BLACK SWAN AND A PORTRAIT OF THE ARTIST
posted: February 2, 2011SPOILER ALERT!
Metamorphosis. The act of changing from one form to another; often characterized by divine or mystical transformation. Such is the essence of transcendent artistic expression. Great art, that is, a work that is both accessible and uniquely-inspired, is borne of a synchronized collaboration between that which has been learned and that which cannot be taught. Perhaps one might say it is the union of the mind and the soul. Regardless, it is necessary for a work of art to straddle the line between what the artist intends to say and the meaning inferred by the viewer (or reader, or listener, etc.).
For me, Darren Aronofsky's Black Swan, to which we might want to ascribe Natalie Portman joint-ownership, embodies something ideally artistic. The movie (I refuse to use the term "film" because I can only bear to sound like so much of a twat) fuses the tangible artistic elements (the visual and the audible) with the intangible (the meaning and the moral) to create something as beautiful on its surface as in its core. The parallel tales of Nina, Natalie Portman's character, and the Swan Queen, her role in the ballet, present the movie's audience with a dual - and often dueling - representation of metamorphosis. Nina must learn to simultaneously operate within the rigors of the choreography and to allow herself to become the puppet of her own interior; a synthesis that is most difficult for her, as her notion of perfection is defined by precision rather than passion. In order to "perfectly" portray both the White Swan and the Black Swan she must undergo an artistic metamorphosis and straddle that line between what she thinks is perfect and what appears perfect to her audience (or to her director, Thomas Leroy, played by Vincent Cassel).
In an ending that is both tragic and victorious Nina completes the metamorphosis and embodies both swans with respective perfection. And, in so doing, completes the plot of the artist who learns to transcend his or her (S)elf. This is the power of the stage. Something happens, rather, something must happen to a performer when he or she takes to stage. The quintessential Rock n Roll performer, for example, is required, by unconscious will of the audience, to be endearing and earnest while also asserting a unique command that affixes one's jealous gaze to that person.
I suppose the reason for having written this essay is a fascination, indeed, an obsession, with those exceedingly rare individuals who stand before a microphone and exude effortless power and presence. Of course, for me, that person must also illustrate that he or she has honed a particular craft (most often the craft of singing) and is able to combine the practiced with the innate. It's rare, and it's cool. It's the type of ability we all imagine or have imagined ourselves possessing. And that's why I work in music: to find those rare and intriguing people who can slip off their slacks and ties and assume a new posture, a new look in the eye, and captivate an audience. Drawings are all well and nice, so are songs and movies. But the art of performance brings to bear a most human element: fear. A line drawn on a page can be erased, a note missed on a recording can be overdubbed, a movie can be edited or a scene reshot. A ballet dancer who falls to the ground during a performance cannot change time. She cannot deflect the audience's disappointment and she cannot make up for her error.
Then again, maybe she can.
RINGING IN THE NEW YEAR
posted: January 13, 2011When the next incarnation of Legs McNeil collects the accounts of today’s New York music scene - a task that may someday be undertaken by yours truly – there will be one distinct similarity between the Punks and, well, whatever you’d like to name the current generation of artists: size. That is, the contemporary movement, like the previous one (New York Dolls, Iggy Pop, The Ramones, Patti Smith, etc.), is made up a very small group of people; and, while the number of bands and artists that exists in our time is a number far greater than that of David Johansen’s time, those musicians and performers who define anything radical, who work under a certain mutual inspiration, are few. While on the surface there seems to be an easily identifiable aesthetic – let’s call it Hipster-music – the City’s underbelly, where lives a fervor and an excitement that does not exist at the surface, is catalyzed by good ol’ Rock n Roll. It may not be the sound that was harvested at The Fillmores, nor is it the same cultural environment that blossomed at CBGB, but it operates under the same principles: make it good, make it rock and make it from the heart.
A strong contingent of the artists who make up our scene ushered in 2011 with a statement that the Rock n Roll seeds that were planted a couple years ago are in full bloom. One such signifier was the release of Apollo Run’s music video for “Stars,” off the 2010 EP Here Be Dragons, Vol. 1.
The trio of musicians that comprise Apollo Run, John McGrew, Jeff Kerestes and Graham Fisk, employ a rare set of vocal abilities as a primary vehicle to create a brand of beautiful, often choral, Rock n Roll that posits them as a markedly unique and recognizable band. There are groups that have girls singing backup, there are groups where male voices are crunched together in a haze of reverberation, and then there is Apollo Run. Though they don’t play Motown, there is certainly something that resembles the sort of masculine-yet-moving qualities that The Drifters elicited. Fortunately, in a circumstance that very often produces something unfortunate, Apollo Run were able to take one of their indelible tracks and make (or have made for them) a value-add video. Likewise, another one of our important scene bands, Black Taxi, released an excellent music video a couple weeks after.
Over the past several years Black Taxi has established themselves as among the scene’s elite. Undoubtedly one of the best live acts around, the quartet of Ezra Huleatt, Bill Mayo, Jason Holmes and Krisana Soponpong successfully translated their irresistibly danceable, genre-crossing brand of music onto record with their 2009 LP, Things of That Nature. Just about a year after the release of the album the band held a party debuting a music video for “Shoeshine,” the first track off the album. Directed by Adam Hootnick, a career documentarian, the video injects a real-world feel to an otherwise fantastical narrative. Lead singer Huleatt, as lead singers tend to do, shines in a starring role opposite alluring pornographic actress Justine Joli (mostly girl-on-girl, nothing terribly exciting, but a super sexy choice nonetheless). Greater than any second-to-second explication of the video is its general quality. Like the band, Hootnick was able to make a wonderfully-produced work of art without a mountain of cash and cutting-edge technology. It also offers a larger-than-life depiction of the band, an aesthetic that is at the heart of both the band’s music and the band’s live performance.
Finally, as 2010 came to a close, a new concert event was unveiled: The Shakedown. Hosted by The Shake, the monthly party thumbs its nose - or, really, whatever is the opposite of thumbing one’s nose - at the traditional New York venues. Behind a simple red door with “140” labeled in standard gold and black decals on W 24th St., The Shakedown emancipates the crowds and bar-goers from the typical concert site that asks its visitors to pay $7 for a beer, then tells them step into the cold to smoke cigarettes, to watch this or that band for a 45-minute set and get the fuck out. Rather, guests are encouraged to drink cheap, to smoke (whatever they’d like) inside, and party whilst three select bands – one of which is always The Shake - play what has the ambience a wild fraternity party. The hosts have been known to be a bit obsessive over the bands they invite to play, for most won’t make the cut. The band rehearses on the second floor of the building and they won’t let any bullshit into their house. The Shakedown is where the scene comes together for a night and generates an experience that the Mercury Lounges, the Pianos and the Music Halls cannot: authenticity. You’re either coming through the red doors to rock or to get rocked. In a town so apt to be drawn to the sharp-dressed man, it’s awfully refreshing to get something pure, something driven by music and love of music rather than money and lust for money.
The space, affectionately called The Red Door (duh) is owned and operated by one Giorgio Gomelsky, the man who fostered the Rhythm and Blues movement in the UK, and gave an unknown band called The Rolling Stones a place to play and grow. Bearing in mind the principles Mr. Gomelsky created at his historic Crawdaddy club in London, The Shakedown is a haven for musicians and music-lovers alike. It also has plenty of room for those who just want to get stoned, and there ain’t nothing wrong with folks who just want to get stoned.
The party is also emblematic of The Shake’s style. It’s a bit dark and it can be a bit jarring, but it is endlessly welcoming. As the young quartet continues to blossom into a most vital component of the contemporary Rock movement, there could be no greenhouse more fitting for their maturation than The Shakedown at The Red Door. Likewise, there may be no better nursery to foster the growth of the movement on the whole.
-Nick Schupak