student blog

5 for 5 / Brian

At one point during Rob Lake’s magic show this past Sunday, he took a break from the regular show to talk about how cool his “magic” coloring book was (the same as the coloring books for sale just outside the theater’s doors, of course). Coincidentally, this was about the time I realized I may be just a little older than the show’s target audience.

There were plenty of ways to keep my adult brain occupied, however. For example, although the show itself was clearly G-rated, the background music was amusingly unedited. The first time I caught some indie rocker (whatever the kids are listening to these days) drop an F-bomb over the sound system, I glanced around to see if any worried mothers were hurriedly clapping their hands over their offspring’s ears. Fortunately for those ever-vigilant parents, only the high school class a few rows in front of me seemed to notice (those teenagers never miss anything).

As the show continued, I started playing a game I like to call “Whatever, Hotshot, That Doesn’t Look So Hard,” where I attempt to prove that even a degenerate like myself could be a professional magician. The game really heated up during a trick in which Lake brought up five adults from the audience for a round of magic Pictionary. The idea was to have each person draw the first thing that popped into his or her head and then, after the pictures were all shuffled up, Lake would match them back to their respective owners.

“This is easy,” I thought. “I’m sure with my ample supply of street smarts (read: blatant stereotyping) I can pick out who drew what faster than some magician.”

Plus, for the last two drawings you don’t even have to do anything, just give them each a picture and if they look confused tell them to swap. And guess what? I was 5 for 5 and feeling pretty good about my magical abilities.

Then Rob Lake sawed a woman in half.

How the hell does he do that, anyway?

—Brian

Definitely not David Copperfield / Erin

I’m not gonna lie, walking into the auditorium on Sunday afternoon, I had some pretty high expectations for Rob Lake.  Especially after watching movies like the Illusionist and the Prestige, I was excited to see some spectacular stunts that would leave me wanting to hang up my dancing shoes and enroll in Hogwarts School of Magic.

My cousin spent a summer in middle school trying to become a magician.  He got pretty good at the card tricks and pulling coins from behind your ears, but when it came to vaporizing canaries into thin air, that’s when the magic books started piling up with dust.  From his failure, I realized at a young age that becoming a top-notch magician is extremely difficult and takes years of practice. It’s especially hard for live performers in the 21st century because people are accustomed to dazzling special effects and have ridiculously short attention spans.   Wait, what was I writing about again….?

Rob Lake can do a decent canary trick and sawed quite a few people in half during the show.   I mean, he’s cute and all, and I’m sure the woman that got to dance with him is going to tell all her friends how charming and great he was. 

But a brilliant magician, he is not.

Much of the show was awkward tricks that seemed to be executed with not enough practice.  Apparatuses got stuck together, props were ripped, the show did not have a good flow.  The inexcusable hokey music was enough to make me want to run out during intermission, but accompanied with his cheesy dance moves and extra-white boyish grin, I was checking my watch every time the house lights came up (which was a lot!)

I have to give Lake credit, he was at least confident and somewhat entertaining on stage.  Some of his illusions bordered on challenging, but then again, I had seen them all before.  Plus, in a live performance I expect a magician to be grandiose and set the stage for action.  The kids in the crowd (which I gauge was 70% or so of the audience because of the constant screaming to go up on stage) seemed to think he was great.  So maybe my expectations were set too high.  I’d definitely recommend him for your kid’s next birthday party or maybe for a ladies bachelorette gig, if he didn’t mind stripping down a little while he did magic.  Though I worry his stripping might be as awkward as his show….

And with an Abracadabra! I will (hopefully) make this show disappear from Hancher’s seasons in the future.

Erin

 

Rob Lake--you’re my Hero / Amanda

Cutting people in half, making objects disappear, and corny humor is normally not my cup of tea, however Rob Lake does have his way with the crowd and he got a few laughs from me.

Lake offers something a little bit different than your basic magic show. He not only has hip up beat music and beautiful dancers, but he has the ability to engage an audience of all ages. He takes basic illusions performed by everyday magicians and puts his own personal twist on them. What can I say this 25 year old has it going on but is he the next David Copperfield, I don’t think so, well not quite yet.

Lake’s show on Sunday was creative, entertaining, and his stage presence was satisfying, but I have to be honest, it was a little too cheesy for my liking. I mean I am sure everyone expects some cheesiness when they purchase a ticket to a magic show however Lake may take it a bit over the top. I know it’s all in good fun but there were a few moments when I caught myself thinking “really”? Now besides the corniness, I was highly impressed with his ability to amuse the crowd. His opening act in particular stood out for me because just when you think his routine has failed, he shocks you with something even better. If you can take an egg and turn it into a parakeet I will think you're pretty cool in my book.

I recommend catching a Rob Lake show in the near future for his combination of raw talent, charisma, and showmanship produces a pretty good show.

Amanda

definitely contagious / Brian

From the moment the Hot Eight Brass Band took the stage at the IMU this past Sunday, one thing was clear: they wanted the audience to have a good time. With their self-proclaimed “feel-good” musical style based heavily in traditional New Orleans jazz (think “Down by the Riverside”), the band had both young and old out of their seats dancing and singing along with the music. Though, to be honest, some of the younger folks may have been more or less coerced into getting on their feet so as not to be bested by Grandma’s ample dance moves.

The tunes came fast and furious, with the tempo only rarely dropping below a brisk pace. This is, after all, music based in a city where they even play upbeat music at the funerals. When things did slow down, however, the band’s individual members really had a chance to stand out. When the stage lights turned all red for “St. James Infirmary” and the trumpet rang out low and somber, the Hot Eight’s melancholy side really shone through.

Each band member had multiple opportunities to solo, with two or three taken each song. The soloists didn’t seem to always be chosen beforehand, which made for an intriguing, spontaneous feel to the music. However, a few times the band members seem to be fumbling around waiting for someone to take the lead on a song. Fortunately the awkwardness of those moments passed quickly enough, and one of the players would jump into the spotlight.           

But what impressed me more than the individual chops of each player was the way the band was able to bring it all together after an extended period of counterpoint playing into something both melodic and groovy. Their ability to play both complex counterpoint jazz lines and smooth melodies, combined with their excellent stage presence, made the Hot Eight a fantastic deal at no cost to the audience. The way these guys had fun onstage was definitely contagious, and had everybody feeling a little bit like they were out on the bayou despite the frigid temperatures outside. 

Brian

in case you need a guru / Brian

Hey folks, my name’s Brian and I’ll be your Hancher blogger extraordinaire/spiritual guru for the next few months. What follows is everything you need to know about me, neatly reduced to a handful of bullet points:

 

•  I recently graduated from the University of Iowa.

• Like most recent graduates, I am currently unemployed. However, I have a number of lucrative opportunities available, including the prospect of horrifying morning hours at a seasonal warehouse job. And hey, there’s always food service, the type of job most akin to physical torture.

• In direct relation to my unemployment, I have a whole lot of free time. This gives me the chance to catch up on all the sleep I missed in the last five years, and maybe even a little bit of time to write. So here I am, keeping you abreast of all things Hancher, and hopefully keeping you at least moderately entertained. It’s the least I can do. No, seriously, I don’t have a job, so blogging from my house is literally almost the least I can physically do.

 

While we’re on the cheery subject of my bleak future in the working world, I’d like to smoothly transition to the Hot 8 Brass Band. They’ll be at the IMU’s Main Lounge this Sunday (Oct. 11) at 2 p.m. But here’s what ought to perk up your ears (or eyes, as it were): the performance is absolutely free.

 

You see, the Hot 8 Brass Band “get” me. They understand I can barely scrape together a pair of silver coins to jam into the parking meter. And I know those of you still amidst the financial rigors of college (read: $100 bar tabs every Thursday night) can appreciate the price of this performance as much as I do. Plus, the Hot 8 has provided music for people like Spike Lee and Master P, so you won’t lose all that hard-earned street cred by showing up at a brass ensemble.

 

So respect to acts like the Hot 8, who understand that I often decide whether to attend a performance or not by how badly I want fries with my value meal.     

 

a must-see / Melea

I grew up on Sesame Street.

Well, not really- I suppose if you want to get literal, I grew up on Falcon Avenue, but like many children of the late ’80s, television was my benevolent babysitter, and thus, I have always felt like Sesame Street was my second home address.

My younger brothers (who mind you, aren’t so little at 13 and 17) and I still often rely on the teachings of our PBS Muppet friends, recalling their teachings to affectionately remember to count all “one, two, three rubber duckies (baw ha ha).”

It would be easy to dismiss Sesame Street as an educational show for children, maybe even THE educational show for children, but to do so would fall short of the show’s impact on the international pop culture collective. In reality, Sesame Street is the iconic epitome of everything sweet and simple—the essence of everything a childhood should be.

But not all puppets are created equal.

Don’t let their cuddly appearances fool you: Though the characters of Avenue Q were designed by former members of the Jim Henson team, Avenue Q’s residents are unequivocally complex, and are by no means sweet. The decidedly mature musical pays homage to Sesame Street, featuring parodies not only of its beloved characters (like Cookie Monster, who makes the move to Avenue Q as the pornography-addicted Trekkie Monster), but also the show’s “Be All You Can Be” message (Avenue Q instead instructs “I Wish I Could Go Back to College”).

Sure, I may treasure my Sesame Street roots, but Avenue Q updates PBS’s puppet-initiated education from mere ABCs and 123s to meditations on the Quarterlife Crisis and finding one’s ultimate purpose. The twenty-somethings in Avenue Q ask the questions real life college students have on our minds (like really, what *do* you do with a BA in English?) while dealing with the less than clear cut issues of unemployment, sexuality and heartache. The issues may not be pretty, but like Sesame Street before it, Avenue Q instructs with a catchy tune and a superb underlying storyline.

Avenue Q is a must see for all adults (and college kids who theoretically face impending adulthood but are still on their parents’ health insurance and can’t afford to pay the monthly electric bill).

Tickets for are on sale for the March 26-28 performances at the U.S. Cellular Center March 26-28 now.

P.S. And just for fun, here’s my and my brothers’ favorite adult-oriented Sesame Street moment (who says our favorite shows can’t age with us?):

P.P.S. More classic Sesame Street
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T3049TRLo5M&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VjbpuK_H2VY&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TgIfdl6by1o&feature=related

Alpin Hong: King Among Piano Men /Kery

There are many things to consider when assessing Alpin Hong’s performance, much of it being when he’s off stage. But I’ll get to that later.

He’s a great player with fantastic technique. He can rip through a crazy run, ooze out a slow moment, bang out a fantastically loud melody, and trickle through the essence of a soft whisper. He certainly wowed the audience Friday night, and not just with his technique; he was also incredibly funny and personable. He told some great stories and played some great pieces. I think the audience was ready to either marry or adopt him by the end of the show.

The die-hard classical musician, however, may not be so swayed. The program read like a “Greatest Hits” of classical music, which may seem a little cheesy to the most discriminating of music critics. There were a few hiccups throughout, notably a memory lapse on Rachmaninoff’s Prelude in g minor. But honestly, it happens to all of us - - even when memorization comes easy, it’s no phenomenon when our brains decide to work against us (I personally believe that my brain is out to get me most of the time).

But mostly, I think what keeps Alpin Hong outside of the “greatest ever amazing pianists” club is his interpretation. As I explained to a friend, in my attempt to articulate just what was floating around in my head, “When he played Clair de Lune, I know I heard the essence of awesome. But I’m not sure I heard the essence of Debussy.” I would also like to note that Clair de Lune is the only Debussy piece that 98% of the population knows. We might as well say “As heard in the remake of Ocean’s 12.” Or was it 13? Anyway, I think that pretty much sums up the way he plays music. He was obviously born to play the piano. I can’t fault him for anything technically or talent-wise. He was great, but I kept thinking to myself, “Is he really feeling it?” I heard Beethoven, but I didn’t feel it. The music didn’t sink into me, taking hold of my soul and stealing my breath. Granted, that’s an extremely romantic depiction of what music does to us, but it’s honestly the reason why we all do it.

However, looking at the bigger picture, I, as a thinker on a more general/social level, and a trumpet player who hacked through ten years of piano lessons, am willing to forgive the interpretation issue and the memory lapses. You pianists out there can stick to your guns - - you owe it to your art form to be as stringent as you like in your criticism. But what I saw was something truly amazing. I saw in Alpin Hong his ability to be a good musician and a good person. These two things don’t always coincide, but they did here.

I was impressed by what he does when he’s not on stage: his involvement in the community, his educational outreach. When he’s not putting on recitals or practicing, he’s infusing his love for classical music into the next generation. He plays the “Mario Brothers” theme (inviting three middle schoolers, two cellists and a bass, to join him on the second half) and goes into schools to preach the good music word, that Beethoven is inevitably tied to the background noises we hear every day. Mozart can be just as beloved as movie music, and we can learn that through Alpin Hong.

Educational outreach is so important. Bringing the joy of what some are calling a dying art to our young generations is what will keep this beautiful art form alive. We can’t convince our generation to switch out Beyonce for Borodin, but we can speak to the future of music. Given his “extra-curriculars,” if Alpin Hong needs to play Chopin a little too fast to spur on the future of classical music, so be it.

Puppies, Flowers, and Smiling Babies,

Kery Lawson

ridiculously good / Kery

The Brandenburgs:  An Evening of Bach Bliss

In this instance, there is no room for critique. With other blogging experiences, I’ve written constantly, frantically, but with this one, I didn’t feel the need. I could just absorb it. It deserves, almost demands this treatment, because Bach needs more time and thought to be put into words.

There’s a kind of spell, a trance that I sink into when I listen to Bach, especially with people who know how to play it (excepting the slight oboe biff, but we always forgive them, don’t we?). I’m here, but not. I hear every note, and yet my mind wanders from the depths to the very edges of my soul. There’s a lush core to the music, a never-ending cascade of notes, sounds, and ideas. When I’m there, I don’t just listen to Bach. I breathe Bach.

Last Wednesday night, The Academy of Ancient Music was in town, and they mastered the six Brandenburg concertos beautifully, on “original” instruments (or at least reproductions of what we believe ancient instruments to have been like). To me, it was an educational as well as entertaining experience. It was like stepping into my Music History I classroom again, to a special hands-on lecture. Everything I’d been told in the past while I was half asleep in class came alive before me; I was no longer looking at photos uploaded from the internet: “This is an old oboe, this is a lute, this is a traverso,” blah, blah, blah. It was nice to see people playing the goofy old-school version of oboes and bassoons (as if they weren’t goofy enough now).

All the players were great, especially the harpsichordist/director, Richard Egarr. My pianist companion made it a point to tell me how great he was. The harpsichord is one of the precursors to the piano, and is much more difficult to play.  The tone is lighter, maybe even tinnier - - and there’s no sustain, like on piano (the pedal that the right foot holds down, and if you play a whole bunch of notes, it sounds like a muddy mess). It requires a special touch and exceptionally clean playing. He certainly had that, while simultaneously directing the rest of the ensemble. We were sure that he had much of it memorized. He was enthusiastic, excited, and not stuffy like you would think. I even caught him head banging sometimes. Now that is commitment.

Most of us (myself certainly included) look slightly comatose on stage, but they were always moving and communicating with each other, infusing more and more energy into every phrase. As stiff and boring as Bach may seem, listening to the concertos in person opened my eyes to how much work and energy has to go into the performance. I watched as they interacted, waiting, nodding; it really opened my eyes to how music is a communication, on so many levels.

And now on to the best part: Concerto no. 2, featuring some massive trumpet work, my bread and butter (although I’m actually allergic to both). It was great. The majority of the time, the Brandenburg is played on a piccolo trumpet. And I’ll let you in on a secret: most people think that “piccolo” means “small” or “tiny,” but in the trumpet world, piccolo (or “picc” for short) actually means “death.” Yes, it looks cute, but it’ll rip your face off. Anyway, since they were playing on “period” instruments, the trumpeter played it on natural trumpet. It’s bigger and longer (google your heart away on this one). There are most likely endless debates about which one is more difficult to play, but to me, it served as an endless geek-out session. The playing was fabulous, and he ripped off some of the hardest stuff we trumpets have to play like nothing. And I was happy.

From a music major standpoint, I left saying: “They are really ridiculously good.” The performance was fabulous, the music was fabulous, and Richard Egarr’s hilarious intros to each concerto (in a British accent, which every American immediately adores) just wrapped the entire package. It was an evening well-spent. Most people scoff at Bach, but just as the period of time when the earth was still forming is important to where we are now, Bach is equally important to where we are now in music.

Kery

cover your ears / Brian

Music majors: cover your ears, I have a confession to make. I like the oxymoron that is “contemporary classical” music more than the classic composers of yore. There’s plenty of pre-20th century music I like, to be sure, but I guess I prefer music composed today because often it has a kind of dissonant, raw feeling that really appeals to me. Also, I listen to heavy metal. These two things may be related.

Having bared my soul to the world, I’ll just come out and say what’s on my mind: I much preferred Time For Three’s first set of original compositions to their second set made up of Brahms and Bach and “Turkey in the Straw,” among other old standards.

Their second set was enjoyable, especially considering the way they goofball everything up. Ranaan’s caricature of a jug band bass player seems funny until you realize that’s how he actually plays all the time (then it’s hilarious). And there’s no doubt these guys can play their instruments. They never failed to impress from a technical standpoint, which is maybe why I wanted to hear more of their own work. Lots of people can play something great, but not everyone can write something great.

Ranaan can write something great. He has a great sense of when to build tension through fiddle runs at laser-like speed, and when to bring all the instruments together for some very solid grooving. I was so impressed with the first set I was actually let down by the relaxed, goof-off atmosphere of the second (though I still thought they were pretty funny and had a good time with it).

Overall, Time For Three’s greatest strength lies with the diversity of their characters, which I’m going to awkwardly reduce to boy-band like monikers. Ranaan’s the goofball with his ridiculous playing style and constant child-like grin. Nick’s the bad boy: he plays with an incredible amount of ferocity and energy and he sports a wicked fauxhawk. Zachary’s the quiet one, the only player who might fit in with a famous symphony. He’s much more reserved than the other two, which was odd considering his strength was his fiddling.

The point is, this group has an impressively wide appeal and the show had something for everyone. Selfishly, I wanted a little more for me, but it’s hard to find fault with a band so infectiously likeable.  

Brian Dau is the host of "The Lit Show" on KRUI 89.7 FM and interviews a different Iowa City author every week without fear of running out of writers to talk to. Tune in sometime. He majors in journalism and English and writes for the Arts section of the Daily Iowan.

if I were eleven / Molly

The Vienna Boy's choir on Friday night was a nice lead-up into Valentine's day. I mean, what could be more adorable than a pack of little boys in sailor suits? Yet, when they started right off with "O Fortuna," from Carmina Burana, it was like receiving a huge unexpected kick in the stomach. Their rendition of ABBA's "Chiqitita" had similar effects. Which leads me to the roller coaster ride, that was the first half.
To begin, I don't understand the division of the choir. The director often conducted from the piano that was placed in between the boys. Does this have something to do with tradition? I have seen small ensembles split and directed this way… but never choral groups. (Even if the arrangement is a tradition – is Chiqitita? Enough said). This created two problems with the boys: 1. Listening between sections 2. The confusion of who to watch. I often spotted the young men looking at each other from across the stage, yet I never saw as much contact with the audience. (I will especially attest to the lack of zest when performing, "Psalm 61," with cheesy clapping).

Yet, let me tell you – there was a boy who really came to the spotlight during Schubert's Die Nacht. He had numerous solos, and it was beautiful. All of them. And, despite my attempt at harassing the director for some of his musical choices (a.k.a. a song from the musical Rent, which, if I remember correctly, is about sex and drugs… and has also been used too many times as high school show choir ballads), he had some wonderful picks. Andy Icochea Icochea's "Et Lux in Tenebris Lucet" for example. I'm a sucker for the spoken text + song combo. They also performed another winner that was arranged by Icochea (after intermission), which had nice richness and was a nice break-up from the usual soprano showcase.

I would have to say that the boys finally began to enjoy themselves during the second half, which isn't too surprising. I would rather sing Waldhansl (clapping and stamping dance) than any Gregorian chant if I were eleven. Even so, I witnessed lots of yawns on stage- perhaps due to the 2 hour 15 min. concert. I was tired myself. Then again, it was worth it.

Molly