Performance

Frass Accolades @ The Language Foundry

by everyman on Jan.14, 2008, under Performance

I took a nap after work and got up just in time to miss everything by a matter of minutes, but since I’ve never seen the place I showed up anyway. The Language Foundry is a very small space, smaller than the Bela Dubby, with a see-through glass window overlooking the street, and (at the time) bright lights overhead. I must say, I realize I showed up when this all ended, but I think I would have been very uncomfortable confined to such a small space, surrounded by people, and clearly visible from the outside. Ended up hanging at the Lit afterwards, and enjoyed a lengthy conversation with Tony Void (seeing him in public is a rare treat these days.)

Frass Accolades is C. Randolph. C. from 9 Volt Haunted House and Nick Traenkner (MC of the Literary Cafe poetry readings.) Lots of effects laden drone with unintelligible spoken word. You gotta love these guys. I think of them as the Frank Zappa of the Cleveland noise scene. The audio is really half the experience as these guys break into theatrics which mend the mind and unsettle the soul. Wish I could have seen this one in person, but oh well.

Thanks again, as always, to Ryan Kuehn for recording this set for us late-comers and no-shows. I’ll soon be posting his Pedalphile set.

Frass Accolades @ Language Foundry 01/08/2007 [20:32m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

Pedalphile @ Language Foundry 01/08/2008 [10:23m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

Just Jose @ Language Foundry 01/08/2008 [18:29m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

cellophane orchestra live @ Bela Dubby 01/02/2008

by everyman on Jan.03, 2008, under Performance

cellophane orchestra is me performing solo. This debut performance took place at Wyatt Howland’s “noise night” at the Bela Dubby in Lakewood, OH. I opened for the Free Time (Mark McGuire of Emeralds / Cat Nap + Sam Goldberg duo) on Wednesday evening, January 2nd, 2008.

These sets were thankfully recorded by Ryan Kuehn of Thursday Club fame.

Cellophane Orchestra - One 420: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

Free Time - Live @ Bela Dubby 01/03/2008: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

Dan Bruce Quartet @ Bop Stop

by everyman on Aug.02, 2004, under Performance

I don’t know a whole heck of a lot about this Dan Bruce person, other than that he has sat in with the Infinite Numbers of Sound a couple times. This was my first ever experience of visiting Cleveland’s “Bop Stop,” an incredibly classy jazz club.

I just performed with Ethereal Transmission at Talkies, had a great time hanging with all my friends there, and suddenly it’s 10:30 PM, time for Talkies to close. Everyone said they were going to check out Dan Bruce playing at the Bop Stop. Never heard of it. Never heard of him either. It was described to me as a “jazz quartet”. Not the experimental avant guard genre, but more of the super mellow dinner-club music genre. This was the real deal.

I figured, why not? I was full of energy, and needed to do something. Since everyone was going to be there, and the music would be *jazz*, not rock, metal, industrial, punk, noise, or various and sundry recordings of explosions. That means I could *hear* my friends for a change. I went for it.

I followed my good friend Lisa who knows Cleveland like the back of her hand, especially all the eclectic parts…I knew she’d get us there in a hurry, which she did.

When we got there, parking was full, and the cooks sitting outside on the curb suggested we park back to back on the side of the venue. They said we’re up shit creek when the venue lets out and the cars need to backup, but as long as we leave early, we should be okay.

Lisa and I already planned on staying just for a couple drinks so that we’d have enough time to check the place out, meet and greet with a few faces, and then probably make our exit unless involved in some really good conversations. Here’s hoping!

When we got in, we saw a sign saying “Cover Charge $7″. Well shit! Apparently these guys started around 9 PM, and were going to go on all night. We just missed about 2 hours worth, and hoped if we walked in really casual like we already paid, no one would bother charging us cover. No one DID bother charging us, perhaps it was because we came so late, but it certainly wasn’t due to our looking inconspicuous. People stared at us like we were delinquents fresh from the juvenile prison.

The place was gorgeous, big, and classy, with perfect acoustics. It was in immaculate shape, and everyone there, for the most part, was well-dressed…even the waiters/waitresses were dressed in formal attire. I saw my friends all sitting down way on the other side of the venue, sitting quietly…noticing us, we waved, a few waved back after an uncomfortable hesitation. We walked closer and saw about 20 strategically placed signs that read “QUIET!!” This was scaring me, and I needed a drink badly. I went to the bar, pulled out my wallet, and waited….and waited….and waited…. everyone else sitting at the bar and sitting *around* the bar were staring at me funny. Eventually, I couldn’t take it anymore and sat down next to Lisa who was already engaged in a “whisper-a-thon” with a guy she recognized, some saxophonist from a band I heard of but can’t presently recall. She explained you needed to sit at a table, and then they would eventually serve you, but they don’t want you bringing your own drinks to your table. This was a “proper” jazz club, you see, super high class. I watched the band, and thought they finished a song because everyone was clapping. I clapped too, but not because of their performance, but rather, because it was finally coming to an end. Ah, I was wrong … it kept going … it was just someone finishing a solo … how weird! Everyone applauded whenever a solo act finished. To applaud was like, um, being *rude* in my opinion, but I guess this was standard practice. I wouldn’t know, as this was not only my first experience going to the Bop Stop, but also, my first experience watching *any* jazz performance.

The music itself reminded me of a far less cheesy “smooth jazz.” Remember now, I’m *not* a jazz aficionado, so I’m going to do my best to describe it here with what little I know of. It wasn’t outlandishly loud like you would expect the band “Chicago” to be, as it was a quartet, but it wasn’t so mellow that the music seemed to hardly move. It was quiet, yes, quiet enough that if you spoke outloud you’d be chastised for it, but loud enough to be clearly heard. Smooth jazz, to me, is often synthesized, and more appropriate in an elevator or a dentist’s office. This wasn’t like that, as they were playing purely acoustic instruments … I saw a giant bass guitar, a set of drums, maybe a piano and trumpet? It was certainly respectable, well done, jazz music, the real deal, but still gave me the same mellow vibe “smooth jazz” does, or even that good stuff they play on NPR late at night. It’s good to drive to, good to eat to, good to have casual conversation over, good to read a book to even, good for *anything* but sitting there watching. I don’t consider myself to have a short attention span, but I can’t focus my attention on someone playing the same bass riff for four hours straight! I was jiggling in my seat, and I felt eyes on me.

Everyone around me was staring at every wrong move I made, wondering why I wasn’t giving 100% undivided attention to this band. I whispered to Lisa that I had to get out of here or I’d go mad. This was really weird and creepy. My friends Kyle and Jillian walked in and took a seat an open table closer to the stage. Kyle kept on chuckling as he sat there, and I can only imagine he was thinking something similar, or at the very least that we all indeed stuck out like sore thumbs. I felt like we were in a movie of some sort, or perhaps at a presidential dinner, rubbing shoulders with all the bigwigs. Kyle lives as bohemian of a lifestyle as I do…we both had clothes that were really just “thrown on.” Yeah, we were color coordinated for our performance at Talkies that night, but you wouldn’t know it by our style….”throw ons” are our specialties. Me with my 5-o-clock shadow shave, him with his mussed up hair on top, our shirts untucked, I was wearing old cheap shoes that have done 100 miles of walking over the past year (including at Burning Man), and neither of us have done anything like this before, I think… this was a culture shock.

Finally, a waitress came over to me and asked if I wanted anything. I told her not to worry about it, as I couldn’t wait that same period of time again to be served. She said it was okay, but warned me that if we weren’t drinking or buying anything that we had to leave (sort of like most strip bars I’ve been to, how odd!) I explained we were just about to go, so she smiled approvingly and walked away to service the next table.

I was going mad, Kyle kept giggling, and I saw Lisa beginning to laugh too, saying she felt so adolescent, and agreed we should probably just bug out. She said her good-byes while I waved to my friends. They seemed genuinely surprised to see us get up and go so soon. I felt bad for leaving them, as I almost felt as though I was dissing the performance … I wasn’t at all, but was extremely uncomfortable with the atmosphere presented before me.

It was like being in a library, not of your own volition, but following a friend around who is looking for a very hard find book, and spends about an hour doing it. You have no business being there but to support your friend and to hang out for the sake of comradery. In about ten minutes, you just want to scream … you want to talk, and get very excited, your voice raises, and someone says “shhhhh!” Even in a grocery store following around your mom or dad as a child was better that this, because you could at least make sounds … children screaming in a grocery store is a long accepted trend, it wouldn’t be out of place to shake a rattle or yell “ARE WE DONE YET?”

It’s the whole “you MUST be quiet!” thing that bothered me the most. Being told is bad enough, this is why I avoid libraries as often as possible, but being surrounded by signs saying it over and over each time you look at them, and seeing everyone looking back at you like you’re from the planet Neptune, and the music being played so quietly that the clinking of glasses got people’s attention, this was way too much for me. It was like being in grade-school again, or worse, being in CHURCH in grade-school during one of the more upbeat hymns. Loud, yes, but not so loud that you can get away with talking. Good LORD!

As we made our exit, everyone who wasn’t our friends also looked surprised, and then the surprise gave in to happiness in our decision, which apparently to them was the *right* decision. Indeed, it was. I just couldn’t sit still … and was very disappointed in that I couldn’t talk to my friends. There we were, all sitting together, at least 10 of us, and none of us could say a fucking word to each other without offending a jazz critic. I may as well have bought the DVD of the show and watched it at home, as the sense of comradery would have been about the same.

Oh well, we got what we paid for.

And I’m just a classless, cultureless, adolescent jerk who can’t soak in good music for any longer than I can soak in a good work of fiction, a good dance, a good play, or most things our culture define as being “good”, like the dull dragging piece of shit movie “Citizen Kane,” or the forever yawn inducing “Pride & Prejudice.”

And if I werenï¿½t myself, I’d rather fall on my own sword than be you.

everyman

Frass Accolades @ The Language Foundry

cellophane orchestra live @ Bela Dubby 01/02/2008

Dan Bruce Quartet @ Bop Stop

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