In the 80s and 90s, my husband Patrick was in a free jazz band named "Halfway to Cleveland." Led by a saxophonist/flutist/cellist/provocateur named "Doc" (last name unknown), "Halfway to Cleveland" played some crazy, spacey, not-of-this-world jazz.
Their concerts were always in some sort of make-do place; an abandoned house, a house under construction, a vacant lot somewhere. They rehearsed a lot but the music had a decidedly unrehearsed sound - Doc's leadership involved a lot of staring, a lot of steering, and a lot of audience participation. If it seemed like a free-for-all, it surely wasn't - the direction was always deliberate, but free from constraints. Over the years, Patrick has shared with me some of Doc's teachings on improvising; I wish I had gotten to meet him. The music was free, but it wasn't free. If I'm describing it right - I only got to hear them live once, in 1989 or '90, with Adam, in a vacant lot in the Venice canals (these days I'm sure some multi-million dollar home stands there); this was a couple of months after Patrick and I met, I guess. It's possible he still liked me, but he was shy, so who knows. The concert that Adam and I went to was, for me, a trip - I wasn't familiar with any kind of jazz, really, let alone jazz of the "free" variety. It was just space music, to me, performed by aliens, and I'm sure when we left that concert, that I was totally freaked out. It didn't help the out-of-this-world feeling that the only light shining that night came from the moon and this huge mushroom shaped lamp that sat on the ground between us and band - it looked like a tiny spaceship landing there.
Tonight while I was at the theater, Patrick went to a birthday party for David, the guitarist of "Halfway to Cleveland," and was given a VHS tape of one of their concerts. We're watching it now. The music is exactly as I remembered it. It's funny to see Patrick from 18 years ago - thinner, with shorter (but still long) hair. My goodness he had some skinny arms. (You can't tell in the video, because obviously he's sitting down, but I remember him having [and he still does, of course] these amazing calves - he played double bass drum and I guess that gave his legs quite a workout. They were impressive.) He's playing a lot of stuff with mallets and brushes. He's wearing funny sunglasses and a blue t-shirt, black shorts, and white socks. The rest of the band is totally wearing what guys in a band in 1989 would be wearing... high waisted ripped up jeans, enormous eyeglasses. Doc was older than the other guys, and in the video, he brings in some audience participation - at one point he passed out various books and objects, and gives people a microphone with which to read out loud, whatever passages struck their fancy. One beautiful girl (in an outfit I'm sure I had in 1989 - black leggings, a gray t-shirt, and a big over-sized green cardigan) reads from the side of a caulking gun (this concert is in a half-built house somewhere; there were probably lots of building materials on hand). At some point the camera catches someone's big yellow Labrador walking through the space. The audience was a mixture of hip young people and slightly older people, with one white-haired lady for good measure. She had a wonderful speaking voice, and Doc hit her with a lot of delay and effects while she read from what sounded like some sort of new age self help book. Other people read bits of the newspaper or from the other books. The words weren't always clear but the sounds of their voices worked with the other musical things that were going on.
Other than all the MTP shows I got to see when they were still playing (in their "reunion" concerts a couple of years ago; MTP started the reunion craze!), I hadn't really seen Patrick play drums since the concert that me and Adam went to - the one that blew my mind. I wish I hadn't been such a scared-y cat - it looks like this stuff was a lot of fun.
...
Before tonight's performance of "Quartet," City Garage did their version of Suzan-Lori Parks' "365 Days/365 Plays" - Week 45. This project is the realization of Suzan-Lori Parks' decision to write a play a day. There are various theater groups participating, and I suppose someone could conceivably see all of them (but I don't really know...). Honestly, I was only interested in seeing what Frederique would do with this material. Some of the plays, which I got to read last year, were very short, very minimal - I couldn't visualize what they would look like. My favorite performance was from my friend David Frank. There was one wonderful, long moment in which he stood at the front of the stage with the rest of the company behind him. To tell you the truth, I wasn't really sure exactly what they were up to - I couldn't take my eyes off of him. He didn't say anything, but his face and his expressions were beautiful. I don't think I've ever seen him that way before. I can't describe it, really - I don't know what technique he was utilizing, if any, or how to say what looking at him made me feel. But I'm glad I got to see it.
(The funny thing is, I'm pretty sure this performance from David was in no way dictated by the material. I'm sure that it was all him, all Frederique. That's the reason I love going to this theater, even though I'm pretty much a theater novice. I'm learning, though.)
Tonight was to be closing night for "Quartet," but we've been extended through October 21st, with a one week break through next weekend, starting up again on Saturday, October 6. I'm glad for the break, but I'm also kind of wondering how I'm going to fill up my weekend, next week. Well, I'm sure we'll think of something.
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