2008 has gotten off to a pretty impressive start, show-wise. While I've been slow to get back into the swing of things film-wise (the only movie I've been to thus far being BMFI's Bernstein Fest-themed screening of West Side Story, with the sole remaining - and Natalie Wood's personal - Technicolor print, thanks to local collector Lou DiCrescenzo), the music scene has kept me busier, even with having skipped a few. Here's a round-up of the year's first couple of weeks in shows:
Kicked off with a trip to John Zorn's Stone in NYC for Toronto-based vocalist Mary Margaret O'Hara, mainly for the girlfriend's sake, but it was a pretty unusual show. MMOH is actress/comedian Catherine O'Hara's sis, and put out one album back in 1988, with sporadic output since. She's somewhat eccentric and her discomfort with the stage was apparent in the way she kept muttering asides and near-apologies to the capacity crowd gathered around (we ended up on the floor, shoved halfway under the piano with a knee in my back). But the set of standards and originals was compelling when she managed to get into the flow of actually performing, kicking off with a "Peace in the Valley" that gushed forth the lyric in a jumble of words that finally devolved into howls and whoops. After only a half hour, she grabbed a purse and plastic bag and left the stage, assuming everyone was there to see Sean Lennon, scheduled for the second set. She came back for a few encores at the demand of the audience, finally playing nearly an hour (talking to her later, she self-consciously thought that by the 30-minute mark she'd already been up there for over an hour). Amazing how she ended up both endearing and fierce at the same time.
On the 10th, caught a bit of the Wu-Tang Clan at the Troc, though they didn't hit the stage until 11:30 (for an 8pm-advertised start time), with the RZA nowhere to be seen. Had the crowd worked up, and Method Man steals the show, but RZA's dense productions don't really translate in a live setting, and we cut out after about half an hour.
Next day was a predictably stellar performance at the Art Museum by the Maria Schneider Orchestra, sounding gorgeous even in the Art Museum's Great Stair Hall. She had the all-stars with her: McCaslin, Monder, Versace, Clarence Penn, Steve Wilson, Frank Kimbrough, basically the whole Orch from the Sky Blue CD, who executed Schneider's pieces with fiery emotion.
A double-shot the next day, beginning with the Steve Lehman Quintet. The altoist writes incredibly dense, complex compositions that kept even this adept group - trumpeter Jonathan Finlayson, vibist Chrs Dingman, bassist Matt Brewer, and acrobatic drummer Tyshawn Sorey - in a sweat. Lehman packed the Art Alliance with an appreciative crowd, favored with a show where the pieces were intellectually nuanced but didn't interfere with the combustible soloing. Afterwards, headed to a much more relaxed show by the Antfarm Quartet at Chris', the vocal group of drummer Bob Shomo, bassist Tim Lekan, pianist Jim Ridl (who brings along a keyboard, refusing to touch the club's notorious piano) and vocalist/harmonica player Paul Jost. A solid set from a quartet of South Jersey guys who obviously enjoy playing together. Highlight was a melancholy arrangement of The Beatles' "And I Love Her."
Caught the mixed-bag first installment of the Philadelphia Orchestra Bernstein Festival on Tuesday. Christoph Eschenbach coaxed a lively take on the West Side Story Symphonic Dances from the ensemble, surrounding it with two (ugh) Tchaikovsky pieces. The Fantasy-Overture from Romeo and Juliet is acceptable, given the ubiquitousness of its main theme and the fact that it's one of the best uses of the composer's penchant for extremes of lugubrious romanticism and strong, simple motifs, but Francesca da Rimini: Symphonic Fantasia After Dante (Op. 32) showcases the flip side of those tendencies, dull, long-winded and cloying. The evening's big event was the premiere of Jennifer Higdon's Concerto 4-3, composed for the obnoxiously virtuosic trio Time for Three. It's an aimless, often confused piece which allows the group to do their show-offy stuff but has little other reason for being.
After a tepid set by altoist Steve Slagle's group with guitarist Dave Stryker and Philly vibist Tony Miceli at the Art Museum, headed to I-House for the Misha Mengelberg Quartet, with MM's longtime foil Han Bennink on drums, Brad Jones on bass, and Dave Douglas on trumpet. Intense show, with Bennink really feeling it, pulling out all the stops as a one-man Dada vaudevillian. The drummer began the show, threatening to destroy the kit with his ambulatory, powerhouse solo. Mengelberg wandered out, waving to the crowd offhandedly and launching into some lovely playing that paid no mind to what Bennink was doing. Douglas and Jones emerged later, finding the middle ground between the two old compatriots' extremes. The group essayed a set largely comprised of standards and a few Mengelberg originals, shining each piece through a prism and examining each constituent part for every possibility of expansion. Douglas was especially impressive outside of his usual setting, keeping up with the ADD-fueled amble through jazz history while managing some soaring invention of his own. And what can be said of Bennink? He pounded the hell out of his kit, played the floor, his body, the walls, an exposed pipe, the piano bench on which he sat, spun cymbals on the floor; and engaged in some of the most extreme of his performance art tendencies, reacting to audience catcalls, doing shadow puppets, wrapping himself in the stage curtain and emitting Tarzan howls, eventually dismantling the drum kit, all the while never missing a beat. I'll never be able to forget the image of Bennink standing over the upturned bench, a stack of sheet music pouring out onto the floor, holding a couple of sheets and softly singing "So many music."
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