Month: November 2015 (Page 1 of 6)

Review of Scott Bradlee’s Postmodern Jukebox

“Scott Bradlee’s Postmodern Jukebox” is a must see show with delightful music. Its fresh take on new songs can bring even the most passive music fans into a metaphorical time machine to appreciate the music styles of the 20s, 30s, and 40s.

Singer Casey Abrams, formerly known for finishing in sixth place in the tenth season of American Idol, does a fantastic job of bringing alive the styles of Louis Armstrong and Bing Crosby. Haley Reinhart, known for finishing third in the tenth season of American Idol, also does a great job of breathing the life of artists like Billie Holiday into songs like Iggy Azalea’s 2014 hit, “Fancy.” Moreover, it was also a nifty experience to see the performers, and even many audience members, dressed in period clothes.

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Sporting more modest roles in the show were Robyn Adele Anderson and Joey Cook. The pair sang a few solo songs, but mainly served as back-up vocalists for Casey Abrams and Haley Reinhart. The were fantastic in their own right. They were great at complimenting Abrams and Reinhart, and their select songs were spectacular. In particular, Cook’s rendition of the Plain White T’s hit “Hey There Delilah” performed in an early 1920s styles with an ukulele.

As an additional source of rhythm, the Postmodern Jukebox featured tap dancer Sarah Reich. It was truly breathtaking to see her use her tap dancing skills and keep in time rhythmically with the music. It is clear she gave it her all despite showing little signs of being winded.

One could also argue Tim Kubart, credited as “tambourine guy,” was also a performer. His role in the show was a little confusing. During a few songs he would come on stage, play the tambourine, and dance around a bit. I suppose his role was a combination of comic relief and to keep the audience excited and enthusiastic. By that measure, Kubart did a very good job. It was always quite funny to see him dance around.

However, the real shining star of the show was the band. The band, consisting of Ben Golder-Novick on the saxophone, Rick Becker on the trombone, Adam Kubota on the standup bass, and Stanley “Chip” Thomas on the drums, made the theater come to life with music. Even when the singers sang off key, which they rarely did, the band was able to pick up the slack and still make the performance quiet amazing.

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On that note, my one complaint would be the few songs in the middle of the performance where Casey Abrams plays the bass instead of Adam Kubota. I am not quiet sure why Bradlee and his team chose to make him do that. Perhaps because it is an interesting visual to see someone play an upright bass while singing, which admittedly it was. However, Abrams singing was lackluster during these segments. It is clear, juggling both his vocals and a complex instrument is too complicated for even someone of his caliber and talent.

The Postmodern Jukebox was only complimented by the venue. One of their first performances of the tour, and the one I attended, was held at St. George Theater located on the North Shore of Staten Island. The St. George Theater is a smaller theater that was built in 1929. There are two reasons why the theater helped the performers immensely. First, as previously mention the theater is comparably small. The theater seats a little less than two-thousand people. When it was first built, the balcony and mezzanine originally had 1,400 seats and the orchestra section had another 1,600; about two thirds of those remain today. This allowed the evening to have an intimate relationship between the show and the audience. Even the seats in the far back could clearly see the spectacle and feel the energy of the stage. Second, the St. George Theater has a vintage setting, which is fitting for the music. This is because the theater was actually built during the period the performers are attempting to recreate. The theater has velvet seats, gilded balconies, and grand staircases. A truly spectacular choice when compared to the larger, more modern theaters the Postmodern Jukebox could have easily preformed in.

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Musician, pianist, and arranger Scott Bradlee and his performance group, the Postmodern Jukebox, had their start on YouTube. Their videos trended for taking modern pop songs and rearranging them into vintage styles, as if they had of been written back in the early 1900s. Their most popular video, a rendition of Miley Cyrus’ “We Can’t Stop,” received 14.5 million views. Know this, I personally was a bit skeptical. It is not a simple transition from producing 5 minutes clips into a two-hour show.

Luckily, the group managed to make the performance look natural and effortless. The energy within the crowd was invariable constantly on high. I believe this is partially because of his humble start on YouTube. What I believe is that this gave the performers a cult following of sorts. Personally, I knew little about the group before the show, but I would imagine most of the crowd were fans from YouTube originally who over time grew to love the group. This was clear by their enthusiasm and willingness to dress in clothes of the respective era. Fans of the Postmodern Jukebox are certainly a tight-nit community, and Scott Bradley should be proud of this.

 

Mood Diary: Mixed Emotions

When I was a kid, specifically in third grade, we had an assembly where all the sixth graders who played instruments came and put on a little concert for us. The music teachers each got up and introduced each instrument, and then played it a little to let us listen to what it sounded like. Of course, strings were first, and I immediately fell in love with the first instrument they introduced: violin. The notes, though high-pitched, seemed so soothing and gentle to me. I loved the way the violin carried the melody of the songs they orchestra played. I instantly knew that I had to play this instrument.

When we finally started taking lessons, I went to the music store and chose a violin with my mom. This experience was probably one of the happiest in my life. I loved my little half size violin, and I took care of it as if it was my baby. I had every book and CD imaginable about perfecting your playing, and I was one of the few kids who genuinely practiced while they wrote down “half an hour” in their practice log, subsequently forcing their parents to sign it for them. Most kids’ parents didn’t really care whether they played or not, and–because we really weren’t good at all–they didn’t want to hear the squeaking of their instruments on Sunday night before their Monday lesson because they had forgotten to practice all week. I, however, never had that problem. Every time we learned a new song in lessons, we would have to memorize it and come back the next week able to play. Not to be all showboat-y about it, but I was definitely “that kid” who carried the whole lesson group, because I would practice till my fingers were sore every night. Even when I had no idea what I was doing, I kept trying and trying to play really well, because I loved the sound the instrument produced when it was played correctly. My parents were always super supportive of me, and always applauded when I practiced in front of them.

I played that instrument throughout the third and fourth grade, and I grew to really love it. Unfortunately, my school had a surplus of violin-playing students and not nearly enough cellos. Oddly (and, quite frankly, stupidly) enough, at the start of the fifth grade, they chose the best violins to switch and play the cello instead. I was one of those violins. They didn’t even give us a choice. I knew from the second I laid eyes on the cello that I would despise it, and I did. Oh, how I hated that instrument. I had absolutely no idea how to play. My new lesson teacher was awful. I’m convinced that she actually didn’t know how to play, because she literally taught us absolutely nothing. I couldn’t figure out which strings played which notes to save my life. I started practicing less and less, and my shiny, beautiful violin began collecting dust in my closet.

At one point, I started missing school on the days I had lessons just so I wouldn’t have to play that God forsaken instrument. Midway through fifth grade, however, a little before the winter concert, we got a new orchestra teacher. She had been a conductor for a pretty long time, and she was old and pretty cruel to those who didn’t play well. For fear of my music folder getting flung off my stand by her baton, I decided to get my rear in gear and start playing like I should. I began treating the cello the way I had treated the violin: bought every CD and book imaginable about cello playing and practiced for hours on end–so much so that there’s still a little hole in my floor where I used to put the endpin of the instrument. By the time the winter concert rolled around, I was ready–I had my game face on; nothing could stop me from playing Jingle Bells with the gusto of a forty year old cellist at Carnegie Hall.

I remember this distinctly: standing in line with my fellow peers, getting ready to go onstage, rubbing the rosin on my bow like crazy. I recall having trouble tuning my instrument because my hands were so sweaty. I had to keep wiping them on my pants. I was crazy nervous because I really wanted to impress my new teacher and become a star pupil again. As I began walking up the stairs to go on stage, however, my teacher grabbed my and dragged me back into the hall. I was so confused; I was about to be on stage, why was she holding me back like this?

Then, she said the words that I have not forgotten to this day: “What do you think you’re doing here? You aren’t good enough to play in this concert.”

I was humiliated to say the least. I ran away, entered the auditorium doors from the back and grabbed my parents to tell them we had to go home. The whole car ride back, I cried. I didn’t touch the instrument for months after that, and made every excuse to get out of lessons. I told my teacher that ballet interfered with my practice, even though I had stopped doing ballet years earlier. My love for orchestra and string instruments slowly died out, and I stopped thinking about playing altogether.

At the beginning of sixth grade, the music teachers came one by one to our classes and told us to sign up for orchestra for that year. I had no interest in doing so. Then, my old lesson teacher leaned in towards me and asked me if I would like to try it again. I figured I might as well: after all, I had–stupidly–bought a cello because I thought I would be really good at it, and it was just sitting in the corner of my room doing nothing. She said she would come back with my permission slip for my parents to sign, but she never did. That officially ended my orchestra career. That is, until this year.

When we visited the Performing Arts Center and heard that string quartet play so beautifully, it reminded me of how much I loved playing the violin. So, I have decided to learn to play again. I already bought myself a brand-new, full size one, and I’m more excited about it than I’ve been about anything since my dreams of becoming a violinist were snuffed out by my awful teachers.

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Mood Diary: How IDC has changed my view on art.

Coming into the beginning of the semester, I was dreading this class. In high school and even before that, I never had been able to get an A in an art class. Even more importantly, I never truly understood art’s purpose. Right in the beginning of the semester this was clarified for me, art could be anything that I wanted it to be. Art did not have to only be things like John Singer Sargent’s “Madame X”.

I was intrigued to learn this because I do not resonate with traditional art. What I think of when I think of art is motorsports, whether it be drifting, circuit racing, drag racing, or even aerial acrobatics. I find the melding of man and machine to be truly beautiful. My go-to example of this melding is drifting, here’s a great clip of it. Watch the run starting at the three minute mark.

In competition drifting, you are scored on style. The scoring is completely subjective, just like art is. The driver who looks the best on his run, wins. These drivers wrestle, and I mean WRESTLE with 1000+HP cars, trying to keep them as sideways as possible, while coming within inches of each other, sometimes giving a friendly tap. This is what I resonate with. The few times I have driven my car in snow I was able to get it sideways and see what it feels like to drift in a controlled environment. Driving sideways is all about finesse and balance, no madder how many times I practice it on a simulator, it still feels like a totally new experience for me every time I do it. When you get it just right it is immensely gratifying and it makes me smile every time.

Ultimately, when I combine my own experiences with what we have experienced in class, I am able to come up with a statement that encompasses my mood toward art: Each person has their own type of art, and that type of art makes them happy. I love motorsports and some people love traditional portraits, there is something for everyone!

Mood Diary: My Artistic Unpeeling

I feel inclined to explain the concept behind my art but I will not do that and instead let the art speak for itself. My inspiration came from a guy I met in my Grocery store today and he said that anything and everything can be described through bananas. I used the posts that I made that I am most proud of.

 

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Reading the text is not necessary, The text is just posts that are already on the blog.

Kyle Abraham Reading Response

Kyle Abraham employs a narrative behind his choreography and performances surrounding the culture and influence of black America. The history of African-american dance is more in depth that what most would know. According to the article, “History of Black Dance: 20th-Century Black American Dance”, the origin of African-american dance began in Harlem and slowly incorporated itself into American dance as a whole.

However, this process was not easily and there were several figures that proved to be influential. For example, Arthur Mitchell introduced01_TheGettin_PhotobyIanDouglas blacks to the ballet scene, which was unheard of during the 50s and 60s as many did not believe that black Americans were not appropriate for ballet. This battle for privilege and equal treatment in the arts is extended by Kyle Abraham’s choreographic work.

In the article “Choreographer Kyle Abraham Discusses ‘The Watershed’ and ‘When the Wolves Came In'”, Abraham mentions the influence of black American culture and its influence on his choreography. For example, his piece “Watershed” was inspired by the anniversary of the Emancipation Proclamation.

A teaser video  showing a excerpts from some of Abraham’s pieces also provides some sort of insight as to how he portrays his narrative. The movement of each dancer is unique to their own style, but even more interestingly, each performer reacts to each other. Therefore, they are not completely in sync, but each of them moves in such an emotionally charged way it feels as though its intentional, to show how emotions and reaction vary across ethnic groups and between people. The movement ranges from excited and eccentric, to rigid and thoughtful, evoking different emotions of anger, excitement, fear, and sorrow. I never watched choreography that made me feel as though I was watching a history or story of some kind. However, Abraham evokes a stronger effort to see what he meant by each movement. The aesthetic does not seem to be the core of the performance, which I truly appreciate. It makes the performance multi-dimensional, and keeps the viewer attentive for what Abraham wants to portray.

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