The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
b-side
Thursday, February 1, 2018 — 5B
ARTIST
PROFILE
IN
While
it’s
pretty
much
impossible
to
talk
about
collegiate a cappella without
at
least
some
mention
of
2012’s “Pitch Perfect” and the
subsequent series that ensued,
real-world competitive a cappella
requires hours of meticulous
rehearsal and thought — not just
a miraculous cut from one scene
to the next. The competition
featured in “Pitch Perfect” — The
International Championship of
Collegiate A Cappella (ICCA) —
was first founded in 1996, and
currently has around 450 groups
competing in nine regions all
over the country. The ICCA
operates in a bracket-style setup,
with competitors progressing
through
quarterfinals,
semifinals and finals.
What
can
you
do
in
a
12-minute performance? In a
trend that’s gradually growing
in the a cappella sphere, South
Asian inspired campus group
Maize
Mirchi
goes
further
than mere coordinated dance
moves; they tell stories. Mirchi’s
South Asian twist takes shape in
their performances through a
repertoire of several languages
— including, but not limited to,
Hindi. Their overarching goal is
to fuse South Asian culture with
pop music, creating a new style
of sounds that people may not
have heard before. Onstage, the
15-person group harnesses the
delicately blended magic of their
voices along with expressive
face and body motions for truly
chilling, magnetic performances.
“When you’ve got 16 people
on a stage doing them all at the
same time and trying to show
the audience a specific emotion
or a specific part of a story that’s
occurring, then it has a pretty big
impact,” said LSA Sophomore
Swathi Sampath, one of Mirchi’s
performance directors, in an
interview with The Daily.
The
group’s
most
recent
performance storyline from last
year’s competition cycle — which,
for Mirchi, meant competing not
only at the ICCAs but also at
Awaazein (a competition similar
to the ICCAs, except half of the
12 minute performance must be
South Asian, and performers
must portray a story) — conveyed
two separate stories of two
characters, one who was facing
inner demons and one dealing
with outer conflict from an
abusive relationship. However,
the narratives in each set change
depending
on
what
songs
Mirchi decides on and what the
members feel come out of the
music.
Sampath is responsible for
everything,
from
figuring
out what to wear to events to
choreographing the 12-minute
set — including the movements,
facial expressions and emotions
the
group
conveys
during
performances. Her experience
with music goes back 13 years,
when she was five years old and
first started singing the Indian
classical genre.
“I came here and knew I
wanted to try a cappella as a
different type of music that I
hadn’t done before,” Sampath
said. “I’m really into Indian
music, since that’s a lot of my
background, but also Western
music as well, and when I found
a group that did both of them
together I realized that was the
only one I really wanted to do.”
Mirchi’s members come from
all different experience levels.
Engineering Sophomore Prakash
Kumar, one of the group’s music
directors, had plenty of classical
training in piano and trumpet,
but only really started singing
his senior year of high school.
“In high school, I started
a band,” Kumar said. “We
performed at our high school
talent show, and we ended up
winning by playing sort of a
mashup of songs by Coldplay
— that was the first time I’d
actually sang in front of people
in my life. I was terrified. But
it went well! And so I was like,
‘Hey, I can maybe sing!’”
Since the group first formed
11 years ago, Maize Mirchi has
released two full studio albums
and two EPs. Silent Call, the
group’s most recent release, was
actually recorded in a member’s
basement with the help of
Liquid 5th — a North Carolina-
based
production
company
that specializes in a range of
services for a cappella singing,
including
producing
albums,
mastering tracks, running live
performances or merely giving
constructive
criticism
for
a
group.
“What we do is set up these
mics and we have an air horn
and we have to make everything
super quiet. If there are any birds
outside, we take the air horn
and scare them away because
otherwise, you’ll hear the birds
in the recording,” Kumar said.
Recording is a seemingly
straightforward
process,
but
a cappella recording is far
more complex than it lets on.
Unlike
choral
recordings,
a
cappella recordings must be
done individually, and usually
more than once so that there’s
a backup of every part. What’s
more, mixing a cappella requires
both precision and balance,
due to the natural variations of
voices and how different vocal
parts go together. If not blended
perfectly, the piece won’t sound
right.
“You have a bass and you
have
someone
doing
vocal
percussion, and those things will
be equalized differently than the
rest of the group, so you need
to have those on their separate
mics,” Kumar said. “And then
sometimes you’ll have these
weird moving parts in a song or
an arrangement that you’ll want
to bring out more — if you have
just one mic sitting there, you
can’t say ‘Bring out the altos!’
because they’re in the mix,
they’re in the whole song.”
Liquid 5th’s clients are often
award-winning
groups,
and
Maize Mirchi is no exception.
The group won last year’s ICCA
quarterfinals and ended up
competing
at
semifinals
in
Chicago.
This
year,
Mirchi
isn’t
competing
at
the
ICCA
because they’ll be hosting the
competition on Feb. 10th at the
Power Center. However, they
are still training to compete in
Awaazein and currently hold
three two-hour long rehearsals
per week.
“Closer to competition, we
increase that, and sometimes
we
even
have
a
rehearsal
that lasts forever until we
feel satisfied. It’s named the
‘Infinity’
rehearsal,
and
it
usually happens closer to the
actual day where we need to
be performing it,” Kumar said.
“It’s hard because you have to
remember not only your notes
but also your choreography and
to sing well while you’re doing
it, which is a lot harder because
you have to breathe.”
Maize Mirchi is one of 16
a cappella groups affiliated
with the Michigan A Cappella
Council,
which,
according
to their website, means that
the University is home to the
largest a cappella community
in the entire country. But as the
University’s only South Asian
themed group, Maize Mirchi is
faced with a unique challenge
when it comes to fitting into the
University’s greater culture.
“It’s always been a problem
for us, actually, because as a
group that is a South Asian
inspired a cappella group that
actually does a lot of other
stuff, it’s kind of hard to find an
audience that is into all of that,
that we do,” Kumar said. “For
us, we really fit in by going to a
lot of cultural gigs, but we also
get to perform on stages like
the ICCAs, and as of late we’ve
been doing well enough to be
recognized by at least the other
a cappella groups on campus.”
In the end, what Mirchi’s
members love most is the
harmony that grows out of time,
effort and a shared appreciation
for the art.
“It’s great to be surrounded
by people who share the same
passion for creating the type
of music you want to create,
and with Mirchi’s specialty —
which I think is the emotional
connection to what we do — it
becomes a lot of fun,” Sampath
said. “It’s just something you do
because you love it and you love
the people you’re doing it with.”
SAM LU
Daily Arts Writer
Artist Profile: A capella
Maize Mirchi storytells
Here’s a piping hot take: British
sitcoms are funnier and far more
refined than American sitcoms.
Just hear me out.
It’s not that I don’t like American
sitcoms — some of my favorite
TV shows include “Parks &
Recreation,” “30 Rock,” “Scrubs,”
“Broad
City”
and
currently,
“The Good Place.” But ever since
freshman year of college, I have
found myself gravitating more
toward watching contemporary
British sitcoms. There’s something
about British humor that I find
much
more
appealing,
more
refreshing
and
more
soul-
crushingly real than the average
American TV comedy. That may
seem a bit hyperbolic, but British
sitcoms — with their lovable yet
wildly chaotic characters, brisk
pacing, progressive themes and
heartwarming humor — are still
worthy of merit, especially in
this age of binge-watching and
streaming services.
Earlier this semester, I spent a
good deal talking about “Lovesick,”
the sharp, tantalizing rom-com
from the mind of writer/producer
Tom Edge (“The Crown”) that
reads as a British hybrid of “How
I Met Your Mother,” “Friends” and
“You’re The Worst.” Rather than
simply borrowing the themes and
the energetic, youthful casts from
each of those shows, “Lovesick”
does something entirely different;
it
transcends
classic
sitcom
tropes by taking major dramatic
risks. Each episode pokes fun
at the characters, but does so
without
sacrificing
the
more
human complexities underlying
their motivations and actions.
“Lovesick” isn’t just a story about
a single hopeless romantic; it’s a
multifaceted tale of every young
person’s fear of rejection and
commitment. “Lovesick” trusts its
audience enough to neatly balance
comedy with drama, which is why
it primarily succeeds better than
American sitcoms and even other
British sitcoms ever could. It’s
also just a breezy watch — the first
season contains six episodes and
the second and third contain eight.
British sitcoms also benefit from
the versatility and autonomy of
their creators. Three shows that
come to mind are “Crashing,”
“Fleabag” and “Chewing Gum.”
The first two were created, written
by and star Phoebe Waller-Bridge
(“Goodbye Christopher Robin”),
who won the 2017 BAFTA for
Best Female Performance in a
Comedy for “Fleabag.” The latter
was created, written by and stars
Michaela Coel (“Black Mirror”),
who
won
the
2016
BAFTA
Breakthrough Talent award for
her work on “Chewing Gum.” Each
of these shows, while varying in
aesthetic and tone, share a singular
style of devilishly ribald humor.
“Crashing,” in particular, has
a kooky concept: It follows the
lives of six working-class friends,
led by Waller-Bridge herself as
the infectious Lucy, living in an
abandoned hospital that poses as
a sort of makeshift co-op. In just
six hysterical half-hour episodes,
Waller-Bridge
breaks
down
every possible sitcom trope — the
awkwardness of dinner parties,
the tensions between friendships
and
sexual
relationships,
the
endless existential dread of being
in your 20s — with keen, almost
effortless efficiency.
Waller-Bridge
continues
to
expand upon traditional sitcom
setups in her much darker and
bolder follow-up “Fleabag,” where
she plays a nameless Londonite
attempting to navigate her life
after the death of her best friend.
Though each episode shows her
breaking the fourth wall — a
typical framing device used in
TV comedies like “The Office” —
Waller-Bridge skillfully uses her
character’s interactions with the
audience as a defense mechanism
for the secrets she hides from those
around her. It definitely works in
eliciting laughs, but it plays just as
effectively when heightening the
drama of a scene.
Much like “Fleabag,” “Chewing
Gum” incorporates a fourth-wall-
breaking structure, but to a much
more absurd degree. A friend of
mine once described this show
as a cross between “Jane the
Virgin,”
“Crazy
Ex-Girlfriend”
and “Insecure,” which, to be fair,
isn’t completely wrong. The show
tells the story of Tracey (Coel), a
horny, Beyoncé-obsessed 24-year-
old virgin residing with her uber-
religious mother in the low-income
neighborhood of Tower Hamlets,
London. As an exercise in cringe
comedy, “Chewing Gum” (mostly)
works: The characters are wacky
but not totally insufferable, the
dialogue is raunchy but not too
gross and the visual gags, most
of which revolve around sex,
are, well, not very sexy, but still
entertain.
What differentiates “Chewing
Gum” from other sitcoms, however,
is the strong personal voice behind
Coel’s writing and characters.
Her subtle social commentary
about religion, sex, money and
young adulthood feels earned in
the way Coel transposes them in
an obscene, albeit unabashedly
personal, setting. It’s no wonder,
then, that “Chewing Gum” is
based on a semi-autobiographical
play Coel wrote in 2012, which
inevitably helped give an elasticity
to the show’s comedic flair.
Sure, British sitcoms may not
appeal to everyone in the States
(or elsewhere, for that matter).
The stuffiness of the dialogue
and the characters may come
off as too esoteric for some —
even The Guardian writer Ben
Elton thinks snobbery and “lazy
contempt” are killing the British
sitcom. British sitcoms also have
a known history of perpetuating
xenophobic and racist humor
(though American sitcoms have
been guilty of reinforcing harmful
stereotypes as well). But it is worth
noting the value British sitcoms
add to the overall scope of modern
international entertainment and
comedic storytelling.
British sitcoms need love
SAM ROSENBERG
Senior Arts Editor
Nestled behind a Lucky’s
grocery store and a Walgreens in
an unassuming strip mall in my
hometown of Fremont, CA was
a movie theater called Naz 8.
However, this wasn’t your typical
shining, flashy Century or AMC.
Instead of the scent of buttered
popcorn, you’d be greeted with
(or rather, overwhelmed by) the
aroma of samosas, curry, spices
and similar items being sold
as concessions. The place was
poorly lit and grimy, the seats
were centuries old; at every
screening, you could guarantee
people would be talking or a
baby would be bawling.
Yet despite all its flaws,
hundreds, sometimes thousands,
of people — mostly Indian
immigrants like my family —
would flock to Naz 8 Cinemas
for a taste of home. Everyone,
from the recent arrivals hoping
to make it big in Silicon Valley
to
the
established,
newly
minted
American
citizens,
would marvel at the spectacles
of melodrama, song and dance
known as Bollywood films. We
would gasp at Salman Khan
breaking the laws of physics
and shed tears of laughter and
sadness as Amir Khan satirized
the education system. My mom
would shield my eyes with her
sweater in horror during a sex
scene, angrily cursing the fact
she believed the box office
attendant when he said, “Of
course you can watch it with
your 10-year-old.”
While in retrospect those
same movies seem ridiculously
corny and overwrought, I would
be lying if I said I wouldn’t see
them again any time you ask me
to. As shown in shows such as
“Master of None” and several
other works, it’s often difficult
for children of immigrants (such
as me) to relate to the society and
environment that our parents
grew up in. Although we grew up
eating Indian food, and some of
us speak Bengali, Hindi, Tamil
or some other Indian language
at home, the connection beyond
that with our family’s country
becomes tenuous.
It is beautiful to learn so
much about my family by simply
going to the movies. Even now,
and especially for a 10-year-old,
the simultaneously adrenaline-
fueled, romance-filled stories of
good and evil were solid sources
of
entertainment.
Yet
one
common element was that they
were not set in Middle Earth
or outer space, but actually in
India. Our parents could point
out the neighborhoods that were
similar to where they grew up,
the school uniforms they had to
wear and the foods they used to
eat off the street stalls. Parents
who were engineers could point
out elements of their college
experience in “3 Idiots.” They
could even take advantage of the
historical flicks such as “Jodha
Akbar” to teach us what they
learned in their history classes.
Through these tiny moments,
we could strengthen the bonds
between
ourselves
and
our
parents. We could understand
the world they came from as well
as the small societal differences
that end up causing friction
in the present-day. For me, it
gives a failsafe conversation
starter when I travel to meet
my relatives. Even if the person
I just met is my third cousin
once removed with a completely
different set of life experiences,
at least we have one thing in
common.
By knowing and watching the
same movies that my parents
watched before I was born,
and listening to the songs they
listened to, I can feel that much
closer to them. I also learned
that my habit of waxing (overly)
poetic about works that I love is
an inherited one.
Naz closed recently, ever since
many large American theaters
started playing Bollywood films
(except with better amenities
and
comfortable
seats).
Although I can’t say I miss Naz
and its general seediness, I can’t
deny that I always feel a tinge of
nostalgia whenever I reminisce
about it, as well as a feeling that,
ultimately, it impacted my life in
a profound way.
Bonding and Bollywood
SAYAN GHOSH
Daily Arts Writer
NETFLIX
MAIZE MIRCHI
What Mirchi’s
members love
most is the
harmony that
grows out of
time, effort
and a shared
appreciation for
the art