Escape from New York
Trip Start
Jun 24, 2010
1
4
Trip End
Jul 03, 2010
Loading Map
Map Options
Show trip route
Hide lines
Montreal, Quebec, Canada
Saturday, July 3, 2010
After listening through a set of harmonic doodling with nary an iota of rythmic or compositional method, it was disorienting to walk out of the Place des Arts’ concert space and hear a strange, familiar echo from the children's play area. Shards of "music" were being composed on the spot by children jumping up and down randomly on a giant keyboard. At times it was almost eerily like a nursery rhyme fragment. The skeptic in me wonders how many of the enthusiastic audience members would have given another standing ovation, had the kids been hidden behind a curtain and presented as part of tonight's show.
Reed seemed especially diminished behind a bank of electronic doodads. A roadie swapped out his guitars a few times, but Gibson or Fender, the only sound audible from the third balcony was a low wall of fuzzy feedback. At least Zorn and Anderson demonstrated technical prowess on their instruments, but the effect of all three of them making noise together was almost a parody of improvization. Other than John Zorn telling the audience they could "get the fuck out" if they didn't like the music, there was no communication from the artists, and not a lot of real musical conversation either.
Did they walk off stage and congratulate each other, or say "Whew, I guess next time we'd better practice first."
Tonight was such a promising musical smorgasbord at Jazz Fest. I wanted to treat my nephew to a show and could pick from Jack DeJonnette, Matt Andersen (who blistered up the stage at the Vancouver Island Music Festival 2 years ago) or Ahmad Jamal. I chose the Zorn/Reed/Anderson show.
I'd prepared my nephew James, explaining the influence of John Cale on Reed's musical outlook. He'd never heard of Anderson or Zorn before, so I talked about the 1980s performance pieces of Laurie Anderson and the New York avante-garde work of Zorn. "I once saw him playing a bunch of duck calls in a bucket of water. It could be a little weird tonight, just to let you know."
So James was relatively fascinated by the first 10 minute piece, and even inclined to agree with Zorn's shouted attitude that people who didn't think it was music could "get the fuck out." But he found all the pieces that followed disappointingly similar.
For me, it was depressing how the sum of this show's parts was so much less than any single artist alone. Where was Anderson's wit, Reed's insight, or Zorn's good-natured wackiness? I think they left their humour behind with their compositional chops.
Speaking of chops, I was reminded of the Woody Allen joke in Annie Hall about two women eating a meal "This food is terrible," says one. "Yes," replies her friend, "and such small portions."
The show, including encoures and ovations, clocked in at less than an hour. I wasn't sure whether to be relieved or angry at its length, especially at $80 a pop for our nose-bleeder seats. After a couple hours' consideration, I think I'm glad it ended so soon. Even as it stood, anything new that was discovered musically tonight was dead and cold to the touch by the time the show concluded.
