Enthusiastically Ambiverted Hopepunk
Bands, concerts, performers, performances, and various shows I’ve seen.
Out for the Seattle Symphony’s performance of Handel’s Messiah. The last time I was at a performance of the Messiah, it was as part of the choir, along with both parents (also in the choir) and my brother (in the orchestra). It’ll be nice to be in the audience with Prairie for this performance!
Experimenting with posting YouTube videos to micro.blog. Excellent show by Front 242 last night. So impressed that these guys are still going this strong, really glad I got a chance to see them.
Just a few hours until #LordsofAcid!
While getting ready for bed, I noticed I’d gotten a souvenir from Frank N. Furter, who sat on my lap during part of “I’m Going Home” and kissed my cheek as he moved on. 💋 #rhps #rockyhorrorpictureshow #lettherebelips
Don’t dream it…be it! #rhps #rockyhorrorpictureshow
Out to see Les Mis. My second time seeing this on stage; the first was the touring company when they came to Anchorage many years ago. Quite impressed that CWU is doing this.
Last night, Prairie and I went out to see Jason Webley’s Elevanniversary show, our first Webley show in a few years. We’d been skipping them lately, but between this being his eleventh anniversary show, having it at Seattle’s Town Hall (a venue we really like), and the guest list he’d lined up, we decided this was one we wanted to see. In the end, while it wasn’t our all-time favorite Webley show, it was still good, (mostly) a lot of fun, and we’re glad we went. I took a few pictures during the course of the night, and they’ll be up eventually, but as we sat towards the back and I was more interested in just enjoying the show, it won’t be among my most comprehensive sets of Webley documentation. I’m sure you’ll all survive. :)
We headed downtown a little early, in order to make sure we got a good parking space close to Town Hall and have time to get dinner before the show. Parking successfully obtained, we wandered down to the Cheesecake Factory for dinner, after stopping off to get a few pictures of what little is left of the Alfaretta Apartments at 8th and Seneca. As crappy as that building was, I liked my little apartment there, and it was where I was living when Prairie and I first met, so it was a little sad to see it reduced to just a few walls and a lot of rubble. After dinner we spent a while wandering around Barnes and Noble, talking each other out of spending money on new books when there are so many good used books available far cheaper, and then headed back up the hill to Town Hall.
There was already a small crowd of people milling about when we returned to Town Hall, and it wasn’t long before a table was set up to process those of us who had will call tickets waiting. (A quick aside: I’ve got to give props, this was by far the most organized and prompt Webley show we’d ever been to. Getting our tickets only took a few minutes, the doors to the lobby actually opened at, and perhaps slightly before, the scheduled 7:30pm, we got into the house and found our seats by 7:45, and the lights dimmed to begin the show at 8:05. Impressive!) Tickets in hand, we waited for the doors to open, and ended up spending a pleasant few minutes chatting with Paco, a burlesque performer from Baltimore who was in town for the weekend to visit Seattle and see the Elevanniversary show.
Once in the auditorium, Prairie and I grabbed seats towards the back of the house on the assumption that most rowdiness would be towards the front, and this would make it easier to dodge overexcited fans later on. As we were all entering and finding our seats, Seattle’s Orkestar Zirkonium was providing entrance music, their euro-klezmer-ish style setting a good tone for the evening to come, as balloons both big and small bounced around the room and Jason’s ever-present goddesses danced and twirled through the aisles.
The show itself was divided roughly in half, with the first half devoted to Jason’s friends and collaborators doing short sets on their own, and Jason coming out for the second half. This ended up having some definite pros and cons: on the plus side, we got some more exposure to the people Jason’s been working with over the past few years, all of whom had quite enjoyable sets; however that also meant that Jason himself had a somewhat abbreviated setlist, and many of the quieter, more introspective songs that Prairie and I enjoy so much were passed over in favor of the louder, more exciting, get-everyone-bouncing-around songs. As fun as those are — and plenty of people were quite rightfully enjoying them — we’re just not quite so bouncy, and missed hearing some of our old favorites. Still, different shows have different intents, and this minor grousing shouldn’t at all be taken to mean that we didn’t enjoy ourselves!
Anyway, the first guest performer up was Andru Bemis, who worked with Jason on the How Big is Tacoma EP, with three of his own songs. Jay Thompson (of Eleven Saints fame) read a few poems for us, then the Rev. Peyton came on (though without his Big Damn Band). Some of Jason’s goddesses did a silly Billy Joel “We Didn’t Start the Fire”-inspred pseudo-retrospective of Jason’s career, accompanied by only a big bass drum. Then the last guest performer, and for many people in the audience the most eagerly anticipated, Amanda Palmer, of both Dresden Dolls and solo fame, not to mention her work with Jason and Evelyn Evelyn.
After Amanda’s set, we were treated (after some slight technical issues) to a short, four-minute edit of video from Jason’s first public performance from eleven years ago, featuring songs from his first album, Viaje. It was fun to see — younger, shorter hair, a bit more unfinished, but definitely Jason.
After the video, out came Jason, along with his usual bandmates Alex (Sprout) Guy, Jherek Bischoff, and Michael McQuilken. They did a few of Jason’s songs (including possibly my favorite-ever rendition of Goodbye Forever, Once Again), and then he invited his guest performers up one-by-one to perform songs from their collaborative EPs. Before his collaborators started joining him, though, Jason invited onstage one of the first people to welcome Jason into the world of busking when he started all those years ago, Seattle legend Artis the Spoonman, who joined Jason for an incredible performance. Then, Jason’s co-conspirators: Andru, then Rev. Peyton, then Amanda. After this there was the one “WTF?” moment of the night for us — a short, bizarre, techno-Devo-ish piece that just seemed odd and out of place. Perhaps there was an in-joke that Prairie and I have missed out on, but it pretty much just confirmed for us that Jason doesn’t have much of a future in the rave scene.
Next up came a short word about Sunday’s Camp Tomato, along with indoctrinating (or, for many of us, re-indoctrinating) us all into the Tomato Scouts, with both the Tomato Scout Oath and the Tomato Scout Song. Jason read a sweet short story about a boy with a dream of feathers, boats, balloons, tomatoes, and lots of friends, only to wake up to find that the dream was still ongoing, and then he started inviting more performers on stage. Alex, Jherek and Michael came back on stage, joined by a string trio of two cellos and one violin; after a few songs, they were joined by the Orkestar Zirkonium; shortly afterwards, Jay Thompson came on for “Eleven Saints“.
Many more balloons were launched, both big and small, people got up and danced in the aisles, and the marionette version of Jason from a few years back floated around the room underneath big red balloons. Finally, Jason and company launched into “Music That Tears Itself Apart“, arms stretched upwards, fingers waggled, arms slowly dropped down, and much mass tickling was accomplished, and then finally, the concert was at an end.
Though there was a giant tomato cake over in Freeway Park, Prairie and I were ready to head home, and so we wandered up the two blocks to the car, leaving the post-show festivities to the younger, more energetic set, while we worked our way home and fell into bed.
Happy Elevanniversary, Jason. We’re glad we could be there.
Yesterday afternoon, Prairie and I got a call from her sister H offering us tickets to the closing night show of The Phantom of the Opera at the Paramount. She’d gotten sick earlier in the day and just wasn’t up to going out, so she and P decided to see if we wanted to go. We, of course, were happy to take them (after passing on our sympathies, of course), and headed out for an unexpected but not unwelcome night out at the theater.
I’ve grown up with Phantom, from having the soundtrack nearly as long as I can remember to owning the behind-the-scenes book The Complete Phantom of the Opera to having performed a few of the numbers during my days in the Anchorage Children’s Choir, and this was my second time seeing the show. While not unfamiliar with the show — its nearly impossible to have an interest in modern theater culture and not know about Phantom — this was Prairie’s first opportunity to see it on stage.
The show itself, while enjoyable for the spectacle, wasn’t at all a great show. The performances were good, though I wouldn’t really rate them much better than that, and much of the spectacle felt a little rushed, like you didn’t really have time to appreciate the moment before being whisked off to the next scene. There were no flubs, it certainly wasn’t a bad performance, and we both enjoyed the grandeur of the whole thing. It just wasn’t stellar.
Additionally, we’re curious if we might be more appreciative of the less-expensive balcony seats for our next show at the Paramount. Each time we’ve gone to a show and splurged for floor seats, the sound mix in the theater has been surprisingly bad, with the actors overly loud compared to the music and many of the group numbers turning into a muddled, unintelligible mess. We don’t remember having this issue when we’ve seen shows from the balcony, though, so we’re curious if the acoustics in the Paramount happen to favor the balcony. For our next show, we’re going to stay away from the floor and see what we think.
Lastly, two points that I’ve touched on before but that, unfortunately, still need to be addressed (and, realistically, probably aren’t going to change in the foreseeable future):
It’s truly distressing how few people think of theater as Theater (with a capital ‘t’). Both Prairie and I were brought up to see a night out at a show as something special. It’s not something that happens every day (or even every week or month), and so it’s not something to be taken completely casually. It is something that should be dressed for: I’d argue for good business work clothes at the minimum, if you’re not actually going to take the time to dress up. Above all, jeans and t-shirts? Not acceptable!
The crowd at last nights show, admittedly, was a bit better than we’ve seen at other shows in the past. That said, I still hold that ratty jeans and tracksuits should be unacceptable at the theater.
One last thing: a standing ovation should be given for extraordinarily good performances. Not for every performance you happen to be at. Not for slightly above average performances. And certainly not for performances with flubbed lines, broken props, and bad sound. I’ve noticed this trend a lot lately, where it’s more rare to be at a performance that doesn’t get a standing ovation than to be at a performance that does. That’s really not how this is supposed to work, folks. A standing ovation is something special, to be reserved for those truly stand-out performances, not used for every performance you bother to attend.
Prairie and I just sat in our seats last night. The people around us probably thought we were being rude (ironic, given that I had to shoot the twit on my left a few glares when she started singing along with the show), but it just wasn’t an ovation-worthy performance. Good, yes; worthy of applause and appreciation, yes; worthy of a whoopin’ and hollerin’ standing ovation? Certainly not.
Sunday night, Prairie and I headed downtown to the Paramount to see Spamalot. We’d been hoping to get a chance to see it ever since it opened on Broadway, had happily memorized the soundtrack after it was released, and snapped up tickets as soon as we heard that the touring company was coming through Seattle. We even sprung for expensive seats, on the main floor of the theater, rather than our usual far more affordable seating (somewhere in the vicinity of the Scottish highlands).
First things first: overall, it was a good evening. We enjoyed the show, and it was a lot of fun to get to see the sets, staging, and choreography — all the bits that just can’t be conveyed through a soundtrack album. The jokes were fun (even though, as long time Monty Python fans, there weren’t really any major surprises in store), and seeing how they translated some of the film’s sight gags to live theater was a real treat (specifically, the Black Night’s dismemberment and the attack of the Killer Rabbit). The performances on the whole were quite acceptable, with the standout performers being Patsy and Sir Robin, with the Lady of the Lake and Lancelot not terribly far behind them.
However, the night was not without a few disappointments. Firstly, a few that are pretty much connected directly to the show itself:
Also at the beginning of the second act during “ALotBSoL,” and possibly triggered by Arthur’s flub, one of the nights (the tallest of the troupe) stumbled and fell, landing on the umbrella that was being used as a prop, breaking it so that it didn’t open and close properly for the rest of the number.
The sound in the theater (or at least in our seats) was horrendous! It was balanced so horridly that rather than sounding like the actor’s voices, only louder, everyone sounded like they were being piped through the old PA system used for assemblies at your elementary school. On top of that, it was mixed so poorly that during the company numbers, the principal voices (Arthur, the Lady of the Lake, etc.) got completely buried in the ensemble, and you couldn’t hear them at all.
Overall, as much as we like Spamalot — and we do — this was far from our favorite show at the Paramount. In hindsight, if we could go back and re-do things, we’d have been quite happy with using the cheap seat tickets for Spamalot, and splurging for floor seats for Young Frankenstein.
Then, of course, there’s the frustrations you find when you have to deal with the general public.
While we’re eternally grateful that most people have finally figured out that cell phones should be turned off (or at least silenced), if you have to hold your iPhone at arms length to snap a shot of you and your (jeans-clad) buds before the show, and end up waving the phone in front of the face of the person sitting beside you, coming perilously close to knocking them in the head…maybe, just maybe, you shouldn’t be fiddling with the damn phone.
While she probably isn’t, if your girlfriend is so stupid that she just won’t understand any of the humor without your explaining it to her…then she’s just going to have to suffer and cope with a little confusion. Keeping up a running commentary for the entire show consisting of saying the jokes along with the performers on stage and then explaining each joke, why it was funny, and which Monty Python episode or movie it originally came from, making sure to point out any notable differences between its original incarnation and its current stage version…is NOT acceptable. Honestly, I’m surprised Prairie just didn’t smack the guy midway through Act I (except for the fact that she knows how to comport herself in public).
One last thing: a standing ovation should be given for extraordinarily good performances. Not for every performance you happen to be at. Not for slightly above average performances. And certainly not for performances with flubbed lines, broken props, and bad sound. I’ve noticed this trend a lot lately, where it’s more rare to be at a performance that doesn’t get a standing ovation than to be at a performance that does. That’s really not how this is supposed to work, folks. A standing ovation is something special, to be reserved for those truly stand-out performances, not used for every performance you bother to attend.
People really amaze me. And not in good ways.
So, wrapping things up: people suck, can’t (or won’t) behave properly in public, and most of them really shouldn’t be let out of the house. The show, while suffering from some very notable rough spots, was generally very enjoyable, though in the end, not quite the experience we were hoping for. For another view, here’s Prairie’s look at the evening.
About a week and a half ago, six teams of people with dance in their souls — if not their soles — gathered together for a battle royale at Dance Off 2007.
If you were there, you know the pure awesomeness of the spectacle. If you weren’t there (foolish mortal), then at least I can offer this photographic record of the event.
Truly, such fleetfooted feats (feets?) shall never grace a stage again.
Until next year, of course. ;)