student blog

It will change your life / Kery

Having seen Avenue Q on Broadway in New York City almost 2  years ago, I feel it is my duty to pass on my experiences and knowledge to my fellow Hawkeyes.  So yes, what the YouTube videos have said is true. It’s like Sesame Street with a daily four-letter word, Lamb Chop on crack, and the Muppets with a Parental Advisory. So close that textbook and put that thinking cap on, because here are the top 5 reasons you should invest in seeing Avenue Q . It will change your life. Forever:

These puppets really understand you. With songs like “What do you do with a BA in English?” and “It sucks to be me,” and “The Internet is For Porn,” you know they’ve tapped into the core of our college-burdened minds. This is the voice of our generation. Life is hard. Jobs are hard to find. Marriage isn’t perfect. Everyone’s a little bit racist. And you’ll always have friends to back you up and see you through the lost jobs, tough marriages, and personal failures.

Give an adult upgrade to your childhood memories. Everyone needs an update now and then, and I think Grover and Elmo need to be revamped (granted, tickle-me-Elmo has already been deflowered, so to say, on YouTube. If you haven’t seen these yet, type “elmo” into Youtube NOW). To put it academically, this is a way to reshape our memories and reconsider them in a more contemporary, modern, and socially engaging light. Puppets can still teach us things. And isn’t that the warmest and fuzziest feeling of all?

We’ll drive. The Honors Program has a bus that’s going to Avenue Q . And so does Hancher (for $1). Gas is expensive. Use someone else’s.

Discounts for big groups. Turn this into a big group thing. If you bring your copious amounts of friends with you (groups of 20 or more), you can get $5 off each ticket. More friends = less money.

Laughing is a workout. It really is. Your abs will hurt after watching this show. I’m always looking for ways to work out without knowing I’ve worked out: taking the stairs, parking 3 miles away from the grocery store, etc. And this is one of them. You will wake up the morning after saying, “Wow, it feels like I did about 200 crunches last night. And all I had to do was watch puppets say ridiculous things.”

Kery

Winard Harper: Clinician and Musician / Kery

A master class, or clinic, is always an interesting experience. As a youngster, I used to love playing for complete strangers and getting to hear their opinions. Immediately. To play for a master class is always a unique experience, and no matter how many times you’ve done them, they’re always different.

Some clinicians will stand (or sit, as in the case of tuba players) right next to you while you play; others give you space; and still others will sit right in front of you and stare while you play (my personal favorite). Depending on the piece and the clinician, he or she might let you play the entire movement or song, and others are apt to stop you after a few measures. And after you’ve played, some clinicians choose to mainly address the audience, and others act as if the audience does exist. Everyone has a style, a preference, a set-in-stone code of conduct.

Winard Harper’s master class was housed at The Wedge in downtown Iowa City, where students in the jazz program play every Tuesday night 8-10. Fitting into that packed house was quite the task, but Winard found a place near the back of the room, leaving the combos (groups of about 4-5 students) to do as they please. It was natural, like they were playing for the audiences they do every week; he made sure not to obstruct them. Instead of interrupting them halfway through, he always let the students play through both songs that they’d prepared, and sometimes even requested more, like a standard or blues piece.

He gave good comments and pointed out ways that students of every discipline and style could improve their musicality, but perhaps my favorite part about the master class was when he joined the groups. One essential part of education is talking, but maybe even more essential, in music certainly, is the power to demonstrate and teach in the moment. And that’s what Winard did the best.

After the first combo played, he joined them, requesting Miles Davis’s classic “So What,” at a faster-than-normal tempo. And the music really came alive. His drumming added pop, excitement to the piece. Often, people are apt to ignore the drummer, consider him only a timekeeper, instead of a prominent musical element. Winard’s playing really forces listeners to re-think the way we may have glossed over drummers. They’re not metronomes; they can be an incredible musical force.

He’s certainly an impressive and energetic performer, but what was great was just how it changed the rest of the group. When Winard played with them, their improvisational ideas became exciting, free-flowing. I felt an aura of inspiration. The students fed off his innovation and energy, and in turn, he fed off theirs, sometimes laughing or smiling when they tried something interesting and new. He was more than a timekeeper, and more than a fellow musician – he became a mentor, and even a cheerleader. One of his most revealing comments was one of his last. He asked the students, “Do you love the music? Because that’s what it takes.”

When Winard Harper plays, I can tell he loves it. You can see it in his eyes, in the way he plays. He could have acted bored or apathetic playing with some students from Iowa (a far cry from NYC), but I could see a spark, a real love in his eyes when he played. And I couldn’t help thinking, “If this is how great he is with a few undergrads, imagine how great he’ll sound with his own group.”

I felt like tonight was a warm-up for Friday night’s activities, something to whet the musical appetite. An experience like this begins an extended 3-day appetizer to Winard’s performance Friday night (information here), which promises to be no less than incredible.

Haven’t bought tickets yet? Order them here!

the good, the bad, and Kery

I’m the first to admit that I’m a die-hard cynic. The joy of Christmas and of simple things has gone to the wayside in lieu of the joy of finishing a thesis draft, filling out a complicated grad application, and playing a symphony. So when I walked into the IMU Main Lounge, the hallowed ground of Stravinsky, Beethoven, and Mendelssohn, I realized that I had to bury my cynical self. Thus, my review for Straight No Chaser will be split into the categories of “good news” and “bad news.”

Just so I don’t ruin Christmas, I’ll deliver the bad news first. My mom had a choir conductor in college who harped on the sopranos, telling them that “Vibrato causes cancer.” If this is true, then excessive scoops give me an ulcer. Mostly, I thought these guys were a more conscious version of boy bands, because at least they went to college (and a really good music school at that, Indiana). Maybe I’m being a little tough on them, but they’re getting paid to sing, and people who are paid to sing shouldn’t be flat on high notes, rush through phrases (if it’s an accelerando, then it should lead to something), have unbalanced duets, or have relatively thin tone. I know that this is a more pop-like genre, and that it’s easier to tune when the tone is nasal, but honestly, even if they found a little middle ground between this and the more “classical” style that they spoofed (when their tone was the best all evening), then they wouldn’t have to work so hard. I know they have it in them; the really nice, resonant tone came out in beautiful, fleeting moments. I just wanted more of them.

Now for the good news. I’ll return Santa to his rightful throne. Christmas lives again, and so does the entertainment industry. They had matching suits (with a “costume” change after intermission, by switching tie colors), cute and poppy tunes (including Amy Winehouse’s “Rehab” and Beyonce’s “Single Ladies,” with the dance), funny choreography, random jokes, and off-the-cuff remarks on race and religion (I especially found their conversation “I’m chocolate, and you’re white chocolate” “What am I?” “You’re caramel!” delightful). I’d also like to point out that the “Iowa Boy,” Tyler Trepp (a Des Moines native), did us proud, as they say. Overall, they were clean, well-rehearsed, and did a good job of keeping the audience happy (except the guy who said “Go cyclones.”), and they’re obviously some pretty talented musicians – this was evident when they did their 2nd encore, “O Holy Night,” “acoustic.”

I’d also like to note that their Sitcom Medley would have been exponentially better if they’d done the theme song to “Shaft.” (Relive the memories with this YouTube.)

Really, I can harp on them for musical issues that I think are important, but in the spirit of Christmas, it’s sometimes important to put these aside. The most important thing we have to consider as musicians (aside from the composer’s intent) is the audience. We play (or sing) music for others’ enjoyment. And what I saw at this concert was a lot of happy people. I may not always favor the more pop side of the music spectrum, but it’s these kinds of groups that help keep people involved with music, keep the music industry (and the art of live performance) alive, and ultimately make people happy. If we’re not doing this to make people’s lives better, than why are we doing it?

Your ever considerate music critic,

Kery “I don’t realize it’s Christmas until after finals week” Lawson

 

seeing a legend / Kery

I knew Herb Alpert was amazing when I walked into the room. I knew he was talented. I knew that he was a legend. But I learned so much more when the lights went down and one of the most influential trumpeters of the twentieth century and his wife, the talented, lovely, and incredible Lani Hall, walked up on stage.

What I really liked was how intimate it all felt. It was as if we had been invited to hang out at Herb and Lani’s for the evening, with a few tunes in between. And they also invited three fantastic musicians, too, an incredible trio of piano, bass, and drums, including Mike Shapiro, who is generally classified as “a pretty big deal.” Herb started off by saying, “We’re going to set this up as a very, very informal get-together.” And it was. In addition to the music, we listened to stories, viewed some of his latest inventions, viewed his artwork, and laughed at his off-the-cuff jokes.  Plus, he gave credit to the people who composed the songs they played. Which is awesome.

Apparently, in his free time, Herb is also an inventor and artist. He introduced us to one of his inventions, a trumpet with two bells. With the pressing of a lever or button, he could switch which one the sound came out of. Placing a harmon mute in one of the bells and keeping the other open, he changed the sound of the trumpet instantly. Kind of cool. But as a trumpeter, I was a little scared.  He also brought along one of his pieces of artwork, a large canvas of abstract expressionism hanging behind the players. He aptly named it, “Background,” and it changed colors according to which gels they had on the lights. Sometimes, it was orange and green, sometimes blue, sometimes purple, sometimes red. Audiences are easily entertained in this way, I guess.

Overall, it was a delight. What do you say when you’ve seen a legend? He still sounds great, he hasn’t lost his mind, and the entire show was entertaining. Lani is a fantastic talent, pure music from head to toe. I’ve never seen someone so perfectly fused with the music. And the players behind Herb and Lani were incredible. Herb said that every show is different, and I believe it. It was so natural, I’d be willing to throw out that ambiguous term “organic” to describe it.

Even people who see legends who have burned out can at least say that they saw them. But I can say that I saw the great Herb and Lani, and that it was a good show.

Kery