September 24, 2007 Archives

Twenty-five years from now your smart-ass kid and some of his friends think it would be, like, so fun to stage a production in the garage. Maybe it’s your birthday, so it’s sweet, really. They raid your closet and pull out the stuff you don’t remember that you had. They piece together a summer of your life based on re-re-reuns of MTV Spring Break. They decorate with leftover 4th of July decorations and back it all with the mix tapes you just couldn’t bare to throw out. For some inexplicable reason, they take a particular shine to the country mix that was given to you by that one guy. You only listened to it once, you swear. They sneak a couple beers, belt ‘em back, and belt ‘em out.

You watch the show. Hell, you’ve had a few yourself. You can’t say that you approve of the dry-humping but it’s the 32’s and you’re a modern mom. Nostalgia hits you like a brick in the face. You selectively forget that you never actually went anywhere good on spring break. You sincerely hope that your kid and his smart-ass friends recognize that Jackson 5 was WAY before your time. You remember camping, pie, and the 4th of July. You suddenly think that patriotism is kind of a cheap shot and maybe Freedom is about bragging rights. You wonder if you’d enjoy the show more if you knew all the words. You wonder what that country-mix-tape-making guy would think of the performance. Would he pledge allegiance and sing along? Would he recognize the irony of a bunch of smart-ass kids temporarily angry about never which song to sing next. Ain’t that America?

It all seems like a big disaster and for some reason that makes it better. For you anyway, and not cause it’s your kid up there doing something for you. You think that someone else with a different set of memories and ideas would just see the disaster. Or just like the music. Something starts to make some sort of sense. It ends and you clap. You were not expecting to find anything buried in a pile of your old clothes and stack of tapes, but there it was. So big that you are going to have to think about it more. Later. Your kid leaves the mess for you to clean up. Happy birthday to you. Ain’t it funny how the night moves?

Shit, now you are going to have that song in your head for days.

Liz

I have always loved the deep resonant sound a cello or two. Or twelve? Or fourteen? Sure, why not? The more the better, right? I really just want to know why there are so many cellists in Portland. Regardless, Portland Cello Project’s recent performance at the Wonder Ballroom had that oh, so Portland. Cello upon cello backed some our favorite local talent. The likes of John Weinland, Bright Red Paper, and Laura Gibson all took their turns and it sound soothingly good. Apart from one rotten apple, called Adagio for Strings (did we really need a 9-11 memorial song?), the show was a soothing success. In fact, I hope to get the recording for bedtime.

One might assume from the rather (un)clever title of Taylor Mac’s show that The Be(a)st of Taylor Mac would cover a full spectrum of work. Not so. Really, what the show presents is a beginner’s introduction to drag. I guess that was OK, because before sitting through this show I really didn’t know performance art could be such a drag. I am not going to blame Mac entirely. Maybe it was the exertion of my long, rushed bike ride just to get to the show or the uncomfortable heat inside the venue or the uncomfortably cramped wooden pew. Probably it was because the show ran unexpectedly long, thus conflicting with other shows in the TBA line-up. All of this was then agitated by what I found to be a lackluster performance from a superficially lustrous performer. Again, maybe not entirely Mac’s fault, 6:30 was, admittedly, a little early for sparkle and flare.

Aside from the outlandish make-up, there just wasn’t anything about the show that was innovative or provocative. While I appreciated the nature in which the show progressed: Mac threw clothes from previous performances all over the floor and changed outfits while changing scenes, there just wasn’t anything for me in the show itself. I found the dialogue too rehearsed to be confrontational. Even the presumably off the cuff stuff just didn’t feel like it was in the moment. Probably the most aggravating aspect of the show was that as a member of the audience I wasn’t even responsible for reacting to Mac. He unabashedly reacted to his own material and, frankly, I just didn’t have the energy to react to his reaction. That’s not the audience member I want to be. Not that I could have responded with much fervor anyway. Moments that should have been “oh, no you didn’t just say that” were more “what did you just say?” I didn’t feel that the show was smart or sharp and possessed only the requisite amount of sass. Alas, I have run into very few people who felt the way I did about the “play”, so please, don’t take my word for it.

Liz