Sparks brought this album into the world in the same fashion that she produced Into the Lantern Waste: Kickstarter. Her website’s ability to download her songs at “YOUR PRICE” also contains this same crowd-sourcing element. Her relationship with her audience is earnest and enthusiastic, as she asks for help in being able to give to her listeners, and does not ask for more than can be given.

This newest album is, in an honest and obvious fashion, an album about religion. Its first track is literally called “Religion,” so there is hardly a counter argument about this release’s subject. Though this might be disappointing for atheist listeners (the ones who stomach the smallest of spiritual references in music), it follows Sparks’s aesthetic as a neo-folk flower crown queen. One cannot forget, after all, that The Chronicles of Narnia is a thinly-veiled allegory for Christianity. Can we then ask for Sparks to abstain from referencing religion, when she has woven religion into her music since the beginning?

All I Have is a 10-song soundtrack to a warm day in Kentucky. While listening to “Religion,” I imagine driving with the windows rolled down on a backroad. “Saint Are You Burdened?” also follows this movie score sound.

Before I forget, though, “Religion” gives us the line “The only god I fear is me,” so Sparks has officially written the rawest line of 2019.

Moving on.

The album takes on similar mellow tones during its other numbers. “All This Time” is the closest song to a lullaby. It was my favorite from the album, because it was simple and her voice was magical.  “Psalm 131” is a gentle waltz, and “Anthem” is a fun folk tale. The overarching tone is that of easy listening.

The songs that are most forgetful are “Old Kentucky Sun” and “I’ll Hold You Lightly,” and “All I Have,” where Sparks takes the backseat on vocals. “I’ll Hold You Lightly” has more merit than the former, giving off more of a “slow dance with your partner in the kitchen” vibe. But one cannot help feeling disappointed at Sparks’s lack of voice in these two numbers. “All I Have” sounds similar enough to its chronological predecessor, “Psalm 131,” that the two could have simply been one song together. 

Overall, All I Have is a soft album. On one hand, it is consistent in theme, and Sparks’s voice is beautiful as always. On the other hand, the album does not make as much of an impression as I have come to expect from Sparks. This might just be me, continuing to impose my love for Into the Lantern Waste onto this creator’s other endeavors. Still, if you are looking for music that will help you relax, get in touch with your spiritual side, or fade into the sound of tires on country roads, this is the album for you.

The post Album Review: Sarah Sparks “All I Have” appeared first on KRUI Radio.

This leads me to my segue into Megan Gogerty’s storytelling workshop.

The full title of the workshop is “Reclaiming Your Story: Storytelling Workshop.” This immediately makes me think of the workshop as one which will emphasize a feminist lens, though this is not the case. Rather, this is more of a “craft” talk.

Gogerty’s talk focuses on storytelling in a performance venue. This makes sense, as Gogerty is an accomplished playwright and actress. I had the pleasure to watch her play Lady Macbeth and Her Pal, Megan two years ago, so I went into this workshop knowing that Gogerty has credibility. With her ethos previously established, I am inclined to believe what she tells me.

According to Gogerty, the desire to tell the story is not enough. If it were, we would simply journal or blog about the experience, and then move on with our lives. But for creators who want their story to be performed or conveyed through a medium such as theater, we also have the responsibility to lead our audience through our stories. Though audience members will often make connections where there are none, we as storytellers cannot leave them alone for their journey. We create the path for them, so that they can leave our performance feeling changed.

An audience is necessary if we are to feel heard when we tell our stories. Therefore, we have to treat them with the respect they deserve, providing a roadmap to understanding the stories we already tell within ourselves. Though we might understand why something was a Big Deal, it is our job as creators to make this understanding accessible.

Gogerty explains all of this (in a much more eloquent and straightforward way than I am) by using the “Three Hump Model” as an anchor to the concepts. Though the authors of the stories know that nothing is linear in storytelling, this model provides a beginning, middle, and end for the audience the follow. At the end, the audience is supposed to be told what the author discovered through this story.

A piece of advice I found beneficial was that if an author is stuck on the third hump of their story, they should look to the first. The first hump should be asking a question such as, “why is this important?” or “how does this impact the audience’s understanding of what you are trying to say?” This strategy helps employ the “Three Hump Model” and provide structure when creating a story.

The workshop has people pair off and tell each other a quick story. I immediately relay something embarrassing, as is my instinct. We then turn back to Gogerty, who walks us through a few stories, giving advice along the lines of “when in doubt, up the stakes” and “use an inciting incident!” 

Gogerty ends by touching on “why” we tell stories if it makes us so vulnerable. The answer is pretty simple: we want connection. This is why having an audience is so crucial. Who are we if we are not heard? Do our stories exist if only we are aware of them? These are questions that every writer has probably pondered at least once. Though writing is often considered a solitary act, Gogerty’s praise for the social element of storytelling is endearing and encouraging for writers who simply want to be heard.

The post Witching Hour: Megan Gogerty Workshop 11/2 appeared first on KRUI Radio.

Spencer Loucks acts as both a comedian and host for the night. His standup is more self-disclosing, both with anecdotes and observations. He makes jokes at the expense of the audience, but his smile betrays a lack of malice. One can’t help but compare his infliction to John Mulaney at certain times. Even after his set, as Loucks introduces the next comedian, his warmth is still present.

Aloe Mean is next. He tends to remain stationary but his voice, smooth and steady, pulls the listener in. He turns both inward and outward for his material, though one cannot forget that his set begins with the humble introduction, “My name is Aloe… like the plant.”

The third comedian is Eric/Nancy Persoon. They wear an impressive witch’s hat, adding to their already towering height. Persoon’s strategy for audience interaction is to pace the outskirts of the stage and maintain intense eye contact with specific audience members as they deliver their set with a magnetic intensity. They question the crowd’s lack of energy (a valid inquiry, as there is yet to be a group consensus on what’s funny and what is not). They talk about pop culture, such as the procreating agenda in How to Train Your Dragon 3, football, and gender. The material feels better suited for a younger crowd, as I know some college students who would be very interested in hearing Persoon’s five minutes on gender neutral Pokémon jokes. Still, they give it their all, and their commitment is admirable: who else would write the word “basement” on their chest before the show begins in order to provide a visual aid? Better yet, who pulls a second White Claw out of their cat-faced fanny pack mid-set? An inspiration, truly.

Meredith Kachel deserves credit for bringing the audience to life. She is quick to establish report, charming immediately with the question “are we a sleepy college town or do we all wanna kill ourselves?” Kachel is also quick to call her own brain out now that she is a month into being engaged. With an equal give and take of teasing, she launches in on her material. She tackles the subject of her cousin, Gillian, who she impersonates with a nasally Barbie impression and a fist resting on her hip. Everyone who leaves the Comedy Showcase will remember (at least for two days) that Meredith Kachel’s cousin Gillian named her baby in order to obtain the initials of Buffalo Wild Wings. Kachel’s delivery benefits from being willing to shout away from the microphone. Her material on rich people, and how she fits into the equation by entering affluent houses, is what gets the audience to finally realize that they are at a comedy show. When she leaves the stage, the energy is palpable for the first time in the night.

Next is Arish Singh. He calls the audience out by beginning their set with a racism-themed joke, then stating “that’s my impression of what people want me to say at a comedy show.” He is also quick to call out the lone heckler, a wobbly Jack Sparrow, who stumbles in during his set. This hint of willingness to go to the mat blazes beneath his neutral face as he goes into his set. His material is more politically oriented, as he discusses Justin Trudeau’s blackface, Bernie Sanders (“I’m tired of him yelling at me… I wish he would just spit in my mouth already”) and Ilhan Omar. There is a barrage of puns in the middle of Singh’s set, which he delivers with no relish. Ending on one last note of confrontation, the audience is keyed into the momentum, just in time for the last comedian.

Cameron Gillette needs to be witnessed. He carries himself with the physical expression of someone doing improv, and his animation is captivating. There’s one dip if you know to listen for it, when he tells a joke that has appeared on the internet before, but beyond that, his material is only describable as “zany.” One minute, he talks about being a contemporary blues artist, the next minute, he mentions having been to jail. The last joke is by far the most elaborate: what starts with a simple premise of “what did the butt say to the boobs” turns into proving that time travel is real, only to find out from a piece of paper taped beneath a table, “everyone in the future is dead.”

The sets combine into an eclectic range of delivery and topics, and when the lights come back up, you are still somehow in your uncle’s weird basement.

The post Witching Hour: Comedy Showcase @ The Mill 11/1 appeared first on KRUI Radio.

Surprisingly punctual, the six members of The Violet Nines begin to unofficially play around 10. Nick Eagon, on guitar and vocals, is quick to address the audience, informing us that the band members are going to “feel it out” before their set formally starts. This immediate interaction with the audience turns the often impersonal ritual of warming up—with its “Us vs Them” distancing—into a more intimate opening. After some mild troubleshooting, the band turn their undivided attention to the audience, and the set begins.

The Violet Nines are an alternative rock band, who credit their influences as funk, pop, and R&B. Funk and pop are especially prevalent in their set with their use of sax and synth. The first 3 songs are faster paced, which bring the audience to dance almost immediately. The set’s momentum naturally flows from fast to slow to fast again, never losing that initial energy or taking too sharp of a turn in tone. Though they end on a high (their song “Day Job” becoming “Don’t You (Forget About Me)” by Simple Minds halfway through before transitioning back to the original number) it still comes as a surprise when the set ends, the excitement continuing to surge through the air.

Their talent is almost understated in its juxtaposition to the band’s dynamic onstage. The members fuel each other with their enthusiasm. Nick Eagon doubles as the group’s hype-man, looking at his fellow band members with awe and delight. He loses his glasses twice to his headbanging along with the music. The guitarists regularly face each other and, with equal give and take, establish a dynamic of support and encouragement. 4 out of 6 members sing lead vocals at least once, passing the role along with no ego. Veronica (on vocals, deservedly so with her warm and ribbon-smooth voice) stuns in an iconic red dress, but each member is equally a star.

From the very beginning, it’s clear that The Violet Nines prioritize having a relationship with their audience. They not only signpost, letting the crowd in on their process throughout the set, but they also dance among with us multiple times. Even while playing, the band conveys to the crowd that we are seen. The line between the two groups blurs to the point that it is hard to say who is cheering for who. The band adores their audience, and the audience responds in kind.

Overall, The Violet Nines are a band with good music and good chemistry. Their sound feels like it could belong in an array of contexts, whether it be an early 2000’s movie soundtrack or an episode of Stranger Things. They’ll have you cheering in earnest for a synthesizer one moment and jumping to the beat the next. Regardless of prior knowledge of The Violet Nines, one leaves the set feeling as if the band is an old friend.

The post The Violet Nines @ The Yacht Club 10/26/19 appeared first on KRUI Radio.

Even before the speaker takes the stage, there is palpable excitement in the audience. The people here know who Jessica McCabe is. They know her. They adore her. And with good reason.

Jessica McCabe is most known as a YouTube personality. However, her subject matter is a bit more specific than the typical vlogger. Her channel, “How to ADHD,” is dedicated to discussing the many facets of attention deficit hyperactivity disorder. She has talked about ADHD on many platforms, including her TEDx Talk “Failing at Normal: An ADHD Success Story.” Now, in Iowa City, she tailors her talk specifically for college students. “How to Be Unsuccessful in College” is the angle McCabe takes.

When she comes onto the stage, two things are striking: she is very short, and she is bright. Bright as in smiling with an undeniable glow beneath the overhead lights. She is immediately warm, talking to the audience with ease. Before the show begins, she is handed a clicker, which she does not downplay.

“This is my first time doing my own slides—like clicking? So…” With this confession, the audience is prepared to immediately forgive any missteps with the mechanics of the presentation (which there are, admittedly, a lot of).

“How to Be Unsuccessful in College” begins with irony. McCabe presents how one should operate within the sphere of college in order to inevitably drop out, as she did. She does not shy away from including her own personal anecdotes to illustrate her main ideas. The first point, “don’t ask for help,” is depicted in McCabe’s tale of her experience in a statistics class. After forgetting to enroll for not one but two semesters, despite earning an A in the class, McCabe did not merit the grade because she was too embarrassed to talk to the professor after forgetting to enroll for a second time. This is the tone of the first third of the talk.

The talk is also heavily influenced by quotes from McCabe’s audience. The “Brains,” as she calls them, add to the discussion with their own examples of struggles and success while in college and having ADHD. This inclusion brings more support for McCabe’s lecture, as the testimonials shine more light on an issue that many are unable to see.

The second third of the talk moves away from the bitter comedy of the beginning by delving into how McCabe did not find success until after she was 32, divorced, unemployed, and living at home. This segment of the lecture is not a victory lap, it is a confession of bewilderment, hope, and fear. Her success as a YouTuber comes from her previous struggles, but she is also as fast to point out that no one should have to struggle simply because they have ADHD. She refers to having attention deficit hyperactivity disorder as her responsibility, not her fault. This resonates even after leaving the theatre. Whether you have ADHD or not, you most likely carry something with you that can make your life more difficult. This mantra, “my responsibility, not my fault,” can bring comfort to anyone who struggles with what they were born with or what they obtained in their time on Earth.

The last third of the talk is designed for the college students in the audience, as well as the brief Q&A session. McCabe shares strategies on how to obtain accommodations and other necessary assistance. She tells the audience about how her life has changed since getting the help she needed for so long. When answering audience questions, it feels like she has already been talking with them for a long time, and is simply picking up where they left off.

Overall, hearing McCabe talk is inspiring and comforting. She preaches self-compassion in the confusion of having an atypical brain and urges her audience to get the help they need. The audience carries her warmth with them as they leave the theatre and head out into the night.

The small dog, it turns out, is McCabe’s. Her name is Chloe. Yes, you can pet her. She will lick your nose as you do.

Listen to KRUI’s interview with Jessica McCabe here.

The post Jessica McCabe @ Englert Theatre 10/8 appeared first on KRUI Radio.