Will Stratton's Points of Origin: A quiet, poignant awakening

The main character in Will Stratton's outstanding new release, Points Of Origin, is climate change. Stratton writes a disclaimer on the inside sleeve; like all good works of fiction, it seeks verisimilitude. 

Will Stratton's gorgeous, warm, inviting tenor, instrumentation, and composition are like the painter Mirandi's palette: muted and subtle, resulting in a tranquil, quietly arresting, and stoic aesthetic. It is like a lullaby, lulling us to sleep, mimicking our resignation and compliance, hoping none of this is true. As the desert only grows, the lakes become smaller, and the fires rage. Methodically rendered piano, guitar plucking, pedal steel, violin, mandolin, bass notes, and the soft brush of the drum kit. Only a few tracks have waves of horns and harmonies to wake us up from our collective stupor of dissonance.  

 

The slew of individuals woven into these songs are drifters, workers, rangers, firefighter prisoners, and transients trying to find their footing or a plot of land. The wounded psyche of the arsonist, with his attraction to chaos and people from all walks of life, finds commonality in a beloved local bar. Some characters didn't make it and died within a song, and some are bearing witness.

Stratton's acute writing skills bring the places and stories to life, intertwining environmental science, geology, history, and political compliance with the personal. The delusions of postcard-worthy settings being engulfed in peril as the delta breeze drives the temperature differential between land and sea.

A would-be artist's dream put aside and lured by the fast money in real estate, in the song Higher and Drier, becomes a predator knowingly selling a charade in the subprime market, / Gambling their fortunes on the Sacramento skies /. Female harmonies join almost mockingly singing / Higher and drier / Higher and drier / to create a light and breezy contrast to the bubble-bursting future. 

When fire hits a beloved destination, a home away from home for many, in the song Temple Bar, / Then the angels took it over /As it burned right through the ground / the ghostly building is a phantom where only memory persists.

The general arc of the album is the song Red Crossed Star, which explores history and context to greet a philosophical moment of resignation /And all we can do is spend the time that we're on / And hope that we love enough before we die /. Still, Stratton reminds us that the California Ridge is a million years old from a geological perspective. He conveys that the land has something to tell us / Fading memories of genocide/ and / Mass conversion of stolen land /. But it could be any place with just different specifics / No matter the year or the flags we fly / because here on earth, we face peril together.

The majesty of the horns as distant sounds warning of impending doom or the call of the wild awaken the listener in the song Bardo or Heaven? ends abruptly in silence. Looking for answers and questioning / The way things are finally becoming the way that they seem / while witnessing the change in the sunlight as he stares to mirror the true nature of reality, as is the meaning of Bardo.

Slab City is the last song on the B side in which Stratton's soothing voice travels in minor notes and is hauntingly effective. The many wayward souls see paradise and hell while living on the borderline where the Saltin Sea and algae blooms are a site to behold. The song concludes with the word "dead end," signifying little hope in making progress. / Now we play with fire, blind with desire / Headed for that good dead end.

Will Stratton's masterful recording is delivered lovingly with a vocal range of depth and beauty of the highest quality. Each song is equally poignant, and I have highlighted just a few. It is a collection to listen to in full. 

Nature can humble us as we live with fire and contemplate how fragile our environment has become and the future danger that is upon us if we don't face it. When someone whispers, we might pay attention. 

Half Waif Live at PS21

Half Waif, AKA Nandi Rose, singer, songwriter, and producer, performed her entire album on a beautiful night in the open-air Pavilion Theater at PS21 Chathum's world-class stage and sound system. An eight-piece ensemble joined her. It was a moving experience.

Nandi incorporated thoughtful props and movement as metaphors to set the stage, letting the music unfold. The production captured the depths of hardship and grief while delivering a celebratory tone. So distinct was the music’s scaffolding excursion into the cycles of nature where death and rejuvenation act as one. The swirling array of electronic pop and orchestrated music collides with mirroring harmonies and instrumental details to capture the exuberant turmoils and solemn moments. 

Although grief is a universal experience, it is a lonely individual process shouldering through the depths of sadness while still living and breathing. Nandi has brought it out of the shadows, striking a moving balance within an emotionally charged topic through her artistry. 

The opener was Elori Saxl, an experimental electronic composer stationed at her mothership of synth and inputs while conducting her accompanists on violin and cello with brief head nods. Together, they amplified nature's violent and soothing sounds to create an unworldly noise experience.

Kelli Baker A Phenomenal Force; Live at the Colony

I watched from a distance for seven years as Kelli Baker said yes to a dream. 

Her music trajectory stalled early but picked up later in life as she honed her skills for a new moment. Hard work and grit mixed with the poetry of I can. 

Seeing Kelli and her band at the Colony in Woodstock, NY, on July 7th was a night of connection, music, and showmanship. Her vocal range is a phenomenal force floating between blues, soulful rock, folk, and Americana. She can belt, explore, and be slow and sultry, as evident when she sang her original Six Feet Under. Incredibly, even her cover of Aretha Franklin’s Dr. Feelgood (Love is A Serious Business) sounds fresh. I loved the seamless flow of Gone, Georgia Gone leading to Folsom Prison, a testament to smart musical styling.

Her roadworthy band, PJ LaMariana on bass and Adam Wooten on drums was joined by featured artist Noé Shocha, a virtuoso on guitar and harmonica. Noé can make the guitar strings fly seamlessly, plucking, sliding, and picking impressively, creating an expansive sound.

Kelli Baker’s star power is undeniable, but her collaborative spirit sets her apart. She radiates warmth and cheerfulness towards her fellow musicians and the audience. There was quite the buzz when the show ended, as people gathered to meet Kelli and Noé, eager to share how moved and blown away they were by the set.

This year, I shut down negative roadblocks and plowed through to launch a Yes campaign. I attribute this impetus to my muse, Kelli Baker.

Electronic Music Sets at the Avalon Lounge 6/22/23

Rodney Alan Greenblat Electronic Music and Poetry

Rodney Alan Greenblat alone on a stage at the Avalon Lounge, paper in hand, his Moog synthesizer, and laptop with prerecorded samplings were waiting for manipulation. His music set mixed the literal with subliminal sounds of reality, childlike noise, and catchy melody to create compositions of surprise and humor with thoughtfulness and depth. 

It was a delightful mix of interpretations, from a field recording of noise in the walls of a trendy Montreal hotel to the movement of centipedes called Scutigera, their creepy crawling expressed in delicate percussion much like the way roaches scramble when lights get turned on. While in yet another piece, he combined guttural chants with temple sounds, signifying the traditions of ancient civilizations. 

Reading poetry with small samplings of electronic sound creates the foundation and acts as an anticipatory set that encourages engagement. He informed me that format was new. I liked it; it gives the listener a window into the artist's intention and leaves room for contextual layers.

The beauty of his inspiration is the combination of his unique perspective being a visual artist working in many modalities. His electronic music composition and poetry are yet another outlet for his creativity; the addition of his 15-year Zen meditation practice is essential to his thinking and interpretive sound. I love how he combines the teachings of breathing in and out and just being in the moment with the bombardment of pop culture references such as anti-paranoia air freshener, iPhone 14, or Cheerios.

One of my favorites was "Self Doubt," self-deprecating humor about performance anxiety. He read, / Who knows when the show will end /not soon enough / poop, bonk, whop, honk, bleep, and fart sounds spew to the beat to emphasize the futile and sometimes hilarious nature of the mind.

In the piece Box With Tubes, the music mimics the rudimentary sound of machines with robotic wonder slapping things together in what seems like a  random order, much like a Rube Goldberg contraption or Hal in 2001 Space Odyssey of a robot gone mad.  

The tune Chip Cookie, /chocolate cup cookies / sprout legs and march to the mouth of Nirvana / creates marching out-of-step bongo-like repetition to a fullness of discordant sound to reach what is unobtainable.  

The joyful, funny, and contemplative set showed an artist's passion and unique way of listening to the world around him and expressing that in music. 

Rodney Alan Greenblat

Scoring a Cool Mix with opener Roman Angelos 

Roman Angelos' set gave me a permanent smile and a chill vibe. He played Jazz guitar, keyboard, and synthesizer mixed with prerecorded sound and live looping. 

It sounded like a memorable time warp of a specific era of retro appreciation. I was either at an ice skating rink, elevator, or in an Italian movie. Roman's song titles, such as The Underwater Supermarket and The Aimless Aquanaut, lend to the cool factor. His pompadour was a bonus. Music placement supervisors should be on the lookout.

Roman Angelos is the solo project of multi-instrumentalist and producer Rich Bennett.

Beat Radio: Real Love, A Lifeline to Healing

 

Beat Radio's Real Love album is a cohesive and vulnerable look into psychological patterns that inform behavior with the urgency to change that only a wise punk rock dad could create. 

Brian Sendowitz, the singer-songwriter behind Beat Radio, has a passion for writing songs that have been a twenty-year quest while working and raising a large family. His openness to express himself through music and choice to revisit a collaboration with multiinstrumentalist producer Phil A Jimenez made this album stand out in a considerable discography.

Real Love is broken into three distinct movements: realization, awareness, and action toward healing, with the order of song titles supporting that assumption. His breakthrough emotionally opened the door to vulnerability while diving deep to heal and face narratives amassed in a lifetime without awareness. The end result is a moving journal-like entry in an album format. 

The music production and details are well-placed, creating a steady awareness, just the right amount of reflection, and a hopeful resonance. The thoughtful placement of harmonies, moody accents, and orchestrated layering of violins, horns, guitar, bass, banjo, and synth form a continuous pulse of percussion that overlaps with adept drumming. Sendowitz's earnest vocals have an emotional reach, especially highlighted in choruses, while emulating a mantra of change and self-actualization. Each repetition becomes a nuanced way to see faults, regrets, and shame and grapple with unsettling emotions. No longer are those emotions veiled but raw and tenderly articulated, unfolding to the listener.

The subject of familial trauma with the terms; prodigal son, family name, and blood in my veins describes the expectations and projections from others. Our DNA is predetermined, but narratives we internalize are coping mechanisms designed and imprinted as our own, questioning; who is the authentic self shaped within a family dynamic? 

Sendowitz writes about this schism in the first three songs using urgent percussion-heavy beats. "Projection Spells" portrays the rote strategies devised to cope /and I've been conjuring protection spells/ to keep the ghosts away/. Kicking it up with a high-speed and vibrant rock in "Disassociation Blues," where the manic moment and truth collide with confusion. The pace slows down in "Radioactive," the muffled snare drums and layered horns, thick with an eerie atmosphere, wheel him metaphorically radioactive; he reacts without intention while repelling himself to those he loves to his detriment. / You're radioactive / You're out of control /.

The following group of songs grapples with concern about long-term marriage and the steady foundation of love; can it withstand change and grow? Fluctuating between a slower, more acoustic mix of strings and haunting synths. The violins and banjo move forward in "Real Love" with a repetitive mantra of hope / we got a real love / sometimes it's not enough / no matter what it takes / I'm never giving up/. A continuous drumbeat and folk guitar strum unfold in "Weightless" about surrendering to the damage done. The beautiful chorus of aspirations grows to bring it home / It's so hard to let things go / maybe we can take it slow / I miss all the dreams we had / maybe we can take it slow / I can't make it on my own /. "Family Name" is a contemplative reminder to pause, breathe, and forgive oneself during the refrain of soft harmonies /Oh O Ohoo / conjuring a self-regulating sigh of healing. With a steady upward thrashing drumbeat, the moody pop "Harder to Pretend" employs dense synth instrumentals and guitar melody hooks woven into a slew of lyrical questions / do you think we're going to make it through /?

The final movement is an effort at healing with a supporting cast highlighting that "it takes a village" to heal. Sendowitz refers to his creation myth in "Solid Ground," which portrays cognitive dissonance, an altering of reality to cope. In it, Katherine's Froggots' vocals gently mimic Sendowitz's proclamations. / I was afraid if I let go of the story that I knew/. "Lowland" beautifully stages his vocals with gorgeous music and the full-bodied sound of love affirmations. The finale, "We Rise From The Fire," is a rousing uplighting sequence of distorted, fuzzy guitar riffs to mark the birth of self-motivation and actualization / I lost my way/ I tried so hard to not become the thing I hate /, but It's not too late / and I can show you / that I can see you / The elongated note at the song's end reflects the continuing path to move forward to heal. 

Killen It at Mercury Lounge 2/08/18

                                       Art Credit: Dave Singley 

Jack Killen's EP Release show at Mercury Lounge was an experience with live music that I rarely have without being an insanely devoted fan. State the obvious, Killen it!! Holy shit did I just see this. I rarely see music and do no research, which makes me a total Killen newbie.

The crowded room had just enough space to hold a beer and move your arms in the air. Starting with hearing what sounded like a gaming soundtrack on the keyboard, I was giddy staring at the unlikely frontman Jack Killen with his hard-hitting band. He is adorably uncool in a cool way, which had me imagine how Andy Kaufman might appropriate a rockstar. Whatever, you just gotta love him!

Jack Killen’s affection and inclusiveness with his audience are a delight to witness. While playing the keyboard and singing, he nods and opens his arms to affirm his solidarity with his devoted fans. They chanted while fist-pumping these words / I'm going renegade, renegade / and money money money / with repetitive conviction. The comradery at the Mercury felt like a small-scale Pogues show.

Killen and his band play with ease and familiarity. Making music together is just second nature. Alex Forbes's fast guitar darts around the manic keyboard while Mike Henry on bass and energizer drummer Joey Campanella bring on the punch. The spontaneity continued with the finale as Henry switched to saxophone with stand-in guitarist Rikky Walsh. The blinding strobes added to the never-ending climax of intensity, making this Thursday night the ultimate party power-rock experience.

"I’m not Folk,” claimed Jack Killen; he continued, "there is no Folk in NYC.....you go live upstate, I’m staying here."  But with lyrics like / it makes me want to SCREAM / I'm tired of being broke in the land of money / he finds his voice in topical dissent. In his unfolky way, Jack and the band party and protest Killen style.

EP: Black Sneakers on Concrete 

Label: Axis Mundi Records

Jack Killen: keys / vocals

Alex Forbes: electric guitar

Mike Henry: bass / saxophone
Joey Campanella: drums
Ricky Walsh: electric guitar

PHOTOS

Sixteen Jackies; a talented band going somewhere

Sixteen Jackies are an infectious four-piece band going somewhere. For the past two years, they've built a reputation in their home base of Philly and surrounding areas. Presented by PopGun last Thursday at Elsewhere in Brooklyn, Sixteen Jackies played between two formidable bands, Ackerman and Oh Malô.

They played a seven-song set from their new and old EP. On display were catchy instrumental hooks, guitar leads that mimic electro-synth, thick basslines, and drums that float between raw and polished mixed with a little grime. Joey DeMarco's high-range dreamy pop vocals produce a surreal mixup of genres when he adds yelps and unworldly sounds. His campy showmanship was in full gear creating a flirtatious connection as he moved around the stage, singing freaky but substantive lyrics. He delivered them tongue and cheek with a wink / I was in a movie / and the movie was bad /. Especially endearing is when DeMarco thanks the audience between songs.

Sixteen Jackies memorable live sets will bring them back to New York sooner than later, and I'm all in.

Sixteen Jackies: Joey DeMarco (Vox, Guitar), Jeremiah Bull (Guitar, Keys), Ian Staley (Drums, Keys), Tim Davis (Bass)

Label: Born Losers Records

Max Vernon's Musical, The View UpStairs is an Unfiltered View of LGBTQ History

The Lynn Redgrave Theater was transformed back in 1973 into the gay bar, the UpStairs Lounge. Forty-four years earlier, a fatal attack of arson took the lives of thirty-two individuals and injured fifteen others. The UpStairs Lounge was home, a paradise of sorts, a haven for queens, queers, hustlers, and the unwanted and marginalized; it replaced the homes, families, and churches where their “kind” were no longer welcome.

Max Vernon’s passionate and inquisitive nature propelled him to write the book, lyrics, and music for the musical The View UpStairs. Directed by Scott Ebersol, the play is a snippet of time when a young gay fashion designer named Wes, played by Jeremy Pope, buys an abandoned space in 2017 that once was the UpStairs Lounge. There, he meets the ghosts/patrons as they surprisingly appear in retro 70’s attire among the inventive cheap yet chic decor of the lounge in its heyday. They enthusiastically swirl around the bar and sing about a place they call home / I think I found some kind of paradise / no angel wings / or fairy dust / just a rush of lust / but it’s alright. /

Vernon’s editorial style turns the future inside out by presenting it through the perspective of the gay community forty-four years earlier. Their wisdom is refreshing, and their reactions to Wes’ virtual world of selfies, branding, likes, and hashtags are hilarious and provocative. Wes tries to brag about the future as he sings /ain’t it great how far we’ve come since 1973 / the future is great there / you are what you own / if I could take you back with me / your mind will be blown /.

Throughout the play, the ghosts teach Wes many lessons and remind him of the rights he takes for granted. He, in turn, is perplexed by the hiding, hustling, and sex lives of his ghost hosts; as they live their lives in the shadows. The trajectory of their futures is altered by rejection and limited choices. Wes' new love interest, Patrick played by Taylor Frey, explains why he became a runaway /father sent him away / with a plan / fry the fairy out of him / and he’ll come back a man / more or less / the doctor guaranteed success /.

The show tackles many issues through the lens of LGBTQ history, including Trump’s election, and achieves a cutting edge. Hanging like a dark cloud over the theater is impending death, with Aids just around the corner and the future of arson. / how the eighties came killed all your friends / you just don't know it yet /. Weighing heavily and interspersed between dancing and song is the anxiety and fear of new laws that undermine all the rights gained in recent years.

I fell in love with the talented, diverse, and lovable cast. The staging created a viable interaction as some audience members sat in the lounge among the actors who worked the aisles. The fabulous Queen den mother, Willie, played by Nathan Lee Graham, delightfully shares his earned wisdom. His over-the-top personality is the comedic relief and connection to the show's heart as it offsets the dark content. Another significant aspect of the script is the invisible patron, Dale, played by Ben Mayne. He is rejected by his peers and exposes the flaws in their community, much like any other.

The beautiful score, effervescent cast, sequence, glitz, and glam can’t camouflage the issues facing the LGBTQ community. But what a way to tackle these matters proudly, singing and dancing into the future. This timely musical celebrates and honors the lives of the patrons of the UpStairs Lounge in all their colorful and unfiltered glory and paves the way for the fight ahead.

The View UpStairs

Big Hands Rhythm and Blues Band at Rockwood Stage 2

The brisk electric set by the accomplished musicians that make up Big Hands Rhythm and Blues Band finished at breakneck speed. I was fortunate to hear them play at Rockwood Music Hall Stage 2 at 11 pm on Friday. Osei Essed posted that there would be some howling, traditional blues standards, and originals. That was enough to count me in and invite my cousin, who loves live music.

The band is a great outfit and a joyous side project. Osei possessed deep vocals as he howled the Willie Dixon song “Easy Baby.” His voice whisked us in and captured our inner blues spirit but would worry any throat doctor. Joined by a tight, spirited band, who finished the set before we could come up for air! Yes, there were soul and blues traditions, with some Jazz slipping through via the piano/keyboardist. They ended the set with a lively all-out urgent roar of the Beatles tune “Why Don’t We Do It In The Road.”

Members of the Big Hand Rhythm and Blues Band: Simon Kafka from Elle King's band on lead guitar, Osei Essed from (The Woes) on lead vocals and guitar, Zach Jones Music (Sting, Elle King, A Great Big World) on drums, Chris Kuffner (Ingrid Michaelson and currently with A Great Big World) on bass Todd Caldwell (Crosby Still and Nash), on organ and piano.

César Alvarez’s new musical NOISE, at AUPAC

Yesterday I was thrilled to see the workshop production of César Alvarez’s new musical, NOISE, at Adelphi University Performing Arts Center. The Larson Legacy Concert (in association with the American Theater Wing showcases some of the annual recipients of the Jonathan Larson Grant given to rising musical theater composers and lyricists.

NOISE is an interactive theater experience where the actors and the audience are united to hear the “noise.” A unique aspect of the production was the random changing order of the play, accomplished by choosing numbers pulled from a bag, making each performance entirely different. With every new random number, actors had to rearrange audience members on the stage and scramble to get props and move sets. The actors were really on their game.

Inspired by Noise: The Political Economy of Music, the nonfiction book by French economist and scholar Jacques Attali. César uses his concepts to inform the structure and language of the play. Through the history of music, he engages how society creates systems to organize, divide and separate people from experiencing, hearing, and appreciating the noise.

The actors moved, stomped, sang, and spoke while engaging the audience to confront our presumptions and judgments that inform all our decisions. The message was cerebral, while the messengers (the actors) were funny, animated, engaging, and full of life.

César Alvarez is a composer/lyricist/librettist whose musical FUTURITY received the 2016 Lucille Lortel Award for Outstanding Musical. César also received the 2016 Jonathan Larson Award.