File Under: Solid Sound, Day 2

Ok folks, we're prepping to hit the road, so this will be quick and dirty.

We finished our tour of the installations at Mass MoCA and came away with the general feeling that last summer's stuff was stronger.  Although some pieces did strike true like the one's by Kathrina Grosse (see photo).   I'm not sure if it's more that I'm less impressed with video pieces (there were so many of them) or that last year was so very much better in general.  Hard to say with art.

We enjoyed a couple hours of the John Hodgeman curated comedy.  John was of course hilarious, but Morgan Murphy and the "Artisinal Pencil Sharpener" were particularly hilarious.  I expected more from Eugene Mirman, though he tends to work more in the realm of smirk than actual laughing, I suppose.  We left before Wyatt Cenac and John's sets.  Our butt's were tired and we had to pee.  Once you leave, you really can't get back in.  The Hunter Center was too damn small.  I suggest you bring a cushion and a bottle to pee in, if you go next year.

Better armed against the rain, we settled in with our friends for Syl Johnson and The Sweet Devines, who turned out a great set.  However, I have no idea what he was on about in the interstisials, he kept mumbling something about Wu Tang.  He thought it was hilarious.

Finally, at 9:15ish, Wilco took the stage and brought forth two hours of Wilco goodness.  I can't recommend enough, seeing this band live.  Of particular musical serendipity, was when Sarah Lee Guthrie joined the band on stage to sing California Stars (her grandfather, Woody, wrote the lyrics).

Other things of note.  We were introduced to something called a Samosa.  YUM!

Time to finish packing and hit road.

Love, Peace and Chicken Grease

File Under: Solid Sound, Day 1

Both John Green and Wil Wheaton preach that people with ambitions toward writing, should write everyday regardless of topic or interest of readership.  My ambitions toward finishing the book that has been rattling around my head for the last 9 years (and a strong need for breakfast) leads me to write this rather brief and uninformative telling of our adventures at the Solid Sound Festival (curated by Wilco at MassMoCA) yesterday.  We picked up the shuttle behind Cumbies around 5:30 and were safely deposited at the entrance to Mass Moca shortly thereafter.  I (mostly) recommend the use of the shuttles, it's (mostly) convenient and saves dealing with pre and post show traffic.

As Mass MoCA is always a visual delight, we were met with art almost immediately.  The place is rife with it, both the installations that already inhabited the vast brick buildings and the festival specific pieces.  Food and beverage selections are fairly plentiful and seem to all be local purveyors.  The thoughtfulness of that last part makes me happy.

The paid and volunteer staff all seemed happy to be there and were quite polite, even security (what? is that even possible?).

Now for the music, Purling Hiss garnered a great big meh from me.  Pajama Club was better but not exactly my cuppa, we listened though as we sat on a hill and watched the sky darken.  As their set continued, our friends arrived with boys in tow.  We followed them down into the field, which through many feet and much rain was softening into mud.  They chose a spot, set up their chairs and we chatted over the band (we are so rude, I know).  Not a full 10 minutes after Doug had declared that it wouldn't rain, "the radar showed it had turned...."

Ellyn and I had brought rain coats.  I had on boots, I was planning on this all being fine.  We're Mainers, rain is nothing.  What we hadn't banked on was the 10-15 degree drop in temp.  Rain coats and ponchos don't address that little bugaboo.  We decided to go back up the hill and sit on the bleachers while they reset the stage for Wilco.  We sat for a mere few minutes before we decided the our asses would not be able to endure.  Also, the sound tent blocked the view.  "If we can't see, we may as well find someplace dryer." said the Mrs.  I agreed.

We made our way through the increasing downpour to the shelter of the main building.  We debated the merits of staying while in line for our body and soul warming coffee and tea.  As we started to make our way back to the field, we overheard someone on a security radio mentioning that is they get thunder they will be shutting down.  This makes absolute sense and as the potential was high, we decided to head back to the hotel and regroup for today.  We did hear the distant thrum of the band as we waited for the shuttle.  In fact we heard about 30 minutes worth.  The planners had not accounted for people wanting to leave early if the weather turned nasty.

Upon return to the hotel, we soaked in a hot bath and slept like logs.  Now we must go forth to source some better, warmer rain gear.  Ta!

File Under: A Street Car Named Desire at WTFest

Anyone who has ever by vocation or avocation practiced the dramatic arts sees each performance from that perspective and tries to learn from it.  Last night at the Williamstown Theater Festival, I witnessed a master class.  This production of "A Street Car Named Desire," has brought the piece to a new level of intimacy and subtlety.  The choice of director David Cromer, to bring part of the audience on to the back side of the stage, made for a performance that lent itself more to the sense of eavesdropping and prurient peeking, than that of watching a play.

The set is much like an aquarium, with no place for the actors to cheat to.  I often found myself making eye contact with the performers.  Luckily, I was fully engaged in them so I didn't feel odd about it.  Don't sit on the stage in the front row unless you are ok with this.

When I heard that Jessica Hecht would play Blanche DuBois, I knew I was in for a nuanced and sympathetic performance, but she brought the fractured mind of Ms. Dubois to an unsettling reality.  She fully realized the mood swings and Blache's efforts to maintain a grip on those few last strands of dignity and self.

Stanley Kowalski is a character that is all too often played as an unsympathetic lout.  Not so with Sam Rockwell's performance.  I expected nothing less from an actor who understands the payoff of a character built on the foundation of human subtlety.  Sam made Stan a person, not a character.  A man whose life has been turned upside down without warning, by an in-law, who thinks him an ape.  It's hard not to sympathise with his feelings, if not his actions.  For Stanley Kowalski does many despicable things, yet through Sam's interpretation, you can grasp at the edges of the motivation, yet still deplore those things.

Ana Reeder did a fine turn as Stella, not portraying a shrinking flower, but a woman who is strong in her own right and undeniably in love with Stanley, for better or worse.  I should also mention, Daniel Stewart Sherman, as Mitch.  He brought forth a man of sensitivity and patience, a counterpoint to the self-focused and impulsive Kowalski.  In the final scene, his sorrow and distaste, for what has transpired, is heart wrenching.

The actors that rounded out the cast were all on point.  Each presenting well crafted characters to support the leads.

I don't know if this show is sold out yet, but you need to go get tickets now.

Update: There is a lot of smoking by the actors during the show (duh it's set in 1947), therefore asthmatics should avoid the on stage seats.  The wife is still a little tight through the chest.