Seattle is fortunate to have one of the best Gilbert & Sullivan troupes around—and has had for the past 61 years. This year’s production of that perennial favorite, The Pirates of Penzance, opened Friday at the Bagley Wright Theatre for eleven performances (weekends through July 25th: tickets here). Although this is the ninth time the company has presented it (first in 1956), each production has new ideas and clever, imaginative touches while never adulterating the tried-and-true base of the original work.
This time it is as fresh as if they had never performed it before, and also shows a changing of the guard. There are new faces everywhere in this production. There is a noticeably younger generation on stage in roles both principal and chorus. Mike Storie has stepped down from producer (for the past 18 years) in favor of Kim Douglass (who worked with him, and whose title is now producing artistic director), Christopher Nardine has succeeded Christine Goff this year as stage director, and many of the singers are new to the Seattle Gilbert & Sullivan Society. This is all as it should be and it is a pleasure to report that the true G & S spirit is unchanged and the production as lively, charming and fun as always, much as devotees may miss performers they’ve expected to see forever.
One unchanged old-timer, Dave Ross as the Major-General, has lost none of his inimitable ability to sing pattersong at warp speed while making most of it audible to the audience. His daughters, all 12 of them, are young, pretty, vivacious and good actors and singers, while the heroine, Shelly Traverse making her Society debut as Mabel, is as pert, cute, and feisty as she is intended to be and an excellent actress as well. To have one of her sisters be a bookworm is a delightful touch.
Derek Sellers as her swain Frederic is the right age and has the requisite agility as well as voice—this is an energetic production and all the males need to be able to leap up, over or around while singing. Many of the pirates are old-timers but have retained their energy while Pirate King Brian Pucheu, another Society newcomer, leaps highest of all and wields a mean sword he doesn’t hesitate to draw.
One of the delights is Erin Wise as the rough-and-ready nursemaid Ruth. For this, Wise cultivates a voice which could cut through metal and a dialect accent to match. Last but not least of the principals, Police Sergeant Michael Drumheller, also a debut here, leads the bumbling constables as they caper through ruins and get thoroughly beaten by the pirates in a thrilling fight choreographed by Ken Michels. And all of them—pirates, police, girls, principals—can act as well as they sing and they all do, all the time. Nardine has done a stellar job of stage direction.
New sets are by Nathan Rodda, colorful costumes by Candace Frank and the whole is tied together by music director Bernard Kwiram with his orchestra of 28, well-paced and supportive of the singers.
The Northwest Boychoir has just embarked on its latest concert tour, but before leaving Seattle it gave a preview concert Tuesday night for a packed audience at Plymouth Church. The written program included everything the choir would sing while away, each concert having just a selection of these as it did here, one half being sacred music, the other secular.
The Boychoir is a great ambassador for music in Seattle. The quality of the singing is up to the standards of the best English cathedral choirs, not a random observation as the tone is very similar: clear and pure. For the first half, the boys sang, unaccompanied, Mozart’s “Laudate Dominum” and Durufle’s very tricky “Tota pulchra es” with absolute perfect pitch sense. It isn’t easy to be that perfect, particularly when singing with no vibrato. The slightest waver in pitch is instantly noticeable and it did not happen here. Piano accompanist Christina Siemens joined them for Randall Thompson’s “The Place of the Blest,” and in Pergolesi’s “Stabat Mater,” of which they sang eight sections.
This was all a delight to the ears musically and the resonant acoustics of Plymouth Church enhanced the boys’ voices. However the acoustics there are death to diction. It was impossible to hear words at any time from two-thirds back in the church, even when conductor and choir director Joseph Crnko announced selections. Since works were not sung in the order given in the program it was sometimes quite a scramble to figure out what was being sung if the music was not familiar.
The same continued in the second half, which ranged from arrangements of folk songs and gospel songs to songs from musicals and even the Beatles. All of the arrangements seemed done with boys’ voices in mind, so that there was a sameness in style no matter what the original was. Thus “When you Wish Upon a Star” had the same feel as “Deep River” or “Home on the Range.” However, all had energy, nuance and dynamics, and the final “America the Beautiful” ended the concert on an uplifted note.
The boys’ demeanor also deserves mention. They stood without fidgeting, their hands by their sides or holding their music books, all the same way, so that nothing distracted from what they were singing. This kind of professional discipline is remarkable in children aged 10 to 14. Crnko deserves great credit for their training in every aspect of performance, as he has done for two generations of boys in the choir.
What’s better than a great live music show? A great, free live music show. And what’s better than a great, free live music show? An entire series of ‘em.
Downtown Seattle’s providing just that with its Out to Lunch Concert Series, a sizable handful of free live gigs going on for the remainder of the summer. The lunch party begins this afternoon with a set by the Seattle Women’s Jazz Orchestra, playing at noon today at City Hall Plaza.
Out to Lunch shows are taking place from noon to 1:30 p.m. throughout Seattle on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays until September 4, at a variety of locations including Westlake Park, the aforementioned City Hall Plaza, the IBM Building, and Westlake Park, among others. The series has been going for a few years now, but this year’s lineup looks to be its best yet, making ample use of the surplus of local music talent and touching on an impressive variety of styles.
You can find the full schedule here (and yeah, there’s not a bum act in the bunch), but enclosed please find our list of the ten acts we’re most excited to see during the Out to Lunch series, in chronological order.
The Maldives (Friday July 10, Westlake Park): Seattle’s most durable roots-rock act also happens to be a rock of consistency live. I’ve seen at least ten Maldives gigs over the last five years, and every set’s been nothing less than full-on.
Craft Spells (Friday, July 24, Westlake Park): Their name says much, if not all. This band’s dreamy, British-inflected guitar pop should be a great, shuffling lilt of a soundtrack to an extra-heady summer afternoon.
Greta Matassa and Friends (Thursday July 30, City Hall Plaza): Nimble, playful traditional jazz and big-band sounds from 2014’s Earshot Jazz Vocalist of the Year, backed by an impressive instrumental ensemble? Yes, please.
The Staxx Brothers(Friday July 31, Lake Union Park): The Staxx Brothers are what that poseur Kid Rock desperately aches to be—namely, a double-barreled shotgun of steamy velour soul grooves and deep-fried southern rock that fires on all eight cylinders, with a charismatic court jester of a frontman who counters his spirited pipes with showmanship to burn.
Naomi Wachira (Thursday August 6, City Hall Plaza): This African ex-pat’s earthy variety of folk embraces her heritage while still connecting on a universal level. And she’s a riveting presence live.
Radiation City (Friday August 7, Westlake Park): In case you haven’t gathered here, and here, and maybe here, we at the SunBreak loves us some Radiation City. As amazing as this Portland quintet’s merger of chamber pop, new wave, lush vocal harmonies, and shoegazer atmospherics sounds on their recordings, though, they’re also able to deliver that mix to stunning perfection on a concert stage.
Fly Moon Royalty (Tuesday August 11, IBM Building): The alchemistic combo of DJ Action Jackson’s beats and melodies with singer Adra Boo’s siren vocals is as close to a two-person summer jam factory as you’ll get. If you ain’t moved to shake your ass, check your pulse.
The Dusty 45’s(Friday August 14, Harbor Steps): ‘Rip-snorting’ is the one adjective that most readily applies to this veteran Seattle rockabilly act. It’s likely way too dry and hot for band leader Billy Joe Huels to set his trumpet on fire onstage (as he’s done live numerous times in the past), but I wouldn’t put it past him.
Shelby Earl (Wednesday August 19, Two Union Square): Earl’s pipes–think Patsy Cline, channeled through roots-rock earthiness–makes magic from heartache and thwarted romance, so it’s a given that her dusky jewel of a voice will make even the most sweltering summer day a little more bearable.
Eldridge Gravy and the Court Supreme (Friday August 28, Lake Union Park): Again, we’ve sung the praises of Gravy and his gang of funketeers repeatedly over the years. It’s a side effect of them being sharp as hell live. Like Fly Moon Royalty, ass-shaking should be gloriously unavoidable.
If, like a lot of genre fans and straight-up geeks, you revere the first two Terminator movies, it’s a strong bet you’ll dislike Terminator: Genisys, the fifth film in the Terminator franchise (it just opened today on a metric crap-ton of screens). And if you don’t give a proverbial rat’s ass about the film series that made Teutonic cyborgs and the one-liners they spout an indelible pop culture fixture, it’s a strong bet your already-low expectations will still take a nosedive.
Let’s amend that. Hatred should be reserved for something that’s at least vigorous enough to arouse a polarizing extreme reaction of some kind. Terminator: Genisys, by contrast, runs its course with such rote apathy, it makes that ‘samba’ rhythm setting on an old Casio keyboard sound like gritty, to-the-bone Delta blues.
The movie’s opening minutes essentially replicate the 1984 original’s setup, in case anyone needs the catch-up. It’s the post-apocalyptic future, and the Earth’s ruled by Skynet, an implacable computer network whose army of machines have all but crushed mankind. John Connor, leader of the last ragtag vestiges of the human resistance, sends one of his lieutenants, Kyle Reese, back in time to protect Connor’s mom Sarah and to—ideally—destroy Skynet before it’s created.
The world Reese slingshots back to, though, doesn’t quite skew to expectations. The Sarah Connor now occupying the year 1984 isn’t a victimized, uncomprehending normal mortal: She’s a fully locked-and-loaded badass who’s already been on the run for years from Skynet’s Terminator cyborgs, her only companion being a benevolent Terminator (Arnold Schwarzenegger) who’s become her de facto father figure and protector. From there, it’s up to Sarah, Reese, and ‘Pops’ Terminator to hopscotch across time to save the world.
In a bit of irony surely not intended by its makers, Terminator: Genisys plays like a Skynet computer simulation of the first two movies. That lingering feeling’s telegraphed almost from the get-go. Virtually shot-by-shot recreations of the 1984 original drive the early portion of the movie, only with every trace of the first Terminator’s visceral, grubby immediacy antiseptically smoothed out.
Along the way, plenty of Big Action Special Effects setpieces surface: A T-1000 played by Korean actor Byung-hun Lee gets all liquid-metal stabby and smashy. Numerous cars pursue each other and crash with numbing regularity. There’s a big helicopter chase, and the apparently required-by-blockbuster-law trashing of the Golden Gate Bridge occurs twice, sorta (only the 1950s Tokyo of the Godzilla movies has been abused as relentlessly by filmmakers). It’s all bigger, louder, and explodier than any of the preceding movies, but there’s precious little inspiration or soul inside the threadbare screenplay. Yeah, picking on a summer popcorn blockbuster is like lifting a Tootsie Pop from a 4-year-old, but Mad Max Fury Road proved that an action movie can be as smart and resonant as it is exhilarating. The stakes on this type of movie have been raised, and as a result Terminator: Genisys feels like a factory job through and through.
Most of the human components in Terminator: Genisys just amplify the movie’s sense of mechanical indifference. There’s a feral intensity in the eyes of Michael Biehn, the original film’s Kyle Reese, that clearly betrayed the frayed edges of someone who’d spent their entire life fighting and running. The Kyle Reese of Terminator: Genisys is blandly acted by Jai Courtney, whose straight-arrow earnestness runs totally at odds with his guerrilla resistance fighter character (has this guy ever experienced anything worse than maybe losing his starting place on his high school football team?). And the grunting, earthy, no-bull Sarah Connor represented by Terminator 2’s Linda Hamilton has been replaced by Game of Thrones’ Emilia Clarke, who looks like a more superficially-pretty computer sim of Hamilton and acts like a CW TV version of a living, breathing Female Action Hero. The attempted chemistry between these two feels clunky and rushed, as though director Alan Taylor couldn’t wait to get past the mushy stuff and straight to the explodey bits.
Not surprisingly, the only figures in this movie possessing staying power beyond a wet napkin are the old guys. Character actor J.K. Simmons lends rumpled believability and charm to his role as a cop whose path intersects with the Terminator twice in three decades. And Schwarzenegger proves to be pretty damned terrific. His features weathered to bracing distinction, he plays Sarah’s guardian as equal parts Pinocchio and protective papa. His awkward reconciliation of paternal love and conventional human behavior with his programming comes agonizingly close to giving this big, loud, explode-y assembly-line movie something resembling a heart.
On Sunday, June 7, at Pacific Northwest Ballet’s Season Encore program, a near-capacity audience bid farewell to six dancers, among them the ever-popular Kiyon Gaines, who will join the PNB School faculty after fourteen years in the company, and ballerina Carla Körbes, who in her ten years here has been one of the company’s brightest stars.
Each year she has refined details of movement more than one could think possible, so that a single arm movement can be like a flower unfolding, a foot lands feather-light after a leap which makes her seem only as weighty as that feather, her head bending gracefully to continue the movement of her body or to convey an emotion with delicacy.
All of this was evident Sunday as she danced with her frequent partner Karel Cruz an excerpt from the “Diamonds” section of Balanchine’s Jewels. It’s a partnership which has come into its own the past year or so, the long, lithe Cruz the perfect balance to her radiance. The two were also a joy to watch in the lead on the program‘s final work, Balanchine’s Serenade.
Seeing Serenade from the first tier allows one to marvel at how Balanchine used the corps and the stage to design beautiful patterns like a constantly changing kaleidoscope, all the women in the same bluish-white romantic tutus, the few men in the same color. This piece is all about the corps, and it seemed right to celebrate them as they danced with discipline—essential in this—and as superbly as ever.
Before this however, Körbes danced a solo work, Jessica Lang’s The Calling. A PNB premiere, it could have been created for her. It took place within a pool of light as she stood, her white skirt spread out widely like a morning glory flower around her. She could have been the stem of the flower, moving on the vine. It’s an unusual and lovely work requiring a dancer who can portray much feeling with just the upper body.
Serenade came at the end of the program, but earlier the audience had the chance to see each of the retirees in a solo role, Raphael Bouchard in Andrew Bartee’s Dirty Goods and Forsythe’s The Vertiginous Thrill of Exactitude, Charles McCall and Eric Hipolito, Jr., in “Emeralds” from Jewels, while Jahna Frantziskonis sparkled with quicksilver precision and pertness in Jewels’ “Rubies.” She is one with great promise it is hard to lose.
The atmosphere of Nacho Duato’s Rassemblement is one of sadness and longing, of a culture in development from an earlier one lost. In their pas de deux from it, Gaines and Elizabeth Murphy brought out the emotions, the yearning, in strong performances which were another highlight of the evening.
As has become the custom, each retiree received a bouquet of flowers at the end of their performance. Gaines received several from a half-dozen family, friends and company members who presented them one by one onstage, showing, as did the audience, their affection for this fine dancer and human being.
At the end of Serenade, Körbes was honored by bouquet after bouquet, from designers and ballet masters, from friends, colleagues and conductors, hugging everyone, and eventually giving her bouquets to her co-principal dancers as they stood with the company behind her applauding. Confetti showered down [In fact those were rose petals, we’re told—ed.] on her from the flies and more flowers were tossed from the audience, as she took bow after bow. The audience stood and cheered her throughout in an emotional end to an evening of satisfying dance as well as goodbyes.
After nearly a month of doing nothin’ but eating, breathing, and dreaming movies, it’s high damned time for me to take care of a serious live music itch. To belabor the metaphor, this weekend’s a Supermall-sized drugstore, and below you’ll find just a few of the dozens of brands of sonic itch-reliever at your disposal. Yeah, I’m reaching for metaphors, but I (and you) won’t have to reach far for a great music show. Or two. Or more.
Friday, June 19 (tonight!):
Kairos, Maiah Manser, Blush Cut @ Chop Suey. 21+. $10 at the door. Doors at 9:00 p.m.
You can hardly throw an empty coffee cup over your shoulder in Seattle without hitting multi-instrumentalist/singer Lena Simon, who plays with garage-surf goddess collective La Luz, groove-rock dynamos Thunderpussy, and dance band Pollens. In Kairos, her solo project, Simon wraps her coolly alluring croon in gauzy synths, textured guitars, and a percolating bed of electronic and live percussion. Some of it’s insidiously danceable, some of it’s as dreamily pretty as anything you’ll hear, and all of it’s, well, amazing (see Chris Burlingame’s great, in-depth interview with Simon on this here website for more).
Tomten, Rare Diagram, Boat Race Weekend, Hellbat @ The Blue Moon Tavern. 21+. $5 at the door. Doors at 8:00 p.m., show at 9:00 p.m.
This bill at the U district’s venerable Blue Moon runs roughshod all over the map. Hellbat‘s unusual configuration (bass, keyboard, drums, and wonderfully alien-chirp vocals) and joyously trashy art-punk sound never neglects the fun factor, while Boat Race Weekend plays chunky and careening indie rock that borders on nu-metal. Portland’s Rare Diagram and local boys Tomten both round out the evening on a lush pop note: The former updates Pet Sounds-era Beach Boys and Harry Nilsson with 21st century oddness, and the latter put out one of my favorite local releases last year—The Farewell Party, an unerringly gorgeous and lilting collection of baroque pop tunes that translate faultlessly in a live setting.
Cockney Rejects, Angry Samoans, 13 Scars, guests @ El Corazon. 21+. $15 at the door. Show at 8:30 p.m.
Looking for a fix of old-school punk from both sides of the pond? Look no further than El Corazon this evening. Cockney Rejects sprouted from English punk’s restless late1970s loins, bashing out a blue-collar variety of punk that owed as much to traditional pub-rock as it did to the spiky-haired three-chord bursts of their peers. California’s Angry Samoans, meanwhile, represented the funnier, less-angry flipside: Their two-minute epics sport a snarky sense of humor and a streak of garage-rock seasoning to go with the ripsaw energy–it’s genetically impossible for me not to appreciate a band sporting song titles like “They Saved Hitler’s Cock” and “You Stupid Asshole.”
Saturday, June 20:
De La Soul, Brothers from Another @ EMP Museum. 21+. $25 members/$30 non-members advance. Show at 9:00 p.m.
For a couple of months last winter, De La Soul’s 3 Feet High and Rising maintained virtually exclusive residence on my iPhone. Its psychedelic playfulness, densely intricate samples, and wonderfully out-there sense of humor informed an entire New York contingent of outside-the-box hip hop (A Tribe Called Qwest, Queen Latifah, The Jungle Brothers), Outkast, local acts like THEESatisfaction and Shabazz Palaces, and current hip-hop It Boy Joey Bada$$ (who, coincidentally, plays across town at the Showbox tomorrow night). 3 Feet showed hip hop to be as infinitely expansive as any other sub-genre of popular music, and damned if the record doesn’t still sound daisy-fresh today (their two Prince Paul-produced follow-ups, De La Soul is Dead and Buhloone Mindstate, kinda rule, too). Show up to pay some respects, and congratulate ’em for successfully funding their first new record in over a decade. Make sure you get there early, too: Seattle three-man crew Brothers from Another share De La’s propensity for bluster-free, fun rhymes–albeit with a less-trippy backdrop of minimal funk beats–and a reputedly-jumping onstage presence.
The Draft Punk Festival with Girl Trouble, The Fucking Eagles, The DT’s, The Tom Price Desert Classic, and loads more @ The Swiss Restaurant and Pub (Tacoma). All ages. Free until 8:00 p.m/$10 after 8:00 p.m. Show begins at noon.
Great, no-bull garage rock crawls from the soil of Tacoma like some undying monster, so it’s worth considering a trip to T-Town for this free-for-most-of-the-day music festival. You’ll get local craft brews, a lovable 1913-vintage venue for the paid evening portion of the fest, and a dozen local rock outfits. There doesn’t appear to be a weak act in the batch, but make it a point to catch two of The City of Destiny’s most durable bands. Girl Trouble are Tacoma’s Garage Rock of Gibraltar (they’ve been carrying the torch for over thirty years now), and The Fucking Eagles thrust some roadhouse soul muscle into their muscular garage rock. Both acts belong on anyone’s local-rock bucket list of live bands.
Eldridge Gravy and his band of funky misfits the Court Supreme remain one of this ‘burg’s most reliable purveyors of deeply booty-shaking soul, so they’ll fit right in amidst the parades and naked hippie cyclists that’ll be overtaking Fremont during the Solstice Festival this weekend. Expect the likely-warm temperatures to increase by at least ten degrees once these guys get down to business. For reals, cousin.
I haven’t been to Narwhal (AKA the basement of Capitol Hill’s Unicorn bar) for live music yet, but this bill could change that, largely on the strength of Seattle band Charms‘ reputation as a potent onstage act. Their frantic music throws rapidly-strummed guitars and perpetually rolling drums into indie rock tunes that sound sort of like a super-caffeinated Modest Mouse gone new wave. It’s quite the contrast to the other three bands on the bill (Eight Bells from Portland and Seattle ensembles X Suns and Panther Attack), all of whom proffer largely/fully instrumental, complex-yet-heavy space-rock sonics in the spirit of Earth and early Kinski.