Mr. Irrigation Canal, direct light is not your friend.
Friday night, I saw the UTPA Dance Ensemble Fall Concert. Three pieces.
The first was just phenomenally awesome. The soundtrack was composed of old, misogynistic radio and TV ads, a Bing Crosby piece (maybe?), and something jazzy and awesome that sounded like Django Rinehart on guitar. The dancers (all female), using spinning stools as props and dressed in identical polka-dot short dresses, created a highly kinetic melange of war-era pinup poses, glamor-girl smiles, burlesque moves and what I thought were more abstracted references to female gender roles. As the piece progressed, there were increasingly visible indications of the shallowness of the facades, such as the dancers lifting and posing each other like dolls or mannequins. Oh, and there was lots and lots of sultry cigarette smoking, with some serious coughing at the end. Also they sometimes flew around, airplane style, on their stools :)
The second piece was set to the Titanic theme, and involved some fairly predictable and derivative–but sweet and romantic–choreography. There seems to be a gender-change operation in there somewhere, as well as a lesbian love affair, but I suspect (given the nature of the rest of the piece) that these are not what the choreographer was going for.
The third piece (the one of resistance, you know) was my friend Melinda Blomquist’s MFA choreography work. I saw it in an earlier form last Spring, and now it’s even more awesome. Traditional hymns with a lot of vocals, an a capella Lila Downs piece, and some other touching music with gorgeous allegorical dance involving women with a white sash. The white sash begins around their waists, and they all struggle (sometimes violently) to get it off. Lots of repeated themes: jerky struggling-type motions, progressions of one hand up the other arm (sort of reminiscent of David Byrne in his “Once in a Lifetime” period), women lifting each other up and falling back down, and too many more to remember or mention. One by one, the dancers remove the sash, and the tone of the dancing shifts from tortured to jubilant. The themes of trials, mutual support, faith, and overcoming are powerful. I get all verklemt just thinking about it.
Then Saturday night I went about 45 minutes down the road to Harlingen, to see a former student of mine play a gig. I’ve been telling him for a year that I’d go see his band. Well, somehow I got the wrong club, and they gave me directions to another wrong club, with a totally different hardcore band, but it wasn’t totally unenjoyable.
I wore my Hearos(tm). Call me old, but I’ve lost enough hearing, thank you. The “Club,” (called “The Spot”) was in an industrial block, in a run-down former mechanic’s garage or something…? The crowd consisted of 15 people milling about, some in Halloween costumes. The space was open to the air on 2 sides. It’s kind of a glorified carport. The band was playing with their back to a large rolling garage door :). No stage lights… no stage, for that matter. A pool table off to one side, and a couple of side tables with alcohol and snacks on them. I think the attendees provided as much as the management. It was pretty lame, from one perspective.
From another, though, it was cool. The apparent managers, an early-20s couple, were very affectionate as they grooved to the tunes. Other people did a little slam dancing and lots of head-banging. It was kind of a sweet event, as if a few friends got together to see if they could make a nightclub.
The band, Act of Vengeance, was surprisingly interesting. Heavy, loud, distorted, of course (this is hardcore/speed metal/whatever), but shifting time signatures/tempos every 30 seconds or so, with tight syncrhonization. Their songs had a hardcore… um… core, but they had long moments that sounded like classic 70s rock, 80s stadium solos, and even a few periods of shockingly atmospheric melodies and harmonies worthy of The Ocean Blue (with lots of distortion). Night of the Living Dead was playing on a TV in front of the drums. The bass player/lead screamer was frenetic in his constant and precise walking/running technique. You know, like Sting, If Sting were 300 lbs, Hispanic, and had frizzy black hair covering his face and shoulders.
A good weekend, all in all.
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