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Cool, but Soul?

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To spark discussion, the Walker invites local artists and critics to write overnight reviews of our performances. The ongoing Re:View series shares a diverse array of independent voices and opinions; it doesn’t reflect the views or opinions of the Walker or its curators. Today, dancer and choreographer Kenna Cottman shares her perspective on Thursday’s performance of David [...]

To spark discussion, the Walker invites local artists and critics to write overnight reviews of our performances. The ongoing Re:View series shares a diverse array of independent voices and opinions; it doesn’t reflect the views or opinions of the Walker or its curators. Today, dancer and choreographer Kenna Cottman shares her perspective on Thursday’s performance of David Zambrano’s Soul Project. Agree or disagree? Feel free to share your thoughts in comments!

It’s so different writing about something that’s just cool. Not super excited about it not super on fire about it — just cool. The Soul Project was cool but I will say that it made me feel my old soul. Especially when I arrived to see my parents and other elders in the dance community struggle with the format of standing and moving around and sitting on the floor. It pleased me greatly that David Zambrano reminded us to help each other view the solo dances. In the end, most of the moments I loved had to do with the soul music that ruled the evening’s playlist. So it was a cool night after all.

Dancer-wise, the two dudes, Evivaldo Ernesto and Horacio Macuacua, resonated with me — as I’m sure they resonated with everybody, but I wonder what the reasons really are? For me, these men interpreted the music, the spirit and the meaning and the groove, in a  way that made me feel like the weight of the soul ancestors was being touched or explored in a familial, respectful type way. For instance I loved the white fro and the trembling piece to the DreamGirls ballad. I actually kind of hate that song and I started to walk away but I’m glad I saw it. The physicalized vocal histrionics and the trembling movements were making me laugh so hard and then it was the moments of stillness that killed it*. Mr. Macuacua provided me with my “steps,” as I say, and I loved that the format allowed me to just go ahead and dance with him at certain points.

Let me go ahead and talk about the format. Because I always have to wonder, what do artists want and how much do they want when the invite us onto the stage. Because I feel like Minne should become known as the town to interact. Like “Don’t come to Minne if you don’t want people to dance with you when you invite them onstage.’” We are starting to loosen up and get that vibe, so I did appreciate all the people bopping their heads and dancing. If I had a boo there I would have been slow dancing for sure. I felt like the performers wanted it and Nina Fajdiga even jammed with me for a second during the group jam. They looked me in the eyes when they were walking around too. I felt like they wanted a lot of interaction and we could have given them more. I also liked the format but I thought it would have been nice to: 1.  have drinks onstage, 2. let the elders sit down**, 3. play some cuts after and let us dance more — or we could have just done that during the show, right?

Another point is that you invite cipher logic into the environment when you invite people on the stage. This means I get to talk, walk away, like it or not, and I get to jam the whole time if I want (as my friend Nancy was doing). Cipher logic is not the same as sitting in the theater seats  logic but I don’t know if the Soul Project peeps realized that some of us think like that.

Lastly I will say that it was just cool because of a lot of the dancing, although it was highly physical and mostly interesting, was lacking in the connection to the music that I was feeling.  I mean, there were only like two or three songs that I didn’t know played on the sound set that evening and I can feel some of those lyrics like I wrote ‘em meself!!! There were some moments when I was ready to walk away. When you play cuts like that you have to perform the hell out of them. I’m not saying you have to dance every beat but there is a certain energy that has to interpret those stories. Especially if we are going to do solos in close quarters. When I asked Mr. Zambrano afterward he said that he grew up listening to that music but the dancers had to be introduced to it. I know they were trying to make it but something was missing.  It’s sad to say that some of them lacked soul — I wonder if that is what it is.

*the good  kind of ‘killed it’

**they did provide gallery chairs

Peace!

Ms. Kenna-Camara Cottman

Low End Theory: Colin Stetson

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To spark discussion, the Walker invites local artists and critics to write overnight reviews of our performances. The ongoing Re:View series shares a diverse array of independent voices and opinions; it doesn’t reflect the views or opinions of the Walker or its curators. Today, filmmaker-writer Justin Schell shares his perspective on Thursday night’s performance by Colin Stetson. Agree or disagree? [...]

To spark discussion, the Walker invites local artists and critics to write overnight reviews of our performances. The ongoing Re:View series shares a diverse array of independent voices and opinions; it doesn’t reflect the views or opinions of the Walker or its curators. Today, filmmaker-writer Justin Schell shares his perspective on Thursday night’s performance by Colin Stetson. Agree or disagree? Feel free to share your thoughts in comments!

If Juliana Barwick opened the Walker’s Sound Horizon series exploring the higher end of the Perlman Gallery’s sonic architecture with her digitally layered soprano voice, Colin Stetson closed this year’s trio of performances by immersing himself in the lower end.  The four pieces he played Thursday night were split between the conventional alto saxophone and the very unconventional bass saxophone, which, weighing in at about 30 pounds, made the alto look like a toy.

Colin Stetson. Photo by Justin Schell

Stetson is clearly a master of what’s lamely known as “extended technique” on the saxophone, things like overblowing, which produces harmonics and overtones beyond the usual range of the instrument, and multiphonics, singing and playing at the same time. When he sang through the bass sax, however, it sounded more like howling.

Stetson took advantage of the theater-in-the-round seating, circling as he played so everyone could get the full effect of the instruments. And when Stetson hit the right resonant frequency, the room seemed to erupt in overtones; I hadn’t heard anything that loud at the Walker since Keiji Haino played the McGuire a few years ago. Stetson wasn’t using any kind of looping or digital processing, and though he was amplified, I don’t think this made too much of a difference in terms of volume.

While the first piece’s long tones reveled in these harmonic possibilities , the other three pieces featured roiling 16th note figures throughout the entire range of the instrument (along with his howling multiphonics). The speed of the arpeggios seemed almost Glass-like (think Einstein on the Beach), but it’s very different playing them on a bass sax as compared to a soprano sax in terms of air capacity. Even more amazing was that, through the magic of circular breathing, he would do most of these pieces in one breath. In a parallel example of his complete control of the instrument, Stetson effortlessly peeled away the contrapuntal layers and the volume, finishing on a soft major 3rd interval, an ironically simple harmony to conclude a  performance that featured so much exploration through the land of Hertz.

David Zambrano’s Soul Project Party

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There are periods in every adult’s life when we are forced to return to a state of infancy. David Zambrano began his career as a dancer at 21 and threw himself so thickly into the fray that he sprained his middle arches and could not stand for six months. For his recuperation process, he rolled [...]

There are periods in every adult’s life when we are forced to return to a state of infancy. David Zambrano began his career as a dancer at 21 and threw himself so thickly into the fray that he sprained his middle arches and could not stand for six months. For his recuperation process, he rolled on mats every day like an infant, or as he says on his website, “a reptile.” In Bonnie Bainbridge Cohen’s Body-Mind Centering philosophy, an infant’s period of rolling on the ground is crucial to their physical integration, their posture, their openness to the world, the development of their nervous system and confidence, and their comfortability with giving and receiving touch.

In the New York gym where Zambrano recovered and retrained everyday were, as he says, “a Brazilian jump roper and an old Kung Fu master.” He observed their exercise regimens and incorporated elements into his own exploration of nearness to the ground and the earth. By the time he returned to standing on his own two feet, Zambrano had developed a new movement practice technique: “Flying-Low.” In Flying-Low Dance Technique, “there is a focus on the skeletal structure that will help improve the dancers physical perception and alertness.” You can see that skeletal emphasis in the accentuated limb movement of the soloists featured in his Soul Project, which is being performed in the McGuire Theater Friday and Saturday night.

Zambrano’s dancers are graceful, but their movements don’t melt into the background like balletic organza.  Instead the piece is—for Zambrano—about “being continuously alive. On, like a candle.” When Zambrano’s dancers flop to the floor, torquing and convulsing, it is easy to forget we are all on a stage and not in a club or even outside, with clumps of dirt and grass about to fly in our face. Zambrano’s show shares a similarity with Marc Bamuthi Joseph’s performance two months ago because both pieces invite the audience to break through the proscenium and crash the class ritual of a nice night out at the theater (although you will definitely have that). Soul Project is also similarly joyous, and for a show comprised of only soloists, it’s actually about the power of dance to unite people. Couched in the seemingly atomized format is an intensely social experience.

The ebullience of the piece overflows even its own two night run, with the Zambrano dancers cavorting around the galleries this Thursday night around 6:30 and again at 7:30, perhaps even for a cameo during Colin Stetson’s Sound Horizon set in the Ernesto Neto room. In other words, Target Free Thursday Night has quite a bit to offer Performing Arts fans this week.

Lastly, Zambrano company dancers are offering workshops at Walker on the Flying-Low Technique tomorrow morning (Wednesday) from 9:30-11:30 am and Saturday morning from 11 am-1pm. Space is limited; registration is required by calling 612.375.7600.

8-Ball: Saxophonist/multi-instrumentalist Colin Stetson

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Praised by Justin Vernon (Bon Iver) as “one of our greatest living saxophone players,” Colin Stetson has collaborated with an array of artists, from Tom Waits and Jolie Holland to Arcade Fire and TV on the Radio to Laurie Anderson and Feist. He’s currently touring with Bon Iver. That kind of versatility marks this Montreal-based [...]

Praised by Justin Vernon (Bon Iver) as “one of our greatest living saxophone players,” Colin Stetson has collaborated with an array of artists, from Tom Waits and Jolie Holland to Arcade Fire and TV on the Radio to Laurie Anderson and Feist. He’s currently touring with Bon Iver. That kind of versatility marks this Montreal-based musician’s solo work — in which he uses saxophones, clarinets, cornet, french horn and flute to experiment around the margins of drone-rock, minimalism, and out jazz — as well. For his free Sound Horizon performances this Thursday – the last of this year’s series–he plays beneath Ernesto Neto’s otheranimal in the Walker’s Perlman Gallery. We caught up with him recently to answer some of life’s most — and possibly least — pressing questions.

What’s your favorite comfort food?
Grilled Cheese and Tomato Soup.

What artist turned your world upside-down as a teenager?
Tom Waits.

What is your favorite film scene?
The opening scene from The Thin Red Line.

What do you consider the most overrated virtue?
Faith.

Name one surprising aspect of your morning ritual.
It takes hours.

What’s the last (or favorite) book you read?
1Q84 by Haruki Murakami.

What artists are you most interested in at the moment?
Liturgy.

What is your least favorite sound?
Banana mouth.

Stetson performs at 6, 7, and 8 pm, Thursday, May 10. Admission to the Walker galleries is free from 5 to 9 pm.

612312: Tortoise is a Helluva Rhythm Section

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To spark discussion, the Walker invites local artists and critics to write overnight reviews of our performances. The ongoing Re:View series shares a diverse array of independent voices and opinions; it doesn’t reflect the views or opinions of the Walker or its curators. Today, filmmaker-writer Justin Schell shares his perspective on Friday’s performance of  Tortoise and the Minneapolis Jazz [...]

To spark discussion, the Walker invites local artists and critics to write overnight reviews of our performances. The ongoing Re:View series shares a diverse array of independent voices and opinions; it doesn’t reflect the views or opinions of the Walker or its curators. Today, filmmaker-writer Justin Schell shares his perspective on Friday’s performance of  Tortoise and the Minneapolis Jazz All Stars. Agree or disagree? Feel free to share your thoughts in comments!

The Walker closed out the music at the McGuire portion of its performing arts season with a one-off, never-before-heard collaboration between Tortoise and five of Minneapolis’ best jazz musicians. In total, there were 10 people on stage, with the Minneapolis crew (multi-saxophonist Douglas Ewart, multi-horn player Grew Lewis, tenor saxophonist Michael Lewis, cellist Michelle Kinney, and drummer J.T. Bates) and Tortoise (Dan Bitney, John Herndon, Douglas McCombs, John McEntire, and Jeff Parker) on the right.


Tortoise. Photo: Justin Schell

The first song of the night, which built up incredibly slowly and almost unnoticeably in terms of activity and volume, had at its base a 10-note phrase that consisted of five notes played forwards and backwards. It was a nice formal “introduction,” and reflection, of the players on stage at the McGuire.

The group proceeded from there to artfully segue between a number of songs without pause, with some of them featuring stop-on-a-dime transitions between breakneck tempos to slow, graceful, and flowing melodies. The first “set” of songs lasted about 50 minutes, which seemed to portend a really epic concert; however, the rest of the show only lasted another 30 minutes or so, with one encore.


Douglas Ewart, Greg Lewis, Michael Lewis, and Michelle Kinney. Photo: Justin Schell

Despite this relatively short length (at least by Walker standards), there were not only plenty of examples of individual expert musicianship from both the 312 and the 612, but this assembled group expertly came together as just that: a group. No one seemed to be “following” each other in terms of hierarchy; if anything, Tortoise acted more like a traditional small jazz group rhythm section (though a helluva rhythm section they were), laying down grooves for the Minneapolis musicians to solo over. That being said, the musicians were playing Tortoise songs, but bringing their own interpretation to them, a mix of improvisation and composition or, better yet, improvisation within composition.

The best thing about this type of collaborative music-making in a such a large group is the multiple levels of interaction that happen. On a macro level, you heard the full band riffing off of each other across the stage, melody lines or rhythmic patterns played throughout the band. Other times, it was just a handful of musicians, or even a pair. A great moment was when Douglas Ewart built a solo around the five-note rhythmic pattern that the Tortoise rhythm section laid down. Sometimes there were multiple interactions going on at the same time.


J.T. Bates and John Herndon. Photo: Justin Schell

The most fascinating interactions to watch, however, were between the two drummers, J.T. Bates and Johnny Herndon (sometimes known as Johnny Machine). At times, they were both laying down the same basic groove, but hocketing different accents on toms, cymbals, and snares as they both effortlessly ranged over the entire drum set. Other times, they used hands, brushes, sticks, timpani mallets, whatever to build percussives that functioned less as grooves, and more as sonic landscapes in their own right. I could’ve watched the two of them all night.

For reasons beyond the obvious I can’t quite suss out yet, I couldn’t help thinking of Adam Yauch during the show. R.I.P. Adam. And you don’t stop.

 

Tortoise Poised for Local Synergy Friday Night

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The best way to understand Tortoise is to remember that they are a group formed entirely of bassists and drummers/percussionists. With background and side projects in grunge and hardcore bands, Tortoise emerged from the need to be creatively versatile, with the musicians pursuing ambience, math-rock, and dub in a heady and steady brew that adds [...]

Tortoise

The best way to understand Tortoise is to remember that they are a group formed entirely of bassists and drummers/percussionists. With background and side projects in grunge and hardcore bands, Tortoise emerged from the need to be creatively versatile, with the musicians pursuing ambience, math-rock, and dub in a heady and steady brew that adds up to the retroactive label of “post-rock.”

Also it helps to place Tortoise among their contemporaries: Fugazi came a little bit earlier and aren’t usually associated with Tortoise, but Fugazi’s Red Medicine seems to be tapped into the same zeitgeist as both Tortoise and Slint (a member of whom left to join Tortoise in time to work on the album Millions Now Living Will Never Die). Slint seem like the paranoiac cousin to the kinder dub-math ambience of Tortoise’s earliest albums. Or to say it another way, Slint would never have named a track on their album “Ry Cooder.” Slint would also never have segued into positively Reich-ian repetitions like on the famous Tortoise track “Djed.” And it’s hard to imagine a band like Mogwai without Tortoise’s prior steps.

Tortoise’s newest album Beacons of Ancestorship remains just as intellectually gregarious as Tortoise’s earlier work (the track “Yianxianghechengqi” is a mix of what one music reviewer called “Schoenberg and hardcore”) but the music seems more immediate. They’ve stayed current with explicit explorations of dubstep ideas (on “Northern Something”), and the opening track “High Class Slim Came Floating In” even feels at times like a jaunty take on contemporary R&B instrumentals before becoming an extended jam sesh of rumbling minimalism.

For their Walker show Friday night, Tortoise will be joined onstage by the Minneapolis Jazz All-Stars: Douglas Ewart (formerly of AACM), JT Bates (of Fat Kid Wednesdays, the Pines, and Alpha Consumer), Mike Lewis (of Happy Apple, Gayngs, Alpha Consumer, Andrew Bird), Greg Lewis (trumpet guru of Redstart and elsewhere and father of Mike Lewis), and Michele Kinney (of Coloring Time, Jelloslave).