Category: Music

REVIEW: Sasha Velour in the Big Reveal Live Show

the eye online Leave a comment

The historic stage of the Michigan Theater sits sparse, except for a comfortable cyan lounge chair, a cozy floor lamp, a vintage two-knob TV, and a dainty desk with Sasha Velour’s The Big Reveal: An Illustrated Manifesto of Drag neatly atop it.

On screen behind them, a prerecorded Sasha Velour dangles a disco ball from an elegant, silver finger. As Jennifer Lopez’s Waiting for Tonight begins to play, Sasha caresses the disco ball with her other hand, and as a spotlight appears on the cyan lounge chair, the audience waits with bated breath.

In an instant, the chair blanket is yanked back to reveal…

Sasha Velour…inside the chair…and I was gagged by possibly one of the best live reveals I’ve ever seen.

Her ruby lips gleamed unobstructed through a face-sized hole, as she began to lip sync sections of Kylie Minogue’s futuristic In My Arms, Dionne Warwick’s forever cherished A House is Not a Home, and Brandy’s *perfect* rendition of In My Own Little Corner.

As the chorus of Britney Spears’ Stronger begins, Sasha sheds the chair from which she came, only to become…

Sasha Velour…the chair, again…I was gagged again.

She struts in a brocade gown of the same cyan fabric, cream tassels on her shoulders and hips, and chair arms accentuating her tightly-corseted waist…a hybridized perfection of camp, glamour, and humor on full display to close act one.

As the energy in the room quells, Sasha reflects on her grandmother Dina, who came to America from China as a Jewish immigrant during World War II and, “would always encourage me [Velour] to channel my inner diva.” Showing videos of herself as a child, Sasha cherishes these moments aloud on stage, gushing about how Dina’s love and enthusiasm shaped her as a child, and now as a performer.

In one of a series of hilarious video skits, Velour switches between various personas, who comment on drag’s significance across communities: a medium of history, of fun, of revolution. Velour asserts that drag can be anything, for anyone, and this fundamental freedom affords drag infinite power.

But what happens when this freedom is at stake? Unafraid of asking the difficult questions, Velour challenges the audience to both revel in the privilege of being able to attend her show and share in her sense of growing urgency towards collectively understanding what these next few years will bring, not just for the queer community, but for everyone the Trump administration seeks to erase.

Drag is not dangerous for children, and helps to embolden those who need creative outlets of expression… “I have always been Sasha Velour…drag has a spiritual mission to give each other the biggest gift in life — to be seen and documented as we really are…to write our own stories”. The Big Reveal is everything a drag performance should be: It acknowledges what drag has been, what it is now, and everything it can be, while somehow completely exceeding the expectations of any audience member or Sasha Velour fan in the audience.

Even if you didn’t have a chance to see Sasha Velour, supporting your local drag scene helps to contribute to the parts of her show that still sit within me as I write this — drag is more than just a performance, it is the establishment of ones’ identity in relation to themselves and their community. It is a way of surviving, thriving, and ultimately, existing in the world in a profoundly beautiful way. A way of life that has always existed, and will continue to thrive in spite of those who seek to refute it.

REVIEW: Caroline Shaw and Gabriel Kahane

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What does it mean to “be infinite”?

Though one could ponder this, well, infinitely, Argentinian short story author Jorge Luis Borges does so in seven pages in his 1941 work Tower of Babel, which inspired Caroline Shaw and Gabriel Kahane’s newly-commissioned Hexagons, presented by UMS. In Tower of Babel, we follow a nameless, elderly man through an infinite, hexagonal library. Each shelf has randomly arranged books, each containing exactly 410 pages. While most pages have no discernible meaning, other librarians allege that it could take just one book to reveal the library’s secrets, and thus, the meaning of life. A profound paradox about human nature and the finite time we have alive, I entered the auditorium excited to witness philosophy come to life through music.

Kahane and Shaw had ideas to write operas about Borges’s text separately, a tension that remained musically unresolved on stage. While Kahane’s fascinating hybridization of singing and songwriting created mini-musicals, Shaw’s enrapturing yet foreboding vocal presence consistently grabbed my attention throughout, often waysiding Kahane entirely. While I marveled at the interplay between Shaw’s impressive choral singing and Kahane’s flowing piano melodies, which were undoubtedly virtuosic, the theatrical elements of the piece left much to be desired.

About halfway through, the performers pause, slowly producing two boxes of books. Placing them atop a desk near their instruments, they each switch on a reading lamp, and calmly begin pulling books from said boxes. Reading these random books aloud, they begin separately at first until the boundaries between their voices blur, and their words become more frantic, producing unintelligible chaos until they fall silent – a metaphor for a busy world that felt too on the nose for such experimental work. 

Perhaps my heart rests too heavily with Borges’s text, as the audible landscapes of Hexagons evoke feelings of restraint and nostalgia for a familiar past, than those of infinitude and unraveling chaos to find meaning I felt destined to hear. As Shaw longs, “Oh, to be a blind librarian”, I have lost any sense of connection between Hexagons and Borges and am bewildered by this dimension of longing for impairment. Furthermore, their decision to finish their performance with Kahane’s To Be American played into these notions of nostalgia that I found troubling. While they pined about escaping to the forests of Northern Michigan, I was left pining for something more than a personal requiem. The only seemingly infinite components of the performance were Shaw’s vocals cascading through the auditorium and my confusion. 

Hexagons rests at the edge of musical infinity: contemplative of the subject from a safe distance, yet not totally sure of how to manage the responsibility of creating an “infinite” performance. As treasured books continuously become subpar movies, I am disappointed that the only meaningful dimension added to Borges’ philosophical text was music alone. Though I am excited by a future increasingly inclusive of experimental repertoire, my only hope is that it becomes a medium to embolden texts to exist beyond their pages — beyond the restraints of the written word itself, and within the infinite realm of music.

REVIEW: Thornetta Davis

Madi Hammond Leave a comment

Detroit royalty came to Ann Arbor last Wednesday.

Thornetta Davis, Detroit’s Queen of the Blues, took the stage at The Ark alongside the Thornetta Davis Band, delivering a performance that brought the house down. 

I, along with everyone else in the packed venue, had the time of my life. Going into the concert, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I didn’t even know the difference between jazz and the blues (and, after my research, I’m still not quite sure). But the audience — mostly made up people several decades older than my friend and I — definitely knew. The excitement in the air was palpable, a shared anticipation that made it clear this was more than just another night.

When Davis finally stepped onstage, her black feather fans and sparkling outfit drew raucous applause before she even sang a note. She opened the concert with “I Gotta Sang the Blues,” a playful, self-assured song in which she explains why she sings the blues: “The blues ain’t been nothing but good to me.” The moment set the tone for the night: bold, soulful and full of heart.

Throughout the concert, Davis moved seamlessly between rollicking, dance-inducing numbers like “I Need A Whole Lotta Lovin’” – which included a call-and-response section that the entire crowd, except for me, seemed to know instinctively– and poignant ballads like “I Am America” which brought a standing ovation. But my personal favorite was “I’d Rather Be Alone,” which Davis concluded with a cheeky, resounding, “Bye!”

The crowd played a big role in the energy of the night. Though I might not have known much about the blues, the rest of the audience sure did. When Davis mentioned the musical group The Chisel Brothers, a woman in the front row stood up and proudly displayed her Chisel Brothers jacket. 

The intimate set-up of The Ark also allowed for effortless interaction between Davis and her fans, making for an electric yet personal experience. At one point, an audience member enthusiastically shouted that she owned not one, but two, of Davis’ CDs. The night was filled with dancing, clapping and joy, culminating in a final standing ovation that brought Davis and her band back onstage for an encore.

Speaking of her band, the Thornetta Davis Band radiated pure joy as they played. Each member had their moment to shine, taking turns delivering riveting solos from the drums to the piano to the guitar to the bass. The chemistry between Davis and her band was undeniable, with the music and her voice blending together so seamlessly that at times she felt like another instrument in the ensemble. 

I left the concert not only with a newfound appreciation for Thornetta Davis and the blues but also with a fresh sense of musical curiosity. The experience inspired me to seek out more concerts featuring artists I am not familiar with, to step outside my comfort zone and to embrace genres I’ve yet to explore. If this concert proved anything, it’s that great music — regardless of genre — has the power to bring people together.

REVIEW: Culture Night- A Journey Through Tradition

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I didn’t know what to expect when I decided to attend Culture Night at Kochoff Hall. Sure, I’d read about the performances—a mix of traditions from around the world—but I was curious about how it would all come together. As someone from a different cultural background, I was eager to see how the evening would speak to me.

Photo credit: IGSA

The first act, a South Asian classical dance, immediately set a high bar. The dancer’s precise movements were mesmerizing, but what really struck me was her storytelling. Without speaking a word, she pulled the audience into a narrative that felt deeply emotional. I found myself leaning forward, completely absorbed in the graceful yet powerful choreography. It was the kind of performance that made me forget where I was for a moment.

Then came the African drumming ensemble, and the energy shifted completely. The beats were loud and unapologetically bold, reverberating through the hall. I couldn’t help but tap my foot and clap along. It wasn’t just music; it was a heartbeat that seemed to connect everyone in the room. I caught myself smiling at strangers during this performance, feeling an unspoken sense of unity.

The third act—a modern spin on European folk music—was surprising in the best way. I wasn’t sure how I’d feel about blending traditional violin with electronic beats, but it was a perfect harmony of old and new. It made me think about how cultures adapt and evolve while staying true to their roots. That realization felt personal, like it was challenging me to think about my own heritage in a new light.

Photo Credits: IGSA

The evening’s final performance, a Polynesian dance, was my favorite. The dancer moved with a grace that felt effortless, their body swaying like waves. I could almost hear the ocean and feel the island breeze through their storytelling. The vibrant costumes and the way they seemed to embody the spirit of their culture left me in awe. It was peaceful yet powerful—a perfect way to close the night.

But Culture Night wasn’t just about the performances. The energy in the room made it special. People from all walks of life were there, clapping, cheering, and sharing in the experience. The decorations and the warmth of the audience added to the magic, making the hall feel like a celebration of not just cultures, but community.

When I left Kochoff Hall, I felt different. I’d come expecting a show, but what I got was a deeper sense of connection—to the performers, to the audience, and to the idea that art transcends borders. Culture Night wasn’t just entertaining; it was a reminder that no matter where we come from, we can find common ground in celebrating the beauty of our differences.

REVIEW: Mufasa: The Lion King

Sappy Leave a comment

Despite the many negative reviews surrounding the musical drama film Mufasa: The Lion King, I actually really enjoyed it. The storyline acts as both a prequel and a sequel to the original animated The Lion King. While it’s not life-changing or particularly essential, it’s a fun film that adds to the world-building of the original in an endearing way. Perhaps it’s because I had low expectations and didn’t know exactly what to expect, but I found the online reviews overly harsh for a movie primarily directed toward children.

The plot begins with the lion cub Kiara, Simba’s daughter, who is frightened by a large thunderstorm. She doubts her capabilities and expresses that she could never be brave like her grandfather, Mufasa. In response, Rafiki, an elderly and wise mandrill, tells her a story to encourage her. He recounts how Mufasa was at her age and how he grew up to become the great king we saw in The Lion King. Mufasa, who we originally see as proud, confident, and courageous, is depicted as more vulnerable and dispirited in his youth. He struggles to believe in himself or accept praise, which seems hard to believe given his personality in his adult form. Through the animals Mufasa encounters on his journey, the film explores themes of family, belonging, and love. His journey proves his worthiness as king and highlights the qualities that make him a true leader. The plot is a coming-of-age story, fitting for its intended audience. This aspect resonated with me, and I believe many children would connect with it too.

The narration is engaging, with the story progressing at a good pace. However, while Mufasa’s character development is well-paced, the development of other characters either lacks depth or, particularly toward the end, feels rushed. As the movie reaches its climax, the character arcs become hurried, especially in the conclusion, which makes their actions seem almost out of character. One factor that held the character development back was the CGI animation. While the visuals were strikingly realistic and beautiful, the realism made it harder for characters to express themselves facially or display more creative body language. It also became difficult to differentiate the lions, as they generally shared the same appearance aside from slight changes and their voices. While these details may stick out more to adults, younger children may not notice them as much, meaning a cartoon version might have appealed to a wider audience.

This placed a greater emphasis on the voice acting and music, which I think the film did well. The instrumental soundtrack was a great homage to the original, with many elements inspired by or directly recreated from it. I also appreciated that there was often music playing in the background. In addition to the bright sunshine and natural scenery, this contributed to the triumphant and joyful emotions in the film. However, one disappointing aspect was the singing, which I felt could have been of higher quality, as it could have been another opportunity to express the character’s personality. 

I think the film’s weaknesses largely stem from the characters not feeling as relatable. However, most of the movie’s strengths lie in its overarching messages and foreshadowing of events that occur in the original. I think it would be a great film for young children to understand self-growth, confidence, and friendship. Though it may be an unpopular opinion, I don’t think it is a waste of time or detracts from the original The Lion King in any way, unlike other prequels and sequels I’ve seen. I would still recommend it to people of all ages, but it’s important to approach it with an open mind. 

REVIEW: Wicked

Sappy Leave a comment

After several disappointing movie-musical adaptations in recent years, I was skeptical that Wicked would be any different. As the first musical I had ever seen, and on Broadway in New York no less, I had especially high expectations. However, I was pleasantly surprised to discover that the hype surrounding the movie was justified. Under the guidance of director Jon M. Chu, with a talented main cast including Ariana Grande (Glinda), Cynthia Erivo (Elphaba), and Jonathan Bailey (Fiyero), Wicked offered a refreshing take with a charm that still retained the essence of the Broadway play that sparked my love for musical theatre.

Based on Gregory Maguire’s novel Wicked, the story is a prequel to The Wizard of Oz. The main character, Elphaba, grows up experiencing hardships due to her unusual green skin. Ostracized by even her own family, she is nonetheless loved by her nanny. Because of this, she grows up with a pure heart. When she sends her younger sister to Shiz University, Elphaba catches the eye of Madame Morrible, played by Michelle Yeoh. Morrible is a famous magical history professor and the object of admiration for Glinda, a beautiful and popular girl who has lived a life essentially the opposite of Elphaba’s. As the story progresses, it explores the complex relationship between the two women. Their character development is one of the highlights of the story, touching on themes of friendship, values, purpose, and societal expectations. Grande and Erivo’s chemistry, both on and off screen, brought this relationship to life brilliantly. 

Despite both the musical and the movie running for roughly three hours, the movie only covers half of the original story. I did feel that the pacing dragged at times, with the plot progressing slowly—almost frustratingly so. However, this slower pace gave more creative freedom to the director and actors. Compared to the stage production, Elphaba and Glinda felt more alive in this version. Their characters were more developed and complex, which created a deeper connection with the audience. I particularly enjoyed Glinda’s nuanced portrayal, whereas in the play, she seemed more ditzy and one-dimensional.

Though I find live singing and dancing more impactful, the movie was still incredibly immersive. The film’s close-up shots of the characters, their costumes, and facial expressions added a level of intimacy that the stage production can’t match. The lighting and camera angles also contributed to a richer atmosphere. The movie was visually striking and the vivid colors truly brought the fantasy world of Oz to life. These added details allowed for more foreshadowing, extensive world-building, and deeper character development. It never felt like a simple recording of the play. 

A friend of mine, who is more versed in musical theatre techniques, also offered some insightful commentary on how film is a unique medium. On stage, only those sitting in the front row get to see the actors’ faces clearly, and even then, it’s impossible to catch all the small details. It’s difficult to compare movies and theatre because they offer different experiences and strengths. Perhaps that’s why I remain skeptical about many movie-musical adaptations retaining a high quality—they’re often unfairly compared to the original. Nevertheless, Wicked is proof that a great musical-movie adaptation is possible.