Dance super hero, Miguel Gutierrez, is bringing his brainchild, Death Electric Emo Protest (DEEP) Aerobics to P.S. 122 this Sunday as part of the Movement Research Festival. For five clams, you get to figure out what the hell this is supposed to mean:
“[DEEP Aerobics] is for ANYONE who has ever had the interest in combining the joie de vivre that is the vigorous bouncing of one’s anatomical/spiritual/energetic molecules with the existential absurdity that is living in a world/country/economic system of injustice, war-mongering and cultural ineptitude.”
SUNDAY DECEMBER 2ND, 3PM
P.S. 122 — FIRST AVENUE AT EAST NINTH STREET
5 BUX… TO TAKE THE CLASS YOU MUST BE IN COSTUME. INTERPRET THIS HOWEVER YOU WANT.
CLASS IS ABOUT AN HOUR BUT WE MIGHT DO A “PRE” AEROBICS WARM UP AND A “POST” AEROBICS KAFFEEKLATCH
We changed our Blogroll, so that now, the blogs belonging to the papers are segregated from the solo blogs. Because there’s a difference…
There’s a difference.
We also added back the comments column. So make ‘em!
L. Ro. is a poet. And you’ll know it when you read her review of the girl/boy double bill of Beth Gill and Daniel Linehan at DTW, so we’re giving her the Mini-CADDY
Dunning is just…dry in her review of Gina Gibney, so she gets a Mini-Douche
Roslyn Sulcas gets a Mini-CADDY for using the word “denuded” in her review of Pappa Tarahumara‘s “Ship in a View” at BAM
And Alastair Macaulay gets, of course, the Mini-Douche, since I couldn’t even get through the first sentence of his latest piece, which begins, “For those of us who attend too many galas…”
Our future lover, A. Ro., gets called up to the Top 10 books of ’07 list in The New York Times. (Way to go, hon!)
Despite what might appear to be a tendentious effort on our part to discredit the poor guy, we’re actually totally stoked that so many people are making such a fuss about twentieth century classical music. Our scrutiny comes from a place of love. We really just don’t want to see any more bullshitty fictionalizations about what 20th century music is, was, sounds like, looks like…tastes like. The last thing we need is some book to come along that’s like, Composers of atonal music are all fringe lunatics. Cuz they’re not. Continue reading
OMG. How could we not have known about this? We feel like a total nincompoop.
Not only does Variety’s online-ego have a whole section devoted to “Reviews”, but the Reviews section has a subsection called “Legit“, which is devoted to reviews of theater and opera and classical music and shit! It’s like a veritable treasure trove of awesome opinions!
Eric Myers’ review of Iphigenie en Tauride brought us to the life changing discovery. It’s a pretty smart review, and to boot, he too gives a shout out to Lisette Oropesa! Damn, girl! Your shit is on fire!
Here’s to a new era in Counter Critic. (Well, of course, before the next new era when the WSJ goes freebie!) Papa’s got some homework to do…
Here’s our other Iphi coverage.
So, just to tighten up some loose ends…
Here’s Deborah Jowitt’s review of the Rainer drainer. She obviously has some pretty strong loyalties to the era (and I’m sure, to some of the artists). There’s only one real criticism, but in the same breath, it sounds like she tries to take a stab at…our protest to 60’s (or 60s) nostalgia!:
Non-Rite allusions (to Groucho Marx, among others) may account for some of RoS‘s more confusing and structurally wobbly moments. The work refers back to the ’60s playfulness that many once considered shocking; ironically, those whose tastes were formed in the 1990s may still be discomfited by it.
Ouch! Deb, that totally hurt!
Then, lo and behold, former Times dance critic, JOHN ROCKWELL, chimes in on the whole Rite of Spring weekend on WNYC! Whatever! Where has that bastard been anyway? Probably hanging out in dark-wooded, smoke-filled rooms with all his Arts Journal buddies gossiping about the latest Lohan incident.
Turns out Rockwell liked Xavier LeRoy’s dance-like-no-one’s-watching wank fest. And, although he flubs the name of the Performa 07 Festival (calling it “Performers ’07 Festival”!), he doesn’t let Rainer as easily off the hook:
It just didn’t work.
Yawoza! At least dance critics aren’t afraid to call a piece of shit out. Now, if we can only get the opera critics to step up to the open mike…
(Here’s our total Rite of Spring coverage.)
So it’s a day after our coup de review. I could only find two other reviews of The Met’s Iphigenie en Tauride this A.M. (Feel free to point us toward any we overlooked.)
First up, T-Bone Tommasini at The Times. His review is really heavy on the history. Then he lays on the synopsis. And when he finally gets to reviewing the actual production, he’s pretty spot on. He also gets props for capitalizing on a chance to use the word “russet.” If you have a chance, listen to the first audio excerpt. It has the part we wrote about where the women’s chorus joins Iphi on a high note. It doesn’t sound quite as magical as it did in the theater, but you’ll get the idea.
The second review comes from Jay Nordlinger at The New York Sun. I probably should have read him first, cuz after reading T-Bone’s intelligent, lyrical prose, Nordlinger’s writing sounds all choppy and retarded. But I’ll give him props for his shout out to Lisette Oropesa, which we did too!
Both T-Bone and Nordi take the this is an overlooked work of genius that should be performed again and again line. I think there’s still room for improvement. And you know how we feel: the last thing we need is another old opera to hog the spotlight from new composers and new works. But that’s just us, apparently.
Neh neh neh neh neh neh! Guess who got to attend the opening night of The Metropolitan Opera’s latest “new” production? That’s right, boys and girls! But you know we work for it over here. So we’re bringing you our FIRST WORD REVIEW, that is, a review that comes out when a review should come out: the next morning. No two-day delay. We’re talking a 7am stint at the old PC in order to bring you our unadulterated opinion. You know you like it.
Opera Review: Iphigenie en Tauride at The Met
(Photos by Ken Howard)
The Met’s latest new production, a complicated setting of Gluck’s Iphigenie en Tauride that debuted last night, opened in silence. Well, silence and then a nap-jerk grunt from Susan Graham who lay face down on the mosaic floor of what appears to be a cross section of the Temple of Diana. Then, still in silence, a lithe woman is lowered by a cable from the rafters and snatches up another young woman who, lying on a giant sacrificial altar, had just had a dagger thrust through her chest. The two of them fly up to the heavens, and the music begins.
The Metropolitan Opera has tried somewhat desperately to boast the slew of new productions they’re offering this season, although the results have been rather mixed. Lucia suffered from an over-hyped Natalie Dessay who delivered more ham than shine, and Macbeth failed to achieve any coherence between sets, costumes, and musical performances: very anti-gesamtkunstwerk. But with Iphigenie, directed by Stephen Wadsworth, they may finally have something they don’t need to feel ashamed about. Continue reading
Yum yum! Gimme some of that Paganinian, tubercular guantness, a chaise lounge and tub of bon bons and call me satisfied!
Or…you could just read Allan Kozzin’s review of David Aaron Carpenter’s recent concert at Carnegie Hall.
WTF? There are like five people in this picture!
C.C. is totally there somewhere, although, we have a feeling we’re only partial view. Check out this link for the full monty and a list of all the cats who showed up.