa and Misko, featured comedic audience interaction and commentary on romantic stereotyping. Bandy's second contribution, "Fall," was an intense and intensely physical duet between Bandy and guest artist Brienne Wiltsie. Danced to a deeply moving choral Stravinsky piece, it showcased Bandy's leaping ability (also put to good use in Exposed) as well as his choreographic chops, and it just might have been the evening's high point.

It's that time again -- time to check out what artists the Three Rivers Arts Festival is bringing to town then bellyache about how it's not edgy enough, or not Pittsburghy enough, or whatever you can find to bellyache about. Here'sa quick overview of what the slightly truncated festival is bringing to Point State Park year, annotated with links to artists we've written about before; check out this week's Signal to Noise column for a slightly more in-depth look at the festival.

Friday, June 5 -- The Black Keys, Jessica Lea Mayfield

Saturday, June 6 -- Medeski, Martin & Wood, Zee Avi, The Wood Brothers

Sunday, June 7: Trombone Shorty

Sunday, June 8: Formula412, Boogie Hustlers

Tuesday, June 9: Donora, Meeting of Important People, Apostle of Hustle

Wednesday, June 10: Toubab Krewe

Thursday, June 11: Booker T., Hayes Carll

Friday, June 12: Robert Randolph & the Family Band

Saturday, June 13: Shemekia Copeland

Sunday, June 14: The Wailers

It's with slightly mixed feelings that I announce that City Paper is co-sponsoring a mayoral forum on Wednesday, April 29 at 6 p.m.

On the one hand, I'm pleased that challengers Carmen Robinson and Patrick Dowd will both be on hand for the event, which is being held at Carnegie Mellon University's McConomy Auditorium. But Mayor Luke Ravenstahl's campaign has told us he will not be attending -- citing other committments.

Without going into the whole behind-the-scenes saga, I'll just say that our cosponsors, the Pittsburgh Urban Magnet Project, did just about everything they could to entice Ravenstahl to come. All to no avail. 

No big surprise -- Ravenstahl has been publicly unenthusiastic about debates from the outset. But it's sad anyway. Ravenstahl has billed himself as a young, fresh-faced mayor. But he can't get out to a debate held on a college campus and co-sponsored by PUMP -- which is all about engaging young people in politics. (Other sponsors include CMU's student government, the Urban League Young Professionals, and the county chapter of the Young Republicans.) There are just two debates scheduled for this race (the first of which is taking place tonight) ... which means there are city council and, hell, school board races that are getting a more thorough airing.

I've heard plenty of suspicion that Ravenstahl is "afraid" to debate Dowd. I don't buy it. I've said this before, but Ravenstahl did quite well at the last debate we hosted with PUMP, a 2007 match-up with Republican challenger Mark DeSantis. Sure, Dowd is more pugnacious than DeSantis, as demonstrated by Dowd's accusation that Ravenstahl was using the Stanton Heights shooting to avoid debates. But I'm pretty sure Ravenstahl could handle himself -- as demonstrated by his response to Dowd's accusation.

So why not meet the challenge head on? 

Avoiding debates is just Politics 101, of course. Any debate inevitably helps the challenger, if only by giving him or her added visibility. So usually, it's in the incumbent's best interests to have as few debates as possible. 

That said, isn't it about time Ravenstahl graduated to the next grade level? To the extent that there are any issues in this campaign -- to the extent that there's a campaign at all -- they often focus on allegations that Ravenstahl goes AWOL, or fails to follow through, on key policy discussions. Which means that, no matter how the debates go, Ravenstahl would be depriving his opponents of a key talking point -- just by showing up. 

Now, though, because of Ravenstahl's reputation, he isn't going to be able to grab a smoke without setting off a chorus of sniping: "He has time for THIS, but not for discussing key issues before the voters?"

Case in point: this post over at Progress Pittsburgh:

Monday, April 13, 2pm - Mayor Ravenstahl is seen in Bloomfield with his campaign manager - looks like they were filming a campaign commercial

Tuesday, April 14 - Mayor Ravenstahl spends 20 mins at the Lawrenceville Block Watch. 

Actually, attending a block watch doesn't seem inappropriate to me. But reliable sources inform us that Ravenstahl was shooting a TV ad that Monday. An informant stationed at the Pleasure Bar (I have a whole network of these folks, just to keep track of the music editor) tells us that Ravenstahl was on hand long enough for "several costume changes." 

Ordinarily, I wouldn't care. And Ravenstahl did appear at a candidates forum this past Saturday. But according to another of my sources -- this one a CP staffer who (hopefully) hadn't just been sitting in a bar -- the audience was miffed that he came late. Prior to his arrival, moderator Tony Norman pondered whether the mayor should be allowed to speak, and there was some booing.

The mayor got to speak anyway -- with the added bonus that he didn't have to engage in any give-and-take with his rivals. Most likely, none of this will cost Ravenstahl. At least, not this time around.

Chris Hondros is a war photographer. As he noted this past Sunday, in the South Side photography studios of Jeffrey Swensen, he also listens to a lot of music during the inevitable and often lengthy stretches of waiting that punctuate the life of an embedded conflict photographer.

Thus was born a rather stunning art event. While Hondros showed a half-hour's worth of slides from his six years in post-invasion Iraq, Pittsburgh Symphony concert master Mark Huggins played Bach's wrenching Partita in D Minor, a solo piece for violin.

It was a word-of-mouth show, and not surprisingly the 80 or so attendees were heavily drawn from the local photography community, in which Hondros is, deservedly, lionized. (He once lived in Pittsburgh briefly, and last year visited to give a couple lecture slide-shows. Swensen was his roommate at Ohio University.)

Hondros, 39, is a New York-based senior staff shooter for Getty Images. Over the past decade and half he's been all over, including Kosovo and Angola, Sierra Leone, Lebanon, Afghanistan and the West Bank. His stuff's published worldwide. He's been a Pulitzer finalist, and iconic images like one of a Liberian militiaman, airborne in exultation over a direct rock-launcher hit, are sufficient testimony. Hondros has it all: beautiful compositions, unflinching intimacy and, maybe best of all, a sociological acuity. In his pictures, you sense him not just reacting, but also thinking.

That came through, too, of course, in how he grouped and ordered the photos in the show Sunday. One sharp sequence segued from scenes of Iraqis at worship to images of U.S. soldiers at prayer, like the one in full uniform, gripping his assualt rifle.

The whole thing was engrossing, including a recapitulation of a sequence that includes one of Hondros' best-known photos -- the almost unbearable one of a tiny Iraqi girl, barely a toddler, wailing after the shooting of her entire family by American soldiers at a nighttime checkpoint.

Most striking to me, though, was a passage that subtly contrasted the everyday lives of Iraqis with those of U.S. soldiers in downtime. Even in an occupied country fractured daily by violence, the Iraqis are clearly connected, to the place and to other people. The U.S. soldiers, meanwhile, are isolated, thrown back on each other, sprawling in front of big-screen TVs.

We know this disconnect from the people they're meant to protect is largely necessary -- a matter of security and psychological decompression -- but you can't help thinking it only makes the mission that much harder.

Huggins' beautiful performance of the Bach work was a perfect accompaniment. Hondros hopes to do some version of this show elsewhere. If you hear of another, run don't walk. No matter what you think about Iraq, you'll think something different after you've seen this.