PREVIEW: Taylor Mac

Tsukumo Leave a comment

What do you get when you combine theater, popular music, drag culture, Elizabethan fool, activism, and history? Taylor Mac!

Taylor is a theater artist with a powerful presence, heavily invested in queer and feminist performance, and interested in mining feminism, gender, race, sexuality, and queer identity through a project called “A 24-Decade History of American Popular Music“. Also, it’s one of few shows on U-M campus that challenges the gender binary (man/woman). Taylor, who uses the pronoun “judy,” will be doing two performances of the 1956-1986 era from “A 24-Decade History of American Popular Music.”

It’s hard to describe judy and judy’s work without visuals. Here are a few:

(Yup, that’s me talking. I got to work with Taylor Mac over the summer, for an internship with UMS and SMTD. Here’s my story.)

The shows will be on this Friday and Saturday, February 5-6, at 8pm. It will be at Lydia Mendelssohn Theater inside Michigan League — the lobby of which is being decorated by Machine Dazzle, artist who has done extensive work on installation art and also the costume designer for Taylor! (I got a sneak peek of it; it looks freaking awesome. It’s hard to miss.)

Tickets are sold online at UMS’s website, or you can buy them in person at the Michigan League Ticket Office. Just like other UMS shows, students tickets are as cheap as $12!

 

Are you still there? For more fabulous interviews, check out the following videos too.

Let’s hear from performers themselves:

…And finally, directly from Taylor:

I hope you can make it. You might find me in costumes doing dandy things for Taylor those nights. 😛

PREVIEW: “Closer”

Natalie Steers Leave a comment

“Closer”, a show of sex, friendship, painful truths, and unfounded trust, will be performed by Basement Arts this weekend! A play by Patrick Marber, it originally premiered in London before making its way to the United States. It won the Laurence Olivier Award for Best New Play in 1998 and the 1999 New York Drama Critics’ Circle Award for Best Foreign Play, as well as being nominated for a Tony award that same year.

The play was made into a movie in 2004, featuring Natalie Portman, Jude Law, Clive Owens, and Julia Roberts. Patrick Marber also wrote the screenplay for the film; I always appreciate it when the original writer has the chance to adapt his own work for a different medium. Natalie Portman and Clive Owens both received Golden Globes for their performances in the film.

Guaranteeing an evening full of intrigue and drama, you won’t want to miss “Closer”! Performances are in the Acting for the Camera studio on the second floor of the Walgreen Drama Center. There is free admission but only 40 seats! Arrive early! The good news is that even if you don’t get a seat one evening, you’ll have five total chances to see this second production of the semester by Basement Arts. Showtimes are:

Thursday, February 4th at 7:00pm & 11:00pm

Friday February 5th at 7:00pm

Saturday , February 6th at 7:00pm & 11:00pm

Check out the Facebook event for the show, which includes a cast list: Basement Arts presents: CLOSER

Review: Protomartyr @ The Blind Pig

kjwuzhere Leave a comment

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This was the first show I’ve been to at The Blind Pig that sold out. Considering the way Protomartyr has been steadily gaining popularity, fact that The Blind Pig is not a particularly large venue, and that this was on Friday night, this does not come as a surprise. But still, it was a great contrast to the show I went to only the night before. We got there at 9:20, 40 minutes before the first of the opening acts went on, but still, all the seats were taken and people had begun to congregate in the middle. The crowd was predominantly male and many were older than the typical college student–clearly this show had drawn individuals from outside the Ann Arbor bubble. But more on the crowd later.

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Despite the crowd, my friend and I managed to squeeze to the front once the first opening band, Deadbeat Beat, got on stage. Deadbeat Beat, as their name might suggest, played songs with a strong, steady beat. They’ve got the kind of sound that just makes you want to groove in your own little bubble, to dance it out. They also have a lovably bumbling stage presence. However, outside of the occasional head-nod here and there and some respectful clapping, the crowd simply did not seem to feel it. Like I said, this was dancing music–loud, rocking and throbbing dancing music, but still only dancing music–and this was a crowd here to see Protomartyr, rising rock gods, not a jamming little band from Detroit. So the crowd listened, as more and more individuals poured in, as each passing second the space grew a little more cramped, tightening and constricting and packing the people, and they did not do much more than listen. By the beginning of the second opening act, Rebel Kind, most of the crowd had arrived.

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Rebel Kind, a three-piece all-female ensemble, started softly, with Autumn playing the acoustic guitar and singing a song she wrote for a friend who was in NY, all alone on stage. After, the rest of the band joined here, but for that second song, they all played on a different instrument than their usual–it’s good to see bands comfortable with switching it up and musicians who are capable of playing more than one instrument–it suggests that the performers are well-rounded and talented. Much like Deadbeat Beat, Rebel Kind has a softer sound with a steady beat, and their music makes you want to shake and move. Still, the crowd was stubborn and stiff and although a few more had begun to loosen their necks and head-nod, many more stood and stared. While this problem is not idiosyncratic to this particular crowd and, in fact, is a problem with most crowds, the bigger the name of the main act, the worse the problem is. For many concert-goers, there exists no one but the biggest name on the ticket, and opening acts are hurdles to be overcome to reach the pinnacle of their nights. Only the most engaging and capable opening acts seem to be able to get through to these dead-eyed, closed-minded listeners–unfortunately, though their sound was solid and their performance good, neither Deadbeat Beat nor Rebel Kind accomplished this. Part of the blame can be pointed towards the difference between their sounds and Protomartyr’s, but part of the blame must be put on the lack of fight these two bands had–they performed fine, but they need to learn how to get the crowd on their side.

And then, finally, Protomartyr performed.

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By this time, those in the front had been pushed by the eager crowd right against the stage and The Bling Pig was filled to capacity. And once on stage, Protomartyr didn’t waste any time, they jumped right in to it and started shredding on their instruments. It was loud. It was violent. It was rock. Everything was going fine.

But as I’ve already discussed, this was a crowd that didn’t know what to do with itself–and oh, it was a beast of crowd. Throughout the opening acts, they had been like dead men at the height of rigor mortis, and while I expected them to loosen up a little, I wasn’t entirely sure they wouldn’t just stand in holy terror, in reverence. And for the first song, they did little more than that–sure almost all of them began to bob their heads or tap their feet or even move their bodies a little, but there wasn’t any rollicking movement. But, something reached a breaking point in the second song, something snapped in this crowd, this packed, little crowd.

Directly behind the front row of people, a mass, a group, a clusterfuck of individuals began to run around–well, more aptly put, to run into people. They threw themselves at both each other and those on the outskirts of their bustling body. The very front-line of individuals–those who moments ago had been standing looking up at Protomartyr as if they were their martyrs, as if they were basking in their light, their sound–were suddenly like a rowboat entering stormy waters: they were thrown this way and that way, they were lurching forwards, onto the stage, onto the speakers, as the bodies behind them took turns slamming into and squeezing between them, they were battered, they were broken, they were profoundly annoyed. In between songs, this wretched running would cease, only to return with greater power and greater ferocity at the next crescendo. For certain unfortunate individuals, it was a long set.

I was in the front, but on the edge, against the wall, and I was mostly protected from this insanity. I cannot say whether those people were wrong to enjoy the music in that way, but I can say that the difference between these two types of people ruined the night for some. And to be honest, I’m not sure Protomartyr is the kind of music that this thrashing is meant for–to me, their sound lends itself to a more careful listening.

And let’s go back to Protomartyr. Now, if you don’t know, Protomartyr is the baby of Joe Casey, an old man by rock standards. As photographed above, he dresses like what he is: a middle-aged man. I appreciate this personal style and I think if he attempted to dress like one of his band-mates, it would seem phony. He does not have the energy of younger performer, as is clear from the way he stood at his microphone throughout the whole concert without prancing, without riling the crowd (of course, he didn’t need to do that). While his singing did not seem to suffer, he was also clearly inebriated. To be honest, while I can appreciate the music, Protomartyr’s performance had we-are-too-good-to-be-here written all over it. As is tradition, when they “finished” their set, they ran back stage, only to emerge a minute later for an encore. They played two more songs and in typical rockstar-snob fashion, they disappeared backstage for good. They didn’t stick around to greet fans or sign autographs or even to reap praise from their devoted followers–no, they said goodnight and left.

REVIEW: Ann Arbor Folk Festival Night One

Jeannie Sandefer Leave a comment

When David Mayfield first came out onto the stage on Friday night, it was an understatement to say I was majorly confused. He started talking and making jokes, so at first I thought he was there to introduce the first act. But then out of nowhere he received a guitar and started playing and singing a song, and I was really confused. Was this The Ben Daniels Band? Was this the opening act before Ben Daniels?

This was my first experience at the 39th Ann Arbor Folk Festival, something I’d been waiting for since December when I got my ticket. When I was in high school, I sat on my bed and listened to a simple song called “The Girl” over and over until I needed more, and finally, I’d get to see the singer/songwriter live. But even though I was thrilled to see City & Colour headline, I was more excited to have the opportunity to see the Ann Arbor Folk Festival at all, since it was something I’ve been hearing about since I started going to school here.

It definitely did not disappoint. Though the seats were nowhere near to being filled, The Ben Daniels Band definitely started off things right. Although it was more country influenced than I usually prefer, I still enjoyed the upbeat songs, and was definitely a great start to the night. Their set really picked up around the third song, which saw Ben trade his electric guitar for an acoustic. The singer also told the audience it was a love song, already a crowd-pleaser, and also informed us it’s been five months since she married Ben, getting a hearty applause. Although opening for so many bands can be rough, they set the tone for the night that all the other acts had to match.

Next up was Penny and Sparrow, a duo from my home state of Texas that I absolutely adored. Simply coming out with one guitar, I was amazed at how quickly I fell in love with their music. It was definitely a change of pace, as all their songs were slow and quite melancholy, but it definitely showcased one of the strengths of the folk festival – no two artists sounded the same. By balancing the upbeat Ben Daniels Band with the slower Penny and Sparrow, the night never became too slow or too fast or too country or too anything. Penny and Sparrow definitely surprised me the most, and I walked away that night a new fan.

After Penny and Sparrow, Nora Jane Struthers and the Party Line was a fresh change from the male dominated bands previously. She also kicked up the tempo, delighting and engaging the audience well. This was the part of the night when I definitely regretted being in the balcony of Hill Auditorium. Nora was more bluegrass and Americana than straight folk, which again showcased the variety, but also made me want to get up and dance. As someone who’s from Texas, even though I’m not a huge fan of bluegrass and country, I know how to dance to it. It was also an interesting change of pace when she sang with the emcee David Mayfield.

After Nora Jane was The Oh Hellos, a band I looked forward to, as my friend liked their music. I didn’t have time to listen before the show, but I trust her musical taste. As it turns out, she was more than right – The Oh Hellos performed the best set of the night by far. They brought out and entire troupe – 9 total, although the actual band is just brother and sister Maggie and Tyler Heath, again, from my home state. They were definitely the closest to indie on the roster, perhaps only being passed by City & Colour slightly. I fell in love with their song “Exeunt,” which although short rises to an amazingly satisfying climax. While they were playing, too, they were jumping all around the stage – not just to jump, but because that’s what the song feels like. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen a headbanging violinist, but I did that night, and he was having the time of his life.

The last act before the intermission was a group that everyone should know, Yo La Tengo. For some reason, their set was my least favorite – they played about an hour, but each song was similar in that they were all slow, dreamy songs. It was definitely entertaining when they played “Friday I’m In Love” and everyone in the crowd sang along, but after the youthful energy of The Oh Hellos, it felt a bit off. Nonetheless, they still played a great set, and at intermission I was pleased and excited for the last two acts.

I’m not familiar with folk music or the folk community, although after Friday night I realized I should be, because I love folk music, but the next act is apparently a legend. Richard Thompson came out and there are no words for his set. He was alone, no band, just a guitar, and what a guitar player he was. At one point, he sounded like he was playing two guitars at once. He also did a sea-chanty-type-song that was call and response, and was immensely fun for an audience that had already seen five acts previously. Although I wouldn’t go listen to his music on my own, I immensely enjoyed his set.

And then, finally, what I had been looking forward to all night – City & Colour. I had listened to his new album while at work that day, so I was already in the mood, and I had bought it as well as a t-shirt at his merch table. I was ready.

I guess, though, other people weren’t, because during his set – about two or three songs in – people started leaving. People had been coming and going all night, which was mildly annoying, but not horrible – it was more the venue and my annoyance at not getting front row seats (but hey, poor college student). But this was somewhat confusing – he was the headliner, right? And I mean, it was late, but 7 bands are going to take a while.

I thought maybe they had only come for Richard Thompson, but if so, why not leave when he left? After a minute, I decided to ignore it and focus on the amazing songs Dallas Green was playing.

And he was performing beautifully. He was everything my high-school heart could desire. He even started off his set with his older music, starting with “We Found Each Other In The Dark,” “Sleeping Sickness,” “Hello I’m In Delaware,” and even “As Much As I Ever Could.”

But then, maybe 5 or 6 songs in, after exchanging his guitar for the umpteeth time (he even switched mid-song at one point), he hung back near his drummer. Perhaps he was getting water or something, but it lasted for more than a few seconds, and after a minute he comes back and says “Sorry, I was having a team meeting.”

And then, right before his last song, he asked people to sing along, or, you know, leave. While at the time sounded a bit tongue-in-cheek to me (people were screaming from the balcony how much they loved him), but looking back at it, he was probably upset. After that song, he ran off stage abruptly – no goodbye, thank you, maybe he waved, but besides the song that was it. He was gone.

And worst of all? No “The Girl.”

I’m not going to lie, I was heartbroken. We were sitting right behind a railing, and I leaned over it, arms outstretched, waiting for him to come back. He had only played for around an hour, maybe less. And where was my song?

David came out one last time to thank everybody but I don’t even remember what he said. I was too dazed. The house lights came up, and my small hopes for an encore dwindled to nothing.

I’m not going to blame anyone for what happened, because I don’t know whether it was him, or if the stage managers were telling him he was out of time, or if someone else’s set had lasted too long. There are a thousand reasons his set could have been shorter than I had expected, and maybe it was always going to be that short. So I’m not going to blame anyone. But this is my honest review, and honestly, I was upset.

I had a great night overall, but it was hard to wipe that feeling from my memory. I will definitely be returning for a show at The Ark, hopefully The Oh Hellos, and I’m grateful that I found so many new bands to enjoy. But I wish it hadn’t ended quite like that.  

REVIEW: “Gruesome Playground Injuries”

Natalie Steers Leave a comment

Friday night a friend and I ventured from the comfort of East Quad to North Campus to see Basement Arts’ first performance of the Winter Semester. “Gruesome Playground Injuries” is a play by Rajiv Joseph that explores pain and love over the span of a life-long friendship. I found the play at times touching, absurd, gross, and strangely relatable.

Even though it appeared through advertising the show started at 11pm, the doors didn’t even open until 11. At which point there was a very large crowd that had to fight for seats all at once instead of arriving at different intervals. Having successfully elbowed our way to seats together near the front, my friend and I observed the set. The small Studio One was an intimate space that worked to draw the audience close to this two person show. The stage was framed with sheets hanging on clothes lines, a bed on stage right, and a gurney on stage left.

The show started rather abruptly with the house lights still up, and we watched as the two actors hung up their various costumes for the show between the sheets. I liked starting the show in this manner, easing the audience into the performance, especially since this technique was echoed throughout the rest of the performance. The play is structured out of chronological order, so to help the audience know when each scene took place, we watched them change clothes. The transition between each scene consisted of the characters switching costumes before us; not only did the different clothes symbolize different periods in their life, the act of watching them transition represented the passing of time (either forward or backwards). While this did make for somewhat long transitions I personally enjoyed watching the physical and acting changes take place in their demeanor.

I however was not a fan of the sheets hanging around the edges of the stage. I kept waiting for the set decision to make sense but I left dissatisfied. The show continues to circle back to that first playground injury during which the two best friends met, so why wasn’t the set reminiscent of a playground then? Why were there white sheets hanging everywhere? My friend was unbothered by this fact and thought it made sense.  This set choice gave the characters an excuse to hang their clothes around the stage at the beginning. I however disagree; there are other ways that we still could have witnessed the costume changes and had the clothes laid out on the edge of the stage without having hanging sheets which served no thematic purpose except to be there.

Other than the set, I enjoyed the directorial and performances choices made throughout the performance. “Gruesome Playground Injuries” begins with the two characters, Kayleen and Doug, meeting in the school nurse’s office. Kayleen has a stomach ache and Doug has cut his face open after riding his bike off the school’s roof. Kayleen is both disgusted and morbidly fascinated. So begins an almost platonic life-long friendship full of pain, injures, self discover and injury, love and disappointment. Sometimes love hurts. The ultimate message focused on the concept that sometimes we have to learn to love ourselves without relying on another’s love to heal us or the scars we’ve made.

Overall, I had a nice evening and found some interesting perspective about how injuries can shape, or even ruin, our lives, if we left them.

REVIEW: Paul Lisicky at Literati

Natalie Steers Leave a comment

Friday evening Paul Lisicky read from his book The Narrow Door: A Memoir of Friendship at Literati. I went to the event curious, having heard good things about the book but not having read either the memoir or any other of Lisicky’s writings. But I’m always looking for a chance to visit Literati. 

The atmosphere was relaxed and cozy; an atmosphere Literati strives to cultivate and almost always seems to achieve. There was a combination of students and older non-students in attendance. Paul Lisicky started the evening by reading a good section from the beginning of his book. I always enjoy hearing writers read their own works; it adds an extra element, listening to the inflection that they imagined it being read with when they wrote it. Lisicky’s language is both vivid and at times impressionistic (in the best way). There was something very poetic about his word choices and the vignette style in which the book is structured added to this effect.

Lisicky’s latest work is a story about his friendship with a fellow writer Denise, who dies from cancer, and his relationship with his ex-husband. Listening to the few pages Lisicky read for us on Friday, they held an interesting mix of very  the personal and the larger world.

Following his reading, he sat down and had a guided conversation with Sarah Messer, who also happens to teach at the University of Michigan and is my current poetry teacher. They discussed the process of writing this memoir. He explained how it was a very different experience from most of his works, which are fiction novels. This nonfiction called for a different style. Especially since he started writing it so close after the events of Denise’s death and his breakup. When asked by an audience member how he decided where to stop the story, he said it had kind of fallen into place. He also mused that if he wrote this story later, the make-up, what he included and what he didn’t, would probably change because as he said, “the everything is changeable”. It depends on time and context.

The Narrow Door is for sale at Literati and other booksellers such as Amazon. It’s sure to be an emotional and touching story told with masterful beautiful images of some difficult moments in his life. Myself, I can’t wait to read it!