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April 17, 2015 - Image 5

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The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Arts
Friday, April 17, 2015 — 5

Marc Maron talks
on creative process

EVENT PREVIEW

Comedian/TV star
discusses stand-up
and the age of the

podcast

By AKSHAY SETH &
ERIKA HARWOOD

Daily Arts Writers

“Yeah, hold on a second,” come-

dian Marc Maron said. “I think
maybe I’ll get a big bag of that lit-
ter.”

While
run-

ning
some

errands, includ-
ing stocking up
on cat supplies
for his two pets,
Monkey
and

Lafonda, Maron
squeezed
in

time for a phone
conversation
with The Michi-
gan Daily. With
strained instructions to a pet store
employee serving as background
music, Maron discussed his April
18 show at the Royal Oak Music
Theatre, his groundbreaking pod-
cast “WTF With Marc Maron,”
which helped establish the medi-
um’s relevance and, lastly, his
recent interview with Mick Jagger.

“Then the next day, when Keith

(Richards) called — you know,
Keith’s really my guy,” Maron said.
“With Keith, I definitely wanted to
try to be cool and ask some of the
right questions, to get him to con-
nect with me. And with Mick, I
just wanted him to be Mick. With
Keith there was more at stake.”

Though Maron initially attract-

ed attention at the height of the late
’80s, early ’90s comedy boom, that
prominence quickly faded as the
club circuit became oversaturated
with lukewarm talent. With too
many amateur stand-ups putting
out a steady stream of lackluster
material, career comedians like
Maron fought to cut through the
white noise. Other fledgling road
comics of the time, including now-
household names like Louis C.K.
and Sarah Silverman, went on to
find writing careers in sitcoms and
late night shows as the ’90s wound
down. Meanhwhile, Maron strug-
gled.

“When things got really rough

for comedians, after the (first)
boom, when there was a lot of us
out there, they just sought to low-
ball everybody because they knew

we were desperate,” Maron said in
a recent interview with Vulture,
explaining his relationship with
comedy club owners.

Maron’s troubles with alcohol-

ism, depression and drug abuse
further inhibited his ability to
stay relevant. Listening to any
one of the opening monologues
in his 530 episodes as the host of
“WTF,” there’s a vivid yet insulat-
ed window into some of the anger
so visible in his early material.
In “Thinky Pain,” Maron’s most
recent Netflix special, he describes
that technique as “grunting inco-
herently at the audience, giving
someone the finger, then crying in
a hotel room.”

“Previous to the era that we’re

living now, I really couldn’t sell
tickets so I would do club dates. As
an unknown headliner there’s no
reason for clubs to book you unless
they believe in you, and I burned
a lot of bridges,” he said. “People
didn’t really give a shit about me
... so my experience for all those
years previous to the podcast and
the TV show, I was always a pretty
respected comic, but I just didn’t
have the draw.”

Broke and unable to book

shows, and with little to no career
prospects, Maron bottomed out.
As he struggled to achieve the
success he initially found as a
stand-up, he saw an opportunity
in trying to talk about his prob-
lems with other comics. The most
intimate and economical format
for this became a pre-recorded
podcast that eventually grew into
what is now considered one of the
greatest podcasts of all time.

“You have to enjoy the pro-

cess,” Maron said. “All that con-
fidence that I didn’t have through
most of my life, the self-esteem I
didn’t have through most of my
life was now actually occurring.”

The podcast’s success gave

Maron’s career second wind, as
did a more tempered and con-
versational tone in his standup.
“Maron,” his television show on
IFC, recently finished filming
its third season, which will pre-
miere this spring. As he continued
maintaining his sobriety, “WTF”
served as ongoing therapy with a
network of peers, many of whom
Maron had known since his start
30 years ago. In what is arguably
the podcast’s best episode, Maron
spends nearly two hours talking
and eventually making amends
with Louis C.K., with whom he
had a falling out as their careers
took opposite trajectories.

“I saw the podcast as a commu-

nity service for a community of
comics. These are my peers, this
is my life, this is my community,
this is my neighborhood,” Maron
said. “The fact that comics were
coming in and talking and ... were
listening and catching up with
other comics they hadn’t talked to
in a while. It was very gratifying.”

Since the resurgence of his

career,
Maron’s
approach
to

stand-up
has
become
more

methodical. Rather than just
showing up on stage and bitterly
screaming at audience members,
Maron’s recent approach to per-
formance has mellowed out. He
spends the months leading up to
tours writing and workshopping
material at local Los Angeles ven-
ues, then chiseling it into shape
on the road. The most discernible
characteristic of his work, which
will likely be apparent in Satur-
day’s show at Royal Oak, is open-
ness with a sense of control.

As for what’s next, Maron

doesn’t want to get stuck trying
to understand where his career
will guide him.

“I would like to figure out how

to enjoy life,” said Maron. “That’s
my goal.”

Marc
Maron
@ Royal
Oak Music
Theatre

Sat., April 18

$50

EVENT PREVIEW
Men’s Glee performs

By GRACE HAMILTON

Daily Arts Writer

Have you ever had a moment

when you’re singing in the car
with your friends (or maybe it’s the
living
room),

and
things

come together
for a second?

“That

sounded good,”
someone says.
You agree, and
perhaps
dis-

cuss how you
wish you were
singers.

Maybe this

analogy doesn’t work for you.
Maybe you just really enjoyed
“Glee.” For some reason, you found
the stylized group renditions pref-
erable to their superior originals.

If this doesn’t resonate either,

maybe it’s because you’ve been
lucky enough to understand the
unique pleasure and pull of a group
of voices in person, at a concert or,
in my case, to my parents’ driving
music.

Finally, if you are in the group to

whom the beauty of choral harmo-
ny is unfamiliar entirely, then an
introductory opportunity awaits
you.

“Choral music has the ability to

tap into folk music from every cul-
ture, because every culture sings
and has done so for thousands of
years,” said Eugene Rogers, Univer-
sity of Michigan Men’s Glee Club
director. “The ability to connect
our world, that’s what makes choir
singing unique.”

The Men’s Glee Club is 155 years

old, making it the oldest student-
run organization on campus and of
one of the oldest collegiate choirs
in the nation. The choir is made up
of 100 men, ranging from 17 to 27
years old.

Rogers, who studied choral

music education at the University
of Illinois and conducting at the
University of Michigan, has led the
Glee Club for four years now. In
this time, the choir has continued
to grow in musical excellence.

“This year has been an epic year

for us,” Rogers said. “We were just

selected through blind audition
to perform at the National Choral
Directors Association Conference
in Salt Lake City, Utah.”

The Glee Club is one of two col-

legiate choruses selected for this
honor. All 100 choristers will be
attending this six-day tour, entirely
free of charge, due to the club’s
extensive fundraising efforts and
alumni support.

LSA Senior, Patrick Pjesky, the

Glee Club’s current president, was
in Dr. Roger’s first graduating class.
Pjesky and Rogers work as a team,
with Rogers handling all matters
musical and Pjesky and the rest
of the board managing publicity,
alumni relations and other business
matters. Pjesky said his involve-
ment in the choir is what helped
him land a job working in develop-
ment.

“It’s a unique combination of

faculty and students together run-
ning this group. If it was just one or
the other, it wouldn’t be the same,”
Rogers said. “That’s what makes it
so strong. These guys are like my
brothers.”

Pjesky added, “It’s not uncom-

mon that I receive a call from DR
(Dr. Rogers) at 11:30 on Friday
night.”

Aside from the powerful cama-

raderie of the choir, the Glee Club
is a support base for students. Each
year, the Glee Club gives away over
$30,000 in scholarships, made pos-
sible by the continuous involvement
of over 2,500 living alumni. Choris-
ter needs from travel expenses to
tuxedo costs are covered. The choir
has always been strong in providing
its students with support, financial
and otherwise.

“Leadership and social out-

reach have always been very
strong within the Glee Club. Our
goal is maintaining student leader-
ship and engagement as well as the
highest level of musical excellence
possible,” Rogers said. “To push
our musical excellence, achieving
national recognition was huge, as
well as exploring as many differ-
ent types of male choral singing as
possible.”

Constructing a diverse and

meaningful repertoire is chal-
lenging. Rogers tends to organize

repertoires around certain broad
themes that can be applied to
many occasions. This year’s theme
is “homeland.”

“We focus on pieces that deal

with distant and foreign lands, as
well as the heart,” he said. “The
word is being used in both a spe-
cific and a very general sense.”

With an entire fund dedicated

to commissioning new pieces, the
choir is constantly adding new
music. At this year’s spring con-
cert, the men will premiere two
new pieces.

“One piece by a former Univer-

sity of Illinois professor is set to a
David Woodsworth text. It con-
nects to the land idea by exploring
the contradictory way in which we
appreciate so many things around
us, yet forget the very essence of
beauty in nature,” Rogers said.

Another piece is written by a

Detroit native, Brandon Waddles.
This gospel-inspired piece, “Come
and Go to that Land,” is dedicated
to Detroit Public Schools and their
long tradition of musical excel-
lence.

The wide contrast between the

two pieces is typical of one of the
choir’s concerts.

This Saturday, the University’s

Men’s Glee Club will also be joined
by the men’s glee club from the
University of Miami Ohio. The two
groups together will total to about
180 performers.

“It’s not common to have this

many men singing at such a high
level,” Rogers noted.

In addition to friends, fam-

ily, administrative regulars and
Ann Arbor fans, the Glee Club is
looking to expand its audience,
and Pjesky is helping to lead this
mission.

“I am convinced that choral

music is the way to bring this
world together,” a Persian audi-
ence member said to Rogers after
hearing his chorus sing Persian
music.

Singing together creates soli-

darity. Music breaks barriers.
The audience becomes a part of
the sound and the sound a part of
everything else. So, unplug your
headphones and plug in to some-
thing special.

MUSIC NOTEBOOK
Kendrick’s ‘i’ power

Men’s Glee
Club 155th
Spring Hill
Concert

8 p.m.

Hill Auditorium

$5 for students

By CLAIRE WOOD

Daily Arts Writer

The other day, I had a friend tell

me hip hop was deep. I laughed
— the hip-hop jams I had heard
up until that point had dwelled in
the shallower parts of the puddle.
I mean, yeah, I’ll dance to the stuff
(the bass is popping, quite frankly).
But am I beckoned by some hidden
form of intellectual insight? Mm,
nope.

You can’t blame me — my hip-

hop listenings are, quite honestly,
few and far between. Neither
Lil Wayne’s “she lick me like a
lollipop” or Sage the Gemini’s
“wiggle like you trying to make
your ass fall off” leave much to
think about. That was hip hop for
me: “pussy on my mind” and “ganja
in my sweat glands.” Pumping,
thumping, sensual and shallow.

And then I heard Kendrick

Lamar.

The first song I listened to from

To Pimp a Butterfly was “i.” It
starts off with a magical texture
— light guitar over intricate
rhythms. “I done been through a
whole lot,” Lamar dives in. “Trials,
tribulations, but I know God.” The
words are genuine, spoken with

hope for the future. Electric guitar
wails out over the mix; I feel it
deep inside me, happy and free.

“And I love myself.”
Intricate
rhythms
leap
as

the chorus unfolds. The song is
rapping, tapping in my ear drums
with an irrevocable fervency that
shakes in your bones.

“I love myself.”
Lamar
speaks
again,
and

I breathe in the words. It’s a
contagious sense of movement, of
vitality.

“I love myself.”
Lamar declares a third time.

It’s drums, guitar, and confident,
absolute self-acceptance — and it’s
beautiful.

But
beneath
the

lightheartedness,
I
hear

something else. “Life is more than
suicide,” the rapper spits in the
chorus. The guitar and tapping
percussion continue. “The world is
a ghetto with big guns and picket
signs,” Lamar raps. It floats out of
smiling rhythms and strums, and
I hear it: pain. Pure and brazen,
lifting out of a chorus of happiness
and hope. I hear lines of torment,
woven into the words like scarlet
thread in a tapestry. “It’s a war
outside, bomb in the street, gun in

the hood, mob of police,” Lamar
persists. The electric guitar wails
out once more, but the strings
scream no longer in joy, but in
anguish. It’s Lamar’s world — the
land of big guns, picket signs, gang
violence and suicide. It goes on and
on, the pain in this song, masked in
a spinning melody of acceptance
and aspiration.

It’s “i” that disproved my

belief that hip hop was strictly
shallow, lollipop-licking music.
Yes, some songs embody this
style (the frat party-esque songs
of Lil Wayne and B.o.B.). But in
“i,” Lamar makes a statement.
It’s a sharp juxtaposition that
embodies the artist’s point —
the piercing starkness of harsh
brutality against unadulterated
self-love. Lamar’s is a message of
optimism in the midst of struggle.
We must love ourselves despite
those that stand in our way. We
can’t let others bring us down.
It is a message of strength and
confidence, one that opened my
eyes to a world of hip-hop unlike
the shallow verses I had known
before. In the words of Lamar,
“The sky can fall down, the wind
can cry now, The strong in me — I
still smile.”

COMMUNITY CULTURE NOTEBOOK
Four lessons for the
first- time director

By REBECCA GODWIN

Daily Arts Writer

For almost six weeks in

February and March, I did
something I never saw myself
doing. I directed a play. But
it wasn’t just any play; it was
<em>my play</em>. Over the
past year, I wrote, rewrote,
edited and finally finished my
full-length comedy, “Once Upon
A … Oh Crap.” When I began
the directing process, I had
absolutely no experience and no
idea what to expect. And now
that I’ve finished, I want to share
some of the things I learned. So
here goes.

First:
You’ll be tired — perpetually

tired. And this won’t necessarily
be from a lack of sleep, though
that will certainly play a part.
No, this exhaustion will come
from trying to keep track of every
component of the production.
It’ll get to the point where you
forget what it feels like to be well
rested. And then one day, you’ll
turn off your alarm in your sleep
and wake up at 3:30 p.m. and
wonder what happened and how
you lost control of your life.

Second:
Almost all of your time will

be dedicated to the show. Even
when you’re not specifically
working on the show, you’ll

be thinking about the show
— thinking about what props
still need to be purchased or
collected,
what
scenes
you

need to go over in rehearsal or
what costume pieces need to
be made. And when your time
isn’t consumed by the show,
you’ll be spending it catching
up on homework and projects
and class. You won’t realize how
much time you’ve given to the
show until you’re at a party and
a song comes on that everyone
but you seems to know, and then
you’ll go off to reflect on your life
choices.

Third:
You are nothing without a

good production team. Seriously.
I can’t stress this any more. These
are the people you’ll be working
with the most, so it’s absolutely
vital you all get along. I know
that my show wouldn’t have been
nearly as good as it was without
those amazing people, so make
absolutely sure you can stand
being around your production
team. If you don’t have the right
team, what should be a fun and
exciting challenge will just be a
challenge. And then you’ll end up
hating them and then you’ll hate
yourself for picking them, and
that’s just messy.

Last:
No matter how tired you

get or how behind you are

on homework, nothing is as
rewarding as seeing your hard
work pay off on opening night.
When all of the pieces fall into
place, and you hear the audience
laugh and applaud, everything

every
late
night,
every

frustration, every moment when
you felt completely exhausted
and hated — will be forgotten
and it will all be worth it. There
are few moments that compare to
seeing your words brought to life.
As cliché as it sounds, I wouldn’t
hesitate to put myself through
everything again just for that
moment.

So yes, my grades slipped a

little and OK, I’ve fallen behind
on pop culture and have no clue
what’s happening on most TV
shows (who knows what Olivia
Pope is up to), and sure I’m still
trying to retrain my body so I
can go to bed before 3 a.m. every
night, but all of these things pale
in comparison to what I pulled
off. I took my own play, directed
it and, with the help of a group
of incredibly talented people,
staged it in just five weeks.
And everything I lost during
the directing process means
absolutely nothing when I think
about what I won. Now reread
these lessons, pull out your
laptop, face that blank screen
and think about what you might
win.

COURTESY OF MARC MARON

Clearing his porn history.

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