Coming soon from Greenleaf Music -- I Tre Trombe present The World's Most Romantic Ballad Album of Trumpet Love Songs Ever -- a timeless collection of eternal melodies that linger in the heart forever, as performed by the latest sensational cylindrical brass supergroup, I Tre Trombe: Franco Ambrosetti, Dave Douglas, and Chris Botti:
Okay, I keed, I keed. See here for the real story of on-the-road chance meetings, reunions, et al.
I am not sure whether UnitedCDL sells t-shirts with this design, but if so, you'd think they'd at least have had the courtesy to send me one:
So, uh, yeah, that was my week at CMJ -- a couple of very different Secret Society shows for very different audiences, with the off-days spent checking out as much live music as my schedule and my rapidly deteriorating meatbag would allow. All told, I had a grand old time and it would be fun to do this every year -- though I don't suppose anyone's about to hook me up with a lifetime pass.
Part of the excitement -- beyond the shallow but immensely satisfying pleasure of flashing my "Artist" badge and being waved through the door -- was that most of the time, I had no clue what I was going to hear. When I go out to a jazz show or a contemporary classical show, most of the time I have a pretty good idea what to expect -- even if I haven't heard those specific players or that specific composer before, I generally know their reputation and I'm rarely all that surprised by what I hear. This isn't necessarily a bad thing: if I'm going out to see someone, then 90% of the time I've at minimum listened to whatever tracks they offer online, or I've heard them play in other groups, and so on -- so if I'm making the effort to catch their show, it's because I have certain expectations, and I want the music to fulfill those expectations. Generally speaking, I am happy when it does and disappointed when it doesn't. But that also means there's not a whole lot of room for surprise.
Now, I hate to dredge up the interminably-discusssed "audience question," but I wonder if one of the fundamental problems with attracting young people to jazz and contemporary classical is that it's so damn hard to discover surprising new stuff in a live setting. I know this sounds counterintuitive -- isn't everything surprising to a neophyte listener? Isn't the problem too much surprise?
Well, no. I don't think my behavior is all that different from most other halfway curious concertgoers in their twenties and thirties, regardless of what kind of music they listen to. If a friend says, "Hey, let's go see Band X tonight, I think you'll like them" and I've never heard of Band X, then I'm going to Google them and listen to whatever tracks they have streaming on their home page or MySpace. So if Hypothetical Jazz Fan texts Hypothetical Non-Jazz Fan and says, "Hey, let's go see Brad Meldhau tonight, I think you'll like him," Non-Jazz Fan is probably going either (A) say no, or (B) go to Brad Meldau's website (Brad doesn't do MySpace) and check out the preview tracks available there. If they like what they hear, then they might agree to go to the show -- because now they have some expectations about what it is they'll be getting into. Like me, they'll probably be happy if Brad fulfills their expectations and disappointed if he doesn't. But if they heard the preview tracks, they won't be that surprised -- unless Brad decides this is the night he's going to break out the acoustic guitar and start actually singing "Wonderwall."
The difference with CMJ is that it wasn't remotely possible for me to check out all of the bands I was going to see on MySpace beforehand. But since I had an artist badge and could basically go to anything I wanted without having to pay a cover, it was easy to decide to go to shows because I liked the venue, or I liked the band name, or because it was someone I'd vaguely heard of but had no idea what they sounded like. All week I was constantly being surprised, which turned out to be really fun.
There's nothing really comparable to CMJ in the jazz or contemporary classical worlds -- IAJE was kind of like a stuffy, gated-community version of it (with performances in hotel ballrooms instead of clubs), and now even that is gone. The Bang on a Can Marathon has the right spirit, but even 27 hours on a single stage can't compare to five days and nights over dozens of venues, almost all of them devoted to unsigned or up-and-coming artists.
But even outside the lack of substantial jazz/classical representation at the big festivals like CMJ, SXSW, PopMontreal, etc (the NewAm/Cantaloupe CMJ showcase was great, but it was a tiny island in a big sea) there's the simple fact that jazz and classical shows virtually never include opening acts. This is how smaller artists make their reps in the indie world, by opening for (and often touring with) larger acts. It's good for musicians and labels, because it gives smaller bands access to a touring network, where they can grow their audience and hone their skills. It's also good for the audience, which gets to be surprised -- and sure, there are always the assholes that boo the openers before they even play a note, but most people want to like the opening acts, and are thrilled when they see a great set from a band they've never heard of.
When you go see a rock show -- any rock show, doesn't matter whether it's a CMJ showcase, or a bloated stadium tour, or just your average night out -- you're going to hear bands you probably haven't heard of before you get to hear the headliner. Often those bands will surprise you. Why doesn't this happen in our own little corner? We've talked before about the benefits of cross-pollinating across genres, but even within the jazz world, why don't we see Gretchen Parlato on the road opening for Esperanza Spalding, or Marcus Strickland out with Dave Douglas, or Andrew D'Angelo out with Tim Berne? Instead, this only seems to happen within the headliner's band (e.g., when Marcus plays in Dave's groups). But what about, say, Aaron Parks's own quartet opening for Kurt Rosenwinkel's, or Donny McCaslin's band opening for Maria Schneider's -- not just as a one-off, but actually touring both groups together? You'd think the overlap in personnel would make those combinations irresistible.
These questions aren't hypotheticals -- I know the answer and so do you: "ze money, Lebowski." The record companies that might benefit from nurturing their younger artists by putting them out with their established talent are all cratering -- they barely even give advances anymore, the last thing any of them have money for is tour support. Name artists don't want to split a portion of their hard-won guarantees with some up-and-comer. Up-and-comers need to hold on to their day jobs or teaching gigs to survive, and can't take off on tour for months at a time. Even at home in New York , the fear is that everyone's draw is so small that any vaguely complimentary multiple-band bill won't pull in any additional listeners. Double- and triple-bill loving organizations like Search and Restore and the New Languages Festival are (bless 'em) swimming against the tide.
Everyone's behaving perfectly rationally, but collectively it's bad for the music.
PREVIOUSLY:
CMJ Day Zero
CMJ Day One
CMJ Day Two
CMJ Day Three
CMJ Day Four
CMJ Day Five
I spend closing night at CMJ in the cozy confines of Union Hall's basement. I can't really see shows there without thinking of time (over three years ago, now) when we somehow managed to squash Secret Society into that space. Good times. Anyway, Saturday was kind of an unofficial roots/folk-rock night there, which suited me fine.
La Strada were in mid-set when I arrived. As you can see, they've got kind of a postmodern Williamsburg troubadour vibe going on, with strings and accordion added to the usual guitar-bass-drums setup -- in fact their MySpace page talks about "the romance of old-world instrumentation through new world amplification." The songwriting, too, inclines more heavily towards the current indie scene, with only occasional Balkanisms or nods to pre-WWII Paris cabarets -- though I must admit, those explicitly retro, "lost-in-time" gestures were among the most interesting parts of the set.
On behalf on broke-ass bloggers like myself who must rely on lowly consumer point-and-shoots instead of DSLRs with serious glass, I'd like to thank Mia Riddle & Her Band for bringing their own string of lighting. (See how pretty Union Hall's tin ceiling looks?) Mia & co. have that windswept, folksy-but-with-mallet-percussion-and-a-Nord sound that's engendered comparisons to Neko Case and Cat Power. I don't know that her pipes are quite in that league, but she's a charismatic, engaging singer and her band plays really well together. Her blog is fun, too -- I love the double-sided "Nailed It - Hosed It" sign (surely this means her producer is Canadian).
The Loom was the band I came to see -- my friend Lis Rubard, who can often be found on Pulse projects, plays horn and trumpet in the group. They were surely one of the hardest-working bands at CMJ, playing six shows in four days, including the Brooklyn Vegan loft party on Friday night. This was the last of the six, and their final show before heading into the studio. Despite the presence of Lis's plaintive horn lines (this is a great sound, by the way -- more indie rock groups should use horn), The Loom was the most deliberately rustic-sounding of Saturday's bands. John Fanning's voice is gruff and plain in that pre-Dylan folk style, and makes for a dramatic contrast to Sydney Price's sweet, airy sound -- though like the Arcade Fire's Régine Chassagne, Sydney had her own personal floor tom, on which she launched a thunderous assault whenever she wasn't otherwise engaged.
Pete and J were not in the CMJ book, but I ran into Jill from Feministe who knows the dudes in this band. She convinced me to stay and I'm glad I did. The band delivers straight-up sixties Americana-drenched pop-rock: jangly guitars, good-time shuffle beats, sugar-sweet three-part vocal harmonies, and shamelessly direct hooks. Luckily, they do all this very well, with a hint of taking-the-piss playfulness that never crosses over into smug posturing.
PREVIOUSLY:
CMJ Day Zero
CMJ Day One
CMJ Day Two
CMJ Day Three
CMJ Day Four
My own personal CMJ companion and erstwhile guide, Amanda Marcotte, had to fly back to Austin Friday AM, so for the last two days I was left to my own devices. I elected to revisit Le Poisson Rouge and the Bell House to see what the showcases there had to offer. (You know what they say about the lure of returning to the scene of the crime.)
I got to LPR in time to catch about half of the set by Staten Island's own Cymbals Eat Guitars. It's hard not to love a band named after a sonic phenomenon. They are a very young outfit that's been getting a fair bit of love this year from the indie blogs (and Pitchfork, natch) -- to the point where they're about to open for Wilco and the Flaming Lips on some European hits. Frontman Joseph D’Agostino sings in heartfelt yelp that doesn't really do a whole lot for me, and it sounds like the kids could use maybe a touch more road-seasoning yet, but their blend of sunny hooks and grungy lo-fi textures is very artfully done.
Speaking of road-seasoning, sweet Christmas has it done wonders for singer-songwriter Miles Benjamin Anthony Robinson. I first saw him a couple of years ago, opening for TV On The Radio at a very wet McCarren Pool Party. He was (endearingly) awkward in front of all those people; he clearly had a long way to go as a performer. Since then, he's released a critically-praised, confessional self-titled debut record, and his more ambitiously-produced followup, Summer of Fear, is just out. (FWIW, Time Out New York listed him as a "Musician to Watch in 2009" -- along with, uh, yrstruly.)
MBAR gets the Dylan comparison a lot, on account of his quirky, conversational phrasing and slightly nasally voice, but what really drives the point home is his band (which I am almost positive are not the same players I heard at McCarren), who all sound like they have committed every frame of The Last Waltz to memory.
In particular, MBAR's drummer is by far the best drummer I heard at CMJ -- even doing a simple backwards groove with hihat on 1 & 3, bass drum on 2 & 4, and a basic eighth pattern on maracas, he grooved like mad. Meanwhile, Miles has transformed himself from a shy, gawkish, introverted singer-songwriter into a full-bore showman -- I mean, check this shit out:
(Note the socks.) This all might seem just a little bit much if MBAR wasn't so disarmingly sincere and unaffected -- and the songs still feel intimate and personal, too, just painted on a bigger, brighter canvas. Plus, he was clearly having a fucking great time up there -- and how could you not, with such a killing band?
That was it for the LPR lineup, so I decamped to the Bell House for the Polyvinyl showcase. When I got there, James Husband & co. were on stage, clearly not having a good time. The leader's appeal for silence from the talkative, mostly indifferent crowd (who were there to hear the headlining band, Japandroids) did not have the desired effect. According to Wikipedia, this hit was their second ever gig as a band (the first was earlier in the day) and boy did it show. It seemed like there were probably some good songs in there, but when the rhythm section isn't hooking up, nothing else really matters.
Headlights did not have that problem. I'd never heard of the Champaign, Illinois-based group before, but they were the revelation of CMJ for me. The four of them share an authentically deep pocket and they listen to each other really well (which is a much, much rarer quality than you'd think). The first thing that strikes you are the gorgeous, ethereal vocal harmonies -- Erin Fein and Tristan Wraight's voices are surreally well-matched. And the songs are full of clean, jangly guitar lines and Franco-pop synth, with the occasional foray into noise and distortion. But even when all that is done impeccably well, I get bored really quick if the groove isn't happening. What made Headlights work for me was the great rhythm playing all around, (including Erin's tambourine playing -- always nice to see someone defy the usual but not-entriely unfair stereotypes about what happens when a singer picks up the tambourine).
I had a nice chat with Tristan after the show -- he kindly allowed me to buy him a Maker's and listened patiently while I gushed about his set. He also told me a great anecdote: as the band was loading up the vehicle from another CMJ set earlier in the day, they were approached on the street by a stooped and grizzled gentleman who buttonholed Tristan. Here was their conversation (approximately, as far as I remember):
"Guitar player, huh? What amp do you like?"
"Uh, Fender Twin, usually."
"That's a good amp."
"So you're obviously a player yourself. What's your name?"
"Jim Hall."
At this point, Headlights bassist Nick Sanborn interjects:
"Wait. You mean Sonny Rollins' The Bridge Jim Hall?"
"That's me."
"You have got to be shitting me!"
Apparently a very enjoyable 20-minute conversation ensued.
Japandroids are a two-piece guitar-and-drums outfit from my hometown, Vancouver. They are loud and heartfelt and enthusiastically sloppy and their choruses are half-shouted on-the-nose lyrics like "We used to dream, now we worry about dying." It's crunchy, loose pop-punk, and the eighteen-year olds in the crowd went absolutely apeshit for it. I'm told at one point there was crowd-surfing, which I did not see because I left after three songs. My problem is this -- when you have a two-piece band, I think it's pretty important that at least one of you actually be able to sing and/or play an instrument at some minimally competent level. Two is good. One is sufficient (the White Stripes being the obvious Exhibit A here). Zero is problematic.
I definitely respect their balls-to-the-wall commitment, and it sincerely pains me to slag my hometown boys. I recognize I'm pretty much alone here, and I'm not proud of the curmudgeonly instincts this band brings out in me, but seriously. There's a fine line between a gritty, messy, primitive beat and an actual mess, but these guys are so far out on the wrong side of that, I cannot even begin to relate.
PREVIOUSLY:
CMJ Day ZeroMORE:
CMJ Day Five
On Thursday afternoon, I was out at Queens College, running through some of my music with the student bigband. This was fun but also unbelievably draining, and by the time I got home and dropped off the music folders, it was already getting kinda late -- but it was also Amanda's last night in town, so I quickly refueled and headed back out to meet her at Ace of Clubs for the French/Brazilia showcase. We both got there too late to catch any of the French groups, but the Brazilian rockers Sweet Fanny Adams and The River Raid were both endearing, if not precisely what you'd expect when you learn a band is from Brazil. If there was a hint of CSS or Os Mutantes in Sweet Fanny Adams's slack pop-punk or in The River Raid's cheeky over-the-top swagger, it seemed buried pretty deep. Obviously, not everyone is obliged to fly the flag for the music of their native land, even when it's as rich and as deep as Brazil's -- but on a gut level, even though I enjoyed both bands, it's impossible not to feel that something is somehow amiss when you hear Brazilian musicians play in a rhythmically inflexible style.
According to the official schedule, that should have been it for the night, but as we were walking out, we spotted a girl holding an accordion. We learned she belonged to Kagero, a self-described "Japanese Gypsy Rock" band. Their flier has a quote which compares them to "'Fiddler on the Roof' starring 'Panic at the Disco,'" which honestly did not inspire confidence... but then the acoustic guitarist jumped up on a table and began strumming, and the other members of the group -- on violin, bass, and strap-on marching-band style drums -- circulated through the audience with an all-acoustic prelude. It worked -- we stayed.
Unfortunately, once Kagero took the stage and began playing, technical gremlins began multiplying. The leader's acoustic guitar wasn't coming through in the PA, and the band and sound tech squabbled over what (and who) was to blame. Guitars and DIs were swapped out, to no avail. It was looking increasingly unlikely that the show could be salvaged, but finally the leader made the obvious call -- "Fuck it -- we'll play acoustic." He brought the vocal mic into the middle of the room, and the band came down from the stage to play a truly cathartic set of clap-and-stomp-along Gypsy party music in the middle of the crowd (which at this point was, like, a dozen people). But the energy of the moment touched off a crazy dance party amongst the Brazilians, who also began dismantling the on-stage drum kit, bringing the toms into the audience so they could join in the madness.
And that's when Kagero started busting out some traditional Brazilian songs...
PREVIOUSLY:
CMJ Day ZeroMORE:
CMJ Day Four
Wednesday night was Secret Society's actual CMJ showcase night, a co-production between our label, New Amsterdam Records, and Cantaloupe Music, which is of course part of the Bang on a Can empire. The evening began with a lovely piece of solo piano music (Wed) by last year's Pulitzer Prize winner, David Lang, played with heartfelt grace by Ning Yu. Our New Amsterdam compatriots NOW Ensemble followed, with a mix of NOW staples like Judd Greenstein's Sing Along and some new works, including pretty sweet pieces by John Altieri (Not Yet) and Joshua Penman (The Whisper Gallery). The group was coming off a mini-tour, having played shows in DC and Baltimore on previous nights, and sounded very strong -- as tight as I've ever heard heard them, in fact.
The multi-talented Matthew Welch followed with Julia Wolfe's Lad, a piece for nine bagpipes -- or, in this version, eight prerecorded bagpipes and a lone live piper. It's a long slow burn full of densely microtonal glisses, and just at the point where we reach total sonic saturation, a keening folklike melody finally rises through the murk. The piece clearly divided the audience (partly due to sheer volume -- it was loud) but I absolutely loved it. It was kind of a punkrock move, even.
Interspersed between all of these performances were clips from (untitled), Jonathan Parker's new romantic comedy about a beautiful and fashionable Chelsea gallery owner (Marley Shelton) who falls for a nebbishy, self-obsessed new music composer (Adam Goldberg) -- David Lang contributed the music. The film opened in NY this weekend, to mixed reviews. I am torn: on the one hand, I am congenitally allergic to romantic comedies; on the other, David Lang has offered to "personally buy a cup of coffee for anyone who can identify every single real-life musician who appears on screen."
As for our set, it was recorded by WQXR's Q2 and should be streaming there before too long, so if you missed it, you'll be able to judge for yourself (watch this space). Again, a massive shout-out to sound engineers Justin Balch and LPR's own Matthew Duane. Also: these CMJ showcases always involve a frantic dash to get set up and get playing as quickly as possible after the previous group finishes, and the LPR crew did a frankly astonishing job of getting the stage reconfigured for myself and my 18 co-conspirators in what is surely record time.
PREVIOUSLY:
CMJ Day ZeroMORE:
CMJ Day Three
On Tuesday, for the first night of CMJ proper, I picked up my badge and put myself at the mercy of Amanda Marcotte, who was up visiting from Austin. Amanda is a veteran of countless SXSWs and is exactly the kind of hardcore concert companion you want for this kind of event. She suggested we start with the English band Angry Vs The Bear at Bowery Electric, but when we got there we learned their show had been cancelled. (Still no idea what happened.)
Undaunted, Amanda suggested we head down to Santos Party House, which had bands going in the downstairs bar as well as the main upstairs space. The downstairs bands turned out to be a lot mor entertaining. We heard Dinowalrus, Harlem (who are actually from Austin), Flexions, Lovvers, and Unnatural Helpers.
Unnatural Helpers made the best impression on us. Their drummer contributes the lead vocals -- normally this is a sonic nightmare, but in the tiny downstairs space the open vocal mic actually gave the cymbals a presence they'd been missing for the early bands. (It always makes me crazy when the guitars are louder than the drums. This is so deeply wrong I can't even begin to tell you.) Anyway, these guys rocked hard and definitely won over the smallish but appreciative crowd.
PREVIOUSLY:
CMJ Day ZeroMORE:
CMJ Day Two
(Photo: Lindsay Beyerstein)
My week at this year's CMJ Music Marathon unofficially began a day early, with our bigband three-way Monday night at the Bell House -- this one of my favorite venues in town and a hotbed of CMJ activity later in the week. It's a pretty sweet room, as you can see from the photos, with totally unobstructed sightlines (no columns!) and a beautiful arched wooden ceiling that does wonders for the sound.
Speaking of which, I've very grateful to the Bell House's Jeff Stultz and Infernal Machines engineer Paul Cox for doing such an amazing job on the live sound -- and of course to the Bjorkestra and the Industrial Jazz Group for making it a memorable night of postmodern bigband music.
In case anyone was wondering... I was utterly unprepared for the ambush Stefan Zeniuk's Baritone Army sprang just seconds after our last tune had finished -- more bari sax players than I could count bum-rushed the stage, honking and wailing as they ran through the crowd. Josh, of course, jumped down to join them, heeding the call of his people. It made for a surreal and inspired epilogue.
Deepest appreciation to Search and Restore for helping us get the word out, and to everyone who came down to hear us play. We love you all.
MORE:
CMJ Day One
CMJ Day Two
CMJ Day Three
CMJ Day Four
CMJ Day Five
For more incriminating evidence from Monday's Brooklyn Big Band Bonanza at the Bell House, click here.
Also: NYT writeup (Nate Chinen).
Yes, we were on All Things Considered today -- if you missed the segment, you can stream it from here -- albeit with a slightly edited lead-in... in the original broadcast, consummate pro Robert Siegel improbably stumbled over my humble Irish surname. But he nailed "Patrick Jarenwattananon" -- and speak of the devil, why look here's Patrick's extended interview with me, over on A Blog Supreme.
The interview was recorded in March, which is like three million years ago in blog time. One thing in particular that's changed since then is that the jazz blogosphere as undergone a kind of Cambrian explosion -- many new jazz-oriented blogs (like, say, A Blog Supreme) have started since then and there is finally a real sense of inter-blog conversation going on. This is new.
Also, all these new kids picking up the slack helps me feel less guilty about the lack of substantial posting on my part -- ever since the record came out the flurry of Society-related activity has got me feeling a bit like Ray Liotta at the end of Goodfellas. Only without the cocaine. Anyway, I'm currently knee-deep in the preparations for next week's Brooklyn Big Band Bonanza and CMJ Showcase but look forward to jumping back into the fray in the not-too-distant future.
Oh, and if you have perchance come here looking to purchase our debut recording, Infernal Machines, well... CDs can be had immediately from New Amsterdam Records (includes instant access to MP3s as well) or backordered from Amazon.com (projected shipping date is Oct. 27). Digital versions available pretty much everywhere, including iTunes, eMusic, and Amazon.
I'm very pleased to announce that I've been awarded a grant from the Jerome Foundation's Composers Commissioning Program to create a new work for the awesome new music ensemble Newspeak. The piece, called "The Sleep Room," is a song cycle inspired by the CIA-funded MKULTRA mind control experiments that took place in Montreal between 1957 and 1964.
Obviously, this is a bit of a radical departure from my compositional comfort zone. To be perfectly honest, the prospect of writing for voices, with text, that I need to come up with myself, makes me feel completely disoriented and a bit panicky -- like I've been drugged, abducted, then dropped in the middle of a strange city where I don't speak the language. At the same time, this is a project I've wanted to pursue for a long time and I'm very excited it's finally going to happen, aided and abetted by a group of thoroughly badass musicians.
The premiere will take place in early 2011 -- watch this space for details.
Check out the most excellent poster (courtesy of Search and Restore) for our upcoming Bell House three-way with the Industrial Jazz Group and Travis Sullivan's Björkestra. This all goes down Monday 19 Oct. You have been warned.
Tomorrow (Monday, Oct. 5) at 7 PM I will be participating in an "Artist's Salon" -- I know how that sounds but I'm hoping it will be fun. Basically it's just a bunch of creative folks, including myself, talking briefly about what it is, exactly, that we do. I'm planning on saying a few words about rhythm and process in my music. It's free to attend and there's, like, a wine reception at the end.
LOCATION: 184 Eldridge Street (at Rivington Street), 2nd Floor
Adam McKinney (choreographer) will be presenting an excerpt of his multi-media, dance genealogy performance, HaMapah/המפה. The piece traces the intersections of McKinney’s multiple heritages. “I am the map, the quilt, and the tablecloth of those who have come before me.” www.dnaworks.org
Jonothon Lyons (writer/co-director) and Daniel Brodie (projection designer/co-director) will present an excerpt of their mask theater piece, The Tenement. With projected scenic elements inspired by the movement style of Jacques Lecoq and heavily influenced by Carol Triffle and Jerry Maouwad, The Tenement explores the relationship between man and animal on a strange evening in a very ratty apartment. www.thetenement.net
Nathan Koci (musician/composer) whose current musical explorations have taken him down roads of brand new music, but also very old, tried and true music, will perform both original and traditional works for the accordion and horn. Balkan rhythms meet modern harmonies with forays into improvisation. www.nathankoci.com
Esther Neff (performance/multi-media artist) will perform excerpts of her collaborative algorithmic documentary, Workforce/Forcedwork. The piece, currently in development through an LMCC residency at 14 Wall Street, documents the emotional and physical patterns of American workers using multi-layered rhythms of crude video, clay animation, music, sampled sound, and live performance. Through this documentation, we exaggerate and debate the necessity of a "job" as both an abstract and concrete concept. panoplylab.org/work.php
Frank Blocker (playwright/performer), nominated for the 2009 Drama Desk Award for Outstanding Solo Performance and whom The New York Times called “a standout”, will perform excerpts of his solo play, The Personal History of Mr. Henrik Altman As Told By Him. This new play is being developed from taped interviews with a Holocaust survivor. frankblocker.com