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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