Nice things

Flaky-crust, broccoli and egg-stuffed vegetarian quiche from Madrona Hill Cafe.

Toes in the sand, ice cream in hand, on the blindingly bright Saturday morning Seaside beach.

Singing again with the boys. Planning an English-German recital for the summer.

Finally (finally!) ditching my Mass license for an Oregon resident one. And finally (finally!) getting my passport.

Hot bod

I haven't mentioned this before, have I? I should mention this.

I have begun training - I use the term loosely - for a half-marathon. May 4th in Eugene. Oh God.

I've agreed to it for several reasons, including a) needing to get into better shape anyway, b) actually taking some enjoyment from a good jog and c) I'm doing the run with my two best friends in town, A. + M. Sometimes we all gorge on brunch after a good Saturday morning jog around Southeast. Hells yes.

A vote: shirtless pics of SMB on the blog throughout the training process? Yes, no?

Tonya and Nancy, reviewed

Just published on the Just Out blog:

TONYA AND NANCY: THE ROCK OPERA
Through March 8th at the World Trade Center Theater, Portland OR


The ice queen is back.

Don’t don your boxing gloves just yet. Portland’s own also-ran ice skating legend Tonya Harding herself isn’t exactly returning to the national arena (thank you, Tonya). But her outrageous life, seemingly lifted straight from screaming tabloid headlines, is back in thousand-watt spotlight. And Portland audiences are the poorer for it.

The vehicle for this rehashing of old professional skating dramatics (and settling of old scores) is none other than a rock musical with the perhaps inevitable title of “Tonya and Nancy: The Rock Opera.” First fashioned as a half-hour chamber opera by a Tufts University grad student named Abigal Al-Doory Cross and her aunt, librettist Elizabeth Searle, the work premiered to hyperventilating national media in May of 2006, then disappeared (for better or worse).

Leave it to Portland’s own quasi-legend, the shameless orange-skinned impresario Don Horn, to pimp his quasi-pro theater company, Triangle Productions, out for the sake of media hype alone. Ditching the original opera for something “meatier and pop-ier” according to Cross, the work’s original composer, Horn hunted down a film-scoring recent student (L.A.-based composer Michael Teoli) to ramp up the rock histrionics and turn the saga of Tonya Harding and Nancy Kerrigan into a full-blown meta-musical.

The resulting show, seen in the Friday, Feb 22 performance, is a riot of shlock-rock, poor judgment and plain bad taste, in the guise of a melodrama seeking to answer the only possible question about the two legendary skaters: as the lyrics tell us in a song, “Who will whip who’s butt?.” As such, the opera occasionally rises to the level of a camp masterwork – Nancy Kerrigan’s pratfalls and her blind mother’s dumb-stage antics are truly priceless – but too frequently falls way below.

The problems begin with Searle's libretto, the characters of which – Horn takes credit for “directing,” a dubious honor in this case – are 2D flat, spouting lyrics like “You’re the one who taught me to ride the loopty-loops in life” (Tonya, played with steely reserve by Beth Willis, to her doting father) as we trace Harding’s sad story of “broken laces and broken dreams.” Harding’s mother (Sue Ellen Christensen, also doubling as Nancy’s mom) is presented as a chain-smoking, beer can-tossing monster in a hideous homemaker’s apron; her plotting husband Jeff Gillooly (Dale Johannes, a whirl of physical brutality) jacks off a pool cue and swings a plastic bat at poor Tonya.

Teoli’s music too frequently stays on safe all-purpose rock musical terrain (enthusiastically played by a live rock quintet), but also includes the occasional inspired touch: bluesy music for the trenchcoated knee-whack assistant henchman Shawn Eckherdt (Todd Pozycki, in a nice turn), or cute choral interjections from the Greek Chorus of reporters and lookers-on, well-sung by an undermiked ensemble.

The cast is a curiosity, doing variable work with variable material. In the title roles, Beth Willis (Tonya) keys well into Harding’s vulnerability; that the production offers her as a saint to the machinations of cast-off “homewrecker Nancy” is no fault of the actress’, but a likely result of Harding’s being, as in the words of sportscasters at the time of her rise to fame in the early 1990’s, “the pride of Portland, Oregon.” Singer Lilla D’Mone, making her stage debut as Nancy, mock-skates with zero grace (Jehn Benson, choreographer) and mumbles the lyrics in an unintelligible voice that careens from a screech to a whine. She’s not helped by a sound system that cut out at critical moments in the drama (if in fact any moments in the production could be called critical). There is an intriguing sex-drenched performance by Johannes as Gillooly, and his number about waking up “sleeping in your car in Estacada” gets the one enthusiastic hand of the night.

Oh, and if you’re curious, the answer is yes: that famous knee-whacking incident does eventually come – for some reason it happens, peculiarly, twice – and is staged in slow-mo melodrama to humorous effect. But the moment is entirely upstaged by the real drama projected on a screen above the stage: the pain and agony on Kerrigan’s face (news footage is used) as she watches her knee balloon from the famous strike, and her gold medal dreams for that season melt away.

As Harding’s world comes crashing down in the musical’s final moments, she’s given a song of quiet introspection. “I’m on clean ice,” she sings in a plaintive pop ballad, “away from my dirty life.” And though “Tonya and Nancy: The Rock Opera” may only skate the ice-hard surface of the duo’s infamous lives, there’s plenty of dirt being flung.

Triangle Productions’ “Tonya and Nancy: The Rock Opera” runs through March 8 at the World Trade Center Theater, 121 SW Salmon.

On the outside listening in

In case you're not following Dan Wakin's typically first-rate coverage of the NY Philhamonic's Asian tour - including the about-to-be-famous stop in North Korea, where the Phil landed today - proceed immediately to his NYT tour blog, here.

In a Sunday article on the pre-Pyongyang briefing Philharmonic members received from a Western diplomat before entering the famously isolated socialist country (wear warm shoes; don't snap photos like a tourist; you will be followed by N. Korean "government minders," etc), Wakin recounts the musicians' nervous anticipation of their arrival in Pyongyang.

Condoleeza Rice, no slouch in the classical chamber music department herself, offered this response to the tour (though, puzzlingly, her Asian travel plans during the Phil's trip don't yet include a stop in North Korea):

"The North Korean regime is still the North Korean regime... And so I don’t think we should get carried away with what listening to Dvorak is going to do in North Korea."

Nevertheless, she said, "to the degree that the North Korean people have some access to the outside, that they know that there is something else in life, I think it’s a good thing."

Also, the Asia Times weighs in with this insightful piece.

Kind of awesome

In a MySpace posting today, composer John Adams reveals that his music will be performed as part of a new Boosey & Hawkes showcase of contemporary classical music - which may be the first-ever of its kind - at the inimitable South by Southwest music fest this March in Austin, Texas.

From the post:

Boosey & Hawkes is proud to present its first ever showcase at SXSW, featuring music by John Adams. The showcase entitled "Reich, Rags, & Road Movies: Music by Steve Reich & Friends," which will take place on Wednesday, March 12 at St. David's Episcopal Church (304 E. 7th St. @ San Jacinto Blvd.) from 9:00 - 11:00 pm, brings the fresh sounds of B&H's contemporary composers to SXSW audiences through live performances by guitarist C.E. Whalen, New York City's So Percussion, San Antonio's own SOLI chamber ensemble, and pianist Michelle Schumann of the Austin Chamber Music Center.

Steve Reich will be guest of honor at the March 12 showcase, and will be heard in discussion with Sonic Youth's Thurston Moore at 1:15 on Thursday, March 13, at the Austin Convention Center (Room 18 ABC).

OK so maybe now I'm considering a trip to Austin.

No Jazz Fest for me

Darn. I was hoping to tell you all about the fabulous concerts (Cecil Taylor! Fred Hersch + Nancy King! Ornette Coleman!) of the newish Portland Jazz Festival.

Problem is, their office hasn't returned any of my phone calls or e-mails in the past week (!). So it looks like I won't be covering it after all.

What am I going to check out this weekend instead? Triangle Productions' Tonya & Nancy: The Rock Opera (Friday), Oregon Ballet Theatre's french program (Saturday) and the premiere showing ("Convergence") from KO & Co. dance company (Sunday).

I'd also like to point out that The Smashing Pumpkins' "Siamese Dream" album is playing overhead at Backspace, so I'm enjoying some early high school flashbacks. ("I'm all by myself, as I always felt / And I'd betray myself to anyone but you" blaring on my Walkman tape player, as I sat crying in the last seat of the bus on some choir field trip, wondering if I'd ever find another guy to love and who would love me)

Portraits

My first cover story for Just Out newsmag - portraits of ten families newly recognized by the February 4th enactment of Oregon's "Family Fairness Act." (you'll be hearing again about Jack and Jerry, my new best friends)

Well hello there

Thank you recent visitors from Bankston, Alabama; Beaverton, Oregon; Chicago, Illinois; Granby, Massachusetts; Lake Mary, Florida; Perth, Australia; Plano, Texas; Portage, Michigan; Syracuse, New York; Washington, D.C. and Westlake Village, California, among other unique locales.

Taking stock

Things at which I have little talent: managing money, computer technology, clothes shopping, sock matching, cooking.

Things at which I have considerable talent: "managing up," faking it, conversation, cartwheels, kissing.

This will be long

The last 72 hours has been a dizzy ride of music, nature, solitude, conversation, partying, pizza + beer, and vivid night dreams including appearances by Thomas Lauderdale (funny, I just ran into him not 30 minutes ago outside a favorite downtown PDX Thai cart), Hillary Rodham Clinton (in the dream I was interviewing her for a publication, and asked if she remembered speaking with my newspaper publishing older brother in Iowa; she did not) and my 3 and a half year old niece (though not all in the same dream).

In the dream with my niece, we're together in New York City - just she and I. She's closer to 5 or 6 years old in the dream, wearing the teal dress I bought her for Chanukah (it shows off her head of outrageously beautiful red hair) and we're about to slip underground to catch the subway. I'm holding her hand as we descend the stairs. She tugs on it and says "Uncle Stephen, can we take a taxi please?" Conflicted for a moment - though I'm not sure why - I ultimately agree to a city cab ride. We walk out into a flood of sunlight, I extend my arm to hail a taxi... and wake up.

Anyway.

There were so many sides to SMB's weekend adventures, where to start?

Sunday involved the usual morning anthems and the like at Trinity (a gem-perfect Farrant motet and some forgettable newish light classical short work for chorus), followed by an amiable lunch date (tuna wrap, West Cafe) with a handsome, entertaining gentleman (also a musician) who may or may not be 20 years my senior and which may or may not turn into something more "serious."

Then friend C. called and asked if I wanted to get out of the city. Like, duh. He picked me up and we hied ourselves to Rooster Rock - amazing thing (don't laugh), I'd never been before. Too chilly for the clothing-optional crowd, but an amazing scene nonetheless - tall crisp reeds, sturdy sand and brown dirt, a clipping wind. I could have stayed out there forever (or longer than our brief 2-hour exploration). We drove the circuitous local roads, marvelled at Crown Point and bought new jogging shoes at the nearby Adidas outlet. Then returned to the city for happy hour beer ($1.25 drafts) and lukewarm pizza.

There was a certain sense of rightness to the whole day. For which I am grateful.

All so serendipitous

This arrived in one of my email inboxes today, and it took me at least ten minutes to recall the sender:

Stephen,

I met you a couple of months ago and you slipped me your number. I believe you were on your way to a performance when you stopped into where I was working, at Elephants Deli. I found you to be quite adorable. We talked once and proposed a coffee date. Due to my situation at the time, I was unable to meet with you. At last, my "situation" has improved. If you are still interested, I would love to try again. Maybe coffee, maybe a spin in my new limo. The limo was an impulsive, but delightful birthday indulgence.

The world is a strange and wonderful place. I have not stopped thinking about our brief encounter. Glad to have stumbled onto your image in Just Out, affording the opportunity to contact you again. It is all so serendipitous.


"Maybe coffee... maybe a spin in my new limo..."??? WTF?

Third column

"Super Fat Tuesday, All Right: Fear and loathing our queer bodies" - Just Out newsmag, February 15, 2008

The beat goes on

On Crosscut today - long review of Portland Opera's "Rodelinda" (thumbs down) and Oregon Symphony's Adams-Beethoven-Schumann (thumbs up).

Le sigh

Without comment.

VDay

It's OK to eat the cupcake alone. Really, it is.

Props

Congrats to new old friend Bryant Manning (we raised hell together at the NEA/Columbia fellowship last fall; and I think he has a near-perfect critics' name, don't you??) on his appointment as Time Out Chicago's new classical music critic. Well done and well deserved!

Bryant takes over a beat ably begun by Chicago's Marc Geelhoed, who moves on to a position with the Chicago Symphony, where he'll be working on the CSO's new record label, "Resound."

Vulgar

The future of opera.



... comments?

Senza boyz

It's always a pleasure exchanging text messages with J., as he crosses the country on pianistic adventures.

Last evening was especially lively.

J, 7:24 pm: Dude.

SMB, 7:25 pm: Hey dude

J, 7:26 pm: Ich bin in Milwaukee senza boyz

SMB, 7:27 pm: OMG totes tragedy, craigslist it baby

SMB, 7:31 pm: U needz a bob spanolike arr, twinks on planes and the like

J, 7:36 pm: Twinks yes yes yes! Need to get [expletive] tho

SMB, 7:41 pm: Dirty boy, wheres the smb when he is most needed?

J, 7:42 pm: Indeed where is he?

Diminishing returns

Of interest today...

... Longtime dance critic Ted Bale - a reliable critical voice in the vibrant Boston area dance community - has decided to leave his post at the Boston Herald. His stated reason for the departure will resonate with anyone clued in to discussions about diminishing arts coverage in most print publications today. He writes in an e-mail:

"I wanted to let all of you know that I've decided to stop writing for the Boston Herald. After 8 years I've seen the publication decline significantly, had my fees reduced, and watched as all of the intelligent and hard-working editors were terminated.

In the past week, the Herald declined to review Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater at the Citi-Wang, the Flamenco Festival at the Cutler Majestic, Bill T. Jones at the ICA, and as of today was "undecided" about covering Boston Ballet's opening night of "Romeo and Juliet" at the Citi-Wang. If this is how it's going to be, there is really no chance that I will be able to review local companies performing in smaller venues for the Herald, which is of great interest to me. I'd rather focus my energy on other publications rather than try to 'hang on' at the Herald."

... The Curtis Institute tries out a curricular focus for the academic year - Beethoven's String Quartet no. 11 in F minor (Op. 95). Dan Wakin, as always, has the interesting story in today's NYT.

... The Oregon Symphony announces its 2008-09 season: The Oregonian's David Stabler wishes the Symphony "weren't quite so moths-to-fame." (my own opinion is reserved for a future article on Crosscut)

Promise

It's not for lack of wanting that I've yet to produce a substantive "personal" sort of diatribe here on the blog in at least a few weeks. I've just been insanely busy. Bear with me; there's much to say (I have a headache and dark-ringed eyes but must must crawl to the gym tonight and execute 100 sit-ups and six miles on the treadmill or the weekend's Voodoo doughnuts will announce themsleves shortly)

The only reality is death, man

Roy Scheider - who immortalized dance legend Bob Fosse on film by playing him in the sprawling 1978 Fosse autobiog, "All That Jazz" - has died.

The film had a seminal impact on me as a young artist. Scheider gave the performance of a lifetime (he reportedly starved himself and chain-smoked both on the set and off, to achieve that gaunt, hard-angled Fosse look)

You get a cookie if you can name the two bodysuit bedeceked dancers in the clip.

The last for WW

My last few bits at WW...


Review: Ben Darwish Trio w/ Trio Subtonic (Feb. 2 at Jimmy Mak's)

Preview: Beth Madsen-Bradford as Carmen with Opera Theater Oregon... Film + Live Music (Feb. 9, 12-14 at Someday Lounge... yes, those are Beth's eyes over there on the right)

Feature: Singled Out (Adam Dyer and Julio Arroyo-Burdett)

Sound familiar?

In today's New York Times Health section, a fascinating article on "Imposter Syndrome" that hits close to home.

"Social psychologists have studied what they call the impostor phenomenon since at least the 1970s, when a pair of therapists at Georgia State University used the phrase to describe the internal experience of a group of high-achieving women who had a secret sense they were not as capable as others thought. Since then researchers have documented such fears in adults of all ages, as well as adolescents.

... In short, the researchers concluded, many self-styled impostors are phony phonies: they adopt self-deprecation as a social strategy, consciously or not, and are secretly more confident than they let on."

Hmm.

There is more:

"In mild doses, feeling like a fraud also tempers the natural instinct to define one’s own competence in self-serving ways. Researchers have shown in careful studies that people tend to be poor judges of their own performance and often to overrate their abilities. Their opinions about how well they’ve done on a test, or at a job, or in a class are often way off others’ evaluations. They’re confident that they can detect liars (they can’t) and forecast grades (not so well).

This native confidence is likely to be functional: in a world of profound uncertainty, self-serving delusion probably helps people to get out of bed and chase their pet projects."

PCP wins at PMA's

Big ups to the studs and studlets that are the Portland Cello Project - they got a nod at the newly launched Portland Music Awards last week for "Most Innovative Achievement in Classical Music."

Well done and well deserved, PCP!

Second column

"Love Is In The Air: Cruising for Community in PDX" - JustOut newsmag, February 1, 2008