Weekend Reviews
Who is Jandek? We still don't know
Music: Jandek
Modern dance: Wicked Cricket
Comedy: Austin Latino Comedy Fiesta
Web posted: Aug. 29, 2005
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Photo by Ha Lam/AA-S See more Jandek photos here. |
Recording since 1978 and producing 42 albums since, Jandek had not only never performed in public before the Scottish gig, but he had gone out of his way to conceal his identity. No interviews, no photos save for the blurry shots that appeared on his album covers, no albums credits — just record after record of enigmatic, inaccessible songcraft, tuned to a key that made sense perhaps only to him, sometimes electric, sometimes acoustic, sometimes (ouch) a capella. Jandek belonged to no known tradition, movement or theory — just one man hurling his art into the void.
But now he wanted to see us the same way we wanted to see him.
Fans, lined up in the blistering evening since about 6:30 p.m., filed in at 7. They sat and chatted nervously. The lights dimmed only slightly and suddenly it was dead silence, as if in church, almost as if the crowd worried that a misplaced noise might scare him off. A Scottish gentleman came out and said a few words about not taking pictures; it was probably the first time anyone in the crowd had heard the word "draconian" used during an artist introduction.
And then there he was, looking just like he had in Scotland and on a few album covers: dark shirt and gray slacks hanging loosely off an impossibly thin frame, black fedora hiding red hair going gray. He, an electric bassist and two drummers took the stage. Jandek took a black guitar out of his case and we were off, 12 songs in 90 minutes, no talking to the crowd, barely any interaction with the band, who were likely improvising their parts.
I'm fairly sure he played all new material (at least, the 12 songs didn't synch up with anything in the known catalog). "I don't care about the girls/ I don't care about the boys" our hero moaned in his trademark sing-song, a career manifesto for this guy if ever I heard one. Jandek's guitar parts came in two types: strummed atonal chordings and slashed atonal chordings. The oddest moment? When he tuned a string. Jandek tunes his guitar? Who knew?
Which isn't a knock: It was a fascinating set, full of intriguing drum improvisations, bass feedback and a few one-note solos. The emotional tenor was mopey and flat, a deeply personal angst performed live. "It keeps me hungry/the satisfaction you don't give," " I'm in a corner/crying like a lonely dog" and my personal favorite, "Oh, wine you devil/you made me love you again" over sharply dissonant note clusters. A loner, downer vibe permeated the show.
In some ways, it was exactly what we had imagined, especially considering nobody had any idea what would happen. "I know I've been a failure to you." Clag, clang, clang. It was pretty astonishing.
During the set, a blue light projected a giant shadow of the man against one wall. There were moments when that giant shadow sometimes seemed more real that he did: larger than life, identity obscured.
— Joe Gross
Modern Dance
LET THE 'WEE BEASTIES' OUT AND WATCH THEM SPIN
So just what is a wee beastie?
A curious crowd filled the Dougherty Arts Center theater Sunday afternoon to see choreographer Caroline Sutton Clark and her Wicket Cricket Dance Theatre offer her definition.
For Clark, wee beasties are the scary creatures under the bed, the devilish pranksters inside that tempt us toward mischief — and they're even that table of raucous, tipsy girlfriends hooting it up in corner of an elegant nightspot.
Clark wove all those images seamlessly and impressively into her hour-long "Wee Beasties." Starting with the eerily slow and almost preternatural moves of Japanese butoh dance, shifting to a little Cirque du Soleil-like aerial panache and then stopping off for a moment of ballroom dancing, the troupe of 17 dancers (which included six ghost-faced "beasties" and their angelic counterparts) evoked a wide gamut of moods: fear, joy, humor, embarrassment, confusion, peace.
The only thing marring "Wee Beasties? The Dougherty's too-small stage and imaginative lighting that left the dancers sometimes in the dark.
As something of an appetizer, the program started with a trio of short dances that included two by guest artists David Harris and David DeBlieck who know a thing or two about dancing, gracefully and cleverly, with oddball props such as paint buckets and pieces of paper. And, for that matter, Clark knows a thing or two about weaving together an evening of engaging modern dance.
— Jeanne Claire van Ryzin
Comedy
FESTIVAL DISHES UP HUMOR IN ALL SHADES
Teatro Humanidad burned the stage of the State Theater with flinty humor during its seventh annual Austin Latino Comedy Fiesta on Saturday.
Hosted by Austin stand-up comedian Howard Beecher, whose raunchy gross-out style left nothing sacred in its path, including his daughter, whose birth was described in graphic sci-fi detail.
The versatile San Antonio actor Ruby Nelda Perez brought us Doña Rosita's jalapeño kitchen. Rosita made Day of the Dead altar food for customers such as Petra, who stabbed her borrachón husband, but still loves the drunkard. San Antonio's witty Comedia a Go Go has to be the hungriest sketch troupe in the biz. Most of their bits involved food, such as an Iron Chef competition won by a confused abuelita (little grandma).
Super-sized comedian Patrick Candelaria used relaxed storytelling to poke fun at his size and talk about his USO tour to Iraq, during which he was given a small Kevlar vest that fit like a "sports bra."
The sidesplitting grand finale was presented by Austin's Latino Comedy Project. The best bits of the evening were musical parodies starring token bolillo (white-bread guy) Nick Walker, such as "The Raza Defection," written by Raul Garza in which President Bush wonders how he can win more Latino votes.
Walker is a gifted physical comedian who channels a spot-on imitation of the trademark Presidential smirk and swagger, darting his head from side to side like a proud rooster on the promenade.
Only the LCP can twist in-your-face topics in a way that's so wrong its right.
— Shilanda Woolridge
