Things, arranged.

Love is Everywhere

The Edinburgh International Festival 2017

As Meow Meow careens through her cabaret re-fraction of Hans Christian Andersen's The Little Mermaid, she lays bare her broken-heeled down at heart seen too much / felt too deep train wreck life with wit, style and brutal self-awareness. She also takes us deep down into the depths of her psycho-sexual psyche with astounding virtousity in song, movement, effortless aerial work and deadly-sharp humor.

Meow Meow's little mermaid is longing for Love, but trying to define it, shape it, see it and say it becomes increasingly difficult as she attempts various stratagems to own it. The meta-feminist tropes are here, too: the problem of being objectified and wanting to be objectified, the need to be authentic and accommodating, the seemingly intractable problem of male unwokeness.

What makes Meow Meow's cabaret a shining jewel of a theatrical experience though, is the incredible presence, power, grace, style and vocal brilliance of Meow Meow herself. Her command of the room, the story, the music and the mode of performance are simply at a level akin to someone like Mick Jagger in a 75,000 seat stadium at the height of his powers. Rare, mysterious and to be reckoned with.

In deconstructing the idea of the classic cabaret chanteuse, Meow Meow informs her songs with the true-to-life flaws that are meant to be hidden beneath the polish and romance of the performer. The old school cabaret singer would drop a world-weary anecdote here, a witty bit of repartee there, but they would channel their true self-revelations into the song stylings. Meow Meow decides to expose the woman behind the persona and in doing so creates another layer of persona that creates a wonderfully complex experience for the audience: Meow Meow is a character created by the actress who is performing a cabaret, and her character is playing another character, and at the same time, she is pulling back the curtain to let us see woman inside of it all. It is a brilliant mirror ball game that ultimately reflects back to us our own flaws and hopes.

Meow Meow also employs a few just-for-fun surprises that play into this show on a show inside a show on top of a show concept. Is this a part of the show? Are we really supposed to do that? Wait. Okay. Is she really...? Who cares. We are in Meow Meow's firm, tickling grasp. Let's dive deep with her.

Bach and the order of things

In the 1238, King Louis IX commissioned the gothic wonder that is L'eglise Ste. Chapelle on the Ile-de-France in Paris. Until the 14th century it was the private chapel of French kings, who lived on the small island in the Seine.

Today, apart from being a much visited tourist site, it is also the home of a range of fine concert experiences. The miraculous acoustics and intimate setting make it a perfect venue for classical music.

The trio a Corde Jacob played the Bach Goldberg variations the other night, preceeded by the Bach solo cello suites. The Goldberg variations were originally written for harpsichord, but listening to the music in the form of a string trio opened up the rich dynamics of the works by individualizing the intricate voicings, counterpoint and harmonies.

The trio Jacob is decidely French, and their interpretation of Bach was sensuous, romantic and emotional. This approach also took advantage of the finely tuned interplay of the three musicians, who played together with verve and joy.

Humanity has always attempted to articulate the divine, the heavenly order, the perfection of shapes and numbers through geometry, mathematics and design. Listening to Bach's unique order in the midst of the intricate gothic design of Ste. Chapelle is to contemplate this impulse. We know the cathedral is decaying before our eyes, we know the note just played is past, we know our time here in this moment is so fleeting.

Yet we acknowledge the order of things as the music carries us away.

 

The Stranger

 

The Stranger: original song lyrics in honor of Bob Dylan's 75th birthday

I met the stranger in a factory town
Where the idols of worship were all torn down

He showed me a place where a traveler could rest
A pocketwatch hung from his red velvet vest

He bought me a whiskey and a chicken pot pie
A look of some wisdom in his weary old eyes

The firelight shadows took the edge off the frost
He said, "Welcome my friend to a paradise lost."

I saw by his manner he was hiding some pain
His top hat weighed heavy, his faced showed the strain

The room it was silent but for the clock on the wall
He told me the story of a rise and a fall

THE WISER THE FOOL, THE SIMPLER THE SONG
THE TROUBADOR'S ALWAYS A LONER
THE NIGHTINGALE SINGS ALL THE DAY LONG
WHEN THE TIME OF THE HOPEFUL IS OVER

There once was a place where the people would gather
No matter the time, no matter the weather

To talk and to listen, to see face to face
To try and create a name and a place

But now there is no one left in the square
No one is speaking, nobody cares

The reason is dead, divided they fall
No one remembers who started it all

The bankers and brokers took all the cash
The leaders and lawyers left us with the trash

The people want candy for lunch and for dinner
The priest in the church is the worst of the sinners

THE WISER THE FOOL, THE SIMPLER THE SONG
THE TROUBADOR'S ALWAYS A LONER
THE NIGHTINGALE SINGS ALL THE DAY LONG
WHEN THE TIME OF THE HOPEFUL IS OVER

The stranger was silent and so was the night
His beard it was snowy, his hair was all white

We walked down a street without saying a word
Someone was crying, that's all that we heard

I asked him his name, and the name of this town
He shook his head slowly and said with a frown

"I'm somebody's uncle and somebody's Sam,
But these days I'm just a forgotten old man."

I told him I wanted to know where I'd been
He pointed to a flagpole on top of the inn

There in the twilight and gathering gloom,
Stripes of faded red white and blue

THE WISER THE FOOL, THE SIMPLER THE SONG
THE TROUBADOR'S ALWAYS A LONER
THE NIGHTINGALE SINGS ALL THE DAY LONG
WHEN THE TIME OF THE HOPEFUL IS OVER

The Note

 

Ravi Shankar was one of the greatest sitar players who ever lived. The sitar is a complex stringed instrument with up to 21 strings and an infinite range of tones. It is central to the sound of Hindustani and Indian music, dating back before the 15th century.

Ravi gained worldwide noteriety when he developed a friendship with Beatle George Harrison. It was not only Ravi's music, but his worldview and personal philosophy of living that eventually became the center of Harrison's life.

Martin Scorcese produced a fine and detailed documentary about Harrison entitled "Living in the Material World."

Many European and American guitar players, dazzled by the complex dexterity and virtuosity of Shankar's playing, tried to understand how he was able to command such a daunting instrument.

When asked for any advice he might give to aspiring guitar players, Shankar was quoted as saying:

"Well, be sure to play the note you are on, not the next one."

Here, in a simple and yet profound statement, is a great word of advice for the actor.

We talk about "being in the moment" as an aspirational goal, but what does it really mean? According to Shankar, it would mean that the moment you are in must be fully invested in as if it is the only moment that exists. Because it is. The future is unknown, and in fact cannot be expected with any certainty.

So, we work towards existing in each moment, each "Bead" as Stanislavsky might say, until we look back and realize we have strung these beads together into a strand of life.

The second part of Ravi's advice is also revelatory. It reminds us that some part of on stage will need to, want to, have to consider what is next: blocking, someone else's cues, props, etc. So, there is always part of us that is "playing the next note."

Perhaps we can take more from Ravi's advice if we put ourselves in the position of the guitar player: he is, of course, speaking to a player who knows every possible note combination that would work off a given musical phrase. Guitar players at the highest level not only know every note on the fretboard, but most likely know variations that would work based on what the previous note is.

This is virtuosity. Do actors know every word of the entire play, even if the words that are not their's? Perhaps this is not a fair comparison, for the guitar player surely doesn't know every riff the drummer might play. However, it is very common for me to quiz an actor about their own lines in terms if definitions of words, puncuation, grammar, syntax, etc. and get a blank stare in return.

How can you play the note you are on, when you don't really know what the note is, and how can you have the confidence to not worry about the next note as well?

Close text analysis is exhaustive, boring, repetitive, uninspiring. The lack of it is easy for me to see in students. If you don't really know what you are saying, why are making me watch your work?

I want you to play every note. Not the next one.

And I want you to know everything about that note, the one before it and the one after it as well.

Musicians call this work "Woodshedding." It evokes the image of a guitarist off in the woodshed, alone, for hours and hours, practicing scales, chords, riffs, patterns.

I wish more actors had woodsheds.

 

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Mais je suis dans l'enfer (Song Lyric)

 

One day a man looks up and understands;

The road behind is brighter than the road ahead.

Everything moves on down like horses;

Nothing means the same in your verses.

Where the sins of the fathers and the sons,

Will be somehow be redeemed.

 

I want to paint you like Cezanne

I want to read you like Beaudelaire

I want to wander in your badlands

Mais je suis dans l'enfer

 

The crying is done for the day.

The wine is gone but the song remains.

The flowers we bought by the river are dying.

I wish someone would give me a reason to stay.

The wonderful collision;

The excellent division.

 

I want to paint you like Cezanne

I want to read you like Beaudelaire

I want to wander in your badlands

Mais je suis dans l'enfer

 

The bread in the bowl by the window.

The look on your face in the dawn.

The pilgrims progress endlessly;

Slouching on to Bethlehem.

One day you stop and comprehend;

The road ahead is the dream behind.

The wonderful conclusion,

The excellent illusion.

I wish someone would give me a reason to stay.

 

I want to paint you like Cezanne

I want to read you like Beaudelaire

I want to wander in your badlands

Mais je suis dans l'enfer

 

Mais je suis dans l'enfer

 

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The Heavenly Sounds of Sainte Chapelle

The vaulting glory that is Sainte Chapelle is breathtaking on its own. The rare quality of light in Paris exalts the monumental glass, radiating a spiritual power that is singular among gothic cathedrals.

When the rich Baroque sounds of Bach, Vivaldi and Telemann are added to the experience, the ancient stones and glass seem to reverberate with something otherworldly, sublime, even heavenly.

Concerts are a common occurrence at Saint Chapelle, but this summer there is a special quality to the music. The Barok Ensemble, which includes Charles Limouse (flute) and David Braccini (violin) are playing on period instruments in the chapel concerts.

The indescribable sounds that fill the space provide a few brief moments when one can sense the kind of wonder, majesty and grace that once was the primal force that moved so many to work so long to build such a magnificent monument to God. It is as if a veil is lifted for a hour, and we are allowed to know something more, something secret about the beatific expressions on the statuary, the sacred patterns and rhythms of the design and decorative art, the essence of faith that permeates the entire, exalted space.

Baroque composers were exploring ideas that blended mathematics, faith, reason, mystery, emotion, wit and powerful intelligence as they carved out this époque-making genre of music. The hear these sounds come to life in Sainte Chapelle is to bear witness to Beauty in its purest form.

Dylan Moves

 Bob Dylan said some important things about artistry.

Paraphrased:

"You gotta keep moving. Once you think you've arrived somewhere, you're in trouble. As long as you keep moving, you'll be alright."

"You gotta get inside someone's head. You gotta make them stop for a second."

"Every song I write is a protest song."

A true American treasure, his legacy continues to inform, inspire and challenge all of us.

Opus 135

 

In what turned out to be his last composition, Beethoven wrote the words "Must it be? It must be!"" on the manuscript of his Opus 135 String Quartet number 16.

His title for the entire last movement of the piece was "A difficult decision".

After a lifetime of groundbreaking music, Beethoven returned to the string quartet for his final explorations.  He had always been an admirer of Haydn, the forefather of string quartet composition, and of Mozart, the genius of all forms.

A string quartet in some sense is a musical conversation between four instruments, classically described in four movements. The words Beethoven inscribed on his last quartet attest to the fact that for him, creativity itself was also a kind of conversation the artist has with oneself.

By turning the conversation into a question and an answer, Beethoven gets to the heart of the true creative impulse: what is the question, and what might the answer be?

In this sense, gleaning the question that underlies creative work allows one to always be actively searching for an answer. 

How blessed we are when we come to know the question!

Patricia Racette as Butterfly: Power, Artistry, Commitment.

Last night Seattle Opera's opening night audience for Madama Butterfly bore witness to artistry at its highest level.

Patricia Racette, the current Queen of Puccini in the opera world, brought a rare performance that was riveting in its emotional power, captivating in its characterization and astounding in its operatic soprano mastery.

Racette is a rarity among great sopranos. She is also a great actress. The attention to detail, the finely wrought character, the specificity of moments all combined to create an unforgettable night at the opera.

Seattle Opera continues to find new ways to bring great art to new audiences. The performance in McCaw Hall was also simulcast for free to 8,000 at Key Arena.

Brava, Dame Racette, Bravo Seattle Opera.

Feast: #Art as #Food as #Storytelling as #Theatre.

Film and Theatre Director Paula Bennett has now produced two Feast events in Seattle.

Combining storytelling, potluck, performance, ritual and music into a new form of art, these events have proven transformative for the people involved.

The recent Feast, held at LUCID Jazz Club in the U District, focused on the theme of "how your imagination helped you through a crisis".

The three storytellers told very different true life tales about how their own creativity and imaginative worlds proved to be crucial to their survival.

The bounteous buffet was a harvest of homemade goodness, brought to the event by the participants. Unpretentious and reflective of the personalitites that made the dishes, the food was as diverse and as interesting as the crowd.

The ancient rituals of breaking bread, pouring wine, washing of hands and song also enriched the evening.

As the theatre continues to figure out its relevance in the 21st century and tries to keep from becoming a museum event, events like Feast emerge as possible paths of evolution.