A Lil' Bit of Cher

This one kind of speaks for itself.  Found this at a subway station (can't remember which one).  The artist wrote "moustaches" on every person featured in a poster, like the Fairy Jobmother lady and Megamind.  I love me some witty graffiti.

-Lida

Aaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrnold!

SOOO this week has been mad busy, hence the photo posts without much writing.

The week hasn't ended, so here's another photo:

We stumbled on this somewhere in Chelsea, right next to a jungle gym park.  It's totally old-school Nickelodeon (mixed with multiculturalism-promoting shorts).  Definitely Hey Arnold!, maybe with a little Wild Thornberrys.  Definitely too quirky for Doug or Rugrats.

He could definitely be Helga Pataki's awkward, sheltered brother.

In case, after seeing this photo, you are totally in a cartoon throwback mood (like I was), I'll leave you with full episodes of Hey Arnold!

No need to thank me.

You're welcome.

-Lida

**UPDATE: I was randomly on a street art website, and I saw this same wall staring at me (same art, different picture, obviously).  Turns out, this "Gigante" was a collaboration by artists Os Gemeos and Futura2000.  Here's Unurth's description of the wall: http://unurth.com/566419/Os-G-meos-Futura-NYC

Spotted

Who: Big Bird
What: Dancing, Scaring Little Children
Where: Columbus Circle
Why: ...

-Lida

Fun Find

A casual game of Quidditch going on in Riverside Park (11/6/10).

-Lida

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZX8Om3JsOgw

I am a huge fan of jam sessions.  My friends back home are all magically and incredibly musically gifted.  I, despite being a pretty hardcore music lover, am not.  I've tried piano, I've tried violin, I've tried guitar, and I bought a banjo (which is laying on the floor in my bedroom back in DC), but every venture has been catastrophic.  So whenever my prodigious friends have any sort of desire to do something musical, I wholeheartedly support them, preferably if it means I get to listen in.

I am now a huge fan of four-man, 1956, Memphis jam sessions.

Tonight, I saw Million Dollar Quartet.

Damn.  In case I wasn't enough of a Johnny Cash/Elvis Presley/Jerry Lee Lewis/Carl Perkins fan before, this musical took me through the roof.

Million Dollar Quartet documents the most kick-ass jam session in history, involving the aforementioned musicians, taking place on Dec. 4, 1956, at the Sun Records recording studio, Memphis, TN.  The story line isn't riveting -- there's some conflict over Johnny Baby signing a contract with Columbia Records, and there's some boo-hoo from Car-Car about being neglected by Sun Records head honcho Sam Phillips, Elvis is emo and confused, and there's some inter-group conflict because Jerry Lee is so damn rascally.  But who cares.  I didn't buy a ticket to this show because of the story.  I came because I knew I'd love the music.  And I did.

Blue Suede Shoes, Sixteen Tons, Long Tall Sally, Folsom Prison Blues, My Babe (a song Carl Perkins stole from another one of my favorite musicians, Little Walter), Whole Lotta Shakin' Goin' On, That's All Right... they literally sing every song you want them to sing.  And they're not faking it, either.  Not only are they singing and acting in a particular historic character (characters that are like, astronomically famous), but they're also playing their respective instruments.  I'll break it down:  Johnny Cash held and played his guitar like Johnny Baby.  Elvis had what I can only describe as a raging case of Restless Leg (total lower body) Syndrome.  Car-Car had blue suede shoes and a rockin' hairdo.  And my boy Jerry Lee played the meanest piano I've ever heard.

(Note: Hunter Foster played Sam Phillips.  Hunter Foster is awesome.  I've seen him in both The Producers and Little Shop of Horrors.  But something with him in this didn't click for me.  Every time he tried to speak with his faux Southern accent [a guitar is now a GEE-pause-tarrrrrr], all I could think was Seymour-Krelborn-Seymour-Krelborn-Seymour-Krelborn...)

Hands down the best actor (and character) in the show was Levi Kreis' Jerry Lee Lewis.  And oh, he won a Tony award for his portrayal.  So bam.

The show keeps getting better and better, until you think it can't possibly get more awesome.  But then it does.  The cast take its bow, and the characters leave.  OH SIKE.  They come back on again, and the set pulls away to reveal a rock-and-roll stage, and glitter, Liberace-like tuxedo jackets (how Mamma Mia! of them) descend from the sky.  The characters dress.  Car-Car (in a sparkly blue), Johnny Baby (in Johnny Cash black), and Elvis (in banana yellow?!  I expected better, Elvis) do another solo song.  They leave again.  DID THE SHOW JUST END WITHOUT A FINAL JERRY LEE SONG?  OH SIKE AGAIN.  Jerry Lee starts Whole Lotta Shakin' Goin' On.  Jerry Lee gets so intense that he rips off his (red sequined) jacket, jumps on the top of his upright piano, and plays it backwards.  The creepy standing bass player lays on his instrument while playing.  Car-Car climbs on top of the bass while blasting out a guitar solo.  Johnny Cash stays cool.  Elvis still has Restless Leg Syndrome.

I was sitting there, clapping my hands and singing along to the songs, completely unaware that this was just a staging of an event, not the actual event.

Who cares?

This was my jam session fantasy.  Thanks, boys.

-Lida

(The Million Dollar Quartet.  Photo taken by Sam Phillips.  Dec. 4th, 1956.  Memphis, TN.)

Swan Lake vs. Ballet

So last Wednesday, Kate invited us to go see Matthew Bourne's Swan Lake with her (THANKS KATE LOVE YA).  Since Chelsea and I are both dancers, we = super excited.  But kind of nervous, since this version of Swan Lake is commonly known as the "all male" version.  Could be very, very weird.  Or could be cool.

Cool.  Definitely cool.  Here's why:

1. STANDARD BALLET: Everything is supposed to look easy.  SWAN LAKE: Strug city.  But a good kind of strug.

In this ballet (and I don't even know if this was ballet.  It was like, contemporary-ballet-bird-nakedness), the dancers didn't try to hide anything.  Allow me to explain.  The male swans were naked, save for their feathery swan pants and ghostly white makeup covering their whole body.  (See photo below.  Abs, y'all.)

Okay, well, I guess they were just shirtless.  But that means that when they started sweating, you saw it.  You might find that gross. Maybe it is.  But at the same time, if you see how much the dancers are sweating, you see how much effort they are putting into it.  I'm not saying the dancing looked laborious, because it didn't.  I'm saying, for the first time, despite being a dancer almost my whole life, I saw how truly physical dancing is.  I came out of the ballet with a huge amount of respect for the sheer athleticism of the swans.  And that's pretty damn cool.  Art, culture, and the Olympics.

2. STANDARD BALLET: Suspend your disbelief, please.  SWAN LAKE: Don't suspend your disbelief.  In fact, we won't let you.


Whenever I see a ballet production (which, granted, isn't that often), the thing that throws me off most is how, when the music gets a little mezzo-piano, or, if the composer is really going crazy, even pianissimo, you can hear EVERYTHING.  I mean everything, from the clacking thumps of pointe shoes hitting the floor (a sound I weirdly love) to the panting of the dancers.  This could have really thrown me out of my "classy NYC ballet attendee" character I was reppin' that night.  (Chelsea even said I looked like I was going "to the baaaahhhlett."  Outfit win.)  But OH NO.  In Swan Lake, I experienced one of the most bizarrely awesome things -- ballet dancers, breathing in unison.  And not just breathing, but using their inhalation dynamically.  The music would get a little soft, and suddenly, you'd hear the corps of swans deeply breathing in through their nose, then exhaling on a "HUH!" sound, a sound which corresponded with some kind of powerful choreography.  And they'd do this, over and over again, putting emphasis on different movements and signaling emotional changes.  Best of all, you don't have to suspend your disbelief -- you can't not (double negative) believe that in front of you, on stage, is a gang (Flock?  Gaggle?  I'm gonna Google it.  Oh shit.  A group of swans is called "a Whiteness."  A whiteness of swans.  I can't make that up) of mean, badass swans.  The group breathing thing works.

3. STANDARD BALLET: Phenomenal dancers.  SWAN LAKE:  This guy.

Ladies and gentleman who haven't seen Matthew Bourne's Swan Lake, meet Richard Winsor.  He was The Swan.  THE Swan.  To explain how killer he was, I have to try to explain the swan movements.  There was a lot of arm-folding-over-the-head-with-broken-wrists posing, back-contortion-akin-to-the-yoga-pose-"cobra" lunging, bird-getting-a-better-view-of-something head flicking, and Michael-Jackson-esque full leg flicking.  Not your typical adagio or grand allegro movement.  It could have been catastrophically weird -- you noticed the bizarreness when some of the corps dancers had little solos (a memorable vignette: a male dancer wearing a costume I can only describe as Peter Pan's lederhosen [complete with fake moustache -- how trendy hipster] dancing with five overly dramatic butterfly fairies).  And yet, every time Richard Winsor flicked his head, Chelsea and I were like, "Aight."  And every time he did an attitude with the arms-folding-over-head-with-broken-wrists pose, we were like, "I see you."  And the fact that he was an imaginary (or not...plot?!?!?!) swan preying on a little boy Prince didn't cause any alarm.  We believed everything he did.  Not only did we believe him, he nailed the dancing.  I've never seen a pose like the one in the picture above look so freaking powerful.  And he's out there doing a pax de deux with another EQUALLY STRONG male dancer (the Prince), and he's lifting him like the Prince is just another 100lb. ballerina.  You know, nbd, typical Richard Winsor.

And, on top of Richard Winsor's sheer hardcore swan masculinity, in the second half of the show he comes on as The Stranger at the royal ball.  And by "Stranger" I mean tall, dark, leather-pants-wearing, cigarette-smoking-on-stage, doing-four-shots-in-a-row, hooking-up-with-all-the-ladies-including-the-Queen Stranger.  Obviously.

His Stranger had the leather pants of Ukrainian pop singer Vitaliy Kozlovsky (who I met in person... and danced onstage with), the rich guy SLASH badass attitude of Christian Bale's Bruce Wayne, and the I-can-bang-anybody attitude of a lovechild between Robert Downey Jr.'s Tony Stark (a little too comical for The Stranger) and Bradley Cooper's bro from The Hangover.  And The Stranger goes out there and does some pelvic thrusts around stage and is simultaneously dancing with every single woman in the show and isjust possibly the most badass mofo ever to hit the ballet stage.  That's all I'm gonna say.

Don't be alarmed.  If you're undergoing sensory overload, that's what's supposed to be happening.  That's happening in the theater every single night Swan Lake goes on.  The show ends, and you don't quite know what hit you.  It's draining.  But, dammit, it's so worth it.  

-Lida 

    (and Chelsea helped write until "Could be very, very weird."  Joint writing fail.)