Beck released twenty new songs in December. He didn’t record them; if you haven’t heard them, that’s probably why. They were released by McSweeney’s (Dave Egger’s creatively-published hip-lit/humor outfit) as Beck’s Song Reader in a real-as-you-me-and-America collection of music notation and full-color, old-timey nostalgia-soaked artwork.
Beck said: Gather some friends! Grab your gitfiddles and noisemakers! Remember that every good boy does fine! Remember that all cows eat grass! We’re going to have us some good ol’ fashioned, family fun just like in the good ol’ days when a man was a man and bands had instruments blah blah! Folks, it even comes with a nifty hardcover carrying case!
He said something like that. And the book, of course, sold out, which is something we can all love about America.
An early purchase by the with-it duo of Karin Webb and Brendan Burns ensured that at least two copies ended up in the greater 02144 area. They lovingly watered their little songbooks, gave them moonshine and some dedicated logistical coordination. The clefs and bars grew into the endearingly self-congratulatory celebration of Somerville collaboration that took place at Davis Square’s Somerville Theater on Thursday, February 26. It was a spectacle that realized all twenty of the Reader‘s songs and paired each with live dance–tap, experimental, classical, burlesque–to create a sometimes confusing, sometimes uneven, always entertaining realization of Beck’s vision.
As important as the performers to the experience was the audience to the performers. After three month’s of preparation, each spokesperson for the night’s acts reminded those filling the gorgeous 900-seat theater that they were just as vital as the 150-ish people who actually contributed music and movement. “You are all making this shit so fucking worth it,” Karin said at the opening of the night. Sure, schmaltz chic was written all over this thing, and that is almost a sure sign of probable success in Somerville/Cambridge, but it sure was nice to be appreciated.
Each musical group were basically left to their own devices and performed one or two songs from the Reader. That meant that although more than a few had a nostalgic twang, the range of interpretations varied from devilish rockabilly to a gypsy-like waltz to heavy rock. Many members of the local burlesque community (Karin is involved with the popular Christmas-time spectacle, The Slutcracker) were featured (as were multiple boobies, pasty-adorned and not), along with the Boston Tap Company and Contrapose Dance. At times the dance that went along made sense; at other times it was a bit of a distraction. But when it worked, it was a thing of fair, freakish wonder.
Take, in particular, the captivatingly sexy rendition of “Rough on Rats” by Steve Walther Orchestra and the “trashy” burlesque-ery of the vixen Femme Bones. Steve’s got a Screamin’ Jay-like croon and Femme Bones’s shady shimmying made Oscar the Grouch’s home into a place of beautiful ill-repute; it was one of the most coherent pairings of the night. (For a video of the scene, check this out: http://stevewaltherorchestra.com/?p=105). In a completely different way, Sarah Rabdau’s rendition of “Please Leave A Light On When You Go” was enough to fill a person with all sorts of home-on-the-range love and longing.
As an appropriate closing number, Jade Sylvan led “Title of this Song” in a spoken-word-singsong-style mix-up. She was joined by the other performers, including the fifty-some members of Kristy Skare’s choir, which had been featured previously in the program. The performance possessed all the feel-goodery that was the spirit of the original Beck project and the efforts of those who had the brought it into tangible existence.
When the audience stood to applaud, basking in the palpable feeling of community enthusiasm, there really was the sense that, as we’d been told, the show wasn’t about the abstract entity known as Beck. He felt just as forgotten as that time from which his songbook emerged.
Photo Credit: Luke Boelitz