Performing Arts

Post by guest blogger Gus Mastrapa:

I know it sounds like homework, but I like to prepare for shows by artists I’m not super-familiar with. I’ll make a playlist in my mp3 player featuring all the bands on the bill, set the sucker on random and let it rip. My playlist for this summer’s Pitchfork Music Festival grew to over 612 songs by the time I went to the show. I’m not going to throw that much music at you this time. Instead, here’s a cheat sheet for two upcoming Walker Art Center performances. Click through the links below to sample streaming videos of Keiji Haino and Gang Gang Dance doing their thing.

Gang Gang Dance: Nicoman

Keiji Haino on Guitar

Gang Gang Dance: Excerpt from forthcoming Retina Riddim DVD

Keiji Haino: Hurdy Gurdy and Voice

Gang Gang Dance: Live @ Malmö Festivalen, Sweden

Keiji Haino with Yamatsuka EYE, John Zorn & Christian Marclay

Kaiji Haino will perform a live accompaniment to Cameron Jamie’s film Jo on October 6. Brooklyn art rockers Gang Gang Dance will play the McGuire Theater on October 28.

Gus Mastrapa is a freelance writer and music nerd who recently moved to the Twin Cities from Los Angeles. The former dublab.com DJ has written about music and culture for Paste, Minnesota Monthly, Grooves and Hustler. Yeah, that Hustler.

It’s time again (August 16-24) for Sound Unseen, the really remarkable festival of music, film and musicfilm/filmmusic. Typically features lots of smart work by local filmmakers and/or local musicians, and special national projects, too. Walker’s copresented a number of events in the past (sadly, not this year), such as Sound Art Cinema with Christian Marclay, the found sound noise of People Like Us, the peerless inimitability of Captain Beefheart with Fast ‘n’ Bulbous, and films like Combinations (about boxing, with music by Matthew Shipp, tracking his and the sport’s relationship to jazz) and The Harder They Come (starring Jimmy Cliff).

I’ve included an image above from the Danielson Familie doc, which should be interesting. The first record of theirs I ever heard was Fetch the Compass Kids, which was like an old quilt come to life. It boggled the mind and I often fell asleep to it that year, inducing some vivid, disturbing dreams. But, like many things you embrace with complete naive exuberance and often come to question, I later heard some off-putting remarks attributed to “Brother Danielson” that were a little Falwell-esque. Don’t know if they were true, though. Maybe seeing this doc will help clear it up. And, if you didn’t enjoy the creative output of artists with questionable states of mind (Bob Dylan, Paul Gaugin, DMX), there probably wouldn’t be much left to ponder. Mel Gibson notwithstanding.

Walker and the Southern Theater are pleased to announce the release of the Request for Proposals for Momentum: New Dance Works 2007. The basic details are below:

The Momentum: New Dance Works 2007 series is a partnership between Walker Art Center and the Southern Theater, with support from the Jerome Foundation, created to promote the work of an exciting new generation of dance and dance-theater creators in Minnesota. The series enables innovative, under-recognized choreographers to have their work presented to the broader public. Momentum seeks out applicants from a full range of styles, cultures, aesthetics, and approaches that represent contemporary dance in the world today. The series will run July 12-14 and July 19-21, 2007.

Eligibility requirements:
- Choreographers/choreographic collaborations who have produced or presented their own choreography at least three times, but who have not worked as choreographers for more than ten years, are eligible to apply.- Previous recipients of commissions that were awarded during the first two year cycle of Momentum (2000-01 and 2001-02 only) may apply, although preference will be given to new applicants.

Sorry, sorry, it’s a little crazy around here and though we try our hardest to be timely (i know, that’s the point of a blog, right?), the best intentions pave the way to you know what. So, in response to Drew’s gentle nudging, here are a few crumbs:

Ali Farka Toure just passed away, which is heartbreaking to all of us here. He’s been a big influence on many of us, and clearly on Tinariwen, the Touareg band we’re copresenting with the Cedar on April 8, at the Cedar. RIP.

For those who are psyched about the upcoming drone show, you might be interested in something planned for early August. Details forthcoming.

We’re in the midst of planning the 30th Anniversary season of Music & Movies in Loring Park, which opens July 17. Should have an announcement with film/band lineup very soon.

Carla Bozulich and Ches Smith just played here last weekend with 2 Foot Yard. I think she…surprised some people. I was thrilled, it’s important that this be a place for work that jolts you sometimes. Whether you love it or hate it, it was fascinating to see the throughline between the opening and closing band, that they can share similar roots and philosophies yet take wildly different paths in the final analysis.

Bobby Birdman is heading East on tour soon. Will he come to the midwest, I wonder. Perhaps this deserves some looking into. Delia Gonzalez and Gavin Russom have a show opening in May at Peres Projects in LA. Wish I could go.

Sorry I haven’t posted any images this time around, but they always come out so small anyway.

Japan’s legendary Boris will join SUNN O))) as the opener on May 25! One night of perceived punishment will lead to a lifetime of pleasurable memories…

Start your Memorial Weekend off right by coming to the McGuire on May 25. We’ve confirmed SUNNO))), plus some special guests to be announced very soon.

(Photo by Declan O’Neill via Southern Lord)

We’re close, oh, so close, to finalizing a May date in the McGuire for a band who shall currently remain nameless (so as not to jinx), but rhymes with “pun”. Hope to have a confirm on this by next week, so check back.

This one had me nervous because of many fits and starts in the organizational process, bad cell phones, and missed connections. But I took heart from an old friend, who had the remedy for TOTAL VICTORY - Nazareth’s Hair of the Dog. The song’s composed of about 20 words, but truer ones were never spoken.

One of my favorite all-time father/daughter teams is none other than Philip Bither (Walker perf arts curator) and his daughter Julia (the most self-posessed 15 year old I’ve ever known - she could be a Gilmore Girls character). Philip’s passed on his taste for adventurous music to Julia, and each gave City Pages columnist Jim Walsh a sampling of what they’ve been listening to as of late.

Julia’s got a top 23, below is an excerpt. See Jim’s blog for full detail:

1. “Brighter Than Sunshine,” Aqualung. I first heard this in the movie A Lot Like Love. Pretty pathetic, I know, but I couldn’t help falling in love with this song. It’s especially helpful for those days where you just feel like you can’t move unless you get a feel-good melody in your soul.

2. “Rebellion (Lies),” The Arcade Fire. I was first attracted to “Neighborhood #1 (Tunnels)” like every sane human being should be, but when I decided to expand my horizons I found this great piece of work. Slightly Franz Ferdinand, but extremely original.

3. “It’5,” Architecture in Helsinki. Eight people in one band? Somehow AIH made this work beautifully. This song just makes me so happy, plus it’s great fun to wake up to.

4. “If She Wants Me,” Belle & Sebastian. My dad tried to turn me onto these guys for a while but I refused. It wasn’t until I stumbled upon this song on iTunes that I started to appreciate the lyrics:

I wrote a letter on a nothing day
I asked someone “Could you send my letter away?”
“You are too young to put all of your hopes in just one envelope”
I said goodbye to someone that I love
It’s not just me, I tell you it’s the both of us
And it was hard
Like coming off the pill that you take to stay happy
Someone above has seen me do alright
Someone above is looking with a tender eye
Upon your face, you may think you’re alone but you may think againIf I could do just one near perfect thing I’d be happy
They’d write it on my grave, or when they scattered
my ashes
On second thought I’d rather hang around and get down with my best friend
If she wants me

5. “We’re All In This Together,” Ben Lee. It’s Monday. And I’m pushing through the halls trying to find a friendly face…. or my next class. This song shows up on my Ipod and I feel my heart dancing. I begin to notice things. The eyes that linger, the hands that hold, the smiles that echo this illumination. EVERY thing is connected and that’s the ONLY thing that matters.It’s Monday. And I’m pushing through the halls trying to find a friendly face…. or my next class. This song shows up on my Ipod and I feel my heart dancing. I begin to notice things. The eyes that linger, the hands that hold, the smiles that echo this illumination. EVERY thing is connected and that’s the ONLY thing that matters.

6. “Hunter,” Bjork. As much as she scares me, this song happens to be fascinating. Over this pulse-y beat her voice is eerie but somehow extremely powerful. It’s Monday. And I’m pushing through the halls trying to find a friendly face…. or my next class. This song shows up on my Ipod and I feel my heart dancing. I begin to notice things. The eyes that linger, the hands that hold, the smiles that echo this illumination. EVERY thing is connected and that’s the ONLY thing that matters. As much as she scares me, this song happens to be fascinating. Over this pulse-y beat her voice is eerie but somehow extremely powerful.

7.”Bowl of Oranges,” Bright Eyes…unbeatable. Although this song came out years ago, the tune hasn’t aged one bit. The lyrics are incredibly bittersweet, just like the song itself. The lyrics are so skillfully written in fact, that you can’t help that the last lines are still echoing in your mind: “But if the world could remain within a frame like a painting on a wall/Then I think we would see the beauty/Then we would stand staring in awe.”

8. “In this Life,” Chantal Kreviazuk. Although this song is hopeful, something about her raspy voice and truthful words strikes a chord in me. Just the first verse alone can make me tear up.

9. “Title and Registration,” Death Cab for Cutie. Ah, Death Cab. What continues to amaze and amuse me is how they are able to turn logical lyrics into a raw, lonely love song.

The glove compartment
isn’t accurately named
and everybody knows it.
So I’m proposing
a swift orderly change
Cause behind its door
there’s nothing to keep my fingers warm
and all I find are souvenirs from better times
before the gleam of your tail lights
fading east to find yourself a better life

10. “Manchild,” Eels. The eels, actually introduced to me by Jim, have totally captivated me from the beginning. I guess all I can say is this song is so beautiful. But I thought my best friend Sarah’s reaction was pretty much perfect. After hearing it for the first time, she said, “See, if some guy came to sing outside my window, I’d want him to sing that song. I don’t care if it’s depressing, it’s just so…..pretty.”

11. “Here Comes The Summer,” The Fiery Furnaces. My dad and I first heard these guys on the Current with the song Candymaker’s Knife In My Handbag. Although repetitive, this song is catchy and original.
12. “All We Have Is Now,” The Flaming Lips. This song always gives me an eerie epiphany about how SHORT life really is and how little time we have to be who we are.

13. “Le Garage,” The Futureheads. The first 30 seconds of this song-it could be early Beach Boys. As the drums and singing kick in, you think you are listening to a modern Clash song. This combo happens to totally pump me up.

14. “Jezebel,” Iron & Wine. This song is nothing but relaxing. Sam Bean’s voice totally calms me especially on finals week!

15. “Do You Remember?,” Jack Johnson. Jack Johnson is definitely one of my most favorite all-around artists. I love the soft voice he uses even while reporting tragedy:

I remember watching
That old tree burn down
I took a picture that
I don’t like to look at

16. “The Gravy,” Japanther. This song is from Don’t Trust Anyone Over 30, one of my favorite Walker performances of all time. I am also addicted to this two-man band who can scream with the best of ‘em.

Philip’s 10 of 17:

1.”Cool Water,” Laura Veirs. The understated slacker-voiced Seattlean combines soulful shuffle, organ, chimes, a touch of minimalism in her songs about natural phenomenon and odd creatures. The chorus of this one has hung in my head all week, “cool water” on hot day… a great metaphor for all kinds of unfulfilled desires all week.

2. “Enjoy Your Worries,” The Books. What a great balancing act between experimental and accessible. They combine banjos and sampled voices, fiddles and electronics and somehow make it seem like the most natural thing in the world.

3. “Memory Song,” Meredith Monk. Last week, I was in New York meeting with Meredith Monk (on a new project for the Walker) and we were reminiscing about the first project we worked on together — The Games, a huge-scaled collaboration with Ping Chong in 1984(!) I was a know-nothing 25-year-old wanna-be curator (working at BAM as a line-producer) and she was under huge pressure to produce a major avant-blockbuster. We leaned on each other. I’ve been a huge fan, and we’ve been friends, ever since. When I got back home, I dug into my home back catalogue to listen to her beautiful “Memory Song,” a stirring highlight of The Games.

4. “11 More Days,” Carl Hancock Rux. Art renaissance man (playwright, actor, spoken word artist, musician) goes deep with poetry, electronic ambiance, urban despair and funk. Popped up the other day on the Ipod shuffle and grabbed me even more than the first time.

5. “You Ain’t Going Nowhere,” Bob Dylan. This week, a favorite moment was driving and singing this silly yet timeless song loud, out loud, with my 15-year old Julia. Feeling like I could use a few more flights “into the easy chair” these days. When is someone going to finally put out that definitive Basement Tapes box set?

6. “Changes,” Seu Jorge. So unlikely but so perfect, this favella-raised, charismatic Rio singer uses his lilting baritone, acoustic guitar and gorgeous Portuguese language to somehow even top the Bowie original. I’d heard him live, but it is thanks to my nephew Mike for passing the Bowie disc along (from Wes Anderson film).

7. “Sinbad El Calipsico,” Axel Kreiger. My favorite Argentine pop musician who no one in the States seems to know. Here he seems to be channeling Morricone, my favorite film-composer. Discovered him from some Buenos Aires-based dance-performance artists we brought here a few years back for Out There fest. Their friend Kreiger made for them a fantastic commissioned soundtrack.

8. “You Ought to Be With Me,” Al Green. I saw him in Holland at a jazz fest last summer. His gorgeous falsetto still makes my spine tingle and brings me such joy, and Willie Mitchell’s production from this era seems sent down by heavenly messenger.

9. “Everybody’s Got to Learn Sometime,” Beck. Such longing and sadness. Those strings swell and it fills my heart like Brian Wilson does at his best. It was an inspired choice for the Eternal Sunshine soundtrack (where I first heard it).

10. “The Plans that We Made,” Jon Langford and Sally Tims. Mekons main man keeps reinventing himself, and here he and long-time songmate Sally squeeze the heartache and tragedy out of this country tune (by Lonesome Bob Chaney) that traverses adultery, murder and retribution (with great punk sense of irony, putting it on a disc to raise money to fight the death penalty).It is one of many highlights of Langford’s first (and brilliant) performance piece The Executioner’s Last Songs which arrives at the Walker in a week or so.

Look out for an upcoming post from Philip on his recent travels to New York (including a visit with Ornette Coleman and Calexico) for the annual Association of Performing Arts Presenters conference, which is the performing arts world’s answer to Art Basel Miami. Industry hoe-downs, both of them.

It continues. The reverberations of Acocella’s New Yorker article way back in September continue to be felt, in New York and here at home (see previous post titled The Literalists). Below are further rebuttals of her piece and alternative readings of the particular works she singled out. The guantlet has been thrown down, and this letter ends in a disturbing, yet necessary challenge.

Tere O’Connor’s work has recently been called ’surrealist’ by critic Joan Acocella but O’Conner’s work doesn’t fit the historical definition of that art term. O’Connor’s work is not an attempt at revelation through a joining of conscious and unconscious imagery, but instead explores an overt struggle between these two realms. The powerful unconscious, the realm of the feelings, is explored in O’Conner’s recent work through the use of voice, in raw, barely-formed peeps and wails. Sometimes the sound also comes out in the form of a word, but due to the unfamiliar context, the meaning of these words in the present moment is elusive. We feel more meaning pouring from the intensity of the vocalization; sounds are let loose rather like releasing energy from a high-pressure valve, a task that can be, in it’s risk-taking, both thrilling and frightening.

So what is the struggle in O’Conner’s work all about? It seems to be about the attempt of the conscious mind to edit, remix and reframe early experience in a way that negates some overpowering pain of rejection and loss. O’Connor doesn’t really specify what has been lost or why there’s been cruelty and rejection in his past, but one can speculate that it has something to do with growing up gay in small-town America in a conservative, mainstream-religious family. What O’Conner brilliantly delivers to the audience in Frozen Mommy, however, is his knowledge that we all - gay, straight, male, female, so-called beautiful or so-called ugly - carry around these scars of rejection inside. O’Conner brashly presses the audience to admit that there has never been a boy or girl so golden that they have not, at some time, been made to feel their uncomfortable otherness, been made to experience a confusing mix of overt, violent rejection and subtle, passive-aggressive discrimination that peers and family alike constantly heap on each other. If it is true that each man is driven to kill the thing he loves, perhaps it is also true that each mother is driven to annihilate her child in moments of glimpsing frailties and imperfections; or more likely, she just quietly abandons that child and follows her more-positive urges by conceiving the next one. Frozenness might be seen in this light as a child-saving genetic adaptation.

O’Connor’s Frozen Mommy then can be seen as a kind of artistic self-portrait, with snatches of feelings, moods and actions from a brain-that-never-forgets projected onto his performers. This is the kind of self-portrait that knowingly enlarges to simultaneously comment on culture and self. The key word here is artistic; for in the end we don’t feel sorry for O’Connor, that he has experienced something painful that he taps for making a piece. Instead we are impressed by the artist’s tenacity and insistence on being in control of his own fate. The poignancy we feel in viewing Frozen Mommy is in knowing that this kind of artistic reframing is only half-successful; we can’t afterall, remake reality. And yet, as artists perhaps we can; O’Connor gives us each a glimpse of one possible way out of the enduring cruelty of being human.

What part does movement play in O’Conner’s dance works? On first viewing the movement in Frozen Mommy seems to provide a kind of pulse of life for the work. There’s a big emphasis on regimentation and breaking-away. There’s also an inner story, one known only by the dancers’ viscera and not by their brains. That story is the story that cannot yet be told in words but can only be known through its power and dynamics. As O’Connor manipulates his dancers in 3-dimensional space and time, he remixes history and present time, inner and outer space, sensory and motor intake and output and the known and the unknown in everyday life. As these aspects of space, time and dynamics are fundamental to the deepest roots of movement, O’Conner does in fact reveal a lot of choreographic meat.

What I find most interesting in discussing O’Connor’s work with other artists is that many respond to the work mainly for the pleasures of its structures and formal inventions. I, on the other hand, resonate more with its unconscious power and use of the voice. Whatever one’s point of entry, there’s no doubt that O’Connor’s whole body of work is extremely original; he makes dances unlike anyone else’s. So I find Acocella’s critique baffling; I can’t understand why anyone would call this work surreal. Her response overall seems anemic and fearful; perhaps an infusion of red blood cells, or maybe primal scream therapy would help - something, anything to wake up and subdue the fear that so unconvincingly disguises itself as dismissal.

Perhaps someone could write an article on something that’s REALLY SURREAL - the state that the downtown choreographer-artist finds him or herself in - career tethered to people (critics, presenters, dance bureaucrats) who seem to actually hate contemporary dance. Can anyone explain this strange state of affairs??

-Roseanne Spradlin

We here often lament the lack of organized forums for dialogue post-performance that are accessible to a broader constituency. What worked and what didn’t, what offends and what inspires. There are of course the occasional reviews from local media outlets, but it’s often the immediate conversation that occurs right after a performance - by interested audiences and members of the creative community with a tangible stake in this city’s cultural fabric - that contain the most provocative insights. It’s usually the most energetic time for discussion, with impressions still bright from the live art just experienced.

Lament no more, as we’ve just launched on the blog site a section called Re:View - Overnight Observations. Starting with Sarah Michelson’s Daylight (for Minneapolis) , we’ll be featuring discussions on select performances throughout the 05-06 season by artists, critics, and writers based in Minnesota. Writing on Daylight will be Gulgun Kayim of Skewed Visions and the Visible Fringe, dancer Vanessa Voskuil, and Emily Johnson, Artistic Director of Catalyst Dance. Consider Re:View your home for comments good, bad, and ugly.

Several weeks ago, the The New Yorker’s dance critic Joan Acocella wrote a piece titled “Mystery Theatre“, ostensibly about the new downtown (meaning New York City) vanguard of dance creators and their supposed links to a kind of choreographic surrealism. She namechecks four artists, Tere O’Connor, Lucy Guerin, Christopher Williams, and Sarah Michelson, who also happens to be a current Walker artist-in-residence and will premiere the work Daylight (for Minneapolis), here on September 15.

And then, on Monday, The New York Times featured a piece by the critic Gia Kourlas titled “How New York Lost Its Modern Dance Reign” , which very accurately outlines the moribund state of dance presentation in America. Most importantly, it serves as a call to arms to accurately, creatively, courageously, and lovingly present the unexpected works being made by today’s most innovative art makers.

The timing of this dialogue is extremly prescient for us now, as we face not only the physical challenges of mounting Sarah’s work, but also to correctly contextualize the spirit in which it’s intended. As a presenter housed within a museum, the obligations to broad audience, education, and the local community remain vitally important, but as a home for contemporary art, it’s also paramount that we remain a locale for alternatives to mainstream and popular culture and critique. Sometimes, and joyfully so, that means presenting work in a way that is completely outside the realms of what is familiar to us. That in turn, can mean an experience that is outside the realm of your standard performance presentation, that’s also unfamiliar to the audience, and might perhaps be on the uncomfortable side. What does it mean? This doesn’t make sense! Why won’t anyone explain it fully? I couldn’t see everything! What’s happening over there?

All valid. And yet, as workers in this ever-changing field, we must also recognize that to know is not always to be correct. What if there is no answer? Is that so incomprehensible and unacceptable? There are many, many accepted schools of thought in the visual art world, an assimilated understanding that art thrives on multiple readings, points of view. Why has this not yet taken root in the dance world? Dance can be about movement, this we know. Dance is also about performance. It is cinematic. Sometimes it’s theatrical. It is often abstract. Sometimes it’s a personal vocabulary that means something to the creator, but nothing to a viewer. It refers to history and influence, or not. It is an object. It is an act. Many times it’s both. Usually, it’s so deep as to be impenetrable. More often than not pleasure was the point. Dance will always be the most complex art form. Dance loves to entertain. The physical feat is glorious. That hand flutter was just cute. Choreography is tyranny. The dance was an exploration, it continues to find its way. I totally got it. The answer was there! I remembered something. No, I felt something. Dance comments. The silence was deafening. It was such a letdown. It is neutral and it takes sides. And yet, you can take it home with you. Not to hang on your wall, but to live in your heart and your body and your mind.

We must be brave, we must be strong, we must be wild, we must constantly ask the question “why”? But maybe we don’t always have to answer.

And here’s Tere’s response to Acocella. Unlikely you’ll see it printed within the pages of The New Yorker, but I couldn’t have said it any better myself:

Joan Acocella had better check her “sell by” date because her article entitled “MYSTERY THEATER/ downtown surrealists” in the Aug 8 & 15, 2005 issue has the distinct odor of irrelevance. Her musings on my work and on that of the others mentioned are so badly observed and so off track that I have to speak up. Through her lack of understanding and her inability to reach out and get information from artists, she joins a group of critics whom I will call “the literalists.” These critics do not know how to read dances created outside the restricted confines of the narrative or musical frameworks from past centuries. What’s more, they don’t do the work of finding out what is actually going on in the minds of artists or what are the contexts in which these works are created. They have reduced dance criticism to an explanatory, superficial, retelling of events steering the documentation of contemporary dance into an impenetrable forest, dark and mistaken. When she called me to fact check, Joan intimated that there was really nothing going on downtown. I don’t know what is more maddening - the dismissive, erroneous idea that nothing is happening in contemporary dance or her anachronistic insistence on an uptown/downtown dichotomy. Her bloated, oracular tone is classic. It is born out of a reluctance to say: “I don’t know what this is.”

The rest of us will swim, now, in this.
Tere O’Connor

Blood on the Wall has joined the Black Dice/13 & God lineup for the September show. They’re the brother/sister team of Courtney and Brand Shanks, with Miggy Littleton (of White Magic and Ida) on drums. It’ll be interesting to see how this all goes down in the McGuire. I have high hopes that people will appreciate really getting to hear the music, experience it in a different way.

Back to work with all of you.

Argh, we almost made it through a full evening of Music & Movies on Monday, but sadly were rained out after the first reel of the film, Nicholas Ray’s In a Lonely Place. Incredibly bad luck, especially considering all the film fanatics out there were salivating over the fact that Joe and Dean were able to find a 35MM print of the film on full Cinemascope. Thunder in the Valley made it through, though. And apparently worked their witchy magic so deep it called their namesake down. See this clip from mnstories .com for a little flashback to the way it was then.

Glad to say that Wes Winship of Burlesque Design will be creating a limited edition poster for the Black Dice/13 & God show on Sept. 24. Feel bad for our in-house design team, as they would all no doubt kill for the opportunity to work on a fun project like this one, but alas, each has a catalog or three they’re working on, plus an insane number of other pieces. So we went outside for this one. Looking forward to seeing what he might come up with. We did a similar deal with Aesthetic Apparatus for the Christian Marclay/Andrew Broder/George Cartwright gig last year and it seemed to go over real well. I’m guessing they’ll be for sale at some point.

So we’ve gotten through three weeks of Summer Music & Movies in Loring Park. Folks probably heard by now the craziness surrounding the first week, Mali’s Issa Bagayogo. That wasn’t my show, and for this I am grateful. Issa was delayed for hours by customs, making it touch and go for hours on this end as well. Audience members showed incredible patience with the interminable delays, and we were definitely feeling the heat. What to do in a situation like this? Cancel? Disappoint all the hundreds of people waiting to hear this legend that traveled from half a world a way? Or keep everyone waiting until the last possible minute and throw him up on stage the second he arrives? We chose the latter, and clearly the audience felt it was the right decision, judging from the crowd reaction as he played (though incredibly exhausted and likely cranky as hell).

The split-second decision making around this one was a political minefield. Of course we want to respect city noise ordinances. Of course we want to respect the people that live around the park. Of course we want to deliver the show we’ve been promising for weeks. Of course we want to give this artist the chance to play after months of planning and what seemed like a never-ending series of flight and customs nightmares. What to do? But since we were told by the powers that be (or who we thought were the being powers) to go ahead despite the lateness of the hour, we went for it. And those thousand people that were there, and the hundreds of thousands more that count Minneapolis as home and as an important cultural outpost, I hope got what they came for and were grateful to see all of us welcoming an international artist with the respect and dignity he deserves. And to those few people who were outraged by the “noise”….sorry. I really mean that.