There’s an intoxicating brand of punk that originates from the depth of folk, and that has so far been of brilliance specific to Slavic boisterousness. New York’s immigrant phenomenon Gogol Bordello isn’t quite the prime model of this, but to the band’s biggest advantage is the history that runs through the blood of its core. With chaotic globalization in full swing, one culture’s aged tradition is now a crazed discovery in some other, and everyone can be sure that New York will get at least a sip of it all. My Eastern European friends are outraged that their punks should now be models for “hipsters”, but we might as well ready for the world that will quickly run out of secrets. To our horror, something fantastically new will have to develop rapidly to pacify our ever-increasing curiosity, but to our relief, with every generation there is a change of context, and the old finds a place amongst the new. In Gogol Bordello’s unintelligible punk, the gypsy has found something new, and vice versa.
The premiere of “The BQE” at BAM’s gorgeous Howard Gilman Opera House was unlike any other Sufjan show. The audience may have offered as many heads with gray hair as those with elaborate hairdos. Before starting the last number in the “Sufjan Stevens Plays the Hits” part of the program, the singer said they’d been treated like royals during the making of “The BQE”, and hoped we’d had our money’s worth. By then I had decided that at times, performance and music can be two different things, and though I could already barely remember the particulars of “The BQE”, it had delivered the warm and fuzzy feeling with which I had hoped to renew my concert-going habit.
The lounge area that is now part of Soundfix Records sits cozily past its music collection, and is a venue you want to take advantage of. The intimacy it provides is unlike any other record store’s, since there are tables over which specialty drinks can be had in a laid back atmosphere, away from all the records under bright lights of commerce; and the size of the room itself is just right. Bowerbirds took no more than 15 minutes to set up. After the most basic of sound checks, the acoustics proved its worth as well. Other events may prove otherwise, but the venue was a superb fit for this particular band (while handling my t-shirt purchase, singer Phil Moore said that he had previously been unaware of the store’s existence, but was glad to have discovered it through playing it; on stage he mentioned how good it felt to play a small venue after touring with the Mountain Goats for the past few weeks).
Animal Collective’s Strawberry Jam is true to the intention of creating a sound that is akin to the aesthetic of the fruit jam. Skeletons, then, even though two of them wore fluffy dresses, seemed like an odd choice for stage decor. Sadly, however, despite a steady start with “#1″ and the few favorable moments that followed, the music sounded like the superbness of the album was crumbling as the soundtrack to its own ruin. And to this image the three skeletons seemed appropriate, though I’m sure the effect was not as intended.
At least as far as performances go, there seems to be a difference of principle between classical and popular music. While in classical tradition the works are subjects of scholarly devotion, precision and admiration, popular music thrives in creating an atmosphere where its audience can participate in celebration and festivity, or even grief and loss. Often, the intention of popular music and its understanding of the human spirit supersedes its genius, whereas the music in classical tradition is so sacred that it feels like the people who listen to it are secondary to it by far. We can be reminded, of course, that there are several bands today that blur the difference of traditions, which makes the concept of Wordless Music Series appropriate (and sure, Sufjan’s mini-orchestra flies in a Town Hall setting).
