Monday, January 14, 2008
KDNY
In "Charges From Domremy," the New York-based dance troupe KDNY tackles the tale of Joan of Arc, an epic story that could have easily lent itself to high drama and rich character development. Unfortunately, KDNY came up short on Saturday at Dance Place in a program that, despite some strong dancers and attractive movement, was ultimately static and wearisome.
Choreographer Kathleen Dyer created some especially effective movement for Joan's enemies. Bent forward at the waist and balancing on their toes, the dancers forcefully thrust an elbow upward, creating a beautifully sculptural pose with a decidedly aggressive movement. They did not just step on the floor but urgently pounded against it, and their splayed, curled fingers made them appear predatory and antagonistic.
But Dyer is not an effective storyteller. The evening-length work was repetitive; the image of Joan's character thrashing in pain or collapsing into the arms of her supporters became stale. Some of the battle scenes were too lengthy, continuing long after their impact was made. Moreover, a clear narrative arc never took shape. The piece chugged along at the same pace and in the same dynamic range, with no obvious climax and few quiet moments to balance the more intense ones.
In the role of Joan of Arc, Heather Kemp was one-dimensional. She constantly portrayed the character in a state of suffering or angst and failed to capture Joan's bravery, leadership or heroism. It even appeared that there were other dancers in the ensemble whose technique bested Kemp's and might have given a more sophisticated performance.
-- Sarah Halzack
The Silver Beats
There's something joyfully goofy about watching four Japanese guys mimic the Beatles, and Eric Mabuchi of the Silver Beats didn't hesitate to play up this part of their appeal at the 9:30 club Friday night.
"We're not that good at speaking English," the half-American Mabuchi (aka "John") said in perfect English early in the sold-out show. "So we'll just have to keep singing!"
Many bows and "arigatos" followed, as well as what compelled the audience to twist-and-shout even after its I-gotta-see-this curiosity was satisfied: masterly re-creations of the choicest cuts from the Beatles songbook. Although Mabuchi, the youngest of the group, is the only member who pulls off a physical resemblance to his Liverpudlian counterpart (in both looks and mannerisms), close your eyes and you'll find that Tadaaki Naganuma ("Paul"), Hajime Kubo ("George") and Yukinobu Kabe ("Ringo") are gifted musical impersonators -- particularly Kubo, who nimbly negotiated the resplendent solos in tunes such as "While My Guitar Gently Weeps" and "Dizzy Miss Lizzy," the latter partially performed behind his head.
The Silver Beats got their first taste of the United States while touring last year with the Killers, who'd "discovered" them at an all-Beatles club in Tokyo. This time around, their awed, ear-to-ear grins were intact, along with their clever use of "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band" snippets to frame their set. But they've added an encore -- and unwisely allowed their Joe Perry-looking stagehand to sing a couple of their final songs. "That's right, not just a roadie!" said the dude before belting out "Mr. Moonlight" and "Don't Let Me Down." It felt like a self-indulgent intrusion, and further testament that the Beats' heretofore anonymous but infectiously entertaining gents were the ones worth paying to see.
-- Tricia Olszewski
Cyrus Chestnut
Cyrus Chestnut's brand of jazz has always been strongly influenced by blues and gospel music. So when the pianist performed a program titled "Sanctified Swing" at the Kennedy Center Family Theater on Saturday night, no doubt some listeners were eager to hear him emphasize the spiritual side of his repertoire.
They didn't go home disappointed. But the concert proved uplifting in more than ways than one, enlivened by Chestnut's engaging personality and genial spirit. After playfully introducing his bandmates to each other, he took his seat at the piano for the opening selection, Cedar Walton's "Holy Land." It was first of several arrangements that revealed the complementary gifts of tenor saxophonist Jimmy Greene and trumpeter Curtis Taylor, a muscular frontline that often evoked the glory days of hard-bop and soul jazz.
As the concert unfolded, Chestnut's grounding in church music became more apparent via tremolo passages, hammered chords, ringing gospel cadences and dramatic shifts in tempo and dynamics. While "How Great Thou Art" served as a soulfully yearning, unaccompanied piano interlude, the pianist spent most of the concert nimbly interacting with his band-mates, including bassist Dezron Douglas and drummer Neal Smith.
Unfortunately, Chestnut didn't play the Hammond B-3 organ as much as one would have liked. He moved to the instrument in time, though, to accompany vocalist Cynthia Scott, who hails from a family of preachers, and sounded like it. Scott helped cap the concert with a potent mix of Pentecostal fervor and contemporary inspirational themes.
-- Mike Joyce
Vinicio Capossela
Italy didn't become a unified country until 1861; before that, its various regions shared some commonalities but had distinct and independent cultures. Italian singer-songwriter Vinicio Capossela evokes pre-Risorgimento Italy in at least one way: His compositions consist of a collection of seemingly unrelated music -- from cha-cha-cha to polka -- that become consolidated through the commanding force of a singular personality.
Capossela brought his cabaret-cum-rock act to the Kennedy Center's Millennium Stage on Friday and a large number of Italians showed up to see the man who won their country's 2006 Tenco Prize for album of the year. English-only speakers didn't get the benefit of understanding Capossela's witty lyrics, but his winking music and playful persona conveyed cleverness without translations.
The Millennium Stage's dreadful sound layered distortion on Capossela's voice for the first quarter of the concert -- although it kind of fit his gruff singing style, especially when he was sporting a Minotaur mask while crooning the clanging, rough-hewn "Brucia Troia" ("Burn Troy"). That song was the most reminiscent of Tom Waits, the artist whose name keeps popping up in relation to Capossela, but it also evoked the filthy punk-blues of Jon Spencer, as well as Tuvan throat singers.
The 10 other tunes did their best to stay away from easy labels, too, with the seven musicians evoking sounds from Europe (Eastern and Western), Cuba and Africa. "Non Trattare" ("Do Not Bargain") was a modal Arabic blues; "Medusa Cha Cha Cha" was just what its title indicates, which Capossela drove home by dancing around in a golden snake-hair mask; and "Maharajah" was political satire mixed with Marx Brothers Mexicana.
In the kingdom of Capossela, eclecticism reigns.
-- Christopher Porter
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