Expect radio silence from me this week as I work hard on copy-editing the BOA Anthology. (And also take the time to attend some fun events, which I hope to blog about once we've delivered the anthology to the printers'.)
In the meantime, if you're free tonight, come to the Cafe Royale to see SF Theater Pub 3.3: The Odes of March! Including my contributions, Ode to the Props Master and Ode to the Costume Designer. (related post)
And remember that a $25 pledge to the BOA Kickstarter campaign gets you a copy of the play anthology.
And yes, I did write this post just so I could title it with an egregious pun.
Monday, March 19, 2012
Saturday, March 17, 2012
BOA 2012 on Kickstarter
Check out this video to see me saying some rather intelligent things and doing some rather silly things, all in the name of convincing you to fund BOA 2012 via Kickstarter!
I am the dramaturg for BOA (the Bay One-Acts) this year and am excited to be part of this festival, which brings together many of the Bay Area's best independent theater companies. Performances start April 22. In the meantime, I'll be working behind the scenes and also assisting with publicity.
Donate just $25 and get a copy of the BOA anthology, lovingly copy-edited by yours truly!
Thursday, March 15, 2012
"Love at the Bottom of the Sea" by the Magnetic Fields: Sad Gavottes
Love at the Bottom of the Sea is the Magnetic Fields' first album in over a decade to feature synthesizers, their first album in fifteen years not to be guided by an overarching formalist conceit -- and (I add, solipsistically) their first new album since I became a fan two years ago. Long on sharp, specific lyrics and unusual synthesizer textures, if short on straightforward emotionality, this collection of under-three-minute pop songs has been entertaining me since it came out last week.
Lead single "Andrew in Drag" is delightful, a catchy tune about an appealingly off-kilter situation: a straight dude realizes that he has the hots for his friend Andrew, but only when Andrew is dressed as a girl. It's sweet and playful, but vaguely melancholy too, since the narrator's desires will never be fulfilled. And I love the Magnetic Fields when they are in sweet-but-melancholy mode (cf. my abiding affection for "The Luckiest Guy on the Lower East Side").
My other favorite song on the album is the waltz "The Only Boy in Town." "Oh, if only you were the only boy in town / For then I could not play the field and let you down," it begins, and continues for three verses and a stunning bridge, full of damnably clever lyrics including a rhyme on "France," "seance," and "for the nonce." But for all the skewed logic and screwy wit, I found it the most relatable song on the album. It's about a woman who wishes she could force herself to love someone wholeheartedly -- and who among us has not felt the same way?
Several of the songs on this album mix old-fashioned Tin Pan Alley songwriting craft with contemporary subject matter -- "Andrew in Drag," a consideration of the vagaries of sexual attraction, being a prime example. The satirical "God Wants Us To Wait" is the perfect song for an era (and a nation) that considers Rick Santorum a viable presidential candidate. It is not a very pretty song, but presumably the martial beat and robotic-sounding vocals are intended to convey that evangelical anti-sex freaks are scary and fascistic. "The Machine in Your Hand" is a song about wanting to be your lover's smartphone the way that Romeo wanted to be a glove upon Juliet's hand -- the lyric "I'll have magical powers / Only they're scientific!" made me giggle.
Speaking of Shakespearean allusions and magical powers, the album also has a song called "I've Run Away to Join the Fairies." Reading the title, I was afraid we were in for something terribly twinkly and twee, about what jolly good fun it is to live in Fairyland. Fortunately, Stephin Merritt sees fairies as powerful and frightening, the way they are portrayed in traditional European folklore. To suitably eerie music, he sings that the fairies "will enchant me and enslave me" and give him an ass's head.
The Magnetic Fields are in goofy high spirits in many of these songs. "The Horrible Party," clearly a take-off on Noel Coward's "I Went to a Marvelous Party," sounds like it should be in a Broadway musical version of Vile Bodies. (Have I mentioned that Vile Bodies and the Bright Young People are my new obsessions? Because they are.) And the album ends with an electro-mariachi parody number exhorting us to "hire Saatchi and Saatchi / To advertise the sausage in your pants."
Yet I think the lyric that sums up Love at the Bottom of the Sea occurs in the unrequited-love ditty "I'd Go Anywhere With Hugh," which calls a love triangle "a sad gavotte." This feels like an emblematic Magnetic Fields line, and not just because Stephin Merritt is one of the few working songwriters who'd use the word "gavotte." "Sad gavotte" describes the characters' situation, the musical style of the song, the overall mood of the album, and, ultimately, the value and the appeal of the Magnetic Fields.
Lead single "Andrew in Drag" is delightful, a catchy tune about an appealingly off-kilter situation: a straight dude realizes that he has the hots for his friend Andrew, but only when Andrew is dressed as a girl. It's sweet and playful, but vaguely melancholy too, since the narrator's desires will never be fulfilled. And I love the Magnetic Fields when they are in sweet-but-melancholy mode (cf. my abiding affection for "The Luckiest Guy on the Lower East Side").
My other favorite song on the album is the waltz "The Only Boy in Town." "Oh, if only you were the only boy in town / For then I could not play the field and let you down," it begins, and continues for three verses and a stunning bridge, full of damnably clever lyrics including a rhyme on "France," "seance," and "for the nonce." But for all the skewed logic and screwy wit, I found it the most relatable song on the album. It's about a woman who wishes she could force herself to love someone wholeheartedly -- and who among us has not felt the same way?
Several of the songs on this album mix old-fashioned Tin Pan Alley songwriting craft with contemporary subject matter -- "Andrew in Drag," a consideration of the vagaries of sexual attraction, being a prime example. The satirical "God Wants Us To Wait" is the perfect song for an era (and a nation) that considers Rick Santorum a viable presidential candidate. It is not a very pretty song, but presumably the martial beat and robotic-sounding vocals are intended to convey that evangelical anti-sex freaks are scary and fascistic. "The Machine in Your Hand" is a song about wanting to be your lover's smartphone the way that Romeo wanted to be a glove upon Juliet's hand -- the lyric "I'll have magical powers / Only they're scientific!" made me giggle.
Speaking of Shakespearean allusions and magical powers, the album also has a song called "I've Run Away to Join the Fairies." Reading the title, I was afraid we were in for something terribly twinkly and twee, about what jolly good fun it is to live in Fairyland. Fortunately, Stephin Merritt sees fairies as powerful and frightening, the way they are portrayed in traditional European folklore. To suitably eerie music, he sings that the fairies "will enchant me and enslave me" and give him an ass's head.
The Magnetic Fields are in goofy high spirits in many of these songs. "The Horrible Party," clearly a take-off on Noel Coward's "I Went to a Marvelous Party," sounds like it should be in a Broadway musical version of Vile Bodies. (Have I mentioned that Vile Bodies and the Bright Young People are my new obsessions? Because they are.) And the album ends with an electro-mariachi parody number exhorting us to "hire Saatchi and Saatchi / To advertise the sausage in your pants."
Yet I think the lyric that sums up Love at the Bottom of the Sea occurs in the unrequited-love ditty "I'd Go Anywhere With Hugh," which calls a love triangle "a sad gavotte." This feels like an emblematic Magnetic Fields line, and not just because Stephin Merritt is one of the few working songwriters who'd use the word "gavotte." "Sad gavotte" describes the characters' situation, the musical style of the song, the overall mood of the album, and, ultimately, the value and the appeal of the Magnetic Fields.
Monday, March 12, 2012
Thinking Creatively, Thinking Practically
NPR once did a video feature where they asked Stephin Merritt (the brilliant songwriter of the Magnetic Fields et al) to compose and record a song, so they could document his creative process. To get started, they provided him with a few writing prompts to choose from. Merritt picked a creepy-looking photo and the number "1974." He explained that he would interpret "1974" as the 1, 9, 7, and 4 notes on the scale and use that as the basis of the melody.
I thought this was so interesting. Most people, if they got a prompt that said "1974," would interpret it as the year 1974, and write a song about an event that took place that year, or using a style of music that was popular in 1974, or something. So, in one sense, Merritt was thinking outside the box. But in another sense, he was thinking quite practically. NPR gave him just 2 days to write and record the song, and under such constraints, all shortcuts are helpful. His decision to see 1-9-7-4 as notes of a musical theme probably saved time and kept him from being overwhelmed by too many melodic possibilities.
You know, sometimes we consider "creative thinking" diametrically opposed to "practical thinking," but it ain't necessarily so. Especially in the arts! So much of the fun of making art comes in working within the constraints of our genres and materials, which spurs both creative and practical thinking.
I found myself pondering this -- how thinking creatively can also mean thinking practically -- after the first writers' meeting for the scribes of Theater Pub 3.3: The Odes of March. Karen, our producer, asked us why we were drawn to the specific odes we were writing. People went around the room giving heartfelt, touching answers, e.g. "Not a lot of people know what a House Manager really does and I wanted to share that with the audience," or "Good stage managers are so underrated and I wanted to pay tribute to them."
Then it was my turn. "Well," I said, "I signed up to do the Ode to the Props Master because a props master is always dealing with a lot of different things --I mean objects, nouns, you know -- so I thought it would be easy to rhyme."
Everyone laughed and I felt a little ashamed to have chosen my topic in such a logical/practical way, rather than emotionally or intuitively. But I knew that if I paid attention to the practical considerations first, I could more easily exercise my creativity later.
All of this is a digressive preamble to lead up to the announcement that YES, I have two pieces in the Odes of March Theater Pub next Monday night, the 19th of March. Ode to the Props Master, in stately heroic couplets à la Alexander Pope! And Ode to the Costume Designer, in anapestic quatrains with trick rhymes!
There will be 19 odes total, performed by some of the most charismatic actors of the San Francisco indie theater scene. Including McPuzo & Trotsky's latest composition, a send-up and deconstruction of every Broadway musical ever written -- trust me, you do not want to miss this! As per usual, the performance begins at 8 PM at the Cafe Royale (corner of Post & Leavenworth), San Francisco.
Additionally, I hope you don't mind that I began this post by talking about Stephin Merritt, because March will be Magnetic Fields Month on my blog! I'll be going to their concert in Oakland on the 24th and hope to blog about the performance, as well as their new album.
Very excited about attending both of these shows, Odes of March and the Magnetic Fields. Rhymes galore!
I thought this was so interesting. Most people, if they got a prompt that said "1974," would interpret it as the year 1974, and write a song about an event that took place that year, or using a style of music that was popular in 1974, or something. So, in one sense, Merritt was thinking outside the box. But in another sense, he was thinking quite practically. NPR gave him just 2 days to write and record the song, and under such constraints, all shortcuts are helpful. His decision to see 1-9-7-4 as notes of a musical theme probably saved time and kept him from being overwhelmed by too many melodic possibilities.
You know, sometimes we consider "creative thinking" diametrically opposed to "practical thinking," but it ain't necessarily so. Especially in the arts! So much of the fun of making art comes in working within the constraints of our genres and materials, which spurs both creative and practical thinking.
I found myself pondering this -- how thinking creatively can also mean thinking practically -- after the first writers' meeting for the scribes of Theater Pub 3.3: The Odes of March. Karen, our producer, asked us why we were drawn to the specific odes we were writing. People went around the room giving heartfelt, touching answers, e.g. "Not a lot of people know what a House Manager really does and I wanted to share that with the audience," or "Good stage managers are so underrated and I wanted to pay tribute to them."
Then it was my turn. "Well," I said, "I signed up to do the Ode to the Props Master because a props master is always dealing with a lot of different things --I mean objects, nouns, you know -- so I thought it would be easy to rhyme."
Everyone laughed and I felt a little ashamed to have chosen my topic in such a logical/practical way, rather than emotionally or intuitively. But I knew that if I paid attention to the practical considerations first, I could more easily exercise my creativity later.
All of this is a digressive preamble to lead up to the announcement that YES, I have two pieces in the Odes of March Theater Pub next Monday night, the 19th of March. Ode to the Props Master, in stately heroic couplets à la Alexander Pope! And Ode to the Costume Designer, in anapestic quatrains with trick rhymes!
There will be 19 odes total, performed by some of the most charismatic actors of the San Francisco indie theater scene. Including McPuzo & Trotsky's latest composition, a send-up and deconstruction of every Broadway musical ever written -- trust me, you do not want to miss this! As per usual, the performance begins at 8 PM at the Cafe Royale (corner of Post & Leavenworth), San Francisco.
Additionally, I hope you don't mind that I began this post by talking about Stephin Merritt, because March will be Magnetic Fields Month on my blog! I'll be going to their concert in Oakland on the 24th and hope to blog about the performance, as well as their new album.
Very excited about attending both of these shows, Odes of March and the Magnetic Fields. Rhymes galore!
Sunday, March 11, 2012
"Merchants" by Susan Sobeloff: A play for the Great Recession
Is No Nude Men starting a tradition of producing new plays each March that deal with the current economic crisis? But while last year's Hermes was about the greedy and amoral one-percenters who are responsible for the economic mess, this year's Merchants, by Susan Sobeloff, is about a middle-class American family trying to deal with the economic downturn -- it's a play for the 99%.
Merchants focuses on two sisters: Lilah (Ariane Owens) has always been the responsible one with a good job, while Mercedes (Maura Halloran) has always been her flaky bohemian kid sister. But when the recession hits, forcing their mother (Trish Tillman) to close the family business and causing Lilah's husband Theo (Tony Cirimele) to lose his job, the family decides that their best hope of making money is to turn Mercedes' performance-art hobby into a viable career. Soon, Mercedes is going out on tours and the phone is ringing off the hook with requests to buy T-shirts and schedule bookings. But this new method of making money also causes stress for everyone -- forcing them to do things they never thought they'd do, things they always hated. Ultimately, it forces them to grow.
Sobeloff makes the striking and unusual choice not to show Lilah and Mercedes really interacting with one another until the very end of the play, whetting our anticipation for what the sisters will say to each other when they finally get to have a real conversation. Other good scenes include the one where we get a taste of Mercedes' performance art and the funny scene of Lilah and Theo interacting with customers on the phone. Director Stuart Bousel, the cast, and the rest of the No Nude Men team have given the play a solid production for its world premiere.
At first, I wasn't sure I was going to blog about Merchants. I thought the play and production were well-done, but I wasn't sure if I had any special angle or insight into them. Then I realized that perhaps my very lack of an angle is a virtue. That is, Merchants is not a trendy or a cutting-edge play. It is squarely in the tradition of psychologically-realistic American plays that depict a family dealing with economic hardship. (Often, as in Merchants, these plays deal with Jewish families -- cf. Awake and Sing or Death of a Salesman.) But who says that a play can be good only if it's hip or experimental? The subject matter of Merchants is timely, the script provides good roles for women, and the story is ultimately satisfying. Furthermore, with this production, No Nude Men is taking a chance on a first-time female playwright. And what's not to like about that?
Merchants runs through March 24 at the Exit Stage Left, San Francisco. Tickets here.
Disclosure: I was comped to Merchants last weekend.
Merchants focuses on two sisters: Lilah (Ariane Owens) has always been the responsible one with a good job, while Mercedes (Maura Halloran) has always been her flaky bohemian kid sister. But when the recession hits, forcing their mother (Trish Tillman) to close the family business and causing Lilah's husband Theo (Tony Cirimele) to lose his job, the family decides that their best hope of making money is to turn Mercedes' performance-art hobby into a viable career. Soon, Mercedes is going out on tours and the phone is ringing off the hook with requests to buy T-shirts and schedule bookings. But this new method of making money also causes stress for everyone -- forcing them to do things they never thought they'd do, things they always hated. Ultimately, it forces them to grow.
Sobeloff makes the striking and unusual choice not to show Lilah and Mercedes really interacting with one another until the very end of the play, whetting our anticipation for what the sisters will say to each other when they finally get to have a real conversation. Other good scenes include the one where we get a taste of Mercedes' performance art and the funny scene of Lilah and Theo interacting with customers on the phone. Director Stuart Bousel, the cast, and the rest of the No Nude Men team have given the play a solid production for its world premiere.
At first, I wasn't sure I was going to blog about Merchants. I thought the play and production were well-done, but I wasn't sure if I had any special angle or insight into them. Then I realized that perhaps my very lack of an angle is a virtue. That is, Merchants is not a trendy or a cutting-edge play. It is squarely in the tradition of psychologically-realistic American plays that depict a family dealing with economic hardship. (Often, as in Merchants, these plays deal with Jewish families -- cf. Awake and Sing or Death of a Salesman.) But who says that a play can be good only if it's hip or experimental? The subject matter of Merchants is timely, the script provides good roles for women, and the story is ultimately satisfying. Furthermore, with this production, No Nude Men is taking a chance on a first-time female playwright. And what's not to like about that?
Merchants runs through March 24 at the Exit Stage Left, San Francisco. Tickets here.
Disclosure: I was comped to Merchants last weekend.
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Sketchy Shakespeare
A college friend of mine recently started a blog called Shakesketch -- whimsical illustrations inspired by Shakespeare quotes.
I suggested "Egypt, thou knew’st too well / My heart was to thy rudder tied by the strings / And thou shouldst tow me after" from Antony and Cleopatra, with this as the result:
Go over to Shakesketch to check out the other illustrations and send your own favorite Shakespeare quote to the artist!
It really is a great daily reminder of the richness of Shakespeare's language and metaphors.
I suggested "Egypt, thou knew’st too well / My heart was to thy rudder tied by the strings / And thou shouldst tow me after" from Antony and Cleopatra, with this as the result:
Go over to Shakesketch to check out the other illustrations and send your own favorite Shakespeare quote to the artist!
It really is a great daily reminder of the richness of Shakespeare's language and metaphors.
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Finding the Pleiades
I'm ashamed to admit this, but I wrote an entire play based on the Greek myth of the Pleiades without knowing how to sight the Pleiades star cluster. The instructions I found tended to presuppose more astronomical knowledge than I had: "Find Capella, then find Aldebaran". And just what does a "star cluster" look like, anyway?
But then I discovered two key facts (source):
Caveats: If there's too much light pollution, you can't see the Pleiades (they are dimmer than Orion and Aldebaran). Also, these are winter constellations, so if you are in the Northern Hemisphere you have only about a month more to view them this season. Currently, they are best seen in the early evening, just an hour or two after sundown.
The Pleiades are small, but distinctive, and many cultures have incorporated them into their mythology. I myself realized that while stargazing in years past, I had observed a cute little Dipper-shaped grouping -- I just had never known that it was the Pleiades. When I finally learned how to sight them using the "Orion's belt" method, I felt like I was seeing an old friend.
"Hello, girls," I said.
But then I discovered two key facts (source):
- If you follow the stars in Orion's belt in a straight line to the right, you will eventually hit the Pleiades.
- You can recognize the Pleiades because they are shaped like a mini-Dipper. We're talking a cute, tiny Dipper shape, much smaller than the actual Little Dipper.
Caveats: If there's too much light pollution, you can't see the Pleiades (they are dimmer than Orion and Aldebaran). Also, these are winter constellations, so if you are in the Northern Hemisphere you have only about a month more to view them this season. Currently, they are best seen in the early evening, just an hour or two after sundown.
The Pleiades are small, but distinctive, and many cultures have incorporated them into their mythology. I myself realized that while stargazing in years past, I had observed a cute little Dipper-shaped grouping -- I just had never known that it was the Pleiades. When I finally learned how to sight them using the "Orion's belt" method, I felt like I was seeing an old friend.
"Hello, girls," I said.
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