Last year, M invited me to listen in on a Vienna, VA bookstore lecture via zoom, which was informative, fun and empowering. We took a tour of myths and legends of the sea, and the many, mostly feminine, creatures: selkies, sirens, Calypso, Circe, russalka, the Lorelai. We browsed a collection of lit on the topic, and then M and I made some connections with our favorite songs, T V series, movies and stories we never realized were assc. w/ oceanic folklore. It was fun discussing extraordinary feminine creatures that haunt history with tales of their suffering and vengeance, and also broadening my understanding of the world around me. While some of creatures are so fantastic, I feel they must be allegories or representations of universal truths, some of the contemporary historical-fiction novels present the argument for real-life legendary women of the sea: I still have to check out The Island of Sea Women, which tells the tale of a group of Korean divers from the WWII era to present. That's on my list for today. But, since we are a music blog and one of our favorite groups to support is Car Seat Headrest, I wanted to mention my thoughts on "Bodys" by Car Seat Headrest, because its a total, total favorite. Going to this lecture helped me remember a little thought that is in the back of my mind sometimes about "Twin Fantasy." Here are my two speculations for why "BODYS" is (artfully) misspelled on the Twin Fantasy album (which is ever so fun to discuss.) To me, the misspelling is a sticking point, and I'll repeat the title over and over in my head, trying to decide how it's meant to be pronounced. Sometimes, as it echoes up there, I light upon mythological sea creatures, and it is fun trying to validate my instinctive connection with the bare-all trials of love on the album. So my theories unfold: Why? 1. It's "awk..." like the kind of new, insecure sexuality this artist reflects on and revels in/despairs over/embraces/despises, it's "cringey" or self-aware. Our minds/mouths slow to a crawl and attempt to wrap ourselves around this funny-spelled word. We are trying something new and it's bending our minds. The artist appeals to our feelings of angst, and insists dancing really helps shake out the feels. I kind of favor this interpretation because it suits the subject matter of the song. 2. But I also want to glorify the song, and imagine it's actually very sleek and cool, and instead of struggling over the pronunciation, I pronounce it in a more sleek, glib and sexy way, like "bodice." Bodys. And when I do that, and think, well, being awkward was part of my grand plan all along, I am suddenly transported to another place altogether -- the Classical mythical battle of man vs. the sea in Scylla and Charybdis! Am I making a stretch? (I don't care, I'm just having fun.) Our songwriter insists lovers are actually going into each others' mouths, being eaten when they embrace each other! There is imagination saturated in mythos, transporting me to the past, painting the drama of relationships with numb, distance, and with help from Homer and Odysseus. The concepts fill me with wonder and endearment. Erring lovers, for we are deeply predisposed to love, become embattled in a crazy vortex of force comparable to like, the awesome musical power of the second half of the "Twin Fantasy" album! The intro to this album makes a perverse comment on the functions of mythology, folklore, legends on society: that they are cautionary tales that don't work. I kind of agree that no matter how much we've read or learned, "hindsight is 2020," and it's easy to be taken as unawares as Odysseus, in situations every bit as emotionally tumultuous as a pair of giant, neighboring whirlpools. The ancients saw it coming You can see that they tried to warn them In the tales that they told their children But they fell out of their heads in the morning (Beach Life-In Death) What happened to him/ the speaker? Simplest explanation? "He got eaten." One of my takeaways from the folklore lecture was learning to appreciate the origins of myths and legends and lore, appreciating the stories for what they belie about their cultures of origin, and dwelling for a moment on what role lore and legends play in society? Why do they come about? What need to they meet and in what manner do they meet it? How do they work? Who is the intended audience?
I like imagining that this song, facing up to death and asking us to give the opposite, to dance! is so much fun, and literally, "epic." Appealing to a common memory of our parents and grandparents reminds me that generational relationships are how we keep stories, traditions alive. It's from them that we learn to be humans!
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Visit the NPR Tiny Desk Page to see a 1/29/21 posted performance from Miley Cyrus.
I absolutely agree with NPR Writer, Ann Powers, that the proportions in this video take a moment to sink in. And I encourage listeners to listen all the way through, and let the vocals of a maturing, talented performer do just the same. We got rock stars in the White house
And all our pop stars look like porn All my heroes hit the highway 'Cause they don't hang out here no more -Sheryl Crow "Steve McQueen" First Lady Melania Trump used a rock star attitude to fill her role as first lady and she set the precedent when she gave her election acceptance speech. Maybe the Jackie O shades, maybe the sultry stare behind it. Finally, I, who didn't follow the campaign in it's details, in the actual speeches beyond debates, finally got to meet the first lady. And in effect, the speech was highly criticized for too many similarities to First Lady Michelle Obama's speech from the previous presidential term. Language barrier or no, the public craved a more personal message from the First Lady, and so did I. I wanted her to come right out and talk to the public about how she felt being the second international woman in the position. But I think, because of so many political ironies, the First Lady was a little like a bug, pinned to a paper. The most heartfelt, emotionally charged part of her speech, it seemed to me, was when she marched onstage to "Age of Aquarius," and threw a peace sign out in front of her. If you ask me, she looked like she was trying to ward off a bunch of vampires the way her head bowed. I had been looking forward to the first lady's speech - all politics aside, and I think, just for the intensity of her situation, because she was the politics. Women's rights, immigrants' rights, blended families -- there was so much there to respect about her, to relate to -- and yet, so much of her character that wasn't mainstream party platform, a meet and greet with Melania would stray right off the podium. She was like a walking, political entity. And I imagined I could feel the emotion she was releasing with the gesture just from watching on screen. Have you ever been so full of emotion and your hand feels full of uncontainable energy and you shake for a moment and then feel a little better? I would have excited jitters like that from stage fright, but I'm not a star and a model, a public figure. Did the First Lady, like her husband, feel self-aware, stepping into a role from a non-traditional public background? Our previous presidents have been shop owners, teachers, military servicemen, actors. The previous four presidencies, however, were held by career politicians. Perhaps what tipped the scales in a closely-contended race was the public's desire for a change, and it wasn't for a new ground-breaking precedent - a female chief of state, but for a shift away from career political leaders. A different strategy for leadership. So the leading lady of the White House took the stage for me in a time of more conservative collective change, even though the nation's choice did break a fair few rules, she represented, to me, a blended modern conservatism, and it was exciting and interesting. But when she faced the auditorium, I was really wondering if she, an individual, actually felt full of like, attitude/ feeling towards the American public as a whole. Since this was maybe her first time addressing everyone - not just campaign supporters... you know, it's the whole, is a corporation a person debate and did she have something definitive to say to the entire American public, opponents included? After a grueling campaign that uncovered sensitive, straining issues to a marriage, I felt like the First Lady was defensive, too, amidst all the Russian election scandals and once she became First Lady, maybe under pressure to take stances on controversial issues just because of who she represented to the public. Instead of addressing issues, I think she kind of took the high road, let them speak for themselves, and used international pop culture symbols to immediately identify herself as part of a generation, as someone who remembers controversies of her generation and her approach was pretty succinct and marvelous. She diffused all the energy with a gesture, a peace sign, and whether for herself, for the public, or if it was all in my head, I just thought she said more than I could have asked. And when someone who comes from another culture, someone whose upbringing and experiences are unfamiliar to me, takes an important political office, I thought her gesture was a mix of funny, bitter and serious -- she was taking a political stance, I think, warding off accusers, and also poking fun at her immigrant status by saying "I come in peace," to the entire watching nation! And letting us know she likes disco. Now, months after the 2021 election, I'm wondering if all Donald Trump got across by calling Hilary Clinton a "nasty woman" was that he is a Janet Jackson fan? I'm decidedly a Millennial trying to pick apart the jargon of another generation, regretfully wondering if I got caught up in a generational language barrier, misconstrued the culture references, and missed out on the action. Let me know if I'm wasting my time! I can't think about Car Seat Headrest's 2020 album "Making A Door Less Open" without celebrating what little I know of the life of John Lennon. I don't know what about it - maybe the chant of nine nine nine on "Famous," (I tend to mishear lyrics but it works,) or the fact that my first fave Car Seat Headrest album "Twin Fantasy" always made me think of "Double Fantasy" by John Lennon. I don't know many John Lennon songs - I grew up on Jealous Guy and Imagine, and then when I got older, I discovered some more. Watching the Wheels is so darn beautiful. I just associate John Lennon with peace. And I guess the breakup of the Beatles was a big symbol for me of political turmoil and the way it affects people's personal lives. John Lennon turning from the public eye disrupted people's core values and identities. The band's music was profoundly connected to modern life -- people depended on it. The 2000's film, Across the Universe, a 1960's-70's period movie, an innocent love story artfully inhabiting the Beatles music, captured the way the war and race politics of the 1960's dominated young people's lives and relationships on their journey into independence. Lucy forms a relationship with an Englishman, Jude, and soon finds herself entrenched in Vietnam protests, and wonders at how it happened. Her dedication makes her feel estranged from her family, except for her brother Max, who is drafted and finds himself entrenched in Vietnam, and wonders at how it happened. People get swept into the wide world and Lucy holds fast to her friendships even when it requires outstanding resistance. In Lucy's story, she joins a protest that is too radical for her boyfriend, Jude, and insists "We should all be radical!" American civil rights issues feel separate but closely-related to her protest against the Vietnam War, which is the focus of the plot. In "Making a Door Less Open," the idea of being committed to a thing to the point where your life is on the line, to being part of "some sort of war," and kind of waking up to the consequences -- it's modern and unique, but also calls back to an era of innocence, love and war already set to popular music in my head. Don't miss this group at the Fuzzy Cactus, https://fuzzycactusrva.com/, this Saturday, 3/7!
I’ve read JK Rowling’s novel, The Casual Vacancy, so that’s probably where my self-consciousness came from when I was falling for Don Fredrick. Rowling's character is having more of a mid-life crisis and the band she loves is more comparable to the Jonas brothers, but here I am, a busy mom taking time when everything is all about my son, to follow a developing rock band. At times, I’ve felt kind of incompatible with the whole scene - wanting to make friends but being self-conscious of boundaries. In my dream world, I was getting some major self-inflicted Avril Lavigne Sk8r Boi kickback. In my real world, I've often felt like I'm living in several separate real-worlds. Thinking of bringing some unity into my life, I tried and sometimes failed to get old and new friends to go out to these shows with me to catch up and enjoy the music. When I failed, I assumed my friends, like me, are busy and have their own commitments. In busy college-times, I was usually arriving alone at the Friday-night coffee shop shows anyway, but as much as I'd like them to be, Don Fredrick's venues don't feel like my neighborhood. But to heck with it. Still listening at home, blogging has been a great outlet for me to share my passions. (Dancing is good too.) This is my fifth or sixth all-the-way-through listen to Don Fredrick’s DIY release, Lombo, which came out in Richmond on March 31, 2018. This time, I’m in the McDonalds parking lot with my 5-year-old son while we eat lunch the day before Leap Day, 2020. Since the band was discovered to me, I’ve been sharing these tunes with family and friends and think the album is a standout as piece of work in its class, an amazing accomplishment, and a beautiful statement about a person’s relationship with art and the world around them. Call me most annoying fan, wannabe band mom, wannabe/reluctant groupie. I have no idea what to do with my life, and whatever that goes for, like all my good friends in the world, this album has been an inspiration, and I urge you to give it a listen. The reviews from my suburb around the city of Richmond (the city is where all this rockin’ is going down) are thus: My mom listened to all of cover-art track/single “Hot Soup.” She’s offset by anything coming from me in the form of negativity but warmed to the first bold verse that’s brimming with creative imagery. “There’s a bull runnin’ through my yard / Past the tulips, past the ferns. / Knocked the wheelbarrow off its side / Ten pictures like that / Somewhere in my mind.” The lyrics are poetic. I’m getting an allusion to William Carlos Williams, and recall his technique of bringing a single object into focus for consideration and investing special significance in it with simple style. We could say ten things about his short poem about a wheelbarrow, or not. (A teacher of mine suggested that, viewed from the right angle, the wheelbarrow would look like a cross if it were a silhouette.) In our world of Instagram, a photo, said to be worth a thousand words, substitutes many of our daily conversations. At play in Lombo are the tangible - photos residing in a drawer in nostalgic love song “Rug,” and more elusive imagery, like the bull running, of significance in the speaker’s own mind. This provocative image makes me suggest that the group is reflecting on their chosen name. Something refreshing, unique and creative is often-times just what I need to pull me out of a rut, and a great album has the cool power of taking you to that place again and again. As it becomes more and more familiar, it continues to offer new ideas for wonderment or puzzling. Another neighbor and guitarist tuning in called the album pleasant, which we can all use a little more of these days, probably. Through my connection with the band, I’ve become familiar with a scene of on-the-make musicians. Don Fredrick, DIY, creative, classifies themselves in a unique sub-genre: hammock rock. They collaborate with a kindred group, now called Crystal Flowers, support the sounds of femme-rocker sounding She, rock out to Deau Eyes and Spooky Cool, open for the more seasoned Southern rock groups, Giles McConkey, Lord Nelson, or for another busy group in the city, Plastic Nancy. They are enthusiastic about the new album from bluegrass/folk artists, Muther Goose. Pleasant indeed. Following them around to the bar/venues of Richmond has been a pleasure. They are usually on a bill with at least two other performing groups. I’ve featured them on my blog several times, and sometimes feature an individual’s performance. Their first self-titled release was catchy and laid back, and on Lombo they are delving into an edgier, darker genre, investigating themes of self-consciousness and paranoia and driven-ness on tracks like Stay Back and Zoom. On the dark side of love and service in Chester. They are tuning in to bands that excite, like The War on Drugs, whose howling organ reminds me of Pigpen and Janis drinking bourbon over the hill out on the edge of the Haight-Ashbury scene, and a guitar lead, wavering, a lonely soundwave in cold space, or stars, arranging themselves in a lens that explodes silently backwards like an eyeball on a collapsing atom, like bacteria, life blooming busily in a petri dish. But Don Fredrick. You’ve got strengths coming from all sides. My favorite Instagram post ever was of keyboardist Sammy Snider spacing out in the direction of the surface of the pool table. Standing in front of a giant abstract painting in the band’s front room, wearing a black beanie and an oversized yellow-ochre scarf, he totally brought out the subtlest background brushstrokes of the painting. The guys share a large row house and built a studio in the basement and they state: “Sammy has been frozen in this position planning our set since last week. Please come to our show – we miss being able to go into this room!” I love that the band loves someone maybe a little like me, who gets so into something that they kinda space out, frozen, totally hung-up on it and a little bit obsessed, and weirdly staring? Maybe we all get that way sometimes. Sounds like they were all hunkered down in preparations for their performance that week. They seem like a dedicated group, and Snider and the other band members hang together, and play great collaborative music. They apparently have the patience for bringing forth even Sammy’s vision. Another anecdote: Pat Bowdring, it’s like he’s a drum track – that’s what everyone says. I feel like I’m always hanging around in line for something with him. Whether it’s in a dim bathroom hallway, talking up first concerts (and I, secretly speculating about what was probably a pretty darn good black eye last week,) oh yep, it’s always the bathroom. The other time it was watching him scam off all the girlfriends. Somehow, he smiled his way up several spots in the long line and ended up with someone’s green apple Dum Dum to boot! We were miffed when the door closed behind him and we realized what had happened, but then again, his act was on next. I think, as a fan, I indulge myself to believe that all the boys are a little cheeky, or, as my dad would say, they’re a-holes. Oh, and inventive, which is good, right guys? But when I finally read the lyrics for the favorite party song from another great DIY album I love, Twin Fantasy by Car Seat Headrest, I realized that the song literally talks about “getting horny.” I could never understand the words whenever we were listening live, but I think that when you put it all out on the line, people can feel it, and they respond. It’s an important ingredient in the recipe. And here we have it: Lombo. Hot Soup. Excellent DIY garage rock happening right now in Richmond, Virginia. Each time I’ve encountered the group, something new about them stands out. Dancing, participating, tuning in, and breaking out of my own groove for a little while. I love what I hear and think you will too.
It’s a well-rounded, beautiful album that makes a positive statement about love, loss, and living life in a rock band. Compelling lyrics (Nearly got myself killed...) keep me guessing, and good humor carries this album to the very top of my playlist. Greetings from the U.S.! It's a warm, rainy New Year in Virginia! Mark Moogalian and Isabelle Risacher, husband and wife duo of Secret Season, released “Paris Rain Dances” in 2012. Moogalian is a Virginia native, a teacher, and a hero. Risacher is from France, where the couple live and work. Moogalian's website contains his and his wife's photography and art, and his novel, Mr. Farride, which is a narrative about the psychosis of a lonely actor. The title of this album, "Paris Rain Dances," calls to my mind the traditional Native American rain dances. Like these songs, rain dances were performed together by men and women. (Other dances were performed only by men.) Traditions varied across tribes. Some dances were performed for the beginning or end of a season, and others for the year. The dances were intended to bring rain, to celebrate the spiritual relationship between people and the Earth, and to cleanse the spirit. Turquoise stripes, like the color on Risacher's face, held a special significance in traditional costumes. Blue colors represented wind and rain. In traditional face paint, a red stripe on the nose represented knowing or trusting in your chosen path. For a leader, it signified that the leader had gained the trust of the people. Moogalian and Risacher have released two albums since "Paris Rain Dances," but from the vault, I give you a track-by-track review:
FACEPAINTING MUSICIANS GALLERY!!! Sources:
Dance www.indians.org/articles/rain-dance.html https://dance.lovetoknow.com/Native_American_Dances http://www.native-net.org/na/native-american-rain-dance.html https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rainmaking_%28ritual%29 https://www.latimes.com/local/la-me-c1-drought-rain-dance-20140306-dto-htmlstory.html Paint http://native-american-totems.com/sacred-path-medicine/native-american-face-paint/ Annunaki https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anunnaki Photo: on the left, Sammy Snider of Don Fredrick catches some rays from the analog projector light show by @razzinaro, and center, Landon Avila plays rhythm electric 12/12 Poor Boys, Lombardy Ave.
If you are wanting to listen to a laid-back, getting low (as in, ya know, sungken feels,) 7 piece combo, hold the sauce! And check out Don Fredrick at their upcoming show at the Broadberry, Dec. 21. I’ve enjoyed getting to know their music this year. Like the shrimp on my sandwich on Thursday 12/12 at Poor Boys on Lombardy, they were perfectly cooked, and good-spicy. In one of my favorite vocal performances, Will Cummins skreeked and shrieked along with the wavering Country Breakfast Shorty on into “a song about bugs,” and the house was certainly dancing -- on their toes. I also enjoyed some aspects of the lead guitarists' performances: they were all-electric -- Dan Flaherty sharing melodies, and Gionfriddo dropping a particularly noisy riff on an opposite beat. I don’t know whether Don Fredrick is playing to the season, with the early-setting sun and cozy appeal of indoors, but at the last two shows – Fuzzy Cactus RVA on 11/15 and last Thursday night at Poor Boys on Lombardy, the band fulfilled its role as headliner by winding the night down rather than ending on a crescendo. I don’t know about the rest of the world, but I swayed happily to the final soothing, crooning soundwaves after midnight in December, and they made me remember outside, where the cool, mild night shone quietly under a big, huge full moon. OK OK, I helped yell for one more song and then house Deejay Thomas hopped back on, and some of the band started a dance party, chanting along with the beats. ***Edit: I just listened to a The War on Drugs song on 88.5. Remembering that, according to Facebook, Don Fredrick listens to them, I began to re-hear the exploratory guitar melodies from the Poor Boys set again in my head. If the speaker from Country Breakfast Shorty ventured into a synthesizer mirage and the guitars narrated their footsteps... Right now, you are transported --walking, watching your feet, in the periphery of traffic lights and all you can hear is "Under the Pressure." Maybe its the season, and maybe its a wind-down off their current fave jams... One of my faves -- Donald Fagen!! <3 Missangelbird, Richmond, went on before Don Fredrick, and they played an upbeat, spirited set. Their recorded tracks- Ghost, Midnight Air, are like, light-hearted emo, if it’s possible? Mysterious, and beautiful, and fleeting. Mysterious because I was standing under the speaker for this show, watching the band play, and able to decipher only the quality of singer, Erica's, voice, not her lyrics. Besides "hammock rock," one of my favorite sub-genres would have to be "dream pop." I think this group has some pop! Before their performance, Crystal Flowers, a Richmond band, a large group with a clear-voiced lead singer/guitarist, presented a quirky rock set. At times, they played to the considerable strength of their saxophonist, and jazzed it up. The audience really started dancing when the band settled into their grooves, whether rock or jazz. The set ended with a little of the mellow intro of “Déjà vu Don,” final track on Don Fredrick’s latest album, Lombo, and then, a tempo cover of MGMT “Electric Feel.” Perhaps lovely vocalists wove together the four performances of the night. Theo Biddle made a stage debut to kick things off, and I don’t think he had any stage fright. I remember a couple of distant, light, love songs that rolled over hills on soft, electric arpeggios, reaching for sun like a Fleet Foxes melody. Don Fredrick’s bassist, Sebastien Ricard, and drummer, Pat Bowdring, lent their nimble talents to the first half of Theo Biddle’s set as “The Biddle Band.” Deejay Thomas also wove the evening together, hopping up between the four guest performances with ready beats, samples and synth-mixes, creating a peppy, out-there atmosphere. Many thanks to the Thursday night host called Prsmcat, and the Voodoo Room staff. We’ve been talking about getting foodie on this blog, so I’ll say: I love the bar shows. Along with a casual atmosphere, enjoy delicious food if you stay in one place long enough to order in time, and an evening of nuanced music performances. Shrimp update: Lauren, a new chef, and I ate at a cocktail bar next to the very-city, split-level kitchen, and she informed me that the small shrimp on my sandwich were new to the menu, encouraged me to try the Jambalaya next time, and also the hand-prepared collard greens, which are a labor of love. Thanks a bunch to Richmond-based hammock rock band, Don Fredrick, for the FB invite to The Sound of Music studio in Richmond neighborhood, Scott's Addition, for their live-recorded performance. The band went on second of three acts, setting the stage for headline Norfolk band, the Chicken Boys. I wasn't planning on reviewing their act this time, (and I still don't have express permission,) but Don Fredrick presented an entirely different dynamic from their performance last month, so I can't resist sharing my thoughts. I see this band as having many strengths, and a maturing voice. Don Fredrick, the jovial headliners who welcomed old friends to their audience at the Strange Matter last month, were more serious last night, opening for the Chicken Boys, and setting down a live recording with professionals from the Sound of Music studio. I spoke with guitarist, Dan Flaherty, after the show. He thanked me for attending, since the band's loyal fan base was split last night when another band had a conflicting performance on the other side of town. Kudos to singer, Will Cummins, for bringing the audience in closer early on for more good vibes. Cummins was not so assertive overall, and didn't occupy center stage. The Southern Rock keys and guitar, Snider/ Gionfriddo, duo that had me laughing last month was split up on opposite sides of the stage. Flaherty didn't take any vocal leads. They didn't play Moonlight!! A much more straight-faced performance, and yet, the band was still in tune with their audience, and did a good job of handling this role while under the pressure of cutting a recording. They wrapped up the show on a super high note with a polished performance of a song I didn't recognize from their Bandcamp recordings (can't name it please help!!) That last number especially sounded great in the space. In terms of comparison with last month's show, I really enjoyed their most adventurous number, a fun cover of the Talking Heads' "Take Me to the River." Last show, I'd say Don Fredrick really let loose on their original track, "Country Breakfast Shorty." What I got from both of these songs is a cool, blase, gotta-have-it kind of rock and roll. "I don't know why/ I love you like I do," but I'm gonna play an insanely awesome song about it. Whatevs. I guess they are hammock rockers after all, and whatever hammock rock is, maybe it starts with an attitude. Last night, the first verse of "Take Me to the River" really went over. They were improvising on their set list, feeling the crowd out, and drawing out the energy in the room. Kudos to Ricard for dropping that baseline, and Bowdring on the drums for picking it up, and for great playing all evening! Don Fredrick did a great cover, taking their time with the buildup of rhythm. Despite some muffle and crackle, I think they pulled off a great recording. They let loose, and I suspect that their equipment wasn't 100% wired up with the studio's, or perhaps their gusto exceeded their amperage. Kudos to Andrew Gionfriddo for taking an excellent solo after a tech derp. According to Flaherty, Don Fredrick played an entire set of Talking Heads covers last Halloween, and so my interest is of course piqued. What a great set of material for this group to take on-- the free, simultaneous, occupation of many genres, and many voices, from the funky beats, the fun synth breakdowns, and of course - great songwriting. Ah! David Byrne is so cool! Flaherty was also excited to be recording live at the Sound of Music. Hopefully, we audience members did our part to make the recording special. The band kind of huddled up for a sound check (awesome space jam) that was clashing with the house music. I guess in big venues the sound check isn't so noticeably loud. This warehouse space was well equipped with studio equipment, and professional techs, as well as a projector for the band's Youtube Solar System slideshow. Not to mention an unceremonious bar backed by a big cooler and a license taped to some random prop walls leaning against the real wall. Many tall wooden structures were stored behind and defining the stage area, and made me feel like I was getting ready to roll out the set for my high school musical production. The floor was just poured cement, so I also felt the after-hours warehouse vibe. People say Scott's Addition is an up and coming neighborhood in Richmond, and last night, I felt a scene emerging from one of its many repurposed spaces. The ceiling of this warehouse-venue was made of dark-stained, two-by-four beams that were lined up like ribs that zig-zagged in rows that merged like intertwined fingers. I'm not sure if the ceiling absorbs sound, or if it is just beautiful. I got my wish and heard lots more Don Fredrick material. Their opening tune was lyrical and melodic (maybe Chevron and Sinclair?) Folk for the modern illusive frontier? BTW Does anyone else dig the Broken Bells? Then, they got us all hyped for The Chicken Boys, who cranked up the volume, and once they settled into a rhythm, put on a great performance. (Thanks for playing "Sk8r Boi!!!") I also had fun taking myself for a walk around the studio building, where I found a midnight pot of coffee and word magnets, a friendly kitchen shared by the renters (a seer, photographer and other professionals' cards pinned to doors in the hallway,) a pile of on-the-way-out mix CD's and other CD's, a random piano, and cool posters, lovely restrooms. Then, I really enjoyed my drive out of quiet Scott's Addition and home on a breezy borderline-Spring night, thinking about my own stuff, but also wondering: 1. What is to become of the recorded material, Don Fredrick? 2. Where did the band's name really come from? I'll share my mom's observation-- Gionfriddo sounds like Don Fredrick-o. Since I didn't snap a photo of Don Fredrick at their show, I'll include a photo of an unceremonious church:
The Church at the Desert Bar, Parker, Arizona. Katie Wood and Cherrie Yu, William & Mary alum and Senior, performed electronic-music and interpretive dance last week at emerging printmaker Studio Two Three in Richmond, Virginia to raise money for the ACLU. Amid the smell of fresh ink, next to the gallery art show "Artists for Inclusion," Katie soberly performed 40 minutes of electronic sound manipulation while Cherrie danced. Their talent and focus brought forth infectious joy to a novice viewer who found the unfamiliar experience refreshing, and well-thought-out. Their show complemented the gallery which was dedicated to "diversity and inclusion," because they presented themselves simply and set off the art, the audience, and even the studio space as sound and body transformations liberated everyone to see their surroundings anew. The ladies put on a sober and neat performance. Their decorative pizzaz was limited to well coordinated simplicity, and Katie's sparkly-black witch socks. They took the spotlight in front of a black temporary wall that partially concealed the printing press and cabinetry of the aritst-workspace. Katie's equipment sat on an unadorned table. They began to perform without announcement after they emerged from a chat among audience members, and performed with their eyes focused on something. Katie looked to her equipment and Cherrie was often looking at her hands or the floor. I got the impression that Cherrie's performance depended on the music that Katie produced. Perhaps this is because of the Sia music videos I've been watching (Chandelier, and The Greatest.) Sia's songs are performed by a young modern dancer, Maddie Ziegler. The minimalist sets and costumes lend focus to certain objects and especially the dancer's body and expressive movements. The videos are presumably made for the songs, so the chicken and the egg, but Katie's performance was improvisational, and it's possible that Cherrie's dance leads her as much as it follows the music. Simplicity was the root of Cherrie's modern dance performance. I watched her begin with small, repetitive movements that were reminiscent of work, and built into bold, repetitive gestures. She had her eyes on her hands or the floor, and swung her whole core in circles, pointing on her toes. She was very focused, and built up to these bigger gestures that felt joyful and liberating. To me, her performance was all about starting small with something she seemed to be holding, moving, examining, and then persisting with the same idea until it was no longer centered on the object. Katie made varied expressions with her synthesizers that were overall a mildly-dark, meditative sound. Her tools were the only props on the set, we'll say. My favorite was a contact microphone that looked like a white temporal thermometer. She put it against her throat and sang. The modulator picked up vibrations from her larynx. She transformed her voice by using a part of if that Helen Keller certainly didn't take for granted. Katie projected this tangible experience for all of us to feel at once, and it came out like a dying croak of a dreadfully thirsty person. She unleashed the sound simultaneously with her own sighs and wavering song-notes that she had secretly recorded under cover of long, sharp synth notes. The viewer had to wonder which sound was issuing from her mouth at that moment, and which was a reverb from the synth. She mixed whispers and made them sound frantic, and amplified sighs so that they washed over the room like a cold wind. I entertained the possibility that Katie could in fact manipulate time, and project herself in several ways at once. Like a printmaker going over her work again with painstaking paper pastes and stitches and gouache, Katie took rhythms and utterances and transformed them and relaid them. Another prop in the performance was Katie's only sound sample. After the show, Katie told us that she used a recording of an overseas phone conversation between Cherrie and her family in China as a source of noise for her performance. Cherrie laughed, remembering how she could hear the family chit-chat again while she danced. Ironically, she was telling her parents about dance class. I didn't recognize anyone's voices during the show. I liked the symmetry though. Cherrie danced to Katie's music, and Katie made music with Cherrie's voice. Katie probably had no idea what the voices were saying, because the conversation was Chinese. Cherrie's took in the music and spoke with her body. I've never seen an all-electronic improvised music performance, so that language was new to me. And I really didn't understand the music nerds talking after the show about how Katie used all of her equipment. Mostly, she was successful. I say it was a refreshing performance because I felt impressed by Katie's and Cherrie's dedication, and their smiles belied deep gratification when the performance ended. I liked seeing the two girls shine together at the end of their shared performance. Katie made a mockery of deciding to end the show, but the responsibility fell to her. She took a deep breath, and relaxed her hands over the machines like she might pat the strings on her beautiful acoustic guitar to end the last note, and then nodded to Cherrie, who had paused to see what she would do next. She could have gone on with her exploration. She said at the beginning of the evening that it wasn't so important that the show start on time, because the Studio wanted to emphasize the social gathering and conversation rather than call it a show. But Katie and Cherrie captivated the audience, and took a great bow at the end. In a few, far-between moments, the sound was a little loud for some of the attendees, but overall, left me with a happy, satisfied feeling. I'll add that the visual art in the gallery was worth visiting on it's own. Photography representing trans-gender African-Americans, the women of the January Women's March on Washington, clever feminist minimalist painting, and mobilizing mixed-media are all on display this month. No Subject Kid knows how to gather a crowd — literally. The first of four acts at Friday’s Music Productions Club of GMU’s Spooky Soiree, Alex Schreiber (No Subject Kid) asked the audience to get closer to the stage. . The crowd, dressed in their best Halloween getup, approached the red-and-black plaided Schreiber, dressed as a punk bat, referencing Thomas Nagel's essay ("What is Like a Bat?") on compassion.
He began his act by saying he didn't know what to call it, but to let him know after the show if we thought of an appropriate term. On my dark, breezy walk back to Lot K, I thought of "sungken," since it is both sung + spoken word + really sinks in... enjoy! |
AuthorWe are Kieran and Michelle, two 32-year-old William & Mary grads living in Virginia. Archives
March 2024
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