The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
the b-side
 
 
 
 
 Thursday, March 9, 2017 — 5B

COURTESY OF CANTERBURY HOUSE

A Night For Us: Love & 
activism at Canterbury

Ann Arbor’s own Canterbury House fashions itself as an 
earnest refuge and community for University music students

There’s a small episcopal 

church that resides on East 
Huron Street that few remark 
upon when passing it. It goes 
unnoticed for the most part, 
its plain demeanor disguising 
itself within the rows and rows 
of college residences. But this 
church, strangely enough, has 
a been a home for generations 
of students passing through the 
University of Michigan, where 
jazz 
students 
and 
regional 

bands alike have gathered to 
perform, celebrate, study and — 
most importantly — eat.

Canterbury House has seen 

the likes of Neil Young and Janis 
Joplin grace its interior since 
its inception over fifty years 
ago, and today features musical 
series 
highlighting 
artists 

from 
within 
the 
university 

and 
beyond. 
But 
according 

to School of Music, Theatre 
& Dance sophomore Alexis 
Lombre, something was still 

missing from Canterbury and 
from the University as a whole 
at the beginning of the year: 
community. A community for 
artists of color and a community 
to break down the academic 
barriers of SMTD — this is what 
Lombre strived to create, and 
what she has only started to this 
year.

“Each program within the 

school is kind of segregated; 
actors hang with actors; jazz 
musicians hang with the jazz 
musicians; vocalists spend time 
with vocalists,” Lombre said in 
a phone interview. “I wanted 
a space where we could bring 
everyone together; you could 
throw some creative writers in 
there, just have some people of 
color who just like the arts, and 
have a community.”

But to create this community, 

she had to start somewhere. 
After 
the 
chaplain 
of 
the 

episcopal center offered up 
the space to Lombre this past 
fall, she took advantage of it 
and put on the first “A Night 
for Us: Colorful Soul.” For the 
first 
two 
months, 
however, 

participation 
was 
sparse. 

She paid for expenses out of 
pocket and negotiated student 
performances through her own 
means.

And then it took off. Come 

November, 
participation 

doubled and from the Lombre’s 
desire for a community for 
artists of color at the University 
sprang the group Artists of 
Color in Ann Arbor. Both a way 
to receive money and bolster the 
impact of the series, this group 
has only begun to foster the 

much needed support network 
between artists of color at 
the University, a community 
Lombre found noticeably absent 
her freshman year.

“It’s a different type of 

attitude that I’d like to see here in 
Ann Arbor, a place where people 
really have a place for artists of 
color to hangout and for people 
of color to just be themselves,” 
Lombre said. “Because there 
are a lot of initiatives that are 
kind of … stocky. There’s a room 
with lighting that’s awkward 
because it still feels like I’m in 
school, and nobody wants that. 
Nobody actually wants to hang 
out at school. You want to go out 
somewhere.”

But the music is only one part 

of the soul. The food is the other, 
vital part.

“That’s why we always have 

soul food there; soul food 
just brings a different type of 
attitude instead of having plates 
of cheese and crackers and 
shrimp cocktails,” she said.

It’s 
this 
transformation 

from stocky to soulful, tense 
to chill that creates the unique 
atmosphere 
of 
Lombre’s 

series. Community, especially 
a welcoming one, invites a 
kind 
of 
electric 
relaxation 

between friends and strangers 
alike. 
Which 
is 
Lombre’s 

goal ultimately — to foster an 
environment 
that 
supports 

artists and people of color 
through music, food and groove.

“I think this event is a very 

organic and authentic way for 
people who haven’t experienced 
culture of people of color to 
really experience it within their 
own comfort zone,” Lombre 
continued.

And in its most fundamental 

sense, 
Lombre’s 
series 

champions 
simultaneous 

activism and celebration. It is 
meant to inspire and facilitate 
a molding of divisions on our 
campus and others. Because 
even though this event is young, 
a sprouting bud among the 
many campaigns and initiatives 
to arise on campus since the 
election, it is also boundless 
with Lombre at its stern.

“I am not the type of person 

who wants to keep anything 
small,” Lombre said. “I’m a 
dreamer, and I would love to see 
it grow. Eventually one of my 
dreams is to have it as a campus 
college tour where different 
campuses get ‘A Night for Us.’”

It’s an ambitious plan, but 

one with potential. Campus has 
its divisions, as do many others, 
but this community is one step 
in the right direction towards 
healing them. While her vision 
for this community is one rooted 
in celebration and support for 
artists and people of color on 
campus, it is also meant to heal.

“The way I want to bring the 

political (divisions) together is 
not in a harsh, protesting type 
of way because there’s a lot of 
people doing that. My way is to 
basically invite everyone into 
your home and treat them really 
well to help them realize that 
people of color are welcoming,” 
Lombre added. “We should just 
care about each other, and that 
will change things.”

And 
Lombre, 
along 
with 

her fellow students helping to 

grow the community, is caring. 
Artists of Color in Ann Arbor 
— the organization that both 
sprung from this series and 
allows it to subsist — has grown 
since its inception in November. 
Partnering with the art and 
social 
justice 
organization 

Redefine, areas of Greek Life 
and several other organizations, 
ACAA supports the series, but 
the series is only the beginning.

“At the bare minimum, at the 

least by the time I graduate, 
folks of color and artists of color 
will know that they have a home 
at the University of Michigan. 
That’s the bare minimum,” 
Lombre said.

But the bare minimum is just 

that — bare. A community and 
a series like this has room to 
grow and the power to actively 
change the social climate on 
campus, a climate born more 
from fear of the unfamiliar than 
from anything else. Because, as 

Lombre explained, the idea for 
this series was born from anger 
and frustration. But this anger 
and 
negativity 
transformed 

itself 
into 
a 
positive, 
life-

affirming event.

So consider this a call for art 

as well as a call for community. 
To the creators, the artists, 
the 
people 
of 
color 
who 

have something to proclaim 
and 
proclaim 
proudly, 
this 

community is here for you.

“I’m 
open 
to 
musicians, 

I’m open to a group of actors 
who want to do monologues,” 
Lombre said. “I’m open to poets, 
spoken word people. I’m open to 
any type of art — producers, if 
you want to do a DJ set, I don’t 
care. Anybody.”

The next “A Night for Us: 

Colorful Soul” will be taking 
place 
Thursday, 
March 
30 

from 7 to 10 p.m. at Canterbury 
House, located at 721 E Huron 
Street. Come for the music, stay 
for the mac ‘n’ cheese and peach 
cobbler. It’s a place to celebrate, 
groove and to meet people and 
hear stories that are worthy of 
our unworthy ears.

NATALIE ZAK

Managing Arts Editor

PWR BTTM, Against Me! 
& more fight for LGBT art

Created by and starring two Detroit natives, Comedy Central’s 
newest sitcom puts the Motor City on display in all its comedic glory

Music, above all other forms 

of art, has a uniquely communal 
quality to its consumption. 
In its innate ability to bring 
communities together, music 
is a powerful force of social 
cohesion, naturally bringing 
rise to activism in the artists 
and fans alike.

From anti-fascism in early 

punk to powerful racial themes 
in hip-hop, music has long been 
one of the most socially active 

forms of art. Lately, there’s 
been 
a 
prominent 
increase 

in LGBT activism in today’s 
popular music scene.

Across multiple genres, the 

LGBT community has received 
increased 
representation 
in 

today’s musicians: Prominent 
LGBT artists include Against 
Me! frontwoman Laura Jane 
Grace, 
who 
has 
become 

a 
powerful 
transgender 

figurehead in punk rock, PWR 
BTTM, with their raw, catchy 
lyricism and unabashedly queer 
aesthetic and Julien Baker 
reconciling her identity with 
her upbringing in Memphis.

This 
outspoken 
support 

for the LGBT community is 
largely provided by smaller, 
indie artists — those with the 
dedicated community of fans 
who supply the means of making 
real change at the ground level. 
With their rise in popularity, 
PWR BTTM in particular has 
begun to bring together the 
LGBT 
and 
ally 
community 

alike, writing music through an 
LGBT lens that can be enjoyed 
by people of many different 
identities. It’s an incredibly 
humanizing 
experience 
to 

watch the queerness of an artist 
develop increasing recognition 
and 
influence 
on 
music’s 

mainstream.

Recently, 
PWR 
BTTM 

dropped the first two singles 
from their forthcoming record 
Pageant, the first of which — 
 

bright, pop-y “Big Beautiful 
Day” — addresses the people 
whose judgment of others is 
(obviously) unmerited. On the 
chorus, the band sings, “Curse 
every one of you who tells me 
that I cannot be who I want / 
Ain’t no fucking way you’ll fuck 
up my big beautiful day” — a 

line so infectiously defiant I 
grinned to myself the first time 
I heard it.

PWR BTTM has even been 

directly combating homophobia 
on tour. Barely a week after 
the presidential election, anti-
LGBT protesters picketed their 
show in Jackson, Mississippi 
— to which Ben Hopkins, one 
half of the duo, tweeted, “this is 
happening at the show tn. I am 
completely unafraid; I am sad 
for them,” and included a photo 
of himself giving the group 
a middle finger. The band’s 
courageous representation of 
their own identities continues 
to permeate the attitudes of 
their fans, placing themselves at 
the forefront of LGBT activism 
in music today.

On a tour last year, Modern 

Baseball 
— 
consisting 

entirely 
of 
straight 
white 

men — released a statement 
adressing their demand that 
every venue they play supply 
gender 
inclusive 
restrooms 

and included a hotline for fans 
to call to report incidences of 
harassment or discrimination 
at the shows, a safety net for 
fans originally implemented by 
Speedy Ortiz to wide acclaim. 
Now, more than ever, artists 
are showing their dedication 
to combating the increasing 
likelihood that those within 
the LGBT community will face 
very real repression in today’s 

America, and Modern Baseball 
is setting the example for allies 
showing their support.

Laura Jane Grace has been 

shattering social barriers since 
the inception of Against Me! 
in the ’90s with its progressive 
anarcho-punk themes. Coming 
out as transgender in 2012, Grace 
continues to shatter barriers 
for the LGBT community. With 
2014’s Transgender Dysphoria 

Blues, arguably one of the most 
important activist records in 
recent memory, she gave the 
world an emotional glimpse at 
being a transgender musician. 
Expanding on her story, she 
also 
released 
her 
stunning 

memoir “Tranny” last year, 
detailing her early experiences 
with gender dysphoria and 
the struggles that come with 
it. In spiteful backlash of the 
transphobic Public Facilities 
Privacy 
and 
Security 
Act 

passed 
in 
North 
Carolina, 

Grace gleefully lit her birth 
certificate (containing her birth 
name “Tom Gables”) on fire 

during their show in the state. 
The band also donated show 
proceeds to LGBT charities, 
which many other artists such 
as Father John Misty and La 
Dispute did in early 2016 for 
their performances in the state.

This past December I saw 

Kevin Devine and the Goddamn 
Band perform with Pinegrove 
and 
Petal, 
who 
announced 

that they would be collecting 
donations for the Ruth Ellis 
Center, a home for LGBT youth 
in Detroit. Accepting anything 
from cash to clothes, the artists 
used their voice and power to 
bring like-minded individuals 
into one space in order to 
bring about real, local change. 
Mid set, addressing America’s 
changing post-election social 
state, queer artist Petal stated: 
“Keep being yourself because 
existing is a form of resistance,” 
to eruptive applause. It’s these 
strong, empowering statements 
and 
actions 
from 
artists, 

whether their music is queer-
tinted or not, that continues 
the positive changes in social 
attitudes within and toward the 
LGBT community.

Music, at its core, is an art 

form that embodies emotional 
expression. 
When 
these 

emotions are used to make a 
change, 
impressively 
potent 

activism is formed. At the roots 
of popular music, devoted fan 
bases are rising up and coming 
together to implement this 
positive change, creating spaces 
at shows that are safe for people 
of all identities to come and 
enjoy the art that emboldens 
them to be themselves. Music 
is becoming an outlet for LGBT 
artists and fans to express and 
exist, and it’s a force that shows 
no signs of stopping.

FATHER/DAUGHTER RECORDS

DOMINIC POLSINELLI

Daily Arts Writer

Music, above all 
other forms of art, 

has a uniquely 

communal quality 
to its consumption

Music is 

becoming an 

outlet for LGBT 
artists and fans to 
express and exist

“It’s a different 
type of attitude 
that I’d like to 
see here in Ann 
Arbor, a place 
where people 
really have a 

place for artists of 
color to hangout 
and for people of 
color to just be 
themselves”

Canterbury House 
has seen the likes 
of Neil Young and 
Janis Joplin grace 

its interior

It’s these strong, 

empowering 

statements and 

actions from 
artiststhat 

continues the 

positive changes 
in social attitudes 

within and 

toward the LGBT 

community

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