Wednesday, November 17
Drums and percussion
I love the UNC School of Music. As gushy as that sounds, I admit it. We just got in from a night downtown at Foundation Hall, a barn of a building (really -- the interior is definitely 1960s education facility concrete with a 50-foot ceiling held up by these huge arching steel beams) just off campus. Took Connor and Annette to the percussion ensembles, a twice-a-year highlight of our musical calendar. Kristen was off with Westley at dog showoff school. The part I love best about these student concerts is simply the narrowband culture they bring to the edge of nowhere. The entire concert is percussion, some songs even designed espressly for non-pitch percussion instruments, played by the school's percussion students.
My favorite pieces are the ones that feel like Art, or those that are a cross between beatnik poetry and big city avant gardeism, right here on the Edge. One year the highlight was a guy throwing tennis balls at a gong. Another year featured trash cans. Tonight a guy had a broom handle for one song. One of the pieces tonight -- "Preachers, Thieves and Acrobats" by John Gibson -- featured each of the student percussionists taking a turn at the microphone and reading along in varying degrees of enthusiasm these southern micro-short stories. The only thing missing was the snapping of fingers. And maybe Jack Kerouac.
The last piece was stellar -- featuring guest artist Michael Spiro with the college's Percussion Ensemble I. They tore it up and Michael was fun to watch with his two kick cowbells, his shaker gourd on the kick and his four congas. He changed shoes to play. When he soloed, he made awesome rhythms -- four at a time, I think -- and it was fun to watch the rest of the group watch him, impressed, smiling, jamming, happy to be alive and sharing the stage. It was a kick. We might be the edge of nowhere, but this town has music.
My favorite pieces are the ones that feel like Art, or those that are a cross between beatnik poetry and big city avant gardeism, right here on the Edge. One year the highlight was a guy throwing tennis balls at a gong. Another year featured trash cans. Tonight a guy had a broom handle for one song. One of the pieces tonight -- "Preachers, Thieves and Acrobats" by John Gibson -- featured each of the student percussionists taking a turn at the microphone and reading along in varying degrees of enthusiasm these southern micro-short stories. The only thing missing was the snapping of fingers. And maybe Jack Kerouac.
The last piece was stellar -- featuring guest artist Michael Spiro with the college's Percussion Ensemble I. They tore it up and Michael was fun to watch with his two kick cowbells, his shaker gourd on the kick and his four congas. He changed shoes to play. When he soloed, he made awesome rhythms -- four at a time, I think -- and it was fun to watch the rest of the group watch him, impressed, smiling, jamming, happy to be alive and sharing the stage. It was a kick. We might be the edge of nowhere, but this town has music.
