So Harley wasn't actually with me this time, as I was out with a friend from camp, but still...
My friend and I met up at the best "kosher" Chinese restaurant in town, Buddha Bodai. It says that it is kosher, and has a teduah, but I don't really recognize the rabbi's name. At any point, that is off-topic. So we were wandering around downtown and we heard some electronic-style music. Thinking that it might be break dancers we headed down the street. First of all, we passed the Synagogue for the arts, which is a fascinating institution in its own right.
At any rate, we walked down to the end of the street, and at the corner (Church and White) we saw a group of people with a young man in the center, standing on a makeshift stage making music, somehow. We couldn't really tell what it was, but it looked like on the table were two gameboys, and around his neck on a strap was a keyboard. Like the kind that you type with. We watched in awe as the group of dancers (3 deep) danced totally without inhibition. There were the usual crop of downtown hipsters, lots of cigarette jeans, but in front of me was a teeny child wearing orange crocs, really going at it. The really interesting thing is that while the crowd was incredibly diverse the dancers were entirely male, young, and with one or two exceptions, white. It seemed that these were true fans of the artist's work and had come out specifically for this performance.
At one point the artist yelled out: "This song is about the best things in the world, Einstein, Women, Time Travelling and Super-String Theory." Ooook.
Wandering around were a couple people with clipboards that looked sort of official, so my friend walked up to ask one what was going on. Sure enough the concert was of several artists (we only saw Nullsleep) who are represented by the music lable 8bitpeoples. All of these artists make music with gameboys. No joke. And it is incredibly melodic, and totally fascinating. The organization sponsoring this concert (and other events) under the umbrella of "Make Music New York" is called The Tank.
The Tank is a 501(c)3 non-profit (that basically means that it is legit) which presents music and dance for very low prices, ranging from free to $10. The girl told me that they also have some "public affairs programming" but I see no sign of it on their website.
Basically it was a New York experience. Sometimes I love this city.
Showing posts with label Outing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Outing. Show all posts
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Monday, June 18, 2007
Jewbiquitous Outing: Idan Raichel Concert
As Harley is still in Tennessee, I decided that I too should be seeing live music. Fortunately this Sunday's Concert in the Park's lineup included one of my favorite Israeli musical groups: The Idan Raichel Project. For those of you who are unaware of the Idan Raichel Project, I have provided a video of one of my favorite songs, Bo'i.
The Idan Raichel project is, according to their website, a compilation of about 70 artists from different ethnic and musical backgrounds (all Jewish/Israeli) whom Idan invited to perform with him. There is a strong Ethiopian and Middle-Eastern influence on many of the songs, for instance in Bo'i the male vocalist is singing in Amharic, the language of Ethiopia.
Anyway, the Concerts in the Park people put together a very interesting line-up. It was supposed to be Tiken Jah Fkoly, Idan Raichel Project, and hosted by DJ Kadafi. The theme being, I think, African music. According to what I think DJ Kadafi said (he was speaking in French a lot of the time) one of the acts was missing and replaced by some other Reggae artist. I think. There were also a few opening acts like Rashida Wallace, and a duo of African rappers who seemed to have their timing a bit off.
The scene was super-bizarre. DJ Kadafi kept trying to call out to his "African Brothers and Sisters" who I'd say made up about 5% of the audience. The rest appeared to be American or Israeli Jews. Although standing near me were three men who I think were Ethiopian Jews (they were doing the shoulder dances that are indigenous to Ethiopia, and chatting with a few Orthodox girls) who seemed to be having a great time. It makes me wonder what the non-Jewish demographic thought of the scene. At one point DJ Kadafi was calling out African nations to get people to respond (could he not see from the stage that he was facing out onto an almost entirely white crowd?) and when he called out "Rwanda" a group of three women in front of me went nuts. Otherwise the response was tepid, at best. Until, of course, he called out "Sudan" and exhorted the entire crowd to make some noise for Sudan. Not sure what that accomplished.
Unfortunately, due entirely to my own idiocy I spent a little too much time in the sun (read: six hours) so when Idan Raichel came on at 5:00, I wasn't feeling so well. By 5:30 I was actually ill and had to leave, which was sad for me. I did, however get to see Im Telech performed.
Naturally I called CJ and held the phone up so that he could hear it. All in all it was a great time, a picnic lunch, live music, friends, and some nice suntan. As I always say, if you haven't gotten heat stroke, you haven't been having enough fun. That isn't what I say at all.
The Idan Raichel project is, according to their website, a compilation of about 70 artists from different ethnic and musical backgrounds (all Jewish/Israeli) whom Idan invited to perform with him. There is a strong Ethiopian and Middle-Eastern influence on many of the songs, for instance in Bo'i the male vocalist is singing in Amharic, the language of Ethiopia.
Anyway, the Concerts in the Park people put together a very interesting line-up. It was supposed to be Tiken Jah Fkoly, Idan Raichel Project, and hosted by DJ Kadafi. The theme being, I think, African music. According to what I think DJ Kadafi said (he was speaking in French a lot of the time) one of the acts was missing and replaced by some other Reggae artist. I think. There were also a few opening acts like Rashida Wallace, and a duo of African rappers who seemed to have their timing a bit off.
The scene was super-bizarre. DJ Kadafi kept trying to call out to his "African Brothers and Sisters" who I'd say made up about 5% of the audience. The rest appeared to be American or Israeli Jews. Although standing near me were three men who I think were Ethiopian Jews (they were doing the shoulder dances that are indigenous to Ethiopia, and chatting with a few Orthodox girls) who seemed to be having a great time. It makes me wonder what the non-Jewish demographic thought of the scene. At one point DJ Kadafi was calling out African nations to get people to respond (could he not see from the stage that he was facing out onto an almost entirely white crowd?) and when he called out "Rwanda" a group of three women in front of me went nuts. Otherwise the response was tepid, at best. Until, of course, he called out "Sudan" and exhorted the entire crowd to make some noise for Sudan. Not sure what that accomplished.
Unfortunately, due entirely to my own idiocy I spent a little too much time in the sun (read: six hours) so when Idan Raichel came on at 5:00, I wasn't feeling so well. By 5:30 I was actually ill and had to leave, which was sad for me. I did, however get to see Im Telech performed.
Naturally I called CJ and held the phone up so that he could hear it. All in all it was a great time, a picnic lunch, live music, friends, and some nice suntan. As I always say, if you haven't gotten heat stroke, you haven't been having enough fun. That isn't what I say at all.
Friday, March 23, 2007
Jewbiquitous Outing: Dave and Busters
This might not actually count, as Harley didn't come too. Oh well. At any rate, last night the upstairs neighbor, his ersatz girlfriend, CJ and I all decided to play tourist and go to Dave and Buster's in Times Square. I'd never been to Dave and Buster's before, and was a little bit skeptical, but it was amazingly fun. At some point in the evening I decided that the true measure of fun is tickets earned, and vetoed all games that did not lead to tickets.
For the record, I am awesome at the game where you race horses by bowling a little ball into certain holes on a board. And CJ is awesome at the "polarbear-hitting-a-fish-with-a-bat" game. We ended up with about 950 tickets between the four of us, which enabled us to get a whole bunch of random crap that we don't need, including:
For the record, I am awesome at the game where you race horses by bowling a little ball into certain holes on a board. And CJ is awesome at the "polarbear-hitting-a-fish-with-a-bat" game. We ended up with about 950 tickets between the four of us, which enabled us to get a whole bunch of random crap that we don't need, including:-two Dave and Buster's pint glasses
-deck of Dave and Buster's cards
-3 squishy rubber balls that look sort of like sea anemones
A great time was had by all. It was sort of like Chuck E. Cheese's for adults. Although I was greatly disappointed that DDR did not give out tickets for a good performance. As we were there for a couple hours we were able to do a pretty good game sampling, and discovered that some have a much higher ROI (Return on Investment) than others, and as one of our party is a consultant, we spent a lot of time talking about how to "maximize" our tickets. Are we lame?Yes, yes we are.
Look forward to Jewbiquitous Outing: Carbon Leaf Concert coming post-Saturday night. There's still time for you to come too!
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Jewbiquitous Outing: Madama Butterfly
Before I talk about the opera I'd like to note that I lost my monthly metrocard, and as I don't get it with a credit card (stupid TransitChek), I can't have it replaced. I am not well pleased.
She stays up all night waiting for him, and falls asleep at dawn. At dawn Pinkerton arrives with his friend the consul and his new wife, Kate. They want to take the boy. Long story short, Butterfly agrees, tells him to come back in half an hour, and just as he enters the house calling out "Butterfly" she kills herself.
At any rate, Harley was sick, so the roommate and I went to see Madama Butterfly at City Opera, which is not quite as cool as the Met, but still pretty cool. The premise of the opera is that an American Lieutenant (Benjamin Franklin Pinkerton) for some reason is stationed in Japan, and decides to take a wife, and a house. Both of them are 999 year leases, but can be cancelled at any month. He gets the 15-year-old former Geisha Cio-Cio-San (Madama Butterfly). They marry, and she is super into it. He, however, always plans to eventually marry a 'real American' woman. At some point he leaves, and Butterfly waits for him for three years, and shortly after he has left, bears him a son. She gets the news that he's coming back, and gets super-excited, as she has believed his promises that he'd wait for her, etc, etc. In the meantime she is growing progressively poorer, and ignoring possible suitors (apparently divorce was super-easy in Japan).
She stays up all night waiting for him, and falls asleep at dawn. At dawn Pinkerton arrives with his friend the consul and his new wife, Kate. They want to take the boy. Long story short, Butterfly agrees, tells him to come back in half an hour, and just as he enters the house calling out "Butterfly" she kills herself.Ok, so the music is fabulous, interspersed with the leit motifs of "the star spangled banner" and "sakura," which is kind of neat. The singers were great, the costumes were beautiful, and the staging very interesting. I have no qualms with any of those. Here are the questions that I would have for Puccini, the author:
1) Why is an opera about Americans and Japanese people in Italian?
2) How can a Lieutenant afford a foreign wife, and a fabulous house? Corollary to that: unclear on the mechanics of how/why he felt the need to marry someone, stay in Japan that long.
3) How come he comes back on the same warship three years later? Lieutenants don't usually stay on ships that long, they switch around. Is he still a Lieutenant?
4) Why is the ship white? The Great White Fleet wasn't until 1904, and Puccini first wrote the opera in 1899. Although according to the liner notes, the definitive version was not produced until 1911, which might answer my question.
and last, but not least:
5) A 15-year-old? Really? You seduced and left a 15-year-old? And this was her second career after being a geisha? Ew.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Jewbiquitous Outing, Part II: Richard Has Rage
This week is one of confessions. Yesterday, I confessed to my rage issue (or lack thereof) and today, I have a deeper, more serious confession to make.
Hi, my name is Harley, and I am a Shakespeare junkie.
It started out small: catching a glimpse at the popular plays in High School, you know, because everyone was doing it. Hamlet. Romeo and Juliet. Twelfth Night. Before long, I was on to the harder stuff: Titus Andronocus, Anthony and Cleopatra, Cymbeline. After that, I spiraled out of control, devouring the histories, joining the Shakespeare Club, performing at the Folger, watching endless Kenneth Branagh adaptations. I no longer knew who I was without Shakespeare; I couldn’t imagine my life without iambic pentameter; I got into reckless arguments about literary theory and the relevance of the apocrypha. I found myself wandering the street, not knowing the time period, speaking in couplets, searching for a folio, just one, to satisfy my craving.
I thought I had shaken Shakespeare, I really did. I had moved on to softer playwrights; I had begun using modern colloquialisms, again; it had been years since I had recited a soliloquy or called someone a “churlish fop.” That was until my older sister, the Athlete, bought me tickets to Richard III at the Shakespeare Theatre in D.C.
I still remember the first time I went to the Shakespeare Theatre (you know it’s good because they use the British spelling of “theater”). Michael Kahn was directing Coriolanus and although it was a school night, I was there with my then-boyfriend (whom I should have known was trouble, given that he not only fed my addiction, but he started our school’s Shakespeare Club). The play was delayed because the stage mechanics were broken (everything at the theater runs on electric tracks, so the props and scenery slide on and off the state) and we watched Michael Kahn stand directly in front of us and redirect the fight scenes. An incomparable experience.
Kahn may be the best living Shakespearean director and his staging and fight sequences are unparalleled. Unlike many directors, he has a real sense of artistry not only in the content and timbre of the piece, but also in the way his actors stand and move onstage. Each scene constitutes a moving, shifting tableau, reflecting the mood of the moment and the relative power of the players. Each moment reflects Kahn’s eye for composition, so the audience views a perfectly composed picture in each moment, with variety and repetition, with symmetry and motion. Watching Kahn’s work is akin to watching one of Caravaggio’s paintings onstage, all dark, tense movement transfigured by brief moments of light. This contrast evokes a simultaneous sense of foreboding with a surprising levity, especially considering that the principle player is a deformed, hump-backed, limping tyrant.
Geraint Wyn Davies played Richard III as a charming, quick-witted underdog, a man whom everyone misread and underestimated, assuming his disarming jokes and his physical disfigurement indicated that his mind was as impotent as his body. To the audience, Richard reveals his plots from the outset, creating an anti-hero for which we root, unwillingly. When Anne agrees to marry him, over the bloodied body of her dead husband, whom Richard has just murdered in cold blood, you feel her disgust but also understand the pathos that leads her to concede. Richard is the tyrant to whom we slowly cede control, unable to resist his charm, knowing as we embrace him that he is simultaneously strangling us. Usually, Richard is played as a cold, heartless villain, but Davies’s portrayal created the kind of cognitive dissonance apparent in the work itself and also reflective of the historical truth of tyrants: they come to power not in spite of our resistance, but because we cannot resist.
Beyond the staging and the star, the play was solid, but not superb. Davies out shined the rest of the cast, although several of the supporting actors were terrific: Tana Hicken (Queen Margaret), Claire Lautier (Lady Anne), Pamela Payton-Wright (Duchess of York), Raphael Nash Thompson (Hastings, Lord Chamberlain), and Aubrey Deeker (Sir William Catesby) were the stand outs. The rest were adequate, at best. The children were distractingly awful, although this Washington Post article disagrees. They were so terrible that I was relieved when they made an untimely exit in the middle of Act IV. Yes, I am a heartless bitch.
What was I confessing, again?
Oh, yes. Hi, my name is Harley, and I am a huge dork.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Jewbiquitous Outing, Part I: I Have No Rage
Hi, my name is Harley, and I have no rage. Periodically, I have anger. I've even worked my way up to outrage, which sounds like rage, but is a separate category of upset. But no. I have no rage. You may ask me, "Harley, is that really a bad thing? Isn't it nice to live without rage? Don't you feel free from the burden of angry extremes?" To which I answer, "Yes. Yes, I did. Until last Thursday, when suddenly I felt bereft, as if my life was absent an essential element."
Update 02/21/07: Slayer takes D.C. by storm: The Washinton Post reporter Christopher Porter hearts Slayer more than you.
Last Thursday, Prettyboy and the Rooster (a great name for a rock band) took me to my first thrash metal concert. It's true. I am no longer a Slayer virgin or "Slayvirgin" (Slayergin?). For those of you sad sad saps who've never heard of Slayer, they are the original thrash metal band; they birthed all other worthy metal. That's an exaggeration, but they are a Very Big Deal in the world of metal and their fans are very insistent on this point (and don't argue with them unless you want to be cut deep with a shiv). And they want all of New York City to know it, as became apparent as I waited in line (screaming "Slayer!" translates to "I quite enjoy this band and I am excited about seeing them in this glorious venue).
What does rage have to do with enjoying thrash metal? Everything, my dear ones, everything. I honestly thought that anger would be enough. I read some right-wing screeds, listened to some Rush Limbaugh, perused some fundamentalist anti-feminist literature. I got all fired up and righteously indignant, thinking that would ready me for Slayer. I was so very wrong. So very, very naive.
To truly enjoy Slayer, you need to have the kind of rage only disenfranchised, disaffected, downtrodden white guys can generate (the type of angry white guy who can afford a $50 ticket to a concert on a weeknight. Life is hard.) The Rooster, I need not tell you, has the rage. Prettyboy adorably approximates the rage (it's hard to buy rage when you tend to characterize someone as a snuggly puppy, and when they insist on hand-holding while they rock out). I felt like a bunny among vipers. An over-dressed bunny among vipers (I came from work). Maybe that's an unfair characterization. Despite the Rooster's warnings, everyone I encountered at the concert was delightful, even the yelling people. It was a great people-watching experience. On top of which, although I don't like metal (I realized), the musicians were unbelievable craftsmen. They were truly masters of their instruments and the concert was worth it just to watch their finger work.
As to the content (I don't want to disappoint TR by not mentioning their anti-religion message), I found it difficult to take seriously. Sorry, TR, but it sounded like the poetry I wrote as an angry, disaffected middle-schooler. For example:
Murder at your every foot step./ A child's toy sudden death./ Sniper
blazes you thru your knees/ Falling down can you feel the heat,/ Burn!/ Ambushed by the spray of lead/ Count the bullet holes in your head./ Offspring sent out to
cry,/ Living mandatory suicide./ Suicide.
Get it? It's about war (soldiering). Meh. It's artless and inelegant. The imagery is so transparent and projected, it doesn't trust me to have the intelligence to infer meaning. I understand that some people (including the thousand or so merging bodies at the concert) find meaning and power in these words. It just doesn't do it for me. Even a little bit. And since I'm generally not given to blaming lyrical inadequacies for my distaste in music, I have to blame the rage. If I had enough rage, this music would be screaming poetry to my ears, welcome salt in my wounded, masochistic soul. But I have no rage.
Lyrics aside, their staging and lighting were brilliant. Check out this New York Times review for more in depth coverage (thanks, Autodidact). In terms of stage presence and use of minimalism to evoke mood, Slayer are true artists.
What does this outing have to do with Jewbiquitous? Their producer is the jewbiquitous Rick Rubin. And to put the rumor to rest, despite persistent internet white supremecist gossip, neither Jeff Hanneman nor Kerry King are Jewish. I'm not going to comment on the large amount of white supremacy websites that heart Slayer. I'm sure their taste in angry metal music has nothing to do with their politics.
On a happy note, as much as I did not love Slayer, I did truly enjoy the company of TR, Prettyboy, and TR's friends after the show. And the men did vigilantly protect me from the myriad of pulsating Slayer fans, for which I am grateful. As I was the only woman. Well, almost. There was that one woman who stood on a balcony and took off her shirt as an expression of her inner self. Classy. Yes, I am a hypocrite.
Update 02/21/07: Slayer takes D.C. by storm: The Washinton Post reporter Christopher Porter hearts Slayer more than you.
Friday, February 09, 2007
Jewbiquitous Outing: The Jaded Assassin
I don't know if this qualifies as a Jewbiquitous outing, as Harley didn't go. Harley did go out to see something else, and so I'll try to convince her to blog about it later. I went to see The Jaded Assassin with CJ, and CJ's best friend, my upstairs neighbor. We brought the upstairs neighbor because he loves all things immortality, and CJ had hoped that this show would have some of that. Nope.
You know what it did have? Shadow puppets, and marionettes. According to Alicia of So Aunty, this show is "unmissable." I would disagree. It was fun, and probably worth a little less than the $15 we (read: CJ) paid, but not unmissable. The Gothamist has a short blurb on the play, and repeats a Times quote that was also featured on the playbill: "Take that, ‘Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon’!" Sadly the review is locked within the "Times Select" for which I am too cheap to pay. I kind of want to see the context for that statement.
At any rate, I had a fabulous time, laughed a lot (although it dragged in the middle) making snarky comments about the self-conciously campy "dialogue" (most of it takes place through a narrator, with some exceptions), the main character's costume (which was definitely from lululemon), and how the narrator had some "junk in the trunk." For the record, that last observation was made by CJ and the upstairs neighbor, both of whom tried to disavow it later.
Trailer
Random Fight Scene
These two videos give a pretty good idea of what the play/show/thingy was like, but the trailer makes it seem far more exciting. The beginning and end were good, but there were about 20 minutes that were pretty boring. To be fair, the music was absolutely terrific, and the show demonstrated every type of puppetry that I could imagine.
Here was the major downside: while the performance was funny and good-natured, it mixed a number of different Asian styles, presumably on the theory that they're all interchangeable. The main character's name is "Soon-Ja" which sounds Korean, the martial art looks like a mix of Kung-Fu and Tai Kwon Do, yet at the end, Soon-Ja speaks Mandarin Chinese.
"Pan-Asian" is one of my pet peeves. While China, Japan, and Korea all have intertwined history, so do Germany, Italy, and France. China is a country of over 1 billion people. A billion! There are hundreds of different ethnicities and languages, each have their own traditions, costume, and some even have their own religions. To lump them all together is absolutely ludicrous. I find that people do this with Central/South America too. As if Puerto Ricans and Argentinians are the same, just because they are from "South America."
Sorry that this doesn't really have anything to do with Jews.
You know what it did have? Shadow puppets, and marionettes. According to Alicia of So Aunty, this show is "unmissable." I would disagree. It was fun, and probably worth a little less than the $15 we (read: CJ) paid, but not unmissable. The Gothamist has a short blurb on the play, and repeats a Times quote that was also featured on the playbill: "Take that, ‘Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon’!" Sadly the review is locked within the "Times Select" for which I am too cheap to pay. I kind of want to see the context for that statement.
At any rate, I had a fabulous time, laughed a lot (although it dragged in the middle) making snarky comments about the self-conciously campy "dialogue" (most of it takes place through a narrator, with some exceptions), the main character's costume (which was definitely from lululemon), and how the narrator had some "junk in the trunk." For the record, that last observation was made by CJ and the upstairs neighbor, both of whom tried to disavow it later.
Trailer
Random Fight Scene
These two videos give a pretty good idea of what the play/show/thingy was like, but the trailer makes it seem far more exciting. The beginning and end were good, but there were about 20 minutes that were pretty boring. To be fair, the music was absolutely terrific, and the show demonstrated every type of puppetry that I could imagine.
Here was the major downside: while the performance was funny and good-natured, it mixed a number of different Asian styles, presumably on the theory that they're all interchangeable. The main character's name is "Soon-Ja" which sounds Korean, the martial art looks like a mix of Kung-Fu and Tai Kwon Do, yet at the end, Soon-Ja speaks Mandarin Chinese.
"Pan-Asian" is one of my pet peeves. While China, Japan, and Korea all have intertwined history, so do Germany, Italy, and France. China is a country of over 1 billion people. A billion! There are hundreds of different ethnicities and languages, each have their own traditions, costume, and some even have their own religions. To lump them all together is absolutely ludicrous. I find that people do this with Central/South America too. As if Puerto Ricans and Argentinians are the same, just because they are from "South America."
Sorry that this doesn't really have anything to do with Jews.
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Jewbiquitous Outing: Bluegrass in Brooklyn
Why were we in Brooklyn on a weeknight? Well Harley lives there, for one. At any rate, someone knew someone that was performing at Laila Lounge in their monthly Bluegrass Tuesday. As you may know, I claim some Southern heritage (or at least relatives), and I unironically love Country music, so this sounded like a good idea.
At least CJ thought so. CJ is new to the city, and all about "doing things." I've been here a little longer, and had had a long day (not enough sleep, crappy day at work, and a bereavement counseling session with a group. Mmmm I love me some public discussions of feelings. Not.) and just really wasn't up to going out. However, I had cancelled our plans the night before, and knew that he wouldn't go if I didn't, so off to Brooklyn I trudged. I am a good girlfriend.
The music was good. Not awesome, but the "band" doesn't really practice together, so it was something of a mix between a bluegrass jam session and a performance. The female vocalist was absolutely fabulous, has a smoky voice and a powerful range that really gave me shivers. As for the rest of the group: the mandolin player had, as CJ said, "some licks," the guitarist and violinist were each terrific, but with serviceable (if not amazing) voices, and the bass player was consistently confused. Which was amusing. At one point the female vocalist was signalling to him with her hand what chords he should be playing. Awesome.
At any rate, it was a good time. Harley and Prettyboy were there, Prettyboy demonstrated his ability to drink a huge amount of alcohol and still be reasonably sober. Or at least not trashed.
Sadly it takes about an hour to get back to the UWS from Williambsurg when you are travelling late at night. So I got home at about 12:45am. My bedtime is 11:00pm. Awakeness factor today? Low to moderate. Hopefully nothing important will happen.
At least CJ thought so. CJ is new to the city, and all about "doing things." I've been here a little longer, and had had a long day (not enough sleep, crappy day at work, and a bereavement counseling session with a group. Mmmm I love me some public discussions of feelings. Not.) and just really wasn't up to going out. However, I had cancelled our plans the night before, and knew that he wouldn't go if I didn't, so off to Brooklyn I trudged. I am a good girlfriend.
The music was good. Not awesome, but the "band" doesn't really practice together, so it was something of a mix between a bluegrass jam session and a performance. The female vocalist was absolutely fabulous, has a smoky voice and a powerful range that really gave me shivers. As for the rest of the group: the mandolin player had, as CJ said, "some licks," the guitarist and violinist were each terrific, but with serviceable (if not amazing) voices, and the bass player was consistently confused. Which was amusing. At one point the female vocalist was signalling to him with her hand what chords he should be playing. Awesome.
At any rate, it was a good time. Harley and Prettyboy were there, Prettyboy demonstrated his ability to drink a huge amount of alcohol and still be reasonably sober. Or at least not trashed.
Sadly it takes about an hour to get back to the UWS from Williambsurg when you are travelling late at night. So I got home at about 12:45am. My bedtime is 11:00pm. Awakeness factor today? Low to moderate. Hopefully nothing important will happen.
Monday, January 22, 2007
Jewbiquitous Outing: Dirty Girl
Since Harley and I clearly don't spend enough time together, when CJ invited us to go see a play with him, we jumped at the chance. The play? Dirty Girl. The attendees? Harley and Prettyboy, CJ and me, CJ's coworker, and his girlfriend.
The basic premise is that Dori/Ronnie hates law school, so she answers an ad for an editorial assistant, that "must be comfortable with male nudity." She gets a job at Loverboy/Playgirl magazine and begins her search for a woman who is actually turned on by the magazine (as opposed to the MANY gay readers). The play, which has 5 cast members who take turns playing different roles, started out as a one-woman show. And it shows. Harley and I agreed that it might have been better that way.
The basic premise is that Dori/Ronnie hates law school, so she answers an ad for an editorial assistant, that "must be comfortable with male nudity." She gets a job at Loverboy/Playgirl magazine and begins her search for a woman who is actually turned on by the magazine (as opposed to the MANY gay readers). The play, which has 5 cast members who take turns playing different roles, started out as a one-woman show. And it shows. Harley and I agreed that it might have been better that way.
I pretty much agree with the review from Backstage.com (link above). The characters hammed it up a bit too much, they would have been better if they were a little less stereotypical and ridiculous. The writing was good, and there were some funny jokes, but as CJ pointed out, if they had spent 5 more minutes on each joke, polishing them, it could have been really great. He, for the record, really enjoyed the play, as did prettyboy. I spent a great deal of time cringing in discomfort (I am kind of prudish). Also, the guys who play beefcakes in the play aren't really that buff. CJ thinks that it was intentional, whereas I thought that it made the play seem even more ridiculous and unbelievable.
One last point, there was a mini-play/commercial at the beginning of the show for a lingerie company called Secrets in Lace. As part of this cross-marketing, a catalogue was given out with the program. Most of the stuff is really retro, and in my opinion, not terribly attractive. Also, if I'm going to buy expensive stockings, 100% nylon isn't a selling point for me. Maybe 100% silk, but then again, I have somewhat expensive taste. Also, I had some issues with the "commercial." First of all, a boss should absolutely NOT give you a promotion based on the fact that you are more/less attractive than your coworker. If you have to resort to showing some leg to get ahead in your chosen field, it is either time to seek a sexual harassment suit, or move on. Secondly, do you really want a guy/girl who wants you only because you are dressed in a sexy manner? If they can't see your beauty/attractiveness through the clothing that makes you comfortable, then they are not someone that you should be with. Ok, rant over.
One last point, there was a mini-play/commercial at the beginning of the show for a lingerie company called Secrets in Lace. As part of this cross-marketing, a catalogue was given out with the program. Most of the stuff is really retro, and in my opinion, not terribly attractive. Also, if I'm going to buy expensive stockings, 100% nylon isn't a selling point for me. Maybe 100% silk, but then again, I have somewhat expensive taste. Also, I had some issues with the "commercial." First of all, a boss should absolutely NOT give you a promotion based on the fact that you are more/less attractive than your coworker. If you have to resort to showing some leg to get ahead in your chosen field, it is either time to seek a sexual harassment suit, or move on. Secondly, do you really want a guy/girl who wants you only because you are dressed in a sexy manner? If they can't see your beauty/attractiveness through the clothing that makes you comfortable, then they are not someone that you should be with. Ok, rant over.
Long story short? At $18 the play is overpriced. I'd have seen it for $8. Maybe. And would have prefered fewer images of naked people.
Friday, January 12, 2007
Not Enough
I know you're all Dai-ing (ha ha ha) for my perspective on the one-woman show Annie and I saw Wednesday night. First, some background on the venue:
The Culture Project, located in swanky new headquarters on Mercer Street downtown, was founded forty years ago to address social and political concerns through art. Most famously, they were host to The Exonerated, a critical look at the death penalty that got a huge amount of media attention last year after it was made into a movie with Meryl Streep and Danny Glover, raising over $100,000 for those falsely placed on death row. In their own words:
Imagine how pleasantly surprised I was when Annie and I saw Dai on Wednesday and Iris Bahr's take on the conflict was not only complex, but represented nearly exactly the confusing dialogue that takes place between my ears every day: how to condemn human rights violations without condemning the right of the state to exist? How to walk the fine line that honesty demands? The New York Times provides a thorough discussion/review of the show and an enlightening interview with Iris Bahr. Like Annie, I left the theater shaken and astounded by the depth and breadth of Bahr's talent as well as the subtlety of her writing and presentation. The moments I thought that it was going to veer into pedantry or be bogged down under the weight of its message, the show unexpectedly shifted to a light-hearted moment, causing me to laugh and cry in uncomfortable proximity.
The play put me in mind of a thought process that I've been mulling over for a while now. It all began several months ago, when Mobius hosted an event called Hip Hop Sulha at SOB's as part of the Oyhoo Culture Conference. One of the artists, a young Palestinian named Saz, described his experiences growing up in Ramle. What struck me was the similarity in narrative to the descriptions New York inner-city youth give to growing up in the ghetto: the drugs, the crime, the poverty, but particularly the justifiable anger and feeling of helplessness. The thought of which caused me to reflect on my own reaction to the human rights violations in my backyard. It's easy to demonize or dehumanize an entire people, but much more difficult to realize that both sides are people by human beings like yourself, with day to day lives to which to attend. That human rights violations may be perpetuated by governments and implicitly (or explicitly) condoned by populations, but that an outside view can never reveal the nuance of the place in situ.
I'm a firm believer that the ends never justify the means, but given that it's taken me an entire post never to quite say that I am outraged by the rights violations, both in U.S. and in Israel (and that I have to add the U.S. caveat in order to maintain my seeming balance), I applaud Bahr for being able to present an issue and never to quite show her hand. Worried about a right wing treatise on Israel's right to the land, I was pleasantly surprised by the ambiguity in Dai. I left thinking, which is about the highest compliment I can pay a piece of art.
The Culture Project, located in swanky new headquarters on Mercer Street downtown, was founded forty years ago to address social and political concerns through art. Most famously, they were host to The Exonerated, a critical look at the death penalty that got a huge amount of media attention last year after it was made into a movie with Meryl Streep and Danny Glover, raising over $100,000 for those falsely placed on death row. In their own words:
The Culture Project views creativity, imagination, and the urge toward artisticSo given my unabashedly liberal leanings, The Culture Project is an organization after my own heart and mind; ironically, that leads me to be extremely wary of anything I see there. I always worry when I find my views represented in an organization's mission or past projects. I think it's a combination of Groucho Marx's uneasiness of any club that would have him as a member and the fact that I'm unsure whether I will be in accord with the totality of their message (or whether I agree shallowly with their idea, but an absence of nuance in its presentation will enrage me).
expression as a vital natural resource. As an arts organization that seeks to
harvest such resources, our purpose is to support work that addresses injustice,
embraces diversity, and affects social change. By creating dialogue about
critical issues, we seek to inspire and participate in a national conversation
amplifying voices which are rarely heard and seldom considered.
Imagine how pleasantly surprised I was when Annie and I saw Dai on Wednesday and Iris Bahr's take on the conflict was not only complex, but represented nearly exactly the confusing dialogue that takes place between my ears every day: how to condemn human rights violations without condemning the right of the state to exist? How to walk the fine line that honesty demands? The New York Times provides a thorough discussion/review of the show and an enlightening interview with Iris Bahr. Like Annie, I left the theater shaken and astounded by the depth and breadth of Bahr's talent as well as the subtlety of her writing and presentation. The moments I thought that it was going to veer into pedantry or be bogged down under the weight of its message, the show unexpectedly shifted to a light-hearted moment, causing me to laugh and cry in uncomfortable proximity.
The play put me in mind of a thought process that I've been mulling over for a while now. It all began several months ago, when Mobius hosted an event called Hip Hop Sulha at SOB's as part of the Oyhoo Culture Conference. One of the artists, a young Palestinian named Saz, described his experiences growing up in Ramle. What struck me was the similarity in narrative to the descriptions New York inner-city youth give to growing up in the ghetto: the drugs, the crime, the poverty, but particularly the justifiable anger and feeling of helplessness. The thought of which caused me to reflect on my own reaction to the human rights violations in my backyard. It's easy to demonize or dehumanize an entire people, but much more difficult to realize that both sides are people by human beings like yourself, with day to day lives to which to attend. That human rights violations may be perpetuated by governments and implicitly (or explicitly) condoned by populations, but that an outside view can never reveal the nuance of the place in situ.
I'm a firm believer that the ends never justify the means, but given that it's taken me an entire post never to quite say that I am outraged by the rights violations, both in U.S. and in Israel (and that I have to add the U.S. caveat in order to maintain my seeming balance), I applaud Bahr for being able to present an issue and never to quite show her hand. Worried about a right wing treatise on Israel's right to the land, I was pleasantly surprised by the ambiguity in Dai. I left thinking, which is about the highest compliment I can pay a piece of art.
Thursday, January 11, 2007
Jewbiquitous Outing: Dai
Last night Harley and I went to go see the play Dai, written and performed by Iris Bahr, at the Culture Project. From the posters in the lobby, it looks like The Exonerated was also performed there, and as my elder brother can attest, it was pretty fabulous. I stayed late at work (to make up for the hours I miss leaving early for Shabbes), and Harley came to join me for dinner in my office. For the record, Cafe Classico takes WAAAAY too long to deliver. But my turkey sandwich was pretty awesome. Due to the lateness of delivery, Harley and I may or may not have had to jog from the subway to the theater. In high heels. And it was cold.
At any rate, we arrived thankfully before the curtain, got our tickets, and took our seats. For anyone who was unaware, Dai (Hebrew for enough) is a one-woman show, performed entirely by Ms. Bahr. The premise is that the show takes place in a Tel Aviv coffee shop, right before a piguah*. Ms. Bahr moves around the room changing shirts, hair styles, accents, and occasionally gender, portraying each person in the minutes before the bomb goes off. Before I say anything else, I'd just like to point out that Ms. Bahr is a fabulous actress, she made every character believable, and different, and managed to portray a wide cross-section of Israeli society without making the characters too stereotypical.
Two things made this play so powerful, the first was the injection of individual personality into the victims of a suicide bomber, the second was that each vignette closed with the sound of a bomb, the lights going out, and the associated sounds after an attack (ambulance, megaphone, screams, cries) while Ms. Bahr slumped/moved as if she had been hit by a blast. Then there was a musical segue to the next character while she changed. After the first two "bombs" I realized that it was going to be a leit motif, and it put me on edge (which was clearly the intent). I knew that at some point there would be a loud noise (I startle easily). It was very hard to watch the "bomb" go off over and over. By the third or fourth time I was actually crying: the sounds are so realistic, and you become invested in the characters. I'll try hard not to spoil the play, but the way that the plot interweaves is interesting, and adds a new dimension, although by the end the focus on politics became more obvious and heavy-handed.
As the lights went up Harley and I were in a state of shock. I was trembling. The play had been moving, startling, funny, and intense. My only critique is that an audience must be fairly au courant with Israeli politics, and a grasp of Hebrew, and of Israeli culture certainly makes the play more enjoyable, but I think that one can get the idea without it.
While I gathered my coat, the little old (presumably Jewish) lady next to me told me to go see a doctor about my cough. This would have completed the evening for me, if Harley and I hadn't heard two Israelis talking about going back to Israel as we entered the subway. Israelis=Jewbiquitous. I was so shaken by the play that I went straight home (instead of joining a friend from out of town for drinks). And by "home" I mean "CJ's apartment." So that he could talk me down.
At any rate, we arrived thankfully before the curtain, got our tickets, and took our seats. For anyone who was unaware, Dai (Hebrew for enough) is a one-woman show, performed entirely by Ms. Bahr. The premise is that the show takes place in a Tel Aviv coffee shop, right before a piguah*. Ms. Bahr moves around the room changing shirts, hair styles, accents, and occasionally gender, portraying each person in the minutes before the bomb goes off. Before I say anything else, I'd just like to point out that Ms. Bahr is a fabulous actress, she made every character believable, and different, and managed to portray a wide cross-section of Israeli society without making the characters too stereotypical.
Two things made this play so powerful, the first was the injection of individual personality into the victims of a suicide bomber, the second was that each vignette closed with the sound of a bomb, the lights going out, and the associated sounds after an attack (ambulance, megaphone, screams, cries) while Ms. Bahr slumped/moved as if she had been hit by a blast. Then there was a musical segue to the next character while she changed. After the first two "bombs" I realized that it was going to be a leit motif, and it put me on edge (which was clearly the intent). I knew that at some point there would be a loud noise (I startle easily). It was very hard to watch the "bomb" go off over and over. By the third or fourth time I was actually crying: the sounds are so realistic, and you become invested in the characters. I'll try hard not to spoil the play, but the way that the plot interweaves is interesting, and adds a new dimension, although by the end the focus on politics became more obvious and heavy-handed.
As the lights went up Harley and I were in a state of shock. I was trembling. The play had been moving, startling, funny, and intense. My only critique is that an audience must be fairly au courant with Israeli politics, and a grasp of Hebrew, and of Israeli culture certainly makes the play more enjoyable, but I think that one can get the idea without it.
While I gathered my coat, the little old (presumably Jewish) lady next to me told me to go see a doctor about my cough. This would have completed the evening for me, if Harley and I hadn't heard two Israelis talking about going back to Israel as we entered the subway. Israelis=Jewbiquitous. I was so shaken by the play that I went straight home (instead of joining a friend from out of town for drinks). And by "home" I mean "CJ's apartment." So that he could talk me down.
All in all? An amazing, if ridiculously intense, experience.
*Piguah is Hebrew, colloquial for a suicide bomb, or attack.
A clip from the play.
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