Say the words “improvisational music” and most people will think of a band like Phish: extended drum solos or extended flights of fancy played on the guitar, with everything returning to the original theme in a big, climactic ending that sends the twirlers reeling in the aisles.
Real improv goes a step further, steering clear of quaint musical constructs like song structure, melody, (and often) chords, in favor of a completely “free,” jazz-style atmosphere in which each sound — or the sound of silence — is carefully chosen, not by the conscious mind or musical theory, but by instinct.
It’s that brand of improv that a few local artists brought to the Carolina Actors Studio Theatre (CAST) last Thursday evening. Drawing a nice crowd of people amazed that, you know, this is actually happening in Charlotte, the bill featured The Watchlist, comprised of Brent Bagwell and Ben Kennedy of Pyramid, along with Erik Hinds, a “H’arpeggione” player from Athens, GA; Richmond’s Birds in the Meadow, a saxophone/laptop computer duo; Yul Brynner, featuring members of Baleen and Calabi Yau; and Mons Venera, a band that plays so many musical instruments (as well as household items), it would be impossible to list them all here.
The theater itself is a wonderful place to see a show: comfortable seating on chairs and old couches, good bar setup, and great location. The back wall of the theater was covered with camouflage netting in preparation for the play G.I. Joe, which, combined with the cinderblock walls and outrageous layout of instruments both familiar and foreign, only added to the atmosphere.
After a layered, blips-and-bleeps set from Birds in the Meadow, The Watchlist took the stage. In true improv fashion, saxophonist Brent Bagwell announced that the band were calling themselves Meathook or something equally silly, before shaking a spasm out of his horn that Linda Blair would be proud of. After about four songs — where do you stop a song that has no ostensible ending? — the group gave way to Yul Brynner, whose two-saxophone, two-bass attack achieved hints of latter-day Pharoah Sanders and John Coltrane, thanks to the rapid-fire polymath drumming of Scott Wishart. Mons Venera had the most elaborate set, using found pieces of sheet metal, tympani drums, a toy pistol, wooden boxes, metal tubing, the floor, a few links of chain, and pretty much anything else they could get their hands on. As improv music, it had its moments, but perhaps its greatest influence was my realization that I didn’t really need a new guitar — when in doubt, I can just “play” my house!
All in all, one of the more entertaining nights out I’ve spent all year. Sometimes people get the idea that “improv” and “free”-based music is “difficult,” no doubt thanks to the snobbish attitude of some of its fans. I’d argue that it’s among the purest, most simple musics we have on this earth. It may not be for everybody, but it’s open to anybody.
The 14th Annual Latin Festival — properly, the Festival Latinoamericano — took place Sunday on the grounds of the Mint Museum. Seeing as my beloved Panthers weren’t playing until 4pm, I took the liberty to go and check it out, chomping at the bit to down some tamales, churros, and carne asada. Of all the festivals I’ve ever been to, the food here takes the torta. Huge portions, an agreeable exchange rate, and a dizzying array of choices. Of course, much Latino-American sustenance has its origins in hand-friendly, “street food” tradition, a fact that enabled me to see the sights while simultaneously noshing on my entree and dessert, all the while cradling a Coke in my elbow.
Major sponsors were everywhere, including Duke Energy, McDonalds, Coca-Cola, and R.J. Reynolds, proving that diversity be damned, everyone wants a piece of that burgeoning Latino demographic. The Democratic Party was there, too — handing out “Catholics for Kerry” buttons — as were the area Republicans, who wanted everyone to know that they had a real, live Latino, Dan Ramirez, on their side (this was achieved through about 10 humongous red signs).
The group was also giving out Bush/Cheney schwag, though the only guy I saw sporting anything was a man who had affixed a sticker to his cap, which he pulled down perilously low over his eyes.
Makes sense. You gotta be blind to follow those guys.
This article appears in Oct 6-12, 2004.
