6A — Monday, January 28, 2019
Arts
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
There’s something special
about seeing a musician at
their top of their game. While
many musicians can perform
extraordinarily
difficult
music, few can do so with ease
and grace, making even the
most complex of passages seem
effortless.
At the André Mehmari Trio’s
concert this past Saturday at
the Kerrytown Concert House,
Mehmari
demonstrated
his
mastery of his instrument,
both
improvisationally
and
technically,
as
he
moved
flawlessly
between
styles
and
genres.
From
Afro-
Cuban influenced music to
stride
piano,
from
ballad
to
swing,
Mehmari
fired
off
quick
improvisational
passages and lengthy melodic
improvisations
without
blinking an eye — and this in
the first two songs alone.
Unfortunately, most foreign
jazz
artists
performing
in
America are frequently forced
to confront the prejudices held
against the music of their home
countries. They are forced
to adapt to our stereotypical
expectations, performing the
music we expect of artists from
their
homeland.
Mehmari,
his bassist Neymar Dias and
his drummer Sérgio Reze are
from Brazil. At this concert,
they
performed
the
music
of
Brazilian
artist
Milton
Nascimento from the 1972
album “Clube de Esquina.”
Yet, despite my expectations
for
primarily
Brazilian-
influenced music, the concert
drew from an eclectic range of
genres and styles. As described
in the program, this music
draws influences from “pop,
folk music, bossa nova, jazz
and
avant-garde
classical.”
It focuses not on stylistic
continuity
but
on
inter-
instrument dialogue and rapid
improvisation.
If Mehmari’s goal was to
transcend genres, he more
than succeeded. At one point,
for example, Dias switched
from bass to viola caipira (a
10-stringed Brazilian guitar).
In a rapidly evolving eight
minute
improvisation,
Dias
quoted
the
“Gigue”
from
Bach’s “Cello Suite No. 3”
and the Beatle’s “Norwegian
Wood.” While this disparate
assortment of musical subjects
may sound illogical, it came
across as the total opposite. It
was just the natural next step
in the ever-evolving, stream-
of-conscious
performance
style that the trio had adopted
for the evening.
At one point in between
two
numbers,
Mehmari
described the connection he
sees between Brazilian and
American
music.
We
live
quite close to each other, he
said, and yet “we don’t talk
that much.” Drawing on this
pan-American worldview, the
concert eventually seemed to
settle into two specific genres:
Brazilian jazz and mid-20th-
century American jazz trio
music.
Throughout
the
night,
Mehmari would throw brief
segments of stride piano into
his improvisational repertoire.
(Stride piano is the ragtime-
esque
piano
technique
common in early 20th-century
America.) For perhaps five
or ten seconds, he would
perform complex stride lines
before reverting to a more
neutral 21st-century piano trio
texture.
At another point, the trio
performed
a
traditional-
sounding ballad. Yet during the
solo section, the piece quickly
departed from the realm of the
ballad into a much more lively
realm, before returning back
to a simple ballad texture. My
expectations were constantly
challenged
throughout
the
night
as
the
trio
moved
between stylistic realms.
To this end, Reze’s frequent
changes
between
sticks,
brushes
and
mallets
was
refreshing.
Despite
having
a small drum kit in front of
him, Reze managed to evoke
many
different
textures.
I
also became fond of his active,
expressive style of playing, as
he moved his entire body to
match each drum stroke. In
one dramatic display, he moved
one hand in large circles over
his snare drum, not making
a sound yet still contributing
to the expressive effect of the
piece.
Dias’s bass playing was also
engaging, though perhaps in
the polar opposite manner:
Despite barely changing his
style of playing, he managed
to
communicate
the
many
different styles that the trio
would cover throughout the
night. If anything, I found
myself
wishing
that
Dias
would branch out a bit in his
playing. A walking bassline
might have been nice at a few
points, or perhaps longer and
more varied solos. But as a
background texture, Dias fit
well into the trio.
Overall, the concert was an
impressive amalgamation of
different styles and genres.
It was a captivating two-
hour improvisatory journey.
Though slightly disorienting in
the beginning, I found that by
the end I had learned to enjoy
the rapid switches. The music
was evolving rapidly, beyond
my control, and I was merely
along for the ride.
COMMUNITY CULTURE REVIEW
The Mehmari Trio proved
their massive talent, again
SAMMY SUSSMAN
Daily Arts Writer
In
Dec.
2017,
Kristen
Roupenian’s short story “Cat
Person” was published in the New
Yorker. Three days later, the story
was viral.
“Cat Person” polarized the
internet. The story was heralded
by many women and condemned
by many men — just read the
account on twitter named “Men
React to ‘Cat Person’,” with
over 6,000 followers. The story
explores the underlying gender
dynamics in modern relationships
through Margot, a college-aged
woman, and Robert, an older
man. Roupenian’s skin-crawling
description of Margot’s headspace
during
a
sexual
encounter
introduces
an
uncomfortable
discussion
around
a
woman’s
seemingly
“trivial”
experience, an experience that
happens to more women than not,
but often goes unacknowledged.
Roupenian trusts her readers
completely, allowing room to fill
in the blanks regarding characters
and setting. Perhaps this trust
is what created a legacy for “Cat
Person.” Roupenian’s characters
could be me, they could be you,
they could be anyone.
This
trust
carries
into
Roupenian’s collection of short
stories, “You Know You Want
This,” released on Jan. 15. Her
preoccupation with sex, gender
and
power
dynamics
persist
through
the
collection.
She
captures the use and misuse
of empathy, the thrusting of
desires on women and women’s
reclaiming of these desires as their
own. There is room for her stories
to resonate with any reader who
reaps the consequences of gender,
making the collection especially
profound
in
today’s
political
moment.
Roupenian
read
from
her
collection at Literati last Monday.
Every seat was filled and the
standing room claustrophobic —
some people stood behind her on
the steps to listen. “I live here,”
she laughed as she adjusted the
microphone, “this bookstore is
one of my favorite places in the
world.”
Roupenian read “Look at Your
Game Girl,” a story that she does
not publicly read often. It’s one of
her most personal stories, one that
is a little more autobiographical
than her others. Listening to the
story was anxiety-inducing in
the way it was supposed to be.
The story is intense in the most
subliminal way, encapsulating a
girl’s coming-of-age. She interacts
with an older, invasive man, who
holds something like admiration
for Charles Mason and the Family.
The man walks a fine line between
innocence and cause for concern
for the girl. We feel her resulting
confusion, her inability to trust
herself, her perpetual reasoning
and overthinking. Most of all, we
feel her realization that the world
is a scary place.
This realization resonates with
most women, especially in the
context of what Roupenian names
the “vague male threat.” In “Look
at Your Game Girl,” Roupenian
pinpoints the adolescent detection
of seeing danger where there is
none and not seeing danger when
there is some. She weaves the overt
observance and overthinking of
young girls into the same fabric
as their vulnerability. As a result,
the confusion of her character is
visceral.
Through hearing Roupenian
read, I was pulled back into my
adolescence. I was forced to face
the inexplicable paranoia and
fear that plagued me during my
coming-of-age. I was forced to
contemplate when those emotions
were misplaced and when they
should’ve been placed, but were
not. Did the old man at the gas
station smile at me because he was
friendly? Is this car going to follow
me home?
As she read, many nodded in
understanding. I was not alone.
The
experiences
Roupenian
encapsulates
are
things
unacknowledged but familiar, and
she confronts them head on.
COMMUNITY CULTURE REVIEW
On youth, with Roupenian
JENNA BARLAGE
Daily Arts Writer
I let out a soft, audible gasp
during The Story. I’m referring,
of course, not to the 2007 hit
off of Brandi Carlile’s album of
the same name, but to “Vlad the
Astrophysicist,” the picture book
that Peter Mulvey read aloud to the
audience during an intermission
toward the end of the night.
It felt fitting to be read a story
in the midst of a night like this,
the first night of the 42nd Ann
Arbor Festival. Folk music is
all about stories — especially in
the existential vein of “Vlad the
Astrophysicist,” a story about
examining the place of humanity
as a blip against the infinite
canvases of space and time. This
was the only picture book read
during the night, but Mulvey,
as the MC, bookended every set
with performances of his own
music. It was clear that it was
going to be a good night from the
beginning, with his earnest humor
and understated performance of
songs like “D.I.A.,” a song about
a morning spent leaving Gregory
Alan Isakov’s house in Colorado
that eclipses into Johnny Cash’s
“Wayfaring Stranger” at the end.
The first act Mulvey introduced
was The Michigan Rattlers, a folk-
rock band from Petoskey. The
Michigan
Rattlers
kickstarted
the night with an enthusiastic set
bolstered by the good-hearted
chemistry that no doubt comes
from being childhood friends.
Advocating for Michigan’s country
undercurrents, the band made
sure that the folk fest began on a
high note, delivering energy and a
shared feeling of fun.
Haley Heynderickx took over
next,
an
incredible
standout.
Mulvey
introduced
her
as
an
empathetic
storyteller,
an
assessment
that
her
modest,
charming stage presence only
confirmed.
She
spoke
softly
and sang with a striking and
room-resounding power. Every
song reaffirmed one of the most
important notions of the night,
one that would echo again and
again over the next few hours: The
idea that folk is an ever-changing
organism, buoyed along its way as
much by tongue-in-cheek humor
and emotional disaster as it is by
love and togetherness. The best
part of Heyndrickx’s performance
was the entire audience at Hill
Auditorium singing gently along
to “Oom Sha La La” (although
her introduction of “The Bug
Collector,” when she remarked
upon its subject matter that
“everything else has been written,”
is a close second).
Sam Lewis was next, a singer-
songwriter from Nashville. Lewis’s
music was striking for its earnest,
country-informed sensibility and
particularly his affected delivery of
songs like “Accidental Harmony.”
Even for a night filled with good
cheer, Lewis’s sense of humor
stood out, idiosyncratic and wholly
unintimidated. Then Parsonsfield
took
the
stage,
bringing
an
inimitable energy that felt most
actualized on songs like “Weeds
or Wildflowers,” “Kick Out the
Windows,” and “Let the Mermaids
Flirt With Me.” Parsonsfield felt
like everything one could want
from a single band: Each of the
four members was wired, engaged,
and from the looks of it, having the
time of their life. The set spanned
a lot of genres, from old-styled folk
to Americana to bluegrass, and the
band had the instrumental and
musical versatility to step up to
each of these ambitions.
After
a
brief
intermission,
Gregory Alan Isakov took over —
initially by himself, but quickly
joined by a supporting band.
Isakov’s
set
exemplified
the
quieter capabilities of folk music;
he lulled us collectively further
into the night, together in the
warm concert hall while snow
drifted down outside, unknown by
us except as a kind of felt beauty.
The singer-songwriter played a lot
of tunes off of his new record from
last year, Evening Machines, like
the contemplative “Chemicals”
and “San Luis.” He and his band
were illuminated by lights that
periodically washed them in a swell
of red, as well as two small globes
of the planet Earth that glowed on
tabletops, casting everything even
more with a feeling of suspension
between the past and the future,
the evening and the morning.
Finally, it was time for the
headliner of the night: Brandi
Carlile. During his introduction,
Mulvey reminded us of Carlile’s
beginnings over a decade ago as
a busker, and how even today, she
still pours her heart and soul into
every performance. Carlile set
about proving this from the very
first song she played — “Follow,”
off her self-titled debut. She told
the audience after this that she
often played “Follow” to “break
the ice, because I get nervous,” but
instantly afterward, she grinned,
as if suddenly installed with
confidence, and added, “Okay, here
we go.” And there we went.
COMMUNITY CULTURE REVIEW
Night one of the Folk Fest
LAURA DZUBAY
Daily Arts Writer
ALICE LIU / DAILY
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