Cantspeakitgood Writes it Better

Paste magazine launch party with Beck

2006-10-27T16:08:00.000-04:00

Paste launch party, Oct. 26

at the Knitting Factory, NYC

featuring Beck

I’m broke. To make matters worse, I’m luckless. When my friend Christina called me last week to say that she had an extra ticket to Beck at Madison Square Garden I considered myself on the cusp of some sort of karmic turn. Then she dropped the price on me: $65. Whew, no way could I come up with the sum.

So, while my girls trotted off to their expensive arena seats I sat at home in front of the computer. Bored and a little irritated with my situation, I perused some music sites and stumbled upon a Web competition from Paste. They were giving away tickets to the 26th issue launch party at the Knitting Factory. Conincidentally the issue features Beck on the cover, (a sore subject for me), but what the hell, I’ll fill out the form. I never expected to win.

***

When I arrive at Leonard Street around 8 p.m. knots of people stand behind a velvet rope puffing on butts. It wasn’t an exclusivity thing; apparently the club has had trouble with the neighbors. It might have something to do with all the construction on both sides of the street, little room for traffic, less for smokers. A check of my ID, an eye locating my name on the guest list and I’m in.

The main room and its adjoining area are already packed with wannabe rock stars, writers and Paste personnel. I cop a drink and move towards the main stage as the NYC-based folk/alt-country act Hem mount the stage. Singer Sally Ellyson’s voice is sweet enough, but her protruding stomach proves an unconquerable distraction. Seven and half months pregnant, you have to give the woman respect for crooning in that condition, the blandness of the band, however, deserves few if any props.

At this point I’m wondering why I bothered to show up. Sure, the tickets were free, but my roommate is super late and I’ve been standing around by myself for an hour and half. I’ve only had a few blips of conversation with other partygoers and Hem’s adult contemporary sound is just not doing it for me. I decide to have one more drink and peace out. Matt finally shows up and we order two beers.

Halfway through our Sierra Nevada and Heineken, stage hands start to assemble the stage for the next surprise band. It took an unusually long time to complete sound check and considering how disappointed I was with the first act, I vowed to be out after I swallowed the last sip of my pale ale. Who wants to stick around for a group that probably sucks as much as the last one, especially when they’re pretentious enough to take 40 minutes setting up?

At last the Paste host ambles up to the mike to announce the special guest. After tipping his hat to Questlove who had filled dead air with various guitar driven dance jams during intermissions, he said, “We here at Paste are pleased to introduce Beck!” Are you serious? Beck is playing in this small club for 150 people when the previous week he sold out the theater at the Garden? Do I hear Lady Luck shuffling in a 180 degree rotation? Well, I at least see Beck emerge from the side room and that’s proof enough for me.

Without scrims or massive video screens, without lasers or scantily clad dancers, Beck and his band plow through songs from his newest release The Information right down to Mellow Gold. After coursing through a few selections, Beck asks the audience for requests. Inexhaustible answers spring from the crowd as Matt chimes in with a booming “Devil’s Haircut.” Beck looks him directly in the eye and strums the opening chords. At that moment, Beck doesn’t play for Paste, he plays for us.

The band -- composed of a fro-ed out hipster bass player (name) with white latex pants and matching sunglasses, a percussion/dancer (name) in brick red jeans, a keyboard/sideman (Brian LeBarton ) with a pageboy haircut, a drummer (Matt Sherrod ) hitting the skins so hard the snare popps up and down and a too-cool-for-school guitar player (name) who munches on gum like cud and stands aloofly in the same spot all night – played a professional set, yet seemed to take the experience rather lightly.

***

It’s probably been ages since Beck and his band played small club. I imagine the show provided a certain leeway that performing in front of thousands of people doesn’t allow. After Beck left the stage, the band stayed on to a do an original song with the degrading and repetitive chorus “drop your panties to the floor.” No one, of course, followed their commands, but it was a light touch on an otherwise thoughtful set.

On the way out I reveled in my good fortune and relished the opportunity to call my friends and tell them about the free Beck show. As I was entering the final corridor, a face struck me as familiar. I realized it was James Iha, former guitarist for the Smashing Pumpkins. I sent my roommate in to snap a shot. I’m still broke, but at least I have a story to tell and a picture to prove it.

American Hardcore review

2006-10-26T11:47:00.000-04:00

Modern usage for the word “hardcore” carries with it a lot of baggage. Images of explicit sexual acts abound, but to the ‘80s punks who absconded the term for musical purposes hardcore will always mean something beyond screwing (at least in the literal sense). Hardcore was a rejection of the leadership, the social niceties and the plastic façade of consumerism; a big F-U to disco balls, pop music and spandex fashion. In other words, what these young punks screamed from coast to coast was, “screw the American way.”

The hardcore punks said so in an obscenely fast, raucous way to make sure that those outside the community would take the sound as an assault not only on their ears, but also on their values. It’s no coincidence that this radical musical genre manifested as a response to an era overwhelmed by materialism. With parallels being drawn between the current president, George W. Bush, and Ronald Reagan, today’s youth may find a renewed interest in hardcore as the antithesis of modern politics. True, hardcore did little more than quell the anger of a few thousand musicians and fans by creating a new social set, but every generation needs a sufficient mode of expression.

A new documentary is letting audiences examine the hardcore movement, whether or not they chose to incorporate its philosophies into their own daily actions. Through Paul Rachman’s American Hardcore, the viewer gets a behind the scenes dialogue with the forefathers of the most extreme form of American music. Spanning the distance from hardcore hotspots such as San Francisco and Los Angeles to New York City and Boston, the 98- minute film gives not only a history of the aesthetics behind the movement, but also a glimpse at the former lives of these middle aged misfits.

Interviews of huge hardcore figures like Ian MacKaye (Minor Threat/Fugazi) and Brandon Cruz (Dr. Know/Dead Kennedys) are interwoven between classic tunes and live footage of such luminary bands as the Circle Jerks, Bad Brains and Black Flag. Mosh pits abound as pubescent boys throw elbows, knees and fists at each other in possessed fits of sublime rage. This may sound like a destructive scenario, but these kids actually built a community out of expressing their angst with American culture. Positive things grew from hardcore’s excitedly fast pulse and raucously played guitar chords: straightedge, for example, the abstaining from drugs and alcohol, became a branch of the hardcore ideology.

After five or six years of community-building, the hardcore scene began to fall apart around 1985. The ideology of the scene was so loosely held together by music that the movement never had a chance to actualize. Some of the bands, such as Hüsker Dü, lost the notion and began to play arena rock. Fans became disillusioned by the same pumping beat and excruciatingly loud guitars. Others turned to public violence and riots (and police brutality ensued).

What the participants of American Hardcore unanimously agree on is that the genre is dead, the sense of freedom and belonging gone to the wayside with it. Although many bands continue taking the title of hardcore as their style of playing, the musical similarities are superficial and the political sentiments often missing. Perhaps we are all searching for a new musical genre to incorporate the outsiders, to take a stand, to sound the call. Or perhaps the hardcore vision of a community united against the mainstream was only that: a vision.

Up with Tool, Down with Tools

2006-10-26T11:44:00.000-04:00

I have to admit it: I was disappointed by Tool’s 2006 release 10,000 Days. After unleashing an alluring and groundbreaking album with Lateralus in 2001, I didn’t expect the band to take a detour back into the trodden lands of modern rock. Following epics like “The Patient” (Lateralus), I felt songs such as “The Pot” (10,000 Days) served as little than radio-friendly airs or possibly LP filler. (BTW: I so predicted “The Pot” would be Tool’s next big popular market sensation.) However, after attending the last show of Tool’s fall stateside tour at Nassau Coliseum, I renewed my respect for one of America’s greatest rock ensembles.

Tool puts on a great show—period. Whether the band chooses to aggrandize the visual or aural side of their supple package, the guys know how to keep a stadium crowd entertained. On past tours--most notably during Lateralus--Tool tricked out the stage ala scrims adorned with holistic art work and giant plasma screens broadcasting interpretable images. At Nassau Coliseum, they scaled back the eye candy and concentrated on epic art rock tunes, making even “The Pot” impress with an alacrity not previously revealed to me by listening to the album cut. The newer songs, especially the title track, stood ground with classics such as “AEnema,” “Forty Six & 2,” “Stinkfist” and “Schism.” My only concern after witnessing the concert is a repeat of the modern rock cycle, which now, thank God, seems to be a rabid dog begging to be shot in the head. How much more mediocre Chevelle ditties can a person take?

No doubt Tool had a big part in creating a fan base for the harder edge style of these clone bands and the airwaves dedicated solely to this kind of drivel, but it’s hardly the band’s fault that these amateurs never learned to play their instruments. Practically anyone can coax a chug, chug out of their Les Paul, but Tool’s Adam Jones can do that and carry an acrobatic lead line in 5/4 time, all while looking stylishly disaffected. Therein lays the problem: they make it look too easy. Well, scratch that, on earlier tours they made it look too pretty. I think young fans figured if they threw enough glitz and glam into their stage show, they could pass as a play-alike act. Now that Tool has scaled back the visual aspect of their performance, I’m afraid younger wannabes will take this as a cue not only to copy the band (it may sound hard, but it looks easy), but also dump the showmanship attitude. That’s a lose/lose situation, considering most modern rock bands have difficulty playing the three-chord traditional structure of their compositions.

At Nassau Coliseum, singer Maynard James Keenan’s lizard-like gyrations, bassist Justin Chancellor’s head thrash and drummer Danny Carey’s precision skin thumps served as the only human movement on stage. Projections of older stop-motion animation Tool videos along with rapidly changing light patterns behind and underneath the band nary distracted from the bombast of the music. I don’t know about all of you guys, but I wouldn’t pay $50 to see a band practically stand still among some lasers if the members couldn’t slam on their instruments. That’s the threat here. Say “yes” to Tool and “no” to all the hard rock tools. Do it or we’re facing another 10 years aural punishment.

I'm Back!!

2006-10-23T13:09:00.000-04:00

After taking a rather large break from blogging, I have returned with a review of the band Katatonia. I have an excuse for such a long excursion; I moved to New York City at the end of Sept. I'm trying my best to jumpstart a career in freelance arts writing. Stop laughing, I'm serious.

Anyway, I will continue regular posts until someone gives me a job and I need my chops for an actual printing press (no dis to you Slate, you're the best!)

Katatonia at B.B. King’s, NYC

2006-10-23T13:03:00.000-04:00

Katatonia at B.B. King’s, NYC

For a music lover, nothing evokes such disappointment as a lackluster concert by a band you adore. That performance passed for me last Sunday night at B.B. King’s when I attended a show by the Swedish outfit Katatonia, my heart sinking from the mediocre resonance of songs that have often quieted the tension within my soul. Katatonia’s music is intentionally cathartic with vocalist Jonas Renkse’s main topics including the decline of character, loss of love and general dissatisfaction with the surrounding world. Here exists a man whose somber sentiments until now comforted me with the touch of a kindred spirit.

Yes, I suppose I came to the show with preconceived notions of how the band would look, act and sound. I pictured a Robert Smith kind of presence, considering the tone and style of Renke’s singing. I imagined the atmospheric undertones of the band rising up to join Renske in a stratosphere of pining sounds, penetrating the darkness and decending on the crowd with the slow leak of despondency. All clearly manifest in my mind, none fulfilled.

Like reading a book, you create a dream world using someone else’s art, changing the characteristics of a face despite the author’s own penmanship pronouncing otherwise. The writer externalizes flesh and bone, his vision transferred to an alterable dimension, one that becomes a divergent environment with each new reader. It is the same with music albums where it is quite probable that your fantasy of grandeur exists only as a once removed ideal of someone else’s creation and a twice removed delusion of reality.

From Katatonia’s records I expected Renkse’s visage to express his aggrieved nature, but instead he barely offered his eyes, so covered with dark unkempt locks. Instead he bowed his head, slumped his shoulders and avoided the gaze of his audience. His nervousness at touring the States for the first time overrode the proper instincts of a frontman as he seemed to cower before the faces longing to exalt his figure. Renkse inevitably lost the audience; during a dramatic pause in “Criminals,” the band tried to get the crowd to cheer a second time with little response. The silence ensuing, it became quite clear that the disappointment was transcendental.

The other guys in the band— Anders Nyström, Fred Norrman, Mattias Norrman and Daniel Liljekvist —worked hard to project a rock star image, oddly juxtaposing their mentality with music that suggests a whole different kind of vibe. Despondent, discordant, disarrayed, these constitute the adjectives that Katatonia’s songs bring to mind, not arrogant, aggrandized and audacious. The only distraction from the showboating came from the excellence of song selection (not to be confused with the poor quality of their execution), which included “Ghost of the Sun” (Viva La Emptiness), “Deadhouse” (Discouraged Ones) and “Tonight’s Music” (Last Fair Deal Gone Down).

Continually during each tune, Nyström threw his hands up in a fist while lip-synching every lyric. When he did approach the mic with thinning fair hair and the demeanor of a middle-aged man, his voice rang strained, under-the-pitch. The bass player, Mattias Norrman, joined his antics with a deceivingly youthful looking haircut, much like one sees on the heads of Good Charlotte members. He thrashed from front to back, side to side, as if the riffs demanded a sort of anthem attitude.

Appearances aside, the sound of the show lacked the brilliance of a learned engineer and a more practiced band. Part of the problem comes inherently from B.B. King’s cramped space and architecture that hardly takes into account the science of acoustics. The band, for its part, muddied up the performance by not playing tightly. Their tendency towards drawn out drones of chords and short, repetitive sections requires precise timing as a split second delay registers almost like a mistake. The albums that I listen to, the ones adhering to my soul, never include a glitche.

It serves me right for expecting a perfection only technology produces, a concert such as this one, dependent on human competency. In a way, my reality of Katatonia’s music passed through the additional filters of a mixing board and mastering session. Those albums made me buy tickets three months in advance, the performance shriveled my adoration of Katatonia in but one hour. How distorted our perception when it’s tainted by misleading tangibility.

Reflections of Ireland

2006-04-18T09:51:00.000-04:00

As promised, here are some of my reflections from the Goldring arts journalism trip to Ireland.

Everywhere you look in Ireland there lingers an artifact attesting to that culture’s long and prosperous history. On the left lies a landmark, a monument to some long gone, but not forgotten hero. To the right stands a doorway leading to the living quarters of a revolutionary thinker, persecuted for his belief in liberation, but not blind to a new way of life. From the ancient Kells and the Viking hordes to the English landlords and the Irish rebels, each nook and cranny of the tiny island nation bears the tale of a proud people--a strong contrast from our own history.

Their National Museum of History in Dublin contains a wealth of information about Irish civilization starting from prehistoric times when people molded cauldrons out of bronze and buried human scarifies in the bog after performing a killing ritual three times. From there you can journey through the years of Roman influence, Viking onslaught and English occupation. Weaponry such as deadly swords and crossbows as well as hand-molded chalices and broaches line the inside of cases. They indicate a time when people were deeply indebted to the fight as well as the creation of art.

A similar chunk of history can be found at the Book of Kells museum in Dublin. Here ancient scriptures taken from monks’ renditions of the Bible come alive on standing columns. The intricate Celtic designs are projected onto walls along with details about literacy in medieval times. The Celtic designs, which include colorful pigments of blue, red and gold amongst intertwining, spiraling lines, cast the shape of letters, crosses and animals, such as snakes and cats.

In contrast, my nascent nation of America has but little to offer in terms of identity. The natives who inhabited my country, and to whom the true history of North America belongs, were silenced many years ago by the white profiteers. U.S. history is built on the backs of minority peoples, while the Irish have but ancient ancestors to blame for the destruction of their culture. They were the subjugated of Germanic tribes and English law, while we, on the other side of the ocean, were the exploiters of our country’s peoples.

As with the black population in America, the Irish culture survived beyond all persecution. Despite the many attempts to subject and kill them through events like the potato famine in the 19th century and the revolution in the 21st, the Irish lasted and held onto their national character. Because of this perseverance, no matter how small, if something is branded with the Celtic seal it becomes a thing of pride in the Irish heart. With a country as large, diverse and new as America, finding a common thread is not as simple.

The Irish have a way of unearthing that unifying force in almost any circumstance. Kilmainham Jail, for instance, served as a place of suffering and death for members of the Irish Revolution (1919-1921). Instead of looking at the structure as a place of woe, the Irish use it to represent the good deeds done by those who freed the country from English rule. They keep the doors open to countrymen and tourists to teach them about the Irish rebels who were executed on the premises less than 100 years ago. Jails are normally seen as a place of repression, but the Irish have found a way to turn the prison into a symbol of freedom.

Take the second example of the Guinness Storehouse. One typecast that follows the Irish from birth ‘till death is that they are notorious drinkers. As we all know, too much alcohol can cause liver damage and premature birth, but instead of being insulted by the stereotype that they drink heavily, the Irish have turned it into something positive. Thousands of people visit the Guinness plant each year to see how the brewers construct their famous Irish beer. Likewise, Guinness exports their product to over 150 countries around the world. The Irish cliché may be compounded by the fame of this alcohol, but because it’s Irish it’s a matter of esteem.

Perhaps the idea of the Irish drinker merits both truth and pride. On the Dublin Literary Pub Crawl, you can follow the course of the most famous Irish authors and thinkers, such as James Joyce and Oscar Wilde, from bar to bar. Behind these walls lies the inspiration for some of the most brilliant work in the Western cannon, as well as drunk Irishman perched on stools clutching pints of Smithicks. The Irish can trace their literary history back to the pubs and so they too remain a national treasure.

Speaking of authors, the most revealing sense of history and pride comes from inside the works of Irish playwrites. Brian Friel’s work The Faith Healer recently enjoyed a run at the Gate Theatre in Dublin. Throughout the play the main character, a faith healer named Frank Hardy, makes repeated references to his home country of Ireland. While growing it was the place where he found his gift, now matured he has left Ireland to utilize his ability to heal and save.

The story revolves around Hardy’s discontent with his gift; it is a double edge sword that allows him to cure others, but also requires him to sense events before they happen. More often than not his forethought leads to conflict within himself. For example, the four monologues that deliver the story allude to the fact that Hardy has seen his own death by murder. Thus Hardy runs from his country, hides from his attackers; however, he cannot evade away from fate.

Hardy becomes afraid to return to Ireland because it transformed into a place synonymous with death, first his father’s and then his own. However, upon the death of his baby in Scotland, Hardy realizes that death is not confined to one particular domain; it will follow him until fate commands it to strike. Only when he faces his mortality by coming back to Ireland is Hardy able to eradicate his despondency. He and his wife spend a lovely evening together laughing and drinking at the bar until kinsmen murder him. Hardy’s life has come full circle, an act of fate. He that is born an Irishman must die and Irishman.

Another play that recently debuted, this time at the Druid Theatre in Galway, uses the country of Ireland as a central theme in its plot. The Walworth Farce, a story about a father and his two sons, repeatedly uses Ireland as a heavenly contrast to the hellish atmosphere in England. The family moved to London some ten years prior where they stay holed up in a small apartment, play acting their former lives in the Irish countryside.

The boys reference the feel of the grass under their feet, the sweet smell of their mother’s cooking and the happiness they felt as a family—all in Ireland. The father promises the boys that they will one day return home and find that joy again. Though it never happens, the thought of going back to Ireland keeps the boys at their father’s command as they play act their lives away and wish for the day when their existence will come round full circle.

Another play that harkens back to a more remote part of Irish history is the Bacchae of Baghdad, playing at the Abbey Theatre in Dublin. Although the original version, written by the Greek playwrite Euripides in the 5th century B.C., may seem to be unrelated to modern Irish life, a closer look reveals the connection.

Every inch of Western culture from America to Ireland owes allegiance to the ancient civilizations of Greece and Rome. Without their example of government, art and architecture, our world we be another place. The dramas of the prehistoric playwrites directly influence the way contemporary writers think about their work. Therefore, the Bacchae of Baghdad merely pays homage to a part of Irish heritage that belongs to an extended community.

We can all learn a lot from observing cultural practices of other nations, whether they include dumping back pints of Guinness at a pub, walking the grounds of a rehabilitation prison or watching a production of a contemporary play. Ireland is a land rich with heritage and pride; the world would do well to pay attention to their example of turning a negative event into a positive tradition.

Pics from The Gathering at the Knitting Factory

2006-04-15T20:42:00.000-04:00

Ed Gein

2006-04-15T20:35:00.000-04:00

The two top photos feature a guest singer.

Westcott Community Center Syracuse, N.Y.

2006-04-15T20:23:00.000-04:00

Since the closing of Club Tundra (better known in its heyday as The Lost Horizon) the extreme scene has had trouble picking back up. Venues are few and far between, but one that remains dedicated to exhibiting local culture, including metal and hardcore music, is the Westcott Community Center. Freya and The Unholy played last night (April 14) and Path of Resistance is scheduled for next week. Here are a few older pictures of the Assassin/Ed Gein/Architect show from March. The first three are Assassin the second two are Architect. For Ed Gein photos see other post.

Courtney Rile update

2006-04-15T20:22:00.000-04:00

Here's an update on Courtney Rile. I wrote a profile on her last summer, which has changed drastically--a symptom of life.

Nestled in the corner of the Coffee Pavilion, Tom Brigandi turns and takes a swig of his Bud Light. He pivots past his tip jar and towards the almost vacant seating area. The clapping of but four hands stopped moments before, yet he remains strapped into his six-string electric bass. It is the same instrument Brigandi used when he toured with Chuck Mangione in the 1990s. Following negotiations with his percussionist and guitar player, he leads his band in another song only a few will hear.

A few blocks away at the Ohm Lounge, an unusually large crowd of musicians gather for a “Party for the Arts.” Three Syracuse arts supporters--Jim Horsman of Center Stage Events, Larry Luttinger of the CNY Jazz Arts Foundation and Leo Crandall of the Cultural Resources Council—staged the event to celebrate those who contribute to the local arts scene. A variety of players join each other onstage, while onlookers shake hands and eat plates full of rye bread and humus.

Guitarist Mark Copani attended the party on Feb. 2. Like most Central New York musicians, he spends his free nights performing. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen that many musicians together,” said Copani. “Musicians have a hard time seeing other musicians ... You kind of forget that there are other musicians doing the same thing.”

Most CNY musicians tour the restaurant and club scene where they are paid according to the amount of people in attendance. The steady decline over the past 30 years in the amount of fans coming out to hear live music is causing artists to cash smaller and smaller paychecks. The city government does little to alleviate this problem; it hasn’t included arts funding in its budget for 10 years. The county gives some money in the form of grants thanks to the initiatives of State Senator John DeFrancisco, an avid supporter of the arts, but for the most part, its solutions are lip service.

In 1990, Onondaga County Executive Nick Pirro commissioned a council called the Partnership for the Arts. When the Partnership issued its report in 1992, they found three things that affected the music community: High taxes hurt the venue owners who had to stop music series or cut pay for musicians playing at their establishments. An increase in advertising from television, radio and print diluted the message sent about arts organizations and their events. And many fans of the local music scene are aging and no longer coming out to gigs.

The Partnership suggested evaluating arts institutions on a case by case basis and finding new ways to fund their projects, which did little to help these organizations in the short term and nothing to help the individual artist.

The bigger organizations solve these issues by throwing fundraisers and revamping their advertising campaigns, while most solo artists are put the position of beggars. This is not to say that the arts organizations and the single musicians are adversaries: The Syracuse Symphony makes a big announcement each year when it has balanced its budget, a statement that sounds equivalent to Brigandi’s tip jar scenario.

Back at the Coffee Pavilion Brigandi sets down his bass after a three hour set. He looks over at the adjacent table where his plastic tip jar holds a few dollars and some change. He hands his bandmates their share and walks over to the counter to order another beer. Brigandi has toured the world with jazz star Chuck Mangione, but for now he will continue to play for one or two faces every week at a coffee house.

Syracuse arts scene

2006-04-15T20:20:00.000-04:00

Here is an older piece I wrote. It give you a good idea of how the arts are treated in my city.

Nestled in the corner of the Coffee Pavilion, Tom Brigandi turns and takes a swig of his Bud Light. He pivots past his tip jar and towards the almost vacant seating area. The clapping of but four hands stopped moments before, yet he remains strapped into his six-string electric bass. It is the same instrument Brigandi used when he toured with Chuck Mangione in the 1990s. Following negotiations with his percussionist and guitar player, he leads his band in another song only a few will hear.

A few blocks away at the Ohm Lounge, an unusually large crowd of musicians gather for a “Party for the Arts.” Three Syracuse arts supporters--Jim Horsman of Center Stage Events, Larry Luttinger of the CNY Jazz Arts Foundation and Leo Crandall of the Cultural Resources Council—staged the event to celebrate those who contribute to the local arts scene. A variety of players join each other onstage, while onlookers shake hands and eat plates full of rye bread and humus.

Guitarist Mark Copani attended the party on Feb. 2. Like most Central New York musicians, he spends his free nights performing. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen that many musicians together,” said Copani. “Musicians have a hard time seeing other musicians ... You kind of forget that there are other musicians doing the same thing.”

Most CNY musicians tour the restaurant and club scene where they are paid according to the amount of people in attendance. The steady decline over the past 30 years in the amount of fans coming out to hear live music is causing artists to cash smaller and smaller paychecks. The city government does little to alleviate this problem; it hasn’t included arts funding in its budget for 10 years. The county gives some money in the form of grants thanks to the initiatives of State Senator John DeFrancisco, an avid supporter of the arts, but for the most part, its solutions are lip service.

In 1990, Onondaga County Executive Nick Pirro commissioned a council called the Partnership for the Arts. When the Partnership issued its report in 1992, they found three things that affected the music community: High taxes hurt the venue owners who had to stop music series or cut pay for musicians playing at their establishments. An increase in advertising from television, radio and print diluted the message sent about arts organizations and their events. And many fans of the local music scene are aging and no longer coming out to gigs.

The Partnership suggested evaluating arts institutions on a case by case basis and finding new ways to fund their projects, which did little to help these organizations in the short term and nothing to help the individual artist.

The bigger organizations solve these issues by throwing fundraisers and revamping their advertising campaigns, while most solo artists are put the position of beggars. This is not to say that the arts organizations and the single musicians are adversaries: The Syracuse Symphony makes a big announcement each year when it has balanced its budget, a statement that sounds equivalent to Brigandi’s tip jar scenario.

Back at the Coffee Pavilion Brigandi sets down his bass after a three hour set. He looks over at the adjacent table where his plastic tip jar holds a few dollars and some change. He hands his bandmates their share and walks over to the counter to order another beer. Brigandi has toured the world with jazz star Chuck Mangione, but for now he will continue to play for one or two faces every week at a coffee house.

Bacchae of Baghdad at the Abbey Theatre, Dublin

2006-04-06T12:21:00.000-04:00

As I said, my class went to Ireland for spring break. Here is the first in a series of reviews/reflections I will be posting about the trip.

Review: Bacchae of Baghdad
Julie Pinsonneault

The appeal of ancient drama comes from its timelessness. Themes such as war and characters such as the grieving mother translate comparably to our modern times. For writer/director Conall Morrison to stage a version of Euripides' The Bacchae in contemporary Iraq merely extends the template that pre-Christian Greece set for humanity over 2,000 years ago. Aptly renamed the Bacchae of Baghdad, this show currently runs at the Abbey Theatre, Dublin.

The curtains open to reveal the ravaged peaks of a Babylonian city. Pieces of cloth are suspended from bamboo poles partitioned for areas of rest and commerce. Among the ancient architecture hangs the neon knockoff of a McDonalds’ sign. It’s red and yellow illuminates against the backdrop of traditional tapestries and the entrance to Pentheus’ palace. This is the first in a series of images representing the corruptive power of Western civilization.

Before Pantheus, ruler of this city, makes his appearance the “barbarian” God Dionysius presents the issue that surrounds the play: He and his followers, the bacchae, are not welcome because they are seen as a threat to Pantheus’ dictatorship. Pantheus’ goal is to displace this Eastern troupe from his land despite the fact that he is their direct descendent through his mother who is a bacchae.

Christopher Simpson’s presentation of Dionysius brings unwarranted comic relief to a decidedly serious event. Dressed as some Rastafarian caricature with multi-colored dreadlocks and MC Hammer style pantaloons, he speaks with a non-existent foreign accent that sounds like a hybrid of Iranian and Russian as he spins around ungracefully in some sort of pagan rapture. True, no one can be sure how the ancient Greeks did it, whether pantomime and excessive expression was necessary to project throughout their massive outdoor spaces, but even they would find humor in Simpson’s over the top performance.

In contrast, Pentheus, played by Robert O’Mahoney, marches out in U.S. military garb equip with a backwards American flag sown onto his right arm. His rage and command shows through his mostly shouted dialogue, which serves as a great foil to the chorus of bacchae. These women dressed scantily in scraps of Middle Eastern fabric stamp their feet, dance and holler a marriage of ecstasy. They deliver their lines in unison, each taking turns as chorus leader throughout the play. Their frenzy and the rage of Pentheus makes Dionysius seem the rationale being, which makes Simpson’s acting all the more absurd

As the voice of reason, Simpson should have concentrated more on what a level-headed character would do rather than an ancient Greek actor. Things have changed vastly since the time Euripides wrote this play and there is no need to revert back to their techniques as the lone player.

O’Mahoney embraces the modern version, basing his model on a contemporary American general by barking out orders, standing up tall and proud and furrowing his brow—all of this comes across naturally and fits with the staging. Pentheus lives as a product of the times while Dionysius seems out of place with his fake accent and clunky movements. When he raises his calves up towards his knees and sets them down slowly as a tribute dance to the gods, he looks as if he is ready to topple over with the next movement.

Morrison reorganized this play as an investigation of Western civilization and its destruction of Eastern culture. Having Dionysius play such an over the top character pushes the Western European audience to relate to their familiar heritage rather than the Eastern representation in Dionysius.

The conundrum further compounds upon the entrance of one of Pentheus’ troops and marks the unraveling of Morrison’s central concept. The soldier’s dialogue contains the distinct twang of an American southerner as he relays the story of watching the bacchae in their natural habitat in a field among animals. The accent, though comical at first listen, presents another unnecessary character reference. The fast food sign, the inverted American flag and the camouflage gear symbolizes America without need for further stereotype. Second, his voice distracts as the fourth use of accent throughout the play: Irish for the bacchae, American northerner for Pentheus, and Greek/Russian for Dionysius and now American southerner for the soldier.

After the speech Pentheus becomes obsessed with seeing the bacchae and Dionysius convinces him to dress as a woman and observe them. This infatuation comes from almost nowhere. He is their enemy one moment, trying to capture and uproot them and their admirer the next, hatching elaborate plans to find and watch them. This concept--that the West comes from the East and thus becomes infatuated with its existence—is an engaging topic that Morrison fails to expand upon. Instead Pentheus changes in an instant and the bacchae repay his veneration with his murder. In turn, Dionysius banishes the bacchae responsible, Pentheus’ mother.

By the end the gods have punished everyone; therefore, Morrison fails in his revamping of this Euripides drama. The tragedy as a moral play rebuking the West for their invasion of Iraq does not work because both the West and East suffer. In the end the gods rule all and Fate is responsible for the fall of mankind, not man. True the ending exclaims violence will be punished by violence, but it also takes the blame from humanity and places it on the shoulders of higher powers. How can America be responsible for its invasion of Iraq when the gods so command?

Interview with Anneke from The Gathering

2006-04-06T12:17:00.000-04:00

Here's a short interview I did with Anneke from The Gathering about their new album Home, due out April 18. It also includes information about their latest North American tour, which started at SXSW, traveled through NYC and ended in Toronto.

JP: How was SXSW?

Anneke: It was nice, but of course it’s like an ant’s nest of all these people and bands and VIPs and it’s overwhelming. We unpacked and played and went on again. We look quite double towards it. It’s good for your resume and it’s a quite important festival, but on the other hand we played on a very small, well, we didn’t have a stage. We had to lose some instruments because not everything fits on the stage. So it’s really a bunky runky show, which is all right. It went well. But for us, it’s not an epiphany of what you do when you’re in a band.

JP: How have you been enjoying the rest of your tour besides being tired?

Anneke: We started in South America, which for us is very, very good. That was fantastic and we enjoyed all these countries. We went to a few different ones in Mexico and that was just fantastic. And we went to North America, which is a bit more heavy for us because we have to travel so much. We had one ride for 35 hours, so that’s just silly, but that, I think is just a logistical bookers problem. For the rest when we actually got to play, it was really nice. People are so, so great here. In America there’s a huge under toe stream of people who really appreciate art and music and they come to see The Gathering and it’s just fantastic. Yesterday people were wild. I like that, it’s great. People in New York are crazy.

JP: A talked to a few people last night [at the Knitting Factory in New York City] that said they traveled from California for the show.

Anneke: We had a few people that traveled with us all three days, they traveled to the shows. Since North America is very widespread, big, huge country, we have to travel a lot, but people come see us. That’s amazing that people take the time and effort to come see us.

JP: Do you think you might be back after the record [Home, release date April 18] comes out?

Anneke: I hope so. I hope in a bit better conditions because this has been kind of unhealthy and dangerous to drive like that. For us, we want to make good shows. We want to do everything possible to make that happen. So we should make more of an effort logistically and we should come back. We really want to go to the West coast again as well because it’s very good playing there as well.

JP: I know you’ve worked with the same producer before, Atti Bauw. You worked with him on How to Measure a Planet. What was it that made you want to work with him again?

Anneke: We are very proud of How to Measure a Planet. For us it’s one of the best records and we feel very proud of it still after these years. Working with him was a great experience because he looked at music in a whole different way. He’s one of the first to work with Pro Tools on this recording and we learned so much and it was a great time. For some reason we just thought of him again now when we were thinking about producers. Hans, our drummer, he said, “How about Atti.” We stayed in contact so we knew kind of where he was living, and we called him and asked if he had time and he immediately came with all cool ideas he felt really up to it. So we discussed some things and we brought music, we let him hear what we had until that time and he really liked the songs. Immediately it was just great to be with him again because he’s just full of ideas. He’s a great guy and he’s relaxed. He takes his time for things to develop. He really fits with our music. Working with him again was really wonderful.

JP: What were some of the things that you carried over from How to Measure a Planet and what were some of the things you were trying to do differently?

Anneke: The thing that was most important with the album was we wanted to make the songs really pure and close to the heart. Souvenirs was very produced. It was very layered, a lot of details, very beautiful. But you cannot top that. You cannot go beyond that because we did that. You have to take on a new approach. We felt the new record should be more pure and close the heart. The songs that were already written when we went into the studio were very personal and very pure. Atti, he really made it happen in the studio. Things changed so much because then you really hear what you’re playing and you really get to bottom of the core of the song. So that was for us the big thing that Atti helped us with. He really cut through the core of the song. When we would have three guitar parts and three vocals parts and three this and that—because he has a lot of ideas, he put them on the demo—he just scraped off a lot of things. This is beautiful, but it’s not really making the song more beautiful so it has to go. You really get down to what the song’s all about and that’s the most important thing he does.

JP: The compositions you had going into the studio, did they change a lot?

Anneke: They did because I think we made songs and we demoed them, but when we were in the studio we just undressed them again. We rehearsed in the morning; we would rehearse the songs acoustically with no amplifications. We would make drums on the hands and knees and just a small guitar and that’s it. Then we would play the song and we would recognize if the beat was good or the vocal line was good if the chorus was long or short or whatever. We would rehearse it acoustically. Then we would rehearse it in the afternoon amplified on the studio ground. And then in the evening we would record. So in one day the song could change or just its rhythm could change, so it would have a totally different approach, a better one than we had before because we stripped it down again.

JP: You built your own recording studio for this record?

Anneke: No. We went to a little church in Holland. We rented a little church and we put all our gear in there and built a studio.

JP: Okay. Why did you guys decide to do it that way?

Anneke: Well, we wanted to do something different to give us inspiration. When you make a record every year or two years you just see kind of a lot of studios and in the end their all the same and you have to leave at one point because they close in the evening. So we wanted to go to one place where we could be. We were there a month and we lived and slept there and we just worked. The thing is that when we had a good idea we could just work on it or record it or whatever, so that was really nice. Also, so we had one floor on which we were recording and then eating and then there was a sitting area. And then upstairs was a sleeping area, but also in the sleeping area we made two small studios—studio two and three, we called them—with just two computers on the table, so when Rene or I or anybody had an idea for vocals or guitar we could record it on hard disc upstairs. So we could work simultaneously on songs or on guitars and drums at the same time or whatever. So there was always a process going on of getting ideas down on tape or on the computer. And then when they would be good enough, they fit the song, then we would import them to studio one again on the hard disc. So that was really nice, because when we felt like it would could record something or read a book or go to sleep or make music. That was really nice. And the surroundings were also very quiet because it was a very small village with three churches and four hairdressers and that was it and one store. When we would go outside there was nothing there just meadows and water and a few houses so you were not distracted. You would just go outside and get a fresh nose and come back and make music again. For us it was a good time.

JP: The next DVD that you are putting out, you are going to name it A Noise Severe, is that right? If I do say so, it’s a nice compliment to A Sound Relief. I was wondering where you came up with the concept of doing it that way.

Anneke: Because The Gathering has a few faces. We have a very mellow side, but we have a bit of more rocky, doomy side, so we just wanted to split those two up for once, you know, for fun, and to make a DVD which we made A Sound Relief with more mellow side of The Gathering, more soft songs. Also, we wanted to make one with more heavy songs, a more rocky side of us. We are touring right now with a more rocky show and at one point we want to record that and put it out on DVD so you have a collection of two sides of The Gathering.

JP: I know that you guys set up your own label a few years ago and you are getting distributed on The End. Having your own label gives you a lot of artistic control. I was wondering why it’s so important for you to have that amount of creative control.

Anneke: For us it’s important because for us all about the music. We want to make songs and not products that people will buy. That’s another side of it, which is important because we like to sell and play and earn a living actually off our music. But one main core thing should be making good, beautiful quality music. Sometimes it’s hard when people have a big interest making money off of it. So for us it’s just nice to have control over when we make an album, how we make it, how long it will be, how it should, which producer. All these creative decision should be made by us and then from there you try to sell it in the market and blah, blah, blah. I believe there will always be an audience who likes it because it’s honest music and it touches hearts because it comes from the heart. But the way to find an audience is, of course, difficult, so you need help. Of course we have a small label because the only band we have is The Gathering. So we don’t really don’t have the power to put ourselves in the market. We have some help with Sanctuary and The End Records that just help up with promotion and stuff. That’s a good way of working together.

St. Patrick's Day in Galway

2006-03-20T23:10:00.000-05:00

Here are a few more pics of Galway on parade day.

Goldring Arts Journalism trip to Ireland

2006-03-20T22:57:00.000-05:00

My class went to Dublin and Galway over spring break to study theater. I'll be drawing up some reviews and commentary about the trip as soon as I can. In the meantime, here are some pics to tide you over.

Opeth at Town Hall

2006-03-05T13:44:00.000-05:00

Opeth at Town Hall, NYC, Feb. 23

Faces familiar, spawning long locks with eyes exuding the remains of teen angst, the audience at Town Hall was obscured by their surroundings, offset by the spinning ballerinas onstage. This crowd--usually in a dark club, a dank bar, and more than likely without the presence of women in leotards--was currently beer logged in a sold out, seated concert hall. They waited, perspiring under black cloth etched with names in gothic fonts: Katatonia, Suffocation and the mighty Opeth, creators of the present tune “Deliverance” and inspiration for the Ballet Deviare’s support performance.

The ballerinas’ pirouettes in synch with the recording of Opeth’s distorted chords: a sure sign that they’ve been noticed outside of the cultish metal world. But even more precious is the fact that 15 years have passed since the band was merely a member of the metal masses, now its leader and pioneer of the field. Opeth’s popularity has risen far beyond the borders of their Scandinavian countryside (cathedrals, soccer teams) and into the affluent cityscape of Manhattan (skyscrapers, dance companies). Now is Opeth’s time to face the visages of their fans and prove their rise from “one of” to “The One.”

The show was billed as a retrospective and required Opeth to start at the beginning with 1995’s Orchid and progress to their 2005 release Ghost Reveries. They fulfilled this promise by plunging into “Under the Weeping Moon,” an unrefined and charming tune that sounded untouched from the debut days. Singer/guitarist Mikael Akerfeldt provided the only separation from the original version with a bellowing growl that has refined and become more omnipresent with passing of time. The halfway point contains what seems to be a jam section that detailed the depths from which the band now expertly and explicitly hashes out every beat, guitar squeal and bass line.

With the building blocks laid down, Opeth moved forward to the next album, Morningrise and played a tune never before heard live: “Night and the Silent Water.” During the tune’s peak when Akerfeldt barks off-beats against a driving guitar line, their future brilliance shined bright with prophecy. The tone mirrored their surroundings at the time of creation as they composed the tunes primarily in their home-city of Stockholm, a place of medieval stone steeples and encompassing harbors. The song embodied the glory and mystique of a mercantile village arisen during the Dark Ages with divisions of devilish bellows and minstrel acoustic pickings.

Before Opeth could announce the next on their bill, part of the audience called out requests, which were sharply rebutted by a response from their counterparts of “shut the fuck up!” Surely the second grouping of fans knew that Opeth had their set preplanned; they never let a note slip unwritten, why would they take a chance on a whole song? Akerfeldt announced at the show’s start that the band had relearned tunes for this night, which was the first of three concerts entitled “Chronology MCMXCIV - MMV A live observation by Opeth.” Drummer Per Wiberg had to memorize the old tunes from scratch as the replacement for Martin Lopez who is taking a leave of absence.

This bickering continued throughout the gig, despite the fact that not one request was honored. It did open the door, however, for Akerfeldt to show what fame has done for his personality. While esteem has improved and strengthened the progressive quality of Akerfeldt’s sound it has also taken a toll on his attitude towards the music business. Back in the Orchid days, they didn’t even tour, but now with Roadrunner’s dollar bills tucked in his pocket Akerfeldt’s acting like born-again rock star, interacting with broken English and asking the audience to shout out his band name. How better to emulate an American stage-aholic than by yelling out obscenities like “cock, pussy, cunt,” which Akerfeldt did before playing a song from the album that he said “broke us big over here.”

By the time Opeth got around to playing a tune from Black Water Park, that big, elusive album, they had transformed into the powerhouse of today. Foregoing their usual choice of “Demon of the Fall” and choosing “Karma” off My Arms Your Hearse. This allowed them the opportunity to play “Demon” as an encore, two and a half hours after they sounded their first note. “White Cluster” from Still Life followed, well groomed with both the fury and the gentle nature that’s come to define Opeth as unparalleled in contrast and musicianship. The Opeth song structure solidified with the writing of Still Life, but the extended, ornamented guitar solos and weaving vocal lines emerged as a contending force only with the next album Black Water Park, something that continues to develop through their modern material.

The remaining selections from Deliverance, Damnation and Ghost Reveries were as tight and well-played as any recent show that catapulted them to Metal Fest and Sounds of the Underground stages over the past few years. They rounded out the show with “Ghost of Perdition” the opening track of their latest CD, with parts equally Emperor and Tool as Porcupine Tree and Darkthrone. The segments blocked off by waves of inspiration, whether medieval minstrel music or ‘90s melodic death metal. Without the light breath instigated by the pulsating human hair and the occasional hot gusts created by the crowd’s impassioned responses to Opeth’s prolific songs you could have been sitting in bed with the record spinning in your stereo.

Ghost Reveries served as the height of their success, and “Ghost of Perdition” the climax of an invigorated two hour and 30 minute set. The song sprung from humble beginnings that transformed Orchid’s murky outline into an innovative structure that reeks of confidence. The progression of their career from amateur black metal fans to world-class creative metal stars has put them on the map as one of the best metal bands on the globe.

From this high point, Opeth reminded their fans of how a band rises to the top. It’s become a commonality for groups to shout out their Web site and announce upcoming tour information, but for Opeth to play their only single “The Grand Conjuration” as the show-stopper placed them squarely back on the ground. No longer untouchable, even the inspired must pay their bills, whether through catching attention by screaming obscenities or putting out a music video and playing the shit out of the song live. They used a second security, “Demon of the Fall” as the encore, which is a common presence at their live shows. These songs sell t-shirts, but it is these other gems that make a career worth reviewing.

Syracuse music scene

2006-02-22T20:07:00.000-05:00

Nestled in the corner of the Coffee Pavilion, Tom Brigandi turns and takes a swig of his Bud Light. After setting down his beer on the window sill, he pivots past his tip jar and towards the almost vacant seating area. The clapping of but four hands ceased moments before, yet he remains strapped into his six-string electric bass. It is the same instrument Brigandi used when he toured with Chuck Mangione in the 1990s. Following negotiations with his percussionist and guitar player, he strikes up the band once again.

A few blocks away at the Ohm Lounge, an unusually large crowd of musicians gather for a “Party for the Arts.” Three Syracuse arts supporters--Jim Horsman of Center Stage Events, Larry Luttinger of the CNY Jazz Arts Foundation and Leo Crandall of the Cultural Resources Council—staged the event to celebrate those who contribute to the local arts scene. A variety of players join each other onstage, while onlookers shake hands and eat plates full of rye bread and humus.

Guitarist Mark Copani attended the party on Feb. 2. Like most Central New York musicians, he spends his free nights performing. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen that many musicians together,” said Copani. “Musicians have a hard time seeing other musicians ... You kind of forget that there are other musicians doing the same thing.”

Most CNY musicians tour the restaurant and club scene where they are paid according to the amount of people in attendance. The steady decline over the past 30 years in the amount of fans coming out to hear live music is causing artists to cash smaller and smaller paychecks. The city government does little to alleviate this problem; it hasn’t included arts funding in its budget for 10 years. The county gives some money in the form of grants thanks to the initiatives of State Senator John DeFrancisco, an avid supporter of the arts, but for the most part, its solutions are lip service.

In 1990, Onondaga County Executive Nick Pirro commissioned a council called the Partnership for the Arts. When the Partnership issued its report in 1992, they found three things that affected the music community: High taxes hurt the venue owners who had to stop music series or cut pay for musicians playing at their establishments. An increase in advertising from television, radio and print diluted the message sent about arts organizations and their events. And many fans of the local music scene are aging and no longer coming out to gigs.

The Partnership suggested evaluating arts institutions on a case by case basis and finding new ways to fund their projects, which did little to help these organizations in the short term and nothing to help the individual artist.

The bigger organizations solve these issues by throwing fundraisers and revamping their advertising campaigns, while most solo artists are put the position of beggars. This is not to say that the arts organizations and the single musicians are adversaries: The Syracuse Symphony makes a big announcement each year when it has balanced its budget, a statement that sounds equivalent to Brigandi’s tip jar scenario.

Back at the Coffee Pavilion Brigandi sets down his bass after a three hour set. He looks over at the adjacent table where his plastic tip jar holds a few dollars and some change. He hands his bandmates their share and walks over to the counter to order another beer. Brigandi has toured the world with jazz star Chuck Mangione, but for now he will continue to play for one or two faces every week at a coffee house.

Music is a Contraceptive

2006-02-16T15:17:00.000-05:00

The floor boards of the second story bar bend under the weight of an enthusiastic crowd. Those in attendance are mostly metalheads, drawn to the Downtown Quarterback in Binghamton, N.Y. for an extreme music night featuring six Upstate bands. A few take turns nudging each other into the onlookers who surround the stage. Others head-bang and stand with arms crossed, beers pressed against their chests. Onstage, the lead singer with lopsided mahogany hair screams something about the deprivation of humanity. Behind him are blast beats and shredded guitar riffs. I stand in front about ten feet from the stage.

When I look behind me from my post, a plethora of black t-shirts and tattoos catches my eye. I think I’m the only one here with any pigment stained onto their clothes. I am also the only female that is not attached to the arm of some metal guy. No, I didn’t come as somebody’s girlfriend. I came as a music fan. Shows like this one keep me grounded.

The first concert I ever attended was Tori Amos at the Landmark Theatre in my parent city of Syracuse, N.Y. I was 13-years-old, and consumed by her latest release, Boys for Pele. I bought a copy on one of my weekly excursions with my girlfriends to the local mall. I took it home and played it non-stop for two months—until the day of the show.

It was a chilly May evening, still with the condensation from an earlier rain. The concert was the most touching event I had ever experienced. Multiple times I felt tears run down my face. Finally, someone shared my vision of the world.

After the performance my friends Lydia and Christine and I snuck through the back entrance of the theater and lingered outside in an alley. With a small gathering of fans, we waited for Tori to come outside on her way to her trailer. Our hands were slightly shaking from the cold, our breath, visible. We each held a single white rose and an unbearable sense of anticipation. When the doors finally swung open and Tori appeared with her manager, my heart nearly stopped. Here I was a few feet from the one person to whom I could relate. She made her rounds, eventually arriving at my outstretched arms. She accepted the flower and returned the favor with a hug.

My friends grew so tired of hearing that Tori story. I was still telling it far into the following summer. That was the season when Lacy made her big announcement: she was pregnant. Lacy was a few years older than the rest of us, besides Kara, who shared the same grade. The two of them set the bar high in terms of crazy stunts. Two years prior to her pregnancy, Lacy’s parents found both of them in a bathtub, naked and high on some of Kara’s anti-psychotic drugs. When they came home from the hospital, their parents tried to keep them away from each other. They claimed that both girls instigated each other’s bad behavior. Instead they snuck around and got hooked on pot and boys. They convinced the rest of us that drugs and sex was cool. In those days cool meant fast. And for Lacy, fast manifested itself in a pregnancy.

We all converged at the same bus stop each morning. I would walk out of my way through backyards, even in the snow. I would arrive at the corner with my jeans soaked to the knee. I never wore a proper jacket or hat—that kind of conscious preparation would not be tolerated by the hipsters. Sometimes Beth brought beer, other times Heather brought a bowl packed. We always lit up cigarettes while we waited for the bus to Cicero North-Syracuse High School. Camel Wides, Marlboro Reds, Winston Regs, Lacy’s favorite was Newport 100s. She continued to smoke, despite the bump in her belly, which grew larger and more noticeable as the winter months passed. After school she would sit around the table at Heather’s house and watch us smoke weed. Sometimes she would take a hit—what did it matter; she was giving her child up for adoption anyway.

By that time was had our own experiences with boys. Jen, Emily and I made a virginity pact the summer Lacy got knocked up. The first to have sex was the winner, the winner of what, I’m still not sure. Emily was the pioneer. She was so drunk, the day after she told us that she wasn’t sure what happened. Jen was next. She chose a 14-year-old who didn’t like to use protection. A few months later she terminated her pregnancy.

I was still a virgin by the time Lacy had her baby the following spring. She decided to keep him and name him Connor. She would push him in his stroller over to Heather’s house, drop acid and leave him in the living room. I stopped coming around as much because it was an ugly sight. Soon after Lydia became pregnant, then Chrissie and then Rochelle. During my high school years it seemed like one of my friends was always knocked up. I got on the pill and started going to shows on a regular basis.

All of these events took place in an affluent, middle-class suburb called Cherry Estates. All of these girls are Caucasian. Many people are under the assumption that teen pregnancy and drug use is an inner-city phenomenon, most likely to effect minorities. But as time progresses and more studies are conducted, the results reveal an increase of high-risk behavior among white, suburban teens.

According to the New York State Department of Health’s 2003 report, the teen pregnancy rate for girls between the ages of 15-19 was 31 in every 1,000. While there are no statistics available specific to the Syracuse suburbs, there are numerous articles that informally document the problem. In a 1996 Post-Standard article titled “Teen Pregnancies are Still Rising a Health Report Shows Problems in Some Parts of the City and County,” a guidance counselor from my alma mater talked about the taboos of young motherhood:

“[Cyndy] Franz said the pregnancy rates among suburban and rural teens may be less well-known than those of city youths, but the problem has always existed. “’In suburbs, the tendency may have been to abort, while in the city, kids kept the child,’” she said. “’More and more, what's happening is that in the suburbs the kids are keeping their kids. It's more acceptable to see teen-age girls with kids at home.’”

That was the trend that I witnessed in my formative years. Now many of my friends are sending their children off to grade school. The last time I saw Lacy she was living in North Syracuse with her son and a coke dealer who had sired a second child with her. Soon after my visit, Lacy’s son and daughter were taken away from her and placed in the care of her parents because her boyfriend burned Connor with a cigarette. That was five years ago.

In those five years I’ve managed to stay somewhat sober and completely childless. At times during my normal course I find myself thinking about my past and the fortunate choices I’ve made. Like now: one of the show attendees bumps into my shoulder and I’m suddenly I’m back at the bar. I move my head back and forth, shaking the thought of Lacy and her children from my mind. I become aware of the blaring music, and as I look towards the stage I am fulfilled by the community that surrounds me. It is as alluring as sex, as desirable as drugs and much safer than back-roads of Clay where I grew up.

Goldring Arts Journalism trip to NYC

2006-01-15T16:26:00.000-05:00

In case your wondering why the theater posts, my graduate school class recently went on a ten day trip to NYC, something we called an immersion and The New York Sun called an Immersion! (sorry inside joke). In case you want to be in on the laughs, check out Gary Shapiro's article: http://www.nysun.com/article/25399.

While we were in NYC, we attended numerous critical workshops, visited the New York Times, New York Review of Books, Vanity Fair, Spin and had numerous lunches with critics from Entertainment Weekly, The New Yorker and the Christian Science Moniter, among others. We also watched three Broadway shows (Light on the Piazza, Spamalot and Sweeney Todd), one ABC ballet rehearsal (Swan Lake) and a Met Opera (Wozzeck). We visited the Village Vangaurd, the New Museum, Jazz at Lincoln Center and a slew of other places.

So, you can expect a few more retrospectives on that trip; Just as soon as I can find a second to reflect. Here are two reviews to tide you over. -JP

Boo to Light on the Piazza

2006-01-15T16:20:00.000-05:00

I cannot belive this show won six Tony Awards -- yikes! Here's my review:

Sexual identity in 1950s America diverges greatly from that found in the country today. Art portraying the bygone baby boomer era – as does the musical adaptation of Elizabeth Spencer's novel Light on the Piazza -- raises the question of relevance in our modern age. Piazza’s story line is outdated; accordingly this production at the Lincoln Center Theater fails to contribute substance to recent conversation about life or love.

The plot emphasizes extinct state-side values by transporting a pair of American women to Italy. The two leading ladies, domineering mother Margaret (Victoria Clark) and mentally impaired child Clara Johnson (Katie Clarke), emblematize Southern stereotypes with their floral McCall catalogue dresses and subservient attitudes: the climax occurs when Margaret tells her husband “no” for the first time.

Instead of making a statement about the impending women’s liberation movement, director Barlett Sher compromises the subplot with his traditional interpretation of the text. In any case, the ultimate goal of the story is to marry off a daughter, (not exactly something to which a contemporary career gal can relate).

A second flaw in the script concerns the central focus of portraying human interaction. To understand the relationship between people requires the disclosure of their motives. However, the writing fixates on advancing the story where it should focus on the idiosyncrasies that make its characters whole, especially where the women are concerned. The conventions used to establish a framework for their behavior are trite and ill-used. Phone conversations between Margaret and her husband along with sparing soliloquies, fail to give dimension to their roles.

The principle women also fall short of creating any stirring interest in their characters through musicality or acting. Content to settle into the story’s inconsistencies, they are unable to fully convey the emotional impetus for their character’s actions.

The saving graces include the attractive sets paired with the commendable color and lighting design that bares Florence’s face. The brilliance of these successes pushes Light on the Piazza into a dated story about the love of Italy instead of the intended story of love in Italy.

(Light on the Piazza is still running at the Vivian Beaumont Theater at Lincoln Center)

Sweeney Todd and Wozzeck: An unlikely pair

2006-01-15T16:11:00.000-05:00

My review of a NYC-based opera and a musical that illuminates dark concepts with bright minds:

Darkness descends upon New York City as vengeful murderers stalk their prey in two theatrical adaptations. Eugene O’Neill Theatre hosts Steven Sondheim’s sinister story of the murderous barber Sweeney Todd, whose namesake character seeks revenge against a corrupt judge. Mere miles apart at Lincoln Center, the Metropolitan Opera executes their production of Alban Berg’s Wozzeck. The opera’s title character also seeks revenge; this time against an adulterous partner and a reprobate society.

Sweeney Todd’s minions, confined to a one-room madhouse, pluck strings, sound horns and declare his story with accomplished voices. This rarity in musicals, to find instrumentalists among the cast, helps to overcome complications in the one-set design. The cast also finds themselves in a constant state of flux; rearranging furniture, pouring buckets of blood and climbing atop of wooden constructions to keep up the show’s momentum. By way of these unusual stage conventions, the mental institution certainly suits Sweeney Todd. The brilliance of the central theme is only surpassed by the execution of an outstanding cast, including Michael Cerveris as Sweeney Todd and Patti LuPone as his neighbor Mrs. Lovett, a human meat-pie distributor.

Wozzeck (Alan Held) exhibits an increasing insanity, suggesting he too would benefit from a visit to the physch ward. In lieu of the loony bin theme, set designer Robert Israel portrays Wozzeck’s growing madness and impending doom by enveloping the stage in almost constant darkness. This places the actors on the cusp of visibility, a difficult feat performed effectively by lighting designer James F. Ingalls. Towering, monotone structures surround the singers and provide a backdrop for the oft appearing silhouettes of Wozzeck and company. Another technique used to capitalize on the morbid motifs in this opera involves the pigment red. As Wozzeck kills his lover and later himself, a blood-colored canvas glows in the background.

Red proves popular in both shows. The Sweeney Todd crew also uses liquid red by pouring blood from pail to pail and wearing it on lab coats. The most important constant in both shows, however, is that instead of killing each show with an enigmatic concept, the killers’ stories come to life with the excellent use of extreme and engaging tactics.

(Sweeney Todd is still running at the Eugene O’Neill Theatre/Wozzeck's run at the Met ended on January 6)

Scene: Former SU Student Calls Syracuse Home

2005-12-31T10:47:00.000-05:00

(Rile just moved away from Syracuse a few weeks ago. Below is a tribute to her work in this community).

Courtney Rile flutters past the vibrant abstract art hanging in her spacious university-area apartment. She diverges for only a moment to lead her Akita mix, Bella, out onto the balcony before pausing to say, “It’s like this weird, strange obsession that I can’t get rid of.”

Rile is referring to stacks of the Daily Orange student newspaper that that lay dormant throughout her home. Beginning in 2002, while a junior in the art video program at Syracuse University, she helped to compile the Daily Orange’s 100 year anniversary text. This required her to read hundreds of articles about Syracuse, and, as an artist, she took special notice of the cultural material.

The printouts may lie limply by, but the information contained in the uncountable syllables of pseudo newsprint come alive as they bubble over Rile’s parted lips. She spews forth so many facts about the history of Syracuse’s arts and culture scene that it is hard to imagine she only entered the community a few short years ago. It’s even harder to realize that she stayed.

Yes, Courtney Rile is a mover and a shaker. But unlike the majority of Syracuse’s young professionals, she hasn’t yet danced her way out of upstate New York. Rile, 22, is one of the few SU graduates who remain in the city after commencement and one the fewer who have made a conscious effort to learn about and improve her adopted city.

Hailing from Pennsylvania, Rile, is not inclined towards a sedimentary lifestyle. By the age of 15, she had known 11 different Pennsylvanian homes. By the time she enrolled in SU, she had already been through two other colleges, including short stints at the Art Institute of Philadelphia and Montgomery County Community College, where she received her Associate in Arts degree.

“It takes the utmost concentration to stay in one place,” Rile said.

In her short time here Rile’s closeness to the scene has garnered attention from a number of influential arts community members, including Syracuse University Professor Johanna Keller.

“She impressed me very much as someone who is intensely involved in the Syracuse arts scene and has a fabulous view about how the arts could develop,” Keller said.

As well as being an editor for the DO anniversary assignment, throughout her two year study at SU, Rile curated and work-studied at Light Work Community Darkrooms, curated at the local Spark Contemporary Art Space Gallery, completed numerous original artistic works, had a video in the inaugural Syracuse International Film and Video Festival and developed an independent study that resulted in the ongoing “Paradox Project.”

Now past its conceptualization and initiation stages, the Paradox Project is an intensive research undertaking that sets out to evaluate the condition of the Syracuse arts scene. The idea came partially from Rile’s involvement with the DO anniversary book and also from her desire to identify problems within the landscape of Syracuse culture.

One part of the project, a survey directed towards artists, appreciators and organizations, prompted Rile to work directly with employees of the Cultural Resources Council, including Kendra Lawton.

“When I first met her I was impressed by her enthusiasm and her sort of dedication to the community and her ideas for what she wanted to do and what she thought she could do to help both artists and the different organizations here,” said Lawton.

Lawton hopes the completed surveys will give the CRC a sorely needed data base that will identify the needs and wants of their constituents.

It was also through the Paradox Project that Rile began her tenure with a local arts organization, The Institution of a Now Culture or ThINC. This not-for-profit group helped Rile by providing encouragement for her ambitious venture.

When she graduated in May 2004 with a Bachelor of Fine Arts, Rile began grant writing for ThINC and in Spring 2005 she became project coordinator for the Clement Greenberg In Syracuse: Then and Now exhibition in ThINC’s sponsored Company Gallery.

Former Executive Director and founding member of ThINC, Jacob Roberts, worked closely with Rile during her direct involvement with the organization. He describes his initial reaction when he met her at a Light Work exhibition.

“I could immediately feel that she was different. She had a lot of enthusiasm, a lot of energy. And she was already outside of this, ‘I’m a student and I’m going to be in a student bubble.’ She was a woman of the world,” Roberts said.

Both Rile and Roberts have since moved beyond ThINC, but they continue to have strong ties to each other and the establishment. Rile premiered her most recent ThINC work during Roberts’ birthday party at the newly opened Ohm Lounge on August 8.

The 25 minute documentary/promotional video for ThINC spanned the 5-year history of the organization, equipped with grainy visuals, eclectic sounds, moving imagery and insider commentary.

The video first is especially significant because Ohm is in the process of expanding its services to offer video art. Guess who the owner picked to curate the video installations? None other than Courtney Rile.

The offering, called Videohm, will feature a specific genre of video art--non-narrative, moving imagery pieces--that will fit the general ambiance of the hip bar environment.

Ohm owner and former ThINC board member, Rich Pekala, said the creation of Videohm was not originally in the scope of their plan when they bought the Franklin Street location last summer, although the building did come equipped with two 40-inch flat screen plasma television sets.

When Rile approached them with the idea soon after they began development, Pekala immediately jumped on the bandwagon. As a friend of Rile’s, Pekala had viewed her original video, “Beat the Paint,” at the Syracuse International Film Festival in Spring 2004. “After seeing her film I knew she was the right person for the job,” Pekala said.

Videohm is just the most recent or Rile’s resume toppers. Her father, James Rile, says that he expects his daughter’s ambition and involvement in programs like Videohm to help her in the future.

“I still don’t know if she’ll make a living as an art major, but if anyone can do it, she can because she’s self motivated,” said her father.

The question of whether Rile will continue a career in the arts in Syracuse is yet to be answered. However, judging from her many endeavors, Rile is making a move beyond just studying Syracuse history; she is becoming a part of the story.

Sean Altrui’s Candle Horn Churchyard

2005-12-31T10:45:00.000-05:00

Upon entering the Candle Horn Churchyard, you are confronted with moderately-paced meandering saxophone lines whose sweet sentiments persuade you to take further steps into the jungle of sound. The droning beat and long-toned bass lines also placate the listener and lure you into the depths of Bauhaus-like vocals and sparse electric guitar. This sweet and sour contrast is a river running through the foundation of Sean Altrui’s 2001 solo effort, though the front cover illustrations of fleshy plan life shows no obvious signs of hydration. While the music in many instances contains major chord progressions in the experimental rock vein, the vocals often push against this optimism, much like early, obscure Pink Floyd records (though not nearly as complex). There are even well orchestrated background speeches, whistles and sirens that are also rather Floyd-esque. Throughout the CD, trickles of slow rising synthesizer echo their compliments as if behind a veil of cascading vines and clean and processed guitars take obstinate roles against powerful, provoking lyrics that speak of depression and war among other topics. At times percussion takes up the call of the jungle that is the Churchyard, transporting you to a far away pagan land that carries with it an air of anxiety. Overall the disc is a well-produced, ambitious work that is a refreshing combination of the retro and modern world and a testament to the paradox that contrasting elements are necessary to definition.

What Kind of People ....

2005-12-28T15:48:00.000-05:00

When I watch the typical MTV hip-hop video, I’m often offended by the rude and misogynistic rituals, the poor quality of the craft and the entertainment masking as talent. But what most offends me above and beyond the above mentioned is the people who make this trash.

For example: The Black Eyed Peas recent hit “My Hump” (don’t get me started). It was created by grown adults, who, playing in one sense, were also very serious about making money off this song by targeting the pre-pubescent crowd. What kind of a person says, “Sure, put my name on that. I want my image connected to that song and video?”

I don’t know about you guys, but I take it very seriously when my name is attached to something. You got to wonder about that money demon: it’s enough to make people get up from their seat of sense and dignity for a position on the throne of money-grubbing ignorance.

Emotion Killed the Stage Musician

2005-12-23T18:56:00.000-05:00

Many are the live musicians who say technology killed their profession. In the 1970s disco moved in and spinning records became as common on dance floors as funk bands and pop divas. In consequence, typical instrument-driven groups were driven to the sidelines over the next few decades. It saved the club owners money to pay one MC who had a lot less gear to load and comrades to pay. Besides, patrons were increasingly searching for entertainment instead of talent. All music experienced a be-bop like transformation, where only select appreciators cared about the caliber of stage sound; and, well, people just wanted to dance.

The technology that created this deejay boom in the '70s has gone through countless transformations. Technologically-driven music has progressed far beyond placing a disc upon and needle and letting it ride. Hip-hop music, the gem of today's industry, relies almost exclusively on pre-programmed beats, while numerous genres, like techno and house, emerged as viable outlets through the last two decades.

While these genres lent themselves just as easily to the dance floor as disco era classics, other forms of electronic music also became forerunners on the modern music scene. Electronica, synthpop and industrial musics, just to name a few, shined the spotlight on craft instead of the dance floor.

Aspiring musicians lapped up these new sounds, but advances in technology are not enough to explain the boom in electronic music. (People have easy access to traditional polka melodies, but there aren't tons of young people rushing out to buy accordions). There must be something else attracting people to computer screens, synthesizers and processors.

I'd like to think this impetus comes from the lack of emotional connection in today's youth. Now this statement may make sound like a grandma "in my day" statement, but I'm only 23 years-old, so I am speaking from experience. Technically a product of "generation X," which is defined by its apathetic attitude and attachment to material goods, I am also a stubborn fan of live shows, performed by live musicians.

I'm not busting on electronic music, it can be just as stimulating as a live set if created and executed by the right person. What I suggest is that the rise of technology in music, while it has contributed to home recording and distribution efforts, has also been a deterrent to those out and about on the live music scene.

However, electronic music will not be taking a back seat to live performance anytime soon. It's such a perfect fit for a generation who wishes nothing more than to shield its vulnerabilities. I went to two live shows in the Syracuse area on December 22. One band was an Irish rock band, playing an Irish bar, the second, a neo-Classic rock band playing to a room full of college kids.

The players received due applause at the end of each song that was also shaped by the occasional whoop and call from an overly intoxicated youth; however, during the sets barely anyone paid attention. This is a pretty typcial night out in CNY. Now I'm not a musician, but I know if I worked tirelessly throughout my life to build the talent and balls to get myself onstage, I would want people to take notice.

With electronic music, there is little risk. Most electronic music is made for dancing, so it is more about the body than the mind. As long as arms, legs and booties are flailing, there are no hurt feelings exposed. (The genres that are made for listening rather than dancing are usually treated as live performances and can be classified with the ignored guitarist).

Another way in which electronic music tends to liberate the creator from emotion is by not having to rely on multiple partners. Some musicians are able to go the solo route, the singer/songwriter type or the virtuoso violinist, but more than likely, to create a full sound they are forced to collaborate. Electronic musicians only need to rely on their own judgment; computer programs don't normally tell you a riff is wack.

Lastly, while spinning a turntable and playing a synth has some physical connection, sitting in front of computer is not exactly a kinetic experience. Many instrument-geared musicians say playing is a way to exercise their demons or unleash their emotions. With no physical connection to the instrument that helps them make their craft except to push the "play" button, electronic musicians are able to keep a distance from that which they produce. Some people believe electronic music is inherently emotionless; this may be because its creator feels the same way.