Am I Blue

I have two sons, ages three and six. Since the day I found out I would be a father, there are certain scenarios I've played out in my mind. Some are situations every parent probably daydreams about; the first steps, first bicycle ride without training wheels, first touchdown, graduation from high school/college/law school. For me though, I have always imagined what sort of arts my kids will be drawn to. Will my six year old be a classic rock guy or into hip-hop in his teens? Will my three year old be so taken by the cinematic arts that he makes his own low-budget film that wins a film fest award and gets him into NYU film school? Hey, what can I say? I like to dream big. While I've made it a point to try to expose my kids to as many aspects of the arts as possible, I've tried to be careful not to shove things down their throat. I've cherished the little victories, like how it seems to amaze them that I know every song on Sirius/XM's Classic Rewind channel, and sing to them as we ride home from school/daycare. I'm also particularly proud that my six year old seems to be acquiring my taste for silly novelty songs, the kind that Dr. Demento compiles into CD collections. You know, stuff like Spike Jones' "Cocktails for Two," Weird Al Yankovic's "Albuquerque," and Cake's primo cover of that Muppet classic "Mahna-Mahna." Playng those songs in the car on Spotify is guaranteed to elicit giggles from the kids and eyeball rolls from my wife.
Given my older son's penchant for weird music, when I heard that Blue Man Group would be coming to the North Charleston Performing Arts Center as part of the Best of Broadway series, I knew I had to take him to see the show. I had seen BMG about a decade earlier when they performed at the North Charleston Coliseum. It remains one of the coolest and most original productions I've ever seen at the venue. For those not familiar with what BMG is about, there are basically three blue-skinned men dressed all in black on stage, and during the performance they use unconventional means (PVC pipes, LED figures, Cap'n Crunch cereal) to perform an act that is part musical, part comedy, and all weirdness. I'm doing my best to describe the experience, but really, the only way to properly explain the BMG experience is to go see them. They have permanent installations of the show in places like New York City, Boston, Las Vegas, and Los Angeles.
As my wife, my son, and I drove to last Friday's BMG performance at the PAC, I attempted to explain to my son what he was going to be seeing. Honestly, I didn't do much better than the preceding paragraph, and the look on my son's face made it clear that he was on the fence about whether he was going to like the show. Then I remembered that I had taken him to the Best of Broadway production of "Shrek" a couple of months back, which he had loved. "Nigel, you remember when we saw those people performing Shrek on the stage? Well, we're going to see a different show tonight at the same place, an even cooler show." My son's interest seemed piqued, at least more than before. Still, I worried that he might not get the show.
I needn't have worried. From the opening of the show, which featured the Blue Men's silhouette's projected on huge screens as they beat on drums and PVC instruments, my son was mesmerized. A lot of the BMG's show deals with sight gags and pantomime set to music, since none of the performers speak. As the show continued, we laughed and clapped as the Blue Men spat paint onto canvases, caught what seemed like an impossible amount of marshmallows in their mouths, the congealed mass of which one performer then deposited in an audience member's purse, and turned breakfast cereal into a percussion instrument with their mouths. My son particularly liked the way the Blue Men stopped the show to point out a couple of latecomers, complete with alarms, sirens, and spotlights following the tardy folks to their seats. When the Blue Men interacted with a trio of giant "GiPads," sticking their heads behind them to give the illusion their noggins had grown by about five sizes, my son cackled when the third Blue Man's head came up not as his own, but of a giant chicken's.

There was also some audience participation during the show. The Blue Men wandered out into the audience twice to bring unsuspecting folks up on the stage for some unorthodox fun. The first victim was a woman who was invited to share a meal of Hostess Twinkies with the Blue Men. After the use of a vacuum, a jigsaw, two lamps, a candle, a fire extinguisher, and several snack cakes, the sequence ended with the Blue Men apparently regurgitating Twinkies from their chests, which were then shared among the snack time guests. To the woman's credit, she was a remarkably good sport. Later a man was brought up on the stage, shoved into a white jumpsuit, and then spirited away backstage, where a bit of camera trickery made it look as if he was splashed with blue paint, suspended by his feet, and slammed into a large canvas to make a piece of modern art.
My son also loved the show's climax, which involved the Blue Men leading the crowd through a list of patented rock movements ("The one-handed fist pump," "raising the roof"), then directing the audience to shake their booties, while the video screens displayed dozens of euphemisms for one's posterior (My favorite "The place where the burritos go," while my son preferred that old standby, "Heiney"). My son also surprised my wife and I by dancing his little heiney off. As neither my wife nor I are really into dancing, it was a revelation to see him getting down. Then the Blue Men started chucking giant multi-colored balloons and confetti streamers out into the audience, and I thought my son's head was going to explode. I've included a picture of him in mid-boogie, and the expression on his face says it all.

We left the show much like every other audience member; with huge smiles on our faces, and I like to think that I was able to let my son experience a truly unique life experience. I look forward to him getting older and gravitating toward his own artistic tastes. Hopefully we will see eye to eye on some bands, movies, visual art forms, but I will also relish seeing him strike out on his own, discovering what he likes through immersion. Mind you, I'm not wanting him to grow up too fast. It seems like only yesterday that my wife and I were bringing him home from the hospital, and now he's a curious first-grader. Whenever I have a chance to expose him or his little brother to an experience like BMG, I'll drag them to the event if necessary. Be it Spoleto performances, concerts at the PAC or the Coliseum, visual art exhibits at the Gibbes, or a film that redefines cinema, I'll get them to as many experiences as I can. There's a lot to see out there, and I aim to see as much of it as I can during my short stay in this world. Having a family of open-minded companions to experience these art forms with me just makes that experience all the sweeter.  

         

Different Strokes For Different Folks

Just about everyone has that one band that they really like and yet keep secret from their friends and family, fearing ridicule. It might be the tattooed biker with a penchant for Enya, or a seemingly mild-mannered old lady that secretly listens to metal guitar virtuoso Yngwie Malmsteen. I'm actually one of the folks immune to this phenomena. I listen to what I like, no matter how much the band or singer in question might affect my social standing or reputation. One of the bands that would be on my list, if I actually cared to compile one that is, would have to be Hall & Oates. "But wait," you might be saying, "Hall & Oates are a pretty hot act right now." Sure, what with the inclusion of "You Make My Dreams Come True" in the film "500 Days of Summer" and appearances on shows such as "The Voice" and "Dancing with the Stars," it seems life is good for songwriters Daryl Hall and John Oates. The band has always had its detractors, as I'm pretty just about any act in the entertainment does. Many knock them for writing catchy pop songs about girls and love and the like. In my opinion, the folks that do knock great bands like Hall & Oates are the same kind of people who listen to Sufjan Stevens just so they can drop the name "Sufjan" into everyday conversation.

Now before all you hipster doofus types get all bent out of shape, there's nothing wrong with the music of Sufjan Stevens, so long as you actually listen to it before you talk about it.

But I digress...

I prefer to wear my Hall & Oates fan patch with pride. I've been listening to the band since I first heard "Private Eyes"on the radio as a kid, and all through the 80's I enjoyed the long string of hits that were released by the songwriting duo. To me, you can't make a list of the great American songwriters of the last half-century and not include Daryl Hall and John Oates. So when it was announced that they would be playing the North Charleston Performing Arts Center a few months back, I made plans to be there. To be honest, I was a bit worried that the turnout for the show would be like that of another great singer-songwriter who played the venue; Lindsay Buckingham. That show found the PAC only half-full, despite Buckingham's background as a member of Fleetwood Mac. Once I got to the PAC this past Wednesday night though, my fears vanished. The place was packed. Turns out the show was sold out.

When the band hit the stage just after 8pm (no opening band) and launched into "Out of Touch," the crowd exploded with an appreciative cheer, and started singing along with the band. Over the course of the next 90 minutes Hall & Oates did what they've come to be known for; giving the people what they want musically. From deep cuts from early in their careers like "How Does It Feel To Be Back" and "Las Vegas Turnaround," to well known radio hits such as "Maneater" and "You Make My Dreams," The guys basically covered it all. I will admit that I was a bit worried when the band ended its main set after just 9 songs, but the musicians came back out for two encores resulting in 5 more tunes, including Hall & Oates' cover of "Jingle Bell Rock," complete with the 80's era video playing on the screen behind the band. The show was everything I was expecting, and I didn't talk to a single person in the lobby afterward that felt differently. Word on the street is that Hall has either rented or bought a house in downtown Charleston, and will be spending some quality time in the Holy City. Here's hoping he is able to get out and sample some of Charleston's rich music scene. He'll probably like what he hears.

The night after Hall & Oates show at the PAC I found myself next door at the North Charleston Coliseum, attending the concert by Eric Church. To be perfectly honest, I didn't really know a lot about Church going in. I'm not a huge modern country fan, mostly because the majority of what s called country these days is actually pop music with a little twang thrown in. Again, nothing wrong with that sound for the people that dig it, but I just don't happen to be one of them. As it turns out, Church is one of the current rising superstars in the country music world. Once again the crowd seemed to be at capacity, and there was much hootin' and hollerin' going on. As much as I'm not a fan of modern country music, I actually like going to concerts by modern country artists. The fans of these performers are some of the most faithful and enthusiastic fans out there. They buy the CDs, go to the shows, buy the merchandise, and support their favorite artists way more enthusiastically than other music fans. I've also found that a large contingent of them seem to binge drink at shows more than your average rock or R&B fan. More on that in a moment.

I arrived at the Coliseum a little late, and as a result of some pretty heavy security, I missed the opener, Kip Moore. I guess Moore was really the opener for the opener, though. Justin Moore was up next. Another fast rising star in the country world, Moore turned in a satisfying set of songs, and seemed to play well of the energy of the crowd. When it was finally time for the headliner, I honestly had no idea what to expect. My friend Kim had come with me to the show, and being a big Eric Church fan, she advised me it was going to be a good show. He certainly made a big entrance, emerging from a hidden staircase in the floor of the stage while a giant curtain dropped to reveal a multilevel stage decorated with wood and beer kegs.

I have to say that it only took a couple of songs for me to get into the groove. Church is one of those outlaw country artists who has no problem blurring the lines between country and rock. In addition to the music being played by Church and his band, much of which was actually agreeable to this modern country music hater, there were some pretty incredible production values being displayed on the stage. If there was a country fan at the show Thursday night that hadn't ever experienced a concert with pyrotechnics, lasers, backlight, or any of the stuff normally reserved for the likes of KISS, then they experienced it all Thursday night. It was overall a great show that renewed my faith in pop-country music.

During the show I was seated in the upper section of the Coliseum, about two rows down from the ceiling. Toward the end of the show, random fights and scuffles began breaking out in a group of twenty-something guys a couple rows before me. They were all clearly drunk, and eventually the North Chuck Police had to be called in to restore order. Now, I'm all for enjoying a beer or two at a show, but if you're at a show that you've presumably paid a few bucks for, and you choose to spend the evening fighting, puking, or passed out in a seat, then why not just stay home next time. I saw a couple of other women on the same row as the troublemakers who basically had to move to another row or risk getting caught in the middle of a shoving match. That's not what we came to see.    

So Tell Me, Do Ya Feel Lucky? Well Do Ya, Punk?

I listen to my share of punk rock music, but I was never really what you'd call a connoisseur of the genre. I was too young to fully appreciate the rawness of the musical style when it was at its zenith in the '70's, but thanks to a couple of dedicated friends I hung out with in middle and high school, I learned to appreciate the finer works of bands like The Sex Pistols, Dead Milkmen, The Cramps, and The Misfits. While some of my classmates went whole hog in high school, sporting mohawks and leopard-print creepers, I gravitated more toward punk's quieter, more polite, more melodic cousin; new wave. Elvis Costello, ABC, The Cure, Adam and The Ants? Yes please. Still, I kept up on the various punk rock bands that took their shots at stardom. The 90's was a good time to be young and punk, as bands such as Bad Religion, The Offspring, and Green Day cleaned up thanks to the burgeoning grunge movement. Sure, Green Day is not really a punk band, especially with it's recent releases of 3-album sets and conceptual albums, but the general spirit is there.
Charleston has seen it's own share of punk rock culture. Anyone remember the guy who ran Prism Records back in the 80's? I vaguely remember visiting that store, which had the best selection of imports and hard to find records, back in the 80's and what I remember most is that the guy had a big cage of domesticated rats right in the middle of the store, which he'd play with. Then there was Club Dog Alley, which I managed to completely miss due to living in Europe from 1989 to 1991. Folks still tap about that legendary club, which hosted nationally touring punk bands such as Flat Duo Jets, as well as local bands like The Archetypes. Over the years bands such as Steve Hit Mike, The Woodies, Cletus, and Flamin' Anus have graced stages both here in town and around the country.
One of Charleston's longest running punk acts is FLK, short for Funny Looking Kids.

Comprised of bassist Tom Duke, singer Kevin Taylor, guitarist Clint Fore, and drummer Jason McFarland has been doing its thing since forming in 1996 in McFarland's bedroom. Talking with McFarland recently at a house party in Mt. Pleasant, McFarland reminisced about the band's humble beginnings. "Back in 1996 someone bet me I couldn't get a band together that could play the Music Farm before Unjust," said McFarland, who adds that he won that bet. Over the years FLK has played everywhere possible, opening for acts like The Aquabats and Fishbone. Despite being together for nearly twenty years, McFarland says that FLK has pretty much been stiffed by local media. "There are some folks in town that have always supported us," said McFarland. "Folks like Clay Scales, Jimbo Webb, Johnny Puke, and Andrew Higdon, they've always had our back. Only Ballard (Lesemann) is one of the few music journalists in town who has ever shown us any love."
FLK was performing at the house party on Joyce Street, just off Coleman Boulevard in Mt. Pleasant.

It was a double bill with another stalwart in the local punk scene, Hybrid Mutants.

The couple who own the house throw a party once a year, setting out an impressive spread of food and drinks. The bands play in the house's backyard patio, and while the party-goers enjoy the music several men take turns skateboarding inside the yard's empty swimming pool.

There's a loose, casual atmosphere to the whole gathering, something that McFarland says also applies to FLK's music. "We've always played what made us happy," said McFarland. "I don't worry about the audience. I look up to see if the other guys in the band are having a good time."
Folks interested in seeing FLK live and up close will have a chance this Saturday, as the band performs in West Ashley at Tin Roof. Doors are at 8pm, and Hybrid Mutants and Actual Size open. There won't be any swimming pool skaters, but if the vibe is anything close to what it was at that house party, then it's going to be a hell of a show.  

You Can Do Magic

Man, so here's the thing; I love live music. I don't just mean that I really like going to see bands at a club or concert venue. I mean that I am literally in love with the rush that comes with experiencing a live music performance. Sure, there are things I love more, like my kids and my wife, but ever since Joan Jett blew my 12-year-old mind at my first concert, I've been chasing that rush in much the same way a drug addict tries to surpass that first high. Fortunately, unlike chasing the dragon, it is possible to surpass your first concert experience, even one as awesome as mine. That's the great thing about live music. To borrow from the wit and wisdom of the literary and cinematic character Forrest Gump, live music is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're going to get.
This past weekend I witnessed a show that absolutely blew me away. Going into it, I knew the show was going to be quality for a couple of reasons. First, the folks at Awendaw Green were organizing it. For those of you still not familiar with the local music juggernaut that is Awendaw Green, I implore you to head up to the SeWee Outpost in Awendaw on Highway 17 North one Wednesday night and see what those folks have going on. Either that, or catch one of the shows they put on at the Circular Congregational Church downtown on Meeting Street. That's where the action was this past Saturday night. The second reason I was excited for this show was because the local band Slow Runner was headlining. I could go into the multiple reasons I dig Slow Runner, but what it basically boils down to is that the band, led by musical geniuses Michael Flynn and Josh Kaler, just doesn't sound like anything else out there. Is it a rock band with synthesizers? An electronica act with heavy leanings toward non-electronic instruments? A band that seems to play nothing but cool, dreamy songs that sound like they belong in a movie based on a video game inspired by some avant garde novel? Yeah, actually Slow Runner is all that and more. I've been going to see Slow Runner since they were playing at the now defunct Cumberlands. The music made by Flynn and Kaler always sounds fresh and inspired, with a sort of otherworldly feel to most of the songs.
To be honest, I'm not going to do a typical concert review here, because even with my above-average descriptive skills I couldn't hope to properly recount the experience that I and about 250 or 300 other lucky souls experienced this past weekend. I will give you the basics though. First, the incredibly gifted Rachel Kate Gillon opened with an acoustic set of her original material that raised goosebumps on top of goosebumps. Standing in front of the stage, just feet away from the front row of church pews, with an acoustic guitar and no microphone, Gillon used the unique acoustics of the Circular Congregational Church to her advantage, looking up toward the choir loft as she projected her mesmerizingly powerful voice toward whatever higher power was ready to receive it. Gillon was accompanied by cellist Diego Villena, and the pair played a short set of haunting yet lovely music that hovered around the area of country and folk without ever quite committing to either. I say that in a positive way, because if it were possible to capture the essence of Slow Runner in an acoustic act, Gillon's set Saturday night was as close as it was possible to get to that idea. As an encore Gillon borrowed a tambourine from Slow Runner's setup and, after apparently running through the song in her head for a moment, let loose with a spiritual that sent a collective shiver through the audience.

When Slow Runner took to the stage a short while later, it was obvious the crowd was expecting a deeply emotional experience. They didn't count on the band getting sucked into the feel good vibe as well, but late in the set, Flynn advised the crowd that, although they hadn't taken an official poll, this just might have been the band's favorite performance ever. In addition to the wonderful music bouncing off the church's domed ceiling, the folks at Awendaw Green had brought in a professional light rig, a fog machine, and lasers that drew geometric patterns on the walls and ceiling. It wasn't quite a Pink Floyd laser show from the 70's, but when the band kicked into one of their more danceable numbers, like "Make You Love Me" or "Happy Ending," the disco lights kicked in and the crowd could be seen grooving. Slow Runner bassist Jonathan Gray, who never misses an opportunity to dance around his upright bass, was obviously having a great time up on the stage, feeding off the audience's energy.
Carrie Ann Hearst stepped onstage late in the set to sing "XXX," a song that she'd recently recorded with the band. It was very cool to hear another voice, especially one as distinct and lovely as Hearst's, mixing with Flynn's gentle vocals. By the end of the show the goodwill was such that the band, which also included vibraphone player Ron Wiltrout, drummer Jack Burg, and trumpet player Clay White, was coaxed back out to play a couple more songs. Flynn took advantage of the venue's grand piano for a few songs, before returning to his electronic setup on the stage. Standout moments came during songs such as "Love and Doubt," "Somebody to Smother," and "Mermaids." The performance of "The Stakes Were Raised," easily my favorite Slow Runner song, was sublime.

In much the same way that the recent holiday performance by the Charleston Jazz Orchestra satisfied my constant craving for great live music, so did this amazing show. I truly feel for you if you weren't there to experience it. The good news is that Slow Runner performs in Charleston once or twice a year, so if you did miss this show, you'll definitely get another chance next year. In the meantime, here's to live music, and especially here's to the musicians that strive to make their live performances anything but routine.