Michelle Mullin

Blog Post #2

Dance Performance Review

                On the evening of April 2, I found myself sitting in the Meany Theater balcony, anticipating a performance by Grupo Corpo. I opened my program, hoping to acquire some sort of background before the performance began. I started reading about Seven or Eight Pieces for a Ballet and found the concept of minimalism to be of particular intrigue.

                Before I could finish reading the article, the lights began to fade. The curtains opened, revealing the dancers that would begin the piece. The whole first part clearly reflected this idea of minimalism. The dancers were grouped in pairs across the stage, transferring their weight from one foot to the other. They were all in the exact same position, facing forward with blank expressions. This persisted for quite a while, and then some groups started to perform the movement subtly different, but quite noticeably, since everyone else was moving completely uniform. Then one group at a time would do a short duet together. Pederneiras, the choreographer, used repetition very creatively and cleverly, such that the observer stayed interested. Furthermore, the images and movements were crystallized and embedded in the mind through this use of minimalist repetition. It is also very inspiring to really stick with an idea, because the choreography showed just how much can be created out of just a single idea!

The music of Philip Glass that was used in the performance also reflected this minimalist theme. Being very familiar with his music, I made this connection very quickly. He tends to use just a phrase or two of music and repeat it over and over again. Or start with a phrase and develop it just a little bit more each time it’s repeated. This choice of music really supported the minimalist choices in the choreography, and vice versa.

Michelle Mullin

Blog Post #1

Music Concert Review

                I went to see Worldwinds, Samantha Bosch’s senior flute recital in Poncho Theater on Monday, April 6. I thumbed through the program just minutes before 8:00 PM, when the concert was supposed to begin. I took note of the entities that were on the stage: a couple chairs, a couple stands, a piano, and a marimba. Then Samantha herself walked onto the stage, dreads piled on top of her head in a bun, as usual, in the most beautiful, colorful dress. She smiled at the very enthusiastic audience, performed a couple of quick rituals with her flute, and abruptly began her first piece, which was a solo. She played Katherine Hoover’s Kokopelli for solo flute. Afterward, she bowed quickly and modestly, and left the stage. She returned with a cello player and a guitar player. They found their seats, and each began performing their own instrument-related rituals, like adjusting music stands and placing the cello on the floor just right. Then they tuned their instruments to each other, and after quite a few tries, were finally satisfied. I found this part particularly confusing, because it seemed so unprofessional… like coming out onto the stage without being fully prepared. I did come to understand that it was necessary, however. But I couldn’t help but wonder if musicians ever use taking that extra time to tune their instruments as a way of biding time because of nervousness. Before I could finish that thought, the three of them began playing J.S. Bach’s Sonata in E minor BVW 1034. There were four songs before intermission, and four after. Two pieces were solos and the rest she played with no more than two other musicians. With Poncho being such an intimate little theater, I was able to observe something I hadn’t given too much thought to before.

                I was entirely intrigued by the fleeting moment that’s just before the song begins. The moment where the musicians make eye contact and, without words, check that they’re all on the same page and ready, take a breath, and begin. The first time I noticed this silent but heavy moment, I made a couple of basic observations. So for every song that followed, I reminded myself to really be aware and present for that moment and see if I could feel the energy and wordless communication that passed between them. It was a really beautiful interaction to witness that I could have easily brushed aside if I wasn’t really paying much attention. 

Concert: Seattle Chambers Players
Performers: Laura De Luca, David Sabee, Mikhail Shmidt, Paul Taub
April 21st, 2009
Poncho Concert Hall

I was very impressed by the first piece of the concert, by Jim Pfeffer. As soon as I walked in to the concert hall, the music started playing, softly, quietly. It was a quartet playing: a clarinet, a cello, a violin and a flute. What strike me at first from composition was perfect way these four instruments were playing together, in a unanimous coherent manner. I tried to listening to the music without watching the stage, in order to draw my attention only to the sound. I realized that I was hardly able to separate the sound of each instrument: they were all intersected in an harmonious way.

This piece was guided by a conductor who was writing numerical scores on a blackboard. This made me realize that such beautiful melodic sound was happening for chance, since the piece was a sort of structured improvisation. The conductor was the heart of the performance: he was giving impulses to the musicians with movements of his hands and arms, but also with his look. He was guiding the sound and each instrument. While watching this performance I noticed that I was trying to focus on the sound, but my brain was automatically analyzing also the movement that was happening on stage: the conductor expressions and impulses, the musicians reactions to the new directions, the movement of their bodies while playing.

The violinist especially captured my attention, because his movement of the body seemed to be representing the sound he was playing. There was unity between the person and the instrument, and this reflected on the music he was playing: pure, honest, dramatic.
The music of this piece was overall melodic and harmonious. Because the different instruments were integrating and collaborating with each other, it was hard to recognize one single melody. The melody was therefore created by the unity of the quartet. The music was continuous, it never had breaks or pauses. This continuity make me even more curious about the source of inspiration the composer had in order to make this specific choice. The continuity and smoothness of the ensemble allow the piece to be extremely pleasant. Each instrument was following separate directions but the musicians were able to be aware of each other, therefore to make a whole coherent sound.

Robot Monsters 2: Gran Rapids, Mad Rad, & Fresh Espresso
Hip-hop/ rap duo
Columbia City Theater
April 9th, 2009

I get to Columbia City Theater, excited to see some new local hip-hip bands. With dim lighting, hot from the crowded mass of people sitting at tables and standing on the dance floor waiting for the guys to begin to play. Nothing but drums, a mixing table and a mic on stage, the lights turned to almost black and the crowd claps and cheers. Gran rapids were first to perform. No one on stage, the theater begins to fill with a hard solid beat beginning the first song. A voice starts to speak, through the speakers for the first few minutes. Loud poetic words flow from the lips of the Mc. Honest realistic lyrics, Gran Rapids finally appears on stage, Dressed in animal costumes. I should have seen this coming because the poster gave it away but I was already too engaged in their performance.

A gorilla, dinosaur, and panda bear. This rap duo with the drummer are surely crowd the pleasers, getting everyone pumped up and excited. The songs they chose to play were all unique in their own way. A mixture of sounds, from electric, rap, street noises, and vocals. Their beats were easy to listen to, clear sounding lyrics, with crisp beats to back it up. Listening to him speak to you, hard to ignore because of their quality stage presence interacting and feeding off the crowd as they bounce to the beat. They’ve been in the scene for only less than a year, and are quickly making noise with their original sound. Their songs are filled with mixed messages talking about reality, life, girls, money, entertainment, jail, fame, and the crowd. The duo had an electrifying energy on stage, they had the entire club going, bouncing to the beat eating out of their palms as they delivered line after line with the last line surprisingly toping the one before.

Holding onto the mic with such force, consciously aware of all the cords braided across the stage. Leach doesn’t miss a beat, you can tell by watching him that the music is in him physically and mentally, being able to play with the rhythm and speed of the lyrics on stage because of knowing it so well. Not even wanting to imagine how hot it would be in those costumes the two men remove their masks to begin the second song. With sweat dripping off his face, not even taking a second to breathe or take a sip of water, they had already begun their second song. For the next hour my eyes were fixed on the stage, all hundred or so hot and sweaty bodies not playing any factor in how I viewed them, the space, or Gran Rapids, I couldn’t get enough. I pause and look around, realizing I’ve been lost in their words ever since they went on stage.

Listening to the words, allowing them to fill my head with a different kind of voice, a new style of sound and a thrill that you reach when seeing a celebrity perform, I didn’t want them to stop. They are new bands like these that I enjoy supporting, going out and seeing something new. Using Seattle as a guide to get to my next destination, I listen to things I’ve never heard, look at things I would normally just walk by and stop and observe the things around me more so I can experience them for the first time in my own world. Cannot wait to see them again, and hear their noise fill my ears with sound.

Is an electrifying Brazilian dance company that had the ability to captivate you with their stunningly sexy physicality, dynamic and rich visual beauty.
 Grupo Corpo creates a seamless blend of ballet and modern dance in this 21st-century dance piece. The choreography of Rodrigo Pederneiras was fun and easy on the eyes. Lines of rubber like figures kick, sway, spin, and roll across the stage like waves. Backs flip in and out of deep curves, all limbs bounce elastically into falls and hips had a mobility that denies usual laws.

Arnaldo Antunes was given carte blanche to create the 42-minute soundtrack, and the result was a rhythmic symphony of sampled gasps overlapped with tonal sounds from different instruments. But the technical facts give little idea of the score’s vast range, from rock and techno, reggae, samba, and hip-hop. The stage design consisted of a wall of blinking colored lights and a floor washed with green, but it’s also linked to the music by computer allowing the light to react to specific sounds. The female partner in each of the duets spends as much time on the floor as on her feet, and even then seems to have one leg clamped round her man’s waist, or hooked over his shoulder.

Whether flirty and funny in yellow bodysuits, or the black and white blend, every dancer moves with animal like characteristics. Undulating torsos and rhythmic stamping footwork, and the stretched, balletic limbs and light, suspended jumps. And all set to pulsating music, performed by dancers who seamlessly integrate these influences into their ever malleable, apparently tireless bodies. Dancers arranged on the floor, often flat bodied as they propel themselves horizontally into the air or move on their sides by wheeling one leg over the other. Sections frequently end with a jump into a partners arms and a blackout.

Last August I attended a concert of Sound Tribe Sector 9 at the Showbox in downtown Seattle. STS9, as they are often referred to, defines themselves as a “Santa Cruz-based, 5-piece electronic jam band fusing live instruments with electronica. It was the first concert I had ever attended at the Showbox. It was also the first electronica/hip hop/rock/jam band I had ever seen.

I was kind of nervous to go because I am not really the type of person who listens to hip hop music or goes out to shows regularly, but I had an amazing time! The fact that I’d put myself into an environment that I don’t normally go to allowed myself to be a different person for one night. More than just the music, STS9 creates a specific mood and experience with their use of lights. The light show combined with their sounds totally tantalized my senses. 

I loved dancing to the continuous stream and heavy beats. I danced grounded and sharp and full-bodied. I forgot to think. That night when I got home I wrote in my journal, “Tonight I totally let myself go and surprised myself with the ways I moved.” All I could do was feel the music pulse through me. All I could do was experience being part of a crowd that was moving as one body. It was the closest to a trance state I have ever been.

Grupo Corpo. Man oh man! I haven’t seen so much athleticism in dance since I saw Pilobilous in 2007. For the entire two hours, I was largely consumed with the physicality of the performers, and had a hard time absorbing the choreography and the big picture. Really, goodness gracious, these dancers were incredible and partially insane.

The first piece, in green, yellow, gold, and purple unitards, was stunning. The music was incredible, the consistency of the movement was sort of beyond human (there was so much repetition, and yet not boring), the lights were beautiful, but as I said above, I had a hard time seeing anything but the calves on this one girl, or that big man’s spine, or thinking about how much they must be sweating in those bodysuits.

The second piece was a little easier for me to absorb, which is kind of a contradiction, as the amount of acrobatic and unbelievable movement was far more impressive than in the first, this piece at least had contrasting and clear sections, in which I found the time to process what had just happened. The dancers were clad in black and white unitards and seemed to have springs in their sneakers, bouncy balls in their joints, and absolutely no concept of pain. The movement was so precise, difficult, abandoned, and seemingly impossible that I left the show exhausted.

I’m finding myself having a hard time making a point about this show, so I will try to do so now — It was unlike anything I’ve seen in a while. It seemed like the company makes it their goal to wow their audience with little more than sheer athleticism and impeccable unison of nearly 25 people for 45 minutes straight (each act!). For that alone (even though the music, lights, costumes, and choreography were all interesting too) they are an amazing troupe and extremely worthwhile.

If you don’t know who Andrew Bird is, change that! I’ve been developing an increasingly large crush on this multi-talented tall, dark and handsome musician for about a year and a half now, but it was only recently (upon seeing him live at the Moore back in February) that I fell head over heels for him.

I’ll start by saying that every sound he makes – whether it be with his hauntingly beautiful voice, his mastery of the violin, or his uncanny ability to whistle in oh so many ways – is entirely entrancing. Seeing him live and watching him create these many and varied sounds was truly where the magic happened for me. Forgive my ignorance with music technology, I don’t know the proper term for the device, but he uses one of those pedals that records what is going on onstage and loops it then so he can play, sing or whistle on top of what he’s already laid down. This makes for a very stimulating show, for he literally builds what is heard and complies the sound score until all parts of the specific song are there.

I have to say, and this is a common sentiment I have about seeing musicians who I adore in concert, I left just a tinge disappointed. I wish that these favorite performers of mine and I were old friends and that they knew all of my favorite songs (yes, I truly wish this, and yes I know how silly and improbable this desire is)… Mr. Andrew Bird has recently put out a new album (which of course I hadn’t purchased until after the show) and was playing a lot of the new tracks, all of which were beautiful, but none of which I could sing along to. The general tone of the concert was of his more seductive and haunting sounds, and now that i think about it, probably accounts for the reason why I felt completely hypnotized (in a good way) by the entire experience, but I would have loved to hear the upbeat and sillier songs that I totally dig of his repertoire.

No worries though, I still love you Andrew. Especially because you performed in your socks.

Videos from the concert…

Growing up in the Pacific Northwest, I did not often get a change to experience live music outdoors. I am conditioned to sitting in a school gym or auditorium, and although there really is not much to see, positioning myself so to have a continuous view of the performers. This past summer at Bumbershoot offered me a chance to experience music in an arena that I feel unfamiliar with. I got a taste of being a music fan, instead of going with a critiquing mindset.

The morning I left for the festival, I was particularly excited to see a musician I was already a big fan of. Tyrone Wells is from the Seattle area and sings a style of folk pop with lyrics about real life for average people. His music is very easy to relate to, as he writes and sings about what is important and challenges him. The venue was set like a picnic concert. Everyone from the age of a few months to many years older than that sat relaxing and enjoying music, lyrics, and message.

Getting the opportunity to listen to his music live in that specific environment brought a new nuance to the music. It became so personal. Like if you sat in a room with someone giving a speech or presentation that was about an issue they truly cared about. It was connecting and reassuring. For one of the few times in life, I sat on the grass (blocking my view of the stage) and enjoyed the music in the summer air.

Photos by Joseph Lambet, From the concert

Breu is a multidimensional, eccentric array of music, movement, and personality. The stage is transformed into a confined space made up of reflective black tile, replacing the flooring, upstage curtain, and wings. Brittle, desolate, and unforgiving is the space the dancers inhabit. The music and lighting are just as sorrowful and bleak. Low sustained tonal cords, and of bare white light creep into our awareness. Breu places its dancers in a state of vulnerability, from the harsh environment, erratic musical composition, and movements stemmed where from.

The dancers begin sustained, flat on the floor, heavy and independent (yet dependent on sustained support of the floor or others), as though the weight of their environment presses on them as an enhanced gravity. Just as the audience acclimates to the mood, a disturbance occurs by the skipping of a broken record. From there out-breaks a change in music, and a change in movement. The movement becomes wild. Directional, slashing, bound flow, quick, use of far space and infinite space, fast, and abrupt releases to the pull of gravity. Bodily collisions and rebounds rock and shake the stage. Any sense of security is lost even further as bodies are flung seemingly haphazardly through space and into the ground. There stands no degree of self care or self comfort. No intimacy shared with ones self or others as the focus remains infinite.

Grupo Corpo is like no one else. Their dances contain complexity and intricacy that is made to develop through out a piece. At first, a theme might not be obvious, but under further scrutiny, a theme like states of vulnerability is found in the chaos.