The final show I review below got me looks that made me feel like a fish in a bowl. First, the private security at the door had two Valiant rent-a-cops who scowling at me-and only me-with that same 'Give me an excuse!' glare I've gotten from real cops all my life.
Playwright Mikki Gillette—described once as 'the Joan of Arc of the trans community in Portland theatre' by actor and critic Bobby Burmea—sets the work in the lead-up to and immediate aftermath of the 1966 Compton's Cafeteria Riot. We're dropped into the lives of four trans people practically begging the world to care about their pain, but with very different ways of approaching a brighter future.
In honor of the 100th anniversary of the painter and multimedia artist's birth, the Robert Rauschenberg Foundation is presenting a one-time award of $100,000 to four artists. Senga Nengudi won the Rauschenberg Centennial Award for visual art, David Thomson for performance, Chandra McCormick and Keith Calhoun for photography, and Patricia Spears Jones for writing.
I didn't hear Deceptacon by Le Tigre when it was released in 1999, but I was at a friend's house while he was out, going through all his records, and played it by random. It shook me to the core and I think I played it 100 times in on repeat, dancing around, completely excited. I had never heard something so angry and feminine.
Often referred to as "The Rockin' Chair Lady" after one of her early hits, Bailey was the first woman to sing with a jazz big band, touring with the Paul Whiteman Orchestra from 1929-33. Along with Louis Armstrong, she played an essential role in shaping Bing Crosby's jazz-inspired phrasing, which is to say, American pop music.
Nothing is impossible. That was Susan Alcorn's assessment of the potential of the pedal steel guitar, the peculiar instrument that she made her own. Alcorn passed away at 71 in January 2025 as possibly the world's pre-eminent pedal steel player, driven by a vision to bring as much out of it as possible and, in doing so, to gracefully apprehend and interpret whatever music caught her interest.
The first is George Frideric Handel's beloved "Zadok The Priest" written for the coronation of England's King George II. The second takes the audience forward in time to 1936's "Dona Nobis Pacem," an emotional plea for peace composed by Ralph Vaughan Williams with words from the poetry of Walt Whitman.
Amber Ruffin's joy is infectious. And she's bringing that joy to her latest production, the original off-Broadway show Bigfoot! The Musical, co-written by Kevin Sciretta. The show's plot involves a corrupt mayor, gullible townspeople and a kindhearted Bigfoot who longs for community. What evolves on stage takes on even more meaning in today's political landscape. Ruffin started writing Bigfoot! in 2014.
burdened by loneliness, depression, and the incessant needs of others, pours herself a stiff drink and steps up to the noose she's hung from the rafters of her airy farmhouse. Then the phone rings: her ungrateful brother, making demands. She tries again-another ring, another request, this time from a friend. She plays the piano, doesn't she? Will she join a group of fellow-amateurs for a charity gig? Twice thwarted, Beth sighs, says yes, and gets on with the business of living.
Intense listening capabilities from these exquisite players which required, more than anything else, a great deal of trust. They posited about thematic structures, which somehow got agreed upon, live in the moment through a collective groupthink. Right there on stage. No words spoken, just an exchange of bizarrely intense looks. Ranging from 'we're almost there' to 'don't you dare.' That's trust, people.
This album is five standing on the shoulders of legions. The healers, the alchemists, the rebels, the mothers and fathers who have fought and weaved and invented new ways of being, seeing, and balancing the frequencies of this planet towards trans-dimensional liberation and universal understanding. We assume our role in this music as messengers, continuing in the tradition's long march along the arc of the universe.
"Many found the music offensive, the dancing objectionable, and the popularity of both with young people verging on a mental health crisis." So writes music historian Susan C. Cook about ragtime, the heavily syncopated ancestor of jazz that arose in the late 1800s. Like all things, ragtime's subversiveness faded over time, and, a century later, the works of Scott Joplin and other practitioners had been relegated to carnivals and fairs, their jaunty piano melodies now evoking quaint notions of old-timey fun.
Saturday, July 18 is headlined by Iggy Pop, with Otoboke Beaver, Scowl, The Spits, The Fadeaways, and Primitive Ring rounding out the bill. Sunday, July 19 is headlined by Bikini Kill and also has The Return of Jackie and Judy (aka Sleater-Kinney & Fred Armisen's Ramones tribute band), The Dead Milkmen, Frankie & The Witch Fingers, Frightwig, and Las Nubes.
