RED, Vancouver Playhouse: Saturday, February 4, 2012

Let me preface this review by this: over the course of 13 years, I completed a double major in English Literature and Art History. Further, many phrases in this review are actually lines and paraphrases from the play, and are not always referenced by quotation marks. The play's subject matter appealed to both my majors on a deeply personal level, having invested so much time and effort on both, but it also raises interesting questions about the meaning of art in the world today. When we buy art, are we looking for something that goes with the decor of an existing room - something "so" big and with a particular colour scheme, are we merely looking for something 'pretty' to put on the wall, or are we looking for something to make us as viewers think, and/or feel, or challenge us. These are the types of questions the character of Rothko asks in John Logan's play Red and are just some of the things the audience member might want to take away with them after the performance is over. I did - and more.

I felt this play was a homage (yes, I do pronounce the letter 'H') to art and artists. Logan uses vivid descriptions of paintings such as Matisse's The Red Studio and Caravaggio's Conversion of Saul and uses language so meaningfully - saying that to combat the dark corner of Santa Maria del Popolo, Caravaggio countered the challenge by making his commissioned work "luminescent from within" - words that so easily could be sniffed at and are given life through the vehicle of the actor, and, in this production, direction by Kim Collier.

It's about the creative process, as just that: a process that may or may not include reading Nietzsche's Birth of Tragedy (a book I coincidentally am currently reading), Schopenhauer, mythology, literature such as Shakespeare, and listening to music. "Tragedy is not to have balance in the fulcrum between Apollo and Dionysus" - I am paraphrasing a line from the play, but this is a reference to the aforementioned Nietzsche book and is a major discussion point between Rothko and his assistant Ken in the play.

The necessity of separating the art from the man. "Admire them but don't think you understand them", the character of Rothko advises Ken on the subject of Pollock, Picasso, Matisse, van Gogh - the greats of modern art movements. Ken may have thought he had an insight into these men because he is a painter himself, but Rothko has to teach him that all he can be is a viewer of art. The only art he can truly understand is of his own creation. It is always tempting to extrapolate the autobiographical in art and literature, irrespective of how much or how little one knows about the creator and in both disciplines (art and literature), that is officially discouraged...and yet, you have to paint/write of what you know. Therein lies authenticity, and conflict, and personal challenges/demons - was Dickens haunted by poverty because his own father went into the poorhouse, and is this why it figures so heavily in his books - or was he writing what he knew?

Abstract Expressionism vs Pop Art: Ken calls it "the last gasp of a dying race" and Rothko is still painting Abstract Expressionism in a time when Lichtenstein, Stella, Warhol, Hamilton (whom I adore), Johns, Rauschenberg, were making their marks upon the art world. Rothko stands a bit of a dinosaur, and Ken reminds him of the pride Rothko exhibited when he said that he, Pollock, de Kooning, and others, stomped on Cubism and obliterated its relevance. When the same is done to him, Rothko hopes they have the generosity to be more kind about it than he and his compatriots were.

Not surprisingly, after two years of working with Rothko in the studio, the employee becomes the one who asks the questions Rothko asked of him in the beginning: What do you see? How do you feel? The answers aren't good - they paint the picture of a man in inner conflict, but with the strength and conviction to ask for his paintings back, and this leads me to another discussion point: one that revolves around a certain distaste for art/artists as commodity.

"When did I become a noun?", Rothko asks. When indeed. He has an equal distaste for pretension and monkey chatter such as he is surrounded by in the Four Seasons Restaurant, in the Philip Johnson built and Mies van der Rohe designed Seagram Building - for which he had been paid $35,000 in 1958 (when the story begins, so I am assuming this is when the funds were paid) to produce murals for, nearly drives him to distraction. That his paintings were surrounded by such banality prompts him to telephone Johnson and ask for his murals back, ending the play. As a result, is the audience then conscious, hyper-aware of the banality of conversation one hears on the bus, in passing on the street, One thing to love about modern drama is its ability to make one think. We may not agree with the view of the playwright, the director, but it makes us verbalise our opinions (for better or for worse), intellectualise our responses (positive or negeative) and we can hope by having such polar responses, that we fall somewhere between pretense and monkey chatter.

"Paintings live through companionship", Rothko says - are they really given meaning by the company they keep? The curator would certainly say yes. It explains Rothko's idea of a frieze of murals covering the entire room of the restaurant, a series needing to stay together in order to maintain their purpose. Rothko raises the idea of a painting in constant flux through use of colour and form, not as a static thing, which could explain why artists view the idea of 'art as commodity' as repulsive. Is art not much more than that?

This play doesn't have what one would technically call a plot, or a distinct narrative - it is a series of conversations between two men about art. The artistry of the play was illustrated by Ken and Rothko priming a canvas in a seemingly frenzied choreographed (Apollo/Dionysus at work) manner against the soundtrack of Mozart's Die Zauberfloete, if I remember correctly. When it was done, the audience broke out in spontaneous applause. Jim Mezon (Rothko) and David Coomber (Ken) certainly displayed some painting chops. The play's words are painterly, the paintings in the play are evocative, and I really enjoyed the 'slide show' featuring the types of works Rothko was up against later in his career. "Art for the Zeitgeist", Rothko calls it and he was spot-on - that's exactly what Pop Art was and it was what made it popular, hence the name (thank you, Richard Hamilton). Nietzsche wasn't required reading. Art was accessible - everyday objects IN art, everyday objects depicted AS art, comic books, collage - although it too had meaning and made a point, audiences didn't feel as confused or outright unmoved by Pop Art as many were about Abstract Expressionism.

I would dearly love to read the script so I could let the wonderful words sink in once more, but in the meantime, I will never again look at a Rothko (noun) without thinking of Red.

Image of Red from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Red_(play)

Frere Jacques and Taleggio

Since my last post, I've sampled two other cheeses and I've enjoyed them both, but for different reasons.

The first was one called Frere Jacques. I couldn't look at the label without singing the iconic song to myself. Super mild flavour. It's a wonderfully neutral cheese that would lend itself to dishes that already have the taste they need, all they need is a bit of cheesy goodness. It's got a medium texture, akin to Swiss cheese. The rind is absolutely in line with the overall flavour and is edible. This cheese is from L'Abbaye de Saint-Benoit-du-Lac, in Quebec's Eastern Townships. Nice on a cheese tray for sure. My little 36 gram piece cost $1.58 (per kg price $43.60) and the label lists is as consisting of pasteurised cow's milk, with a fat content of 32% with moisture level of 42%.

The second of the two cheeses I tried recently is Taleggio by Arnoldi. I've seen the name often, but had never tried it. It's a tiny bit sharp, so I think it would certainly lend itself to the palate of a person who has never had a particular fondness for the sharper cheese types or didn't want to stray as far as a blue-veined cheese. The mild sharpness actually reminded me a little of smoked cheeses like a smoked applewood-cheddar - but that one I find I can only enjoy in small doses. This one, I could probably eat a bit of a larger piece of without having to stop because I've lost my taste for it. The texture of the Taleggio was softer than that of the Frere Jacques; it reminded me a little of Fontina or Havarti. The rind was edible - a deeper yellow in colour from the pale yellow, almost white cheese itself, and it looks like it has a chalky dusting over it. If you're eating it, you'll definitely want to take off the paper cover first! Fat content, according to the label, is 28% and the moisture level is 50% - unless I've inverted the numbers. My 48 gram piece cost $2.97 (per kg price $61.90). I would love to shred a small piece and put it on a type of dish in need of a little "oomph" - or definitely use it as a nice addition to a cheese tray. Neophytes can safely try and enjoy this one.

Photo of the Frere Jacques from ourcheeses.com.

Photo of the Taleggio from www.almagourmet.com.

Cheese Review: Delice de Bourgogne

This may seem like an odd topic, but I do have quite a fondness for cheese. I prefer cheese over any kind of dessert (well, cheesecake might get a closer look), shredded cheese stirred into hot soup on a chilly day is divine. That and this blog desperately needs content!

When I was younger, I would sample a "cheese of the week". I can't remember why I stopped, it may have had something to do with cholesterol levels - I used to live in Toronto, Ontario, where my annual physical included bloodwork, something that BC does not do, but I digress. Cheese.

My local Whole Foods (was Capers) on West 4th Avenue has this lovely basket of tiny cheese pieces at the end of the refrigerated cheese section. It is PERFECT for sampling cheeses I haven't heard of before and they're tiny enough portions that they are actually close to real portion sizes and if I don't like them, I haven't wasted a chunk of dosh.

This evening's sample was a Delice de Bourgogne by Lincet. My 52 gram piece cost $3.32 ($63.90 per kilo). The centre was divine. So incredibly smooth and creamy, both in texture and in taste. I wouldn't serve it at room temperature, it is a full fat cheese (54% according to the label, 34% moisture; Triple Cream I've read) so it would be really difficult to cut a slice of if it's too soft. I had a piece in my hand (there was cling film in between my fingers and the cheese) and it started to get really, melty soft. I would take it out of the fridge within 10 minutes of serving. The rind was a little sharper than I usually like, but if you slice top to bottom, the rind and the centre make a wonderful taste contrast. You really have to like your rind nice and sharp to be able to enjoy it on its own.

Tastes wonderful on light & crisp crostini or even a quarter inch slide of airy bread like a French baguette. I would not choose a real dense flour cracker like Ritz or even Vegetable Thins (too much other flavour to distract your tastebuds). End result: Very, very yummy.


Photo from www.GourmetFoodstore.com

Page Eight - not much of a page turner

WARNING: If you have not seen this programme for yourself, please be advised my review contains a number of spoilers.

When I first sat down to write this review, I thought my ‘issue’ was with the Masterpiece Contemporary branch of the 40-year-old Masterpiece brand. I confess I did Contemporary an injustice in that assessment, due in large part to the drivel that was The 39 Steps under the Masterpiece Classic banner that aired on my PBS affiliate earlier this year, but I digress.

Page Eight began the Masterpiece Contemporary season last night on my PBS affiliate. The one-line summary was “Accompany an aging spy who stumbles on an international scandal that could bring down the British government”. It sounded promising.

• Aging spy: Bill Nighy, check.
• Stumble upon: no. The file with potentially explosive information was distributed during a meeting by Michael Gambon’s character to those of Bill Nighy (spy), Saskia Reeves (Home Secretary), and another character who revealed to be Johnny’s most recent lover at the end, but is only seen in that scene and again at the end.
• International scandal threatening to bring down the government: well, the Page Eight bit is the TNT, but there’s no cloak-and-dagger element, no screws get tightened causing the hero any kind of consternation/conflict/crisis - there IS no threat - Bill Nighy gets a talking-to by the PM, played by Ralph Fiennes. That’s about the extent of it. Johnny finds out (because Judy Davis’s character tells him) he will be the scapegoat for the Page Eight thing after Michael Gambon’s character dies. Is there any consternation/conflict/crisis there? No. He takes a painting off the wall, travels to a former lover, sells her the painting for as much cash as she can spare him, returns to England. That little storyline didn’t even get close to interesting.

The term “pure intelligence” is thrown around quite a bit; it’s apparently what sets Johnny Worricker apart from the other 21^st century spies. That also translates to his interpersonal relationships: those with his daughter, the lover he sells a painting to, the lover he leaves when he’s about to disappear, his ex-wife, his neighbour with whom he shares a farewell kiss – Bill Nighy is known for the understated delivery, but this character had about as much passion as fish on ice on display at the fishmonger’s.

When the neighbour drives Johnny to his ex-wife’s farm and introductions are being made Rachel Weisz looks as awkward as her character’s presence requires. There’s no point to it, unless you factor in the only cloak and dagger move Johnny, the experienced MI5 operative, does is in Cambridge when he makes a show (for the operative watching outside) of getting into his car on one level of a parking structure and departing, only to park the car one level lower and take the stairs out the back where his lovely neighbour is waiting. The result is merely that he is without his Saab for the remainder of the film. Enter the neighbour as chauffeur? Not terribly riveting stuff.

Humour was not easy to come by either: when his daughter Julianne tells Johnny the father of her unborn child was a conceptual artist and Johnny says something about him being able to conceive something, I managed a tired smile. We were around the 90-minute mark of the programme by that time, after all.

At the end of the programme, I did not feel I had arrived at any kind of destination. Johnny is at the airport looking at the departure board. It is not clear where he goes, the viewer is left to infer he has chosen a destination at random based on departure time. He and his Waitrose shopping bag full of cash and a case walk towards customs. He has said his impersonal goodbyes, left a painting for the neighbour – maybe the harbour depicted in it is where she’ll be able to find him someday (or not), and has chucked the file with the oh-so-important information into the bin. Or MAYBE the explosive information was the by-the-way revelation that the neighbour’s brother was intentionally killed by Israeli forces in Syria although he was waving a white flag at the time. Not so much – he gives the super-secret file to the neighbour, gives a copy to the press, gives them the go-ahead to air the information, and the PM gives a statement to a reporter. Yawn. I think I most enjoyed the Waitrose bag – that’s one great grocery chain of stores.

I was not expecting the Bourne trilogy. I did not think it would be like a two-hour episode of Spooks (their one hour has more spy drama, adrenaline-fueled plots of bombs and ways and means by which the government du jour could be collapsed than Page Eight could even contemplate much less muster). Just because the story is about an aging spy doesn’t mean it goes the pace of an OAP taking the bus to the High Street for the week’s groceries. At least there’d be a point to it! This was a dawdling two-hour meander into I don’t actually know what. This is not a cerebral programme as it necessitated no brain activity. This wasn't a visceral programme; my heart rate remained constant throughout, it may even have slowed at times. As examples of what I mean, I offer State of Play (2003 BBC 6-part mini-series with Bill Nighy, not WGBH) as cerebral gold and The State Within (BBC 6-part original mini-series from 2006) as a visceral nail-biter. Page Eight does not register as a blip in either category.

I have higher hopes of The Song of Lunch with Alan Rickman and Emma Thompson (what could go wrong?). The only other programme billed this season as part of the Masterpiece Contemporary series is Framed with Trevor Eve as a poncey art museum guy who ships the most valuable pieces of the National Gallery’s collection to a little town in Wales where he meets Eve Myles and a young boy in a somewhat predictable cockles-of-your-heart warmer in which the viewer learns that just because you’re from a mining town in Wales doesn’t mean you are incapable of appreciating art, and just because you’re from the big city doesn’t mean you have a clue about life. Why do I know this already, you ask? It's a repeat. Sorry, "encore presentation". Enjoy.

Image from http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/masterpiece/pageeight/index.html

Blogs, TV Podcasts, and Works in Progress

This summer at Bard, I pitched an idea to a fellow volunteer. Both of us have an avid interest in popular culture - not the reality TV, celebrity-of-the-month type, but television programming, music, film, books, news; the things surrounding (or in many cases, constituting) everyday life in a first-world country. In addition to her being a virtual encyclopaedia on all things Harry Potter, we tended to talk about popular culture a lot during our downtime, so I thought about doing regular reviews and discussions of things we've seen, read, and heard and record them on video. Vanessa thought we should do audio only - she's much more of a techie than I am, with her own YouTube channel and everything - so, podcasts it is.

We brought in another fellow volunteer, Nadya, and did our first two recordings in September. They're published on Vanessa's Wordpress blog "Pop Goes the World" if you'd like to have a listen. Vanessa was armed with Entertainment Weekly, I came armed with the appropriate issue of TV Week.

The first podcast was about the new shows coming to the new TV season.

http://theworldgoespop.wordpress.com/2011/09/20/pop-goes-the-world-podcast-the-new-tv-season-is-upon-us/

My picks for new were New Girl (Tuesdays on CityTV and Fox), Against the Wall (Wednesdays on Bravo with multiple repeats), Ringer (Fridays on Global), Unforgettable (Tuesdays on CBS and CTV), Terra Nova (Mondays on CityTV and Fox), Person of Interest (Thursdays on CBS and CityTV) and A Gifted Man (Fridays on CBS and Global).

The second podcast was about returning TV shows and what we were looking forward to.

http://theworldgoespop.wordpress.com/2011/09/26/pop-goes-the-world-podcast-returning-tv/

My picks for Returning were Being Erica (Mondays on CBC), Drop Dead Diva (Sundays on Slice), Parenthood (Tuesdays on GlobalTV and NBC), Supernatural (Fridays on the CW, and on Space delayed by a week), Warehouse 13 (Thursdays on Showcase with multiple repeats), and I grouped NCIS/NCIS:LA/Hawaii-Five-O under one. They essentially follow the same formula. NCIS followed by NCIS:LA broadcasting Tuesdays by CBS and Hawaii-Five-O (Mondays on Global).

Our next one is scheduled to be recorded on October 30 and I'm making notes for it. As is quite often the case, some of 'my' shows have failed to impress and others I had absolutely no knowledge of at the time that I think are pretty good and would have deserved a mention. Specifically, and listed in no particular order: Suits, Silk, Party Animals, Case Histories.

Other shows I find I'm watching mainly to see who turns up as guest stars, and although I do like them on their own, they do fall under the category of 'familiar fare' - you know what you're going to get: A Touch of Frost, Law & Order UK, Hustle. They're a little like my above grouping of NCIS/NCIS:LA/Hawaii-Five-O, except I like them for the main cast more than the guest stars.

Speaking of which, I started work on something some weeks back. The temporary name of it is "MyIMDB", which, for obvious copyright reasons, I won't be keeping. It had begun to bother me that over the years I keep seeing the same faces pop up in programmes I was watching and I could never remember their names. I suppose that's the perceived fate of 'character actors' (not the best of terms - actors plays characters, that's the job), but I not only wanted to actually remember where I had seen them before, and some I have been seeing for a few decades, I wanted to actually know their names. A peace of mind thing, I suppose you could say. Currently it concentrates on faces on British television programmes (but not exclusively British-born), and I'm considering expanding it to North American (Canadian focus, but again, not exclusively) actors as well.

Just as a forewarning, it's currently 50 pages long, and I will be publishing profiles periodically. It's not going to anyone's complete resume, just the programmes I personally have seen them in.

If you have any suggestions as to what to call it or who to include, I would welcome them.

In the meantime, I think that's me done for now.

Noah & the Biltmore - Tuesday, May 31, 2011

Before I get to the show itself, a little side note. I think I just found Vancouver’s answer to Toronto’s Horseshoe Tavern. This might not seem like too big of a deal to most, but as a live music fan who grew up in Toronto, the Horseshoe Tavern has had some pretty major people play (at all points in their careers) since it first opened its doors in 1947 according to their Website. It is known as a great venue for great music. Full stop. Since moving to Vancouver in 2002, I had thought the Commodore Ballroom was the ‘shoe’s Vancouver counterpart. It seemed logical except the Commodore has a second level, a big open dance floor, padded booth seating off two sides of the massive dance floor, and a capacity of upwards of 1000 people. In short, it is nothing like the ‘shoe. Enter the Biltmore Cabaret.

Located near 12th and Kingsway, but on the ass end of the HoJo. Smallish stage – more like a shoebox with the front panel removed. Check. Capacity: a few hundred. Check. The band so close you could be the designated towel supply person. Check. Intimate atmosphere and a great sound system. Check and check. Hello Biltmore, glad to have made your acquaintance.

If my Google Map had not led me astray (in all fairness, I might have misread), I would have caught more of the opening band, called Bahamas. By the time I arrived and had scoped out a spot from which I could actually see musicians from my formidable 5’2” (158 cm) height, there were maybe only 5 songs left. I don’t know where they were from but they weren’t local. Canucks were acknowledged, laundromats had apparently been visited and dude said Vancouver was their only Canadian date. The young woman’s vocals were set up so she sounded like a two-or-three-person backing vocals team. Dude singing and playing the guitar was decent enough, but call me cynical, I have a feeling he gets by quite a bit on his looks. Whatever. They were passable.

Noah & the Whale. Can I just begin by saying I had no idea how young they were? Or maybe I actually am old enough at this point to be their mother. Drummer boy for sure – he looked about 15. I hope he was legally allowed to be in a licensed establishment.

I read somewhere that their sound is described as “indie folk rock”, which might just be something to pigeon-hole them into. I don’t know about ‘Indie’, they are signed to Mercury Records, so the ‘indie’ label has more to do with the fact they don’t sound like 80% of the drivel that gets played on popular radio, so although the music is radio-friendly, it’s not consumed by the masses (poor masses). ‘Folk’ must come from the fact that they have a violin player and the main singer’s voice sounds even and effortless. Oh, and the first CD I have by them Peaceful the World lays me down has a woman’s voice harmonising quite a bit. ‘Rock’, for sure. Their sound was almost bigger than the Biltmore could hold (I really hope to see them in a slightly bigger venue next time, but also hope the atmosphere, that crucial intimacy, gets maintained).

Their fashion sense was rare: if not dress shirt, suit and tie (including waistcoat), then dress shirt and suit jacket. Their dry cleaning bill must be stupid, but they looked as well put together as their songs are. When they slow things down, they slow it waaaay down, and then right back up to bopping and rocking.

From Peaceful the World lays me down, the setlist included Give a little Love, Rocks and Daggers, 5 Years' time (shortly before the end) and I’m not sure about 2 Atoms in a Molecule and Peaceful the World lays me down – they’re both maybes.From the CD Last Night on Earth we heard Paradise Stars (this song started the show in darkness giving the band time to walk on and get sorted), Life is Life, L.I.F.E.G.O.E.S.O.N. (the very last song of the night), Tonight’s the Kind of Night, Wild Thing, Give it all back, Just me before we met, Waiting for my Chance to come, the Line, Old Joy (I think this may have been the first song of the two-song encore). And yes, for those of you keeping track, they did play the entire album they are touring in support of.

Alls in all, I had a great time. As is obvious, I am not a die-hard fan, familiar with every nuance of their performances, able to recite the names and lyrics of songs at will and knowledgeable of their names and marital statuses. Their stage presence is warm and sincere; their musicianship and performance solid. When the lights on stage went out completely for the better part of 10 seconds, they did not miss a beat. They did not let the audience wait more than 3 minutes before returning for an encore. They have fun on stage, but they do not mess about. Was my mind blown? No. Would I see them again? Absolutely. Did I listen to their music again the very next day? You betcha.

The ‘Fourth’ was definitely at the Vogue Theatre: Mother Mother with Brasstronaut ~ May 4, 2011

This was only my second show at the Vogue (the first was the mindblowingly awesome Mumford & Sons) and I hold it to be a fine venue. Plenty of room on the floor for dancing and general up-close-and-personal show enjoyment, and a large balcony with a steep rake so there really are no bad seats in the house. Patrons in the first row of the balcony are always reminded not to lean over the balcony itself (there is no railing and it obstructs the view of EVERYONE behind), nothing is to be placed on the edge (safety hazard), and no feet against the balcony (heavy lighting equipment supports are bolted to it).

I arrived by 1930 hrs and found a seat in second row of the centre right (looking from the back of the house towards the stage) section. The entire first row was reserved for friends and family of the band, the last of whom arrived by 2130 hrs.

The opening band was called Brasstronaut, their one brass instrument a trumpet (albeit two types). Trumpet player was also responsible for glockenspiel (which was played simultaneously with trumpet in various songs), cowbell and wood blocks; again some played simultaneously. Great coordination. Other instruments, played by other members of the band, included keyboard piano, bass, guitar, drums, and clarinet.

Their sound had a really smooth groove to it; you could tell that they had jazz in their musical backgrounds. This was most evident in songs that had ‘islands of instrumentation’ as I call it. Trumpet playing half notes or longer in long phrases providing the only semblance of melody whilst everyone else was ‘noodling’ around. No tune you could hum along with per se, but plenty of foot tapping and body movement by the audience. Main singer had a lovely and smooth voice; he was really chuffed that there was a full house to see them open. I don’t suppose he realised it was a General Admission show: if audience members wanted a good seat, they really had no choice but to see the opening band. Good thing they didn’t suck. They were really good musicians and if I had had any cash on me, I would have braved the immensely long queue at the merchandise booth. Sound-wise, on occasion they reminded me a lot of MuteMath. Overall – a nice opening band. I’d see them again – on purpose.

Mother Mother visually and image styling channel the ‘80s. Their logo alone is reminiscent of those bold patterns and hint of the indicative colour combinations. They look it to a not insubstantial degree, but they don’t sound like it (vintage stores must love them). Sometimes that 80s ‘pedigree’ comes through, but overall they sound undeniably fresh and fun. Most commonly they are referred to as ‘quirky’, but I think that comes from the fact that no one’s thought of just the right adjective to describe them and their music.

I tweeted last night that they PLAY – they play with words, with syllables, with vocalisations, with harmonies. And they play their instruments (2 keyboards, bass, guitar (acoustic/electric), and drums. Rather well, I might add. Rhythmically they can be all over the place and yet still be spot on. How do they do that? Vocally, two female singers and a male singer (higher than average voice, but not in ‘falsetto-land’, à la the current (annoying) trend subscribed to by Foster the People, MGMT, Awolnation, etc. It affords them the capability to split chords so tightly that it’s on the verge of dissonance and intentionally so. They have excellent pitch; with harmonies sounding like that, it’s crucial. Very clever. Very creative. Very, very good. And such a treat to see them live.

Good setlist (slow-slow-quick-quick-slow): O My Heart, Body of Years, Try to Change, Ghosting, Hayloft (nearly brought the house down), Wrecking Ball, The Stand (different from album version and segued in between Body of Years I think), Baby Don’t Dance, Born in a Flash, Simply Simple, Oleander, to name a few. There was interaction with the audience (the number of f-bombs was a bit surprising considering ‘all ages’ in Mother Mother’s case meant a lot of pre-teen children (I was sitting beside three of them), not just the ones just shy of the legal drinking age) and sincerely expressed gratitude, with a special shout-out to mothers everywhere. Two songs comprised the encore. Arms Tonite was one of them. Just shy of 2 hours of music I believe (I really should wear a watch and checking the mobile in a dark balcony is just obnoxious). I was home just past 2330 hrs (and asleep by 0005, I’d wager).

Aaahhh. What a fun night.