Last Friday, legendary cult filmmaker and pop culture provocateur John Waters graced us with his filthy presence for the opening of "Absentee Landlord," the show he curated for the Walker Art Center.

During a guided media tour of the show on Friday morning, Waters likened the act of curating to casting a film, placing pieces of art -- "unlikely bedfellows," as he put it -- together in a purposeful, sometimes confrontational way. Confrontation seems to be a key theme throughout the show, which is both expectedly provocative and surprisingly camp- and shock-free.

"Every piece I genuinely like," Waters emphasized during the tour. "If you're trying too hard to shock, it's not good. It's too easy." It was a refreshing notion from someone many a shock artist would count as a key influence.

Later that evening in the Walker's McGuire Theater, Waters performed his monologue "This Filthy World" to a rapt, sold-out crowd, dressed in a silver jacket by Issey Miyake, green pants by Comme des Garçons and shoes by Paul Smith. Waters riffed on the usual suspects -- pedophilia, gay marriage, drug use and the Vatican -- sandwiched between anecdotes about his films. But he added some Walker-centric anecdotes about how surprised he was with how much the Walker "let me get away with" in his exhibition: pig Latin for the audio tour, a cased display of all the financial records for the exhibition, and the sounds of car crashes in the halls near the Walker parking lot.

Waters then went on to joke about putting glory holes in the men's bathrooms and urinals in the women's bathroom. On the filmmaker/artist/writer's latest role as an art curator, he said, "You can never have too many careers," and when asked in the following Q&A what he wouldn't do, he replied, "They asked me to be on 'Dancing With the Stars' -- twice! I have some pride."

Twin Cities filmmaker Sonya "Sonny" Tormoen had a hand in creating "Super 8," the J.J. Abrams-directed thriller that debuted at No. 1 in the box office last week. As head of extras casting in West Virginia, she was responsible for lassoing townspeople, mill workers and military extras. In total, she cast more than 3,000 roles in a three-month span late last year. "It was definitely the highlight of my film career," she said. The casting duties weren't limited to humans, either, as Tormoen was also responsible for finding pre-1979 vehicles for the Steven Spielberg-produced period piece. "Not many people keep average '70s vehicles," she said. "A lot of Mustangs and sports cars, but you can't have a town full of those." Tormoen has been a jack-of-all-trades in the film biz since 1996. In 2006, she directed/produced the award-winning documentary "The World's Most Dangerous Polka Band," a film about Nye's celebrated house band.

Besides having some of the best hair of any local band, Total Babe guitarist Jordan Gatesmith's new group Howler also now has one of the best record deals in town. The young Minneapolis quartet has signed with Rough Trade for the U.K. and Europe. A Rough Trade rep reportedly turned up at one of the band's gigs at the Hexagon Bar to check them out live before the signing. Who knew labels did such stuff anymore? Almost certainly because of that deal, NME.com has also named Howler No. 3 on its list of the 50 best new bands.

Howler is also now set to get its first big taste of touring this fall on an outing with Tapes 'n Tapes.

There were ample reasons to hate Foster the People at the Fine Line on Saturday night: The Los Angeles dance-pop band has become a sensation pretty close to overnight; its music is derivative of MGMT, Scissor Sisters, Passion Pit and other recent synth-addled acts. Most annoyingly of all, Foster the People's members look like the angular-faced, pretty-boy actors from "Gossip Girl." Seriously, how long is it before namesake frontman Mark Foster, 27, crosses over to Calvin Klein ads?

It might take longer than expected for FTP's buzz to fade, though. The most ecstatic point of Saturday's 50-minute concert -- yes, that's all, folks -- was unsurprisingly the group's current hit single, "Pumped Up Kicks" (300,000 iTunes purchases and counting). It's an aromatic, ruthlessly catchy, whistling-accompanied single that should have Peter Bjorn & John's lawyers frothing at the mouth, "Pumped Up Kicks" came 10 songs into Saturday's 12-number show. Elbows in the elbow-to-elbow crowd suddenly became dangerous weapons. Foster suddenly became just one of 600 people struggling to sing on pitch. It was the kind of hyper and hyper-predictable scene that keeps one-hit-wonders in business for a decade.

Bob Mould admitted he was nervous on Tuesday night doing a reading for about 75 fans at Magers & Quinn in Minneapolis. "It's my first proper book reading, ever," said the rocker, whose autobiography, "See a Little Light," is now out. Much of the 75-minute reading dealt with Mould's reflections on his coming out, because, he said, "For many years I haven't bridged my sexuality with you all." He had a steady live-in boyfriend in Minneapolis through much of the 1980s, when his band Hüsker Dü was making its name, but Mould said his gayness was "an open secret," something he neither hid nor advertised. Mould's reluctance to be openly gay in his 20s and early 30s stemmed less from being in the hardcore rock world and more from "my own ignorance," skewed portrayals of gays in the media, and a Catholic small-town upbringing in upstate New York. Those factors, along with the AIDS crisis, led Mould to "hate the fact that I was gay." Now living in San Francisco with a partner and doing some solo gigs at festivals and concerts, Mould seems content. "It's nice to be whole, finally," he said.

When an annoying local rock critic sent out a tweet in April about the continued lack of hip-hop at Rock the Garden, the Current 89.3 FM program director Jim McGuinn threw his hands in the air. "Doug Benidt from the Walker and I try -- every year," said McGuinn, whose station's playlist is applaudably wrapped up in good rap. "We've approached local and national hip-hop acts, but so far it hasn't worked out for one reason or another." One big reason is that all the noteworthy local rap stars (and many relevant out-of-towners, too) are always committed to the Soundset fest three weeks prior to RTG, and standard contractual obligations prohibit them from being announced for another big show around the same time. Beyond that, it just comes down to the fine art of figuring out who else's schedule fits the gig, hip-hop or otherwise. "I'd say we research and inquire with about 100 acts each year to get to the four bands," McGuinn said. At least with those numbers, the odds are looking good for it to happen one of these years.