For Rainey, the art that connects him to others is through music. More specifically, the music of language—how it escapes the tongue with rhythmic abilities, how it hides fascinating duality, how shouting a word holds as much emotion as a whisper. In short, Rainey plunges himself into the delicate art of spoken word. 

Rainey comfortably leans against a stool, looking out and preparing to tell something lost from the whirlwind of news clips and frantic headlines: a story. A University of Iowa graduate and author of two poetry books, Rainey is a magnetic storyteller. The story of the moment functions under the title, “The Making.” The making, in particular, of an identity—one that had been muffled and torn down by others. Rainey describes the piece as his “experiences as a black man in the Midwest, what it was like growing up black, and my interactions, specifically with the N-word.”

At first, Rainey gently eases the audience into a personal and intimate tale of grappling with an identity imposed by others, surrounding a word with jarring constrictions and massive layers of demeaning history attached. Rainey wonders what such a label can mean for him by delving into the family around him—although not the most glamorous or fortunate, the poet fights to show their humanness, not the labels they fought against. The gentle rhythm of rhyme patters through his voice steadily: “and some of my cousins yell and can’t spell and seen the inside of a cell, but when they see me, they always wish me well.”

But then, the downpour of staccato shouts detailing moments of hatred course through Rainey—there are bullets and death and racist fathers and lingering police presence. A captivating play on words stands out in the thick of it all that could break hearts and batter souls. Rainey says of the cop’s parting words, that “only criminals like the light of the moon. And that’s when I knew he was afraid of the dark.” Children may start afraid of the initial, literal dark that envelops their rooms, but they may soon learn to fear the dark of another’s skin from the racism that drenches the world. These words pour out of Rainey until he looks defeated. 

This place of defeat is how Rainey has learned to become strong. His full stage name reads Caleb “The Negro Artist” Rainey, tying back to a Langston Hughes piece titled “The Negro Artist and the Racial Mountain.” The famed poet sorrowfully examined the very identity struggle and tendencies to not embrace black heritage that Rainey echoes. Langston writes, “One of the most promising of the young Negro poets said to me once, ‘I want to be a poet—not a Negro poet,’ meaning, I believe, ‘I want to write like a white poet;’ meaning subconsciously, ‘I would like to be a white poet;’ meaning behind that, ‘I would like to be white.’”

Rainey knows his chosen name is controversial and makes many uncomfortable, but that’s part of the reason it was chosen—to eliminate discomfort and claim it as a triumphant identifier instead. As Rainey puts it, an integral part of his “unapologetic blackness.” Through spoken word, Rainey allows such an attitude to be accessible to all through the musicality of his words. One could easily sit and listen to someone who has a lot to say with good intentions, but the words could drift over their heads. When you add a melodic aspect to language—an everyday human object that is begging to be explored for its fragrant sounds of sharp t’s and smooth s’s— words become hypnotic as the viewer gets swept away in its natural flow.

That’s what also makes Rainey’s feat more vulnerable and impressive—the music has nowhere to hide. Lackluster sentiments and lyrics can’t be hidden under overbearing synths or atmosphere; the words assume center stage, Rainey’s hands the only musical accompaniment. He also recognizes that silence is music too, as he takes intentional pauses for necessary impact and suspense that cuts deeper. 

Speaking of Rainey’s hands, they’re a pivotal and theatrical aspect of his performance, particularly as he flowed to the next piece, “What You Need to Hear.” The audience finds the poet to be expressive, filled with a brighter enthusiasm revolving around five points. As the viewer prepares for point one, Rainey takes the word “you” and stretches it to dynamic proportions. His voice continues to rise as the air fills up his lungs and his shoulders tense. Then, in an instant, the word is released into the world, and Rainey completes the thought: “You matter.” The theatrics perfectly highlight the joyous nature and meticulous craft Rainey brings. Every inflection and hand movement is intentional. 

This is where the body language bleeds through the screen with uproarious fun. As the wordsmith compare strands of spider webs to human connection, Rainey stretches out his arms while fingers dance and twinkle. After allowing his language to expand, he also utilizes his sole instrument to show the world in its claustrophobic features: “They say the history haunting you or the system shackled around your ankles or the trauma noose tightened around your neck should direct your every step.” Rainey acts as the aforementioned “history,” grasping at his neck and self-inflicting a chokehold in the name of visual poetry. 

The fifth and final point is simple: “I love you,” said with plenty of suspense and thematic delivery. Rainey lets his hands drop to his sides, signaling the end of the show—his instrument’s been put down and laid to rest. 

Rainey introduced the second piece by simply saying, “It’s about what we all need to hear and I think that explains it.” And it does; Rainey recognizes that it’s in uncertain times that the world needs grounded encouragement—you matter, you have power, you are not finished. At the same time, there’s also a need for heightened, unexpected levels of creativity. In the world of spoken word, there are no concrete sentences or periods. As with a lot of activities at the moment, conventionality has to be suspended, as the viewer must surrender to the natural rhythm of speaking and fill in the instrumentation themselves. 

Watch the full performance below:

Mission Creek’s Underground Festival may be over, but you can still watch the performances from April 1-4, 2020 on their Website, Facebook, and Instagram . The rescheduled Mission Creek Festival is currently set for September 17-19, 2020.

The post Mission Creek Underground: Caleb Rainey 10/4 appeared first on KRUI Radio.

Moen, a jewel of the Iowa City music scene, kicked off the offbeat festivities premiering on Facebook and YouTube with a lovingly crafted 15-minute set. “Music is definitely the primary way we as people tend to process our emotions, whether it be creating it, listening to it, or both. I think right now, a lot of people’s feelings, including mine, are pretty jumbled and a little erratic,” Moen said during the set’s video introduction. “I’ve found that writing songs have helped me kind of calm those waves down.”

Just as songwriting calms Moen, the set offered up for her Mission Creek performance was similarly comforting. Clad in her signature blazing red lipstick, Moen’s voice took on an ethereal and meditative quality thanks in part by the echoes of the empty theatre—a natural reverb for her delicately booming voice. 

Joined only by her guitar, Moen began with “Where’s My Bike?,” a track, along with the other performed songs, off her upcoming album partially funded by Kickstarter supporters. As Moen deeply processes every lyric and note, it seems to the viewer that she’s playing with her voice—a wild, raw entity ranging in volume and intonation. Moen molds its dynamism, taming it with effortless control, until, with a sly smile, she lets her grasp slip revealing surprise playful adjustments at the end of her musical thought. 

Going from soft and silky to rough and rioting, Moen abandons all control as she wails: “I’m sick of singing songs about my exes.” In emotional bursts like these, Moen shines throughout the performance, making her fascinating to watch. Even on a constricting computer screen, Moen comes across as expressive and warm; it’s impossible to look away from her emotionally-etched facial expressions and all the better, because this time, all 2,000 Facebook viewers have a front-row seat. 

The final, ringing guitar chords transition quickly to “What’s the Rush?,” a track where Moen employs a soft, Billy Holiday-esque growl. The track feels especially comforting as Moen’s emotion intensity is palpable as she sways. This emotional commitment that trickles through her honeyed voice extends into Moen’s ending track: “Headgear.” 

Her performance opens with fluttering guitar and intense concentration. Moen leans into herself with eyes closed, utterly connected to each breath of music. This track, in particular, feels like a welcome treat for those holed up in their own homes as Moen’s presence expands to fill the stage— occupying the role of drum rhythms and responsive audience approval. The gaps of silence instead create a unique concert experience; Moen nods along to imaginary downbeats along with her handcrafted jam session. The fact that Moen is able to project all energy solely to her audience rather than out to an audience creates a more full-bodied power to her delivery. 

The lyrics of her three-song set, though not intended for these unique times, fit nicely into a collective yearning for calm felt throughout the world. “Where’s My Bike?” goes beyond an individual whose stuck in a rut not progressing with ambition left behind, along with her bike, at an ex’s garage. Now, its lyrics feel like a wakeup call for all who are caught up with pandemic-caused inconveniences: “I could keep wallowing all afternoon / And only think about my own problems…But now I’ll put my feet back on the ground.” “What’s the Rush?” leaps off its bars of music with a beautifully personified characterization of loss, who “sits at the table / In tattered silks and sulking eyes / too tired to dance to even speak.” “Headgear” acts as an anthem to fight the anxiousness of historic times: “I thought my mind was out to get me / Much faster than my body,” Moen quietly sings. “My mind is faster than it thinks to run / to where it doesn’t need to be.” All of her selected song’s lyrics seem to resonant more than ever, speaking toward uncertainty and not the loss of exes, but loved ones. 

Mission Creek Festival is here to comfort its audience during “weird and challenging quarantimes,” as they put it. So far, the festival is already delivering with Moen’s lowkey but refreshing performance and video production that is thoughtfully executed. Although brief, Moen’s act is intimate in the best of ways, even in the least ideal of circumstances. Moen ended her enrapturing set with a simple and endearing sign off: “Cool, thanks.” The humanness of the moment felt like the perfect way to end the start of Mission Creek, with Moen bringing life to Iowa City like she always has. 

Watch the full performance below:

Mission Creek’s Underground Festival continues April 1-4, 2020 and will air on their Website, Facebook, and Instagram .

The post Mission Creek Underground: Elizabeth Moen 10/1 appeared first on KRUI Radio.

Each act of the night drew in more people, the first floor eventually reaching capacity. Nadalands started out with some indie rock, followed by Elizabeth Moen, an Iowa City staple. Then Hurray for the Riff Raff took the stage. The crowd was supportive yet calm, ready to enjoy one of the last few acts of the this year’s Mission Creek Festival.

Spearheaded by lead singer Alynda Segarra, the band is an extraordinary sample of Americana, mixing together various styles to achieve an inventive rock sound. The blended style gave way to intricacies within each piece, backing beats steered by various music genres, from doo-wop to salsa.

Segarra is a Bronx native who tirelessly looks to use music to celebrate her Puerto Rican heritage. After the band’s first song finished, Segarra discussed that music keeps her feeling alive during these tense times for our country, and Hurray for the Riff Raff’s body of work holds a similarly political voice.

The group has four albums under its belt, their most recent being The Navigator, released in 2017. Segarra created this album around the imagined character of The Navigator, who represents her experience growing up amidst the streets of New York City longing to celebrate the history of her people. Pride for oneself and one’s culture drives much of Hurray for the Riff Raff’s songs, lyrics the powerful engine of their music.

“The Kids Who Die,” a new song not yet released, provided a strong commentary on the increased amount of school shootings around the United States in recent years. Segarra said the piece was inspired by a Langston Hughes poem, palpable in the style of its lyrics. Repeating “die” an overwhelming amount throughout formed a resounding impact, this song used music to remind the audience of the ongoing issues in our country.

Spanish for “onward” or “forward,” Segarra announced the standout next song: “Pa’lante.” The intensity of the lyrics within this song’s simple melody is unmatchable. Segarra commanded the stage during the performance, punctuating each line with emotion. The lyrics comments forcefully on the lifestyles immigrants have been forced to adopt in the United States due to racial prejudices. It is a song of strength for Puerto Ricans, particularly in the wake of Hurricane Maria’s destruction.

A recording of Pedro Pietri’s seminal 1969 poem, “Puerto Rican Obituary,” is woven into the song, further illustrating Segarra’s lyrical influences from poetry. Pietri’s words emphasize the violence that Puerto Ricans have and still have to face: “Dead Puerto Ricans who never knew they were Puerto Ricans / Who never took a coffee break from the 10th commandment / To kill, kill, kill / The landlords of their cracked skulls.” Hearing these lines of poetry spoken from the stage made it impossible to ignore Hurray for the Riff Raff’s powerful central message of never giving up on the fight for equality between all peoples.

The post Hurray for the Riff Raff @ The Englert Theatre 4/6/2019 appeared first on KRUI Radio.

While influenced mainly by psychedelic and heartland rock, The Artisanals’ music blends together several different genres, a sound which the band’s website describes as, “The sound of the road; of heartache and good times; of an old classic and a new favorite.” Three guitarists and a strong drummer make for a heavy rock sound and the reverberations almost shook the floor of Gabe’s. Yet The Artisanals aren’t afraid of reverb. They embrace it. Each instrument is pushed to a maximum state of resonance, echoes compiling to create an overwhelming aura of sound in every song.

Lead vocalist Johnny Delaware—donning a red leather blazer—greeted the crowd with a bright smile underneath the scruff of his full beard. Taking on a similarly retro look, other members of the band include the dexterous Clay Houle on lead guitar, Eric Mixon on bass, Nick Recio on drums and varied percussion, and Ian Klin on keyboard. Friends of the band were scattered throughout the audience, voicing their support through excited cheers. The musicians were happy to return to Iowa, Delaware poking some fun at midwestern colloquialisms with a sarcastic, “You betcha it’s great to be back in Iowa.”

The setlist featured songs from their 2018 debut album The Artisanals, with a few instances of new pieces they are currently working on. An echoey piece started out the set with a steady drumbeat taking the audience along for the ride. Electronic piano, chimes, and guitar soon joined in, creating the perfect atmosphere for Delaware’s vocals. His impassioned voice easily covered a lengthy range, moving from low bass notes to falsetto “oohs” in a matter of seconds.

Delaware was a flamboyant presence, bucking his guitar around as he played, his shoulder-length hair constantly being flipped around. Energized by the music, he frequently kicked his legs out of the crowd. His feet were likely up in the air for as much time as they were on the ground. Though a bit more subdued, fellow band members joined Delaware in his head-banging rampage throughout the night.

Older tones of rock shape their sound as the band claims to find inspiration in John Mellencamp, George Harrison, and Tom Petty, while simultaneously taking cues from more current bands like The Killers. Though the style of music the group emulates dates back a few decades, The Artisanals are very inventive with their sound. They seamlessly integrate unique musical elements typically resigned to more orchestral arrangements, like chimes, thunder and wind sound effects, and the use of a gong in “Drag.“

Lyrical content for The Artisanals surrounds past and present lovers, experiences as musicians, drug use, following your heart, self determination: all different narratives from a bohemian lifestyle. The band isn’t ignorant to the connections between their music and the culture of the seventies. Delaware even introduced “Pound the Rock” by listing off details what the song was about, summarizing with a smile, “You know, all that hippie shit.” They don’t take themselves too seriously, and this carefree nature inspires joy in their music.

“Angel 42″, the first single the band ever released, finished out the night. This upbeat piece which features sitar-like strings covers the gambit of what The Artisanals create—a lost love, fostering connections through music, heavy guitar, shrooms, and a nomadic lifestyle. Anything and everything one might need to live a bohemian life in the 21st century.

Though The Artisanals are old souls with a vintage sound, they are a group still very much on the rise. New releases are sure to appear as they continue on a tour around the United States until this summer, and I for one can’t wait to see what further ingenuity they bring to the rock world.

The post The Artisanals @ Gabe’s 3/28/19 appeared first on KRUI Radio.

hair intermittently came straggling up to the stage with beers in hand. The unabashed first chords of their opening number burst through Gabe’s, fitting of Commander’s description on the Witching Hour website: “We’re a band. Some of our songs are loud and fast, some are less loud and less fast.”

Guitar and percussion heavy, Commanders’ inventive rock sound has an unyielding focus on beat that reverberated into my bones. Shawn Haigwood, the lead guitarist, tackled countless solos, each more complex than the last. Overlapping guitar melodies between Haigwood and the other two guitarists, Dustin Kelly and Ben Minniear, created a revolt of sound that materialized the overall vibe of unruly freedom in the music. The final piece to the puzzle, Dan Davis on drums fueled movement with his driving beats.

To compete with the intensity of sound from the instrumentals of Commander’s music, strong vocals are necessary to cut through the pulsating rock base. That is exactly what you get from lead vocalist, Chris Burns. Powerful belts stuck out yet complimented the fascinating mania of the music. Though sometimes he tiptoed into shouting territory, Burns’ voice handles subtle melodies and climaxes equally well, impelling you to listen.

Burns was a enchanting figure to watch on stage. He swayed and shimmied along to the beat, even cradling the microphone at moments during the performance as if his life depended on it. The physicality and devotion Burns brought to the stage made each song its own unique experience.

The majority of the set hailed from their 2017 debut album, “Stones, Stooges and Spacemen”, but they featured a couple songs from their forthcoming EP, “Odd Disasters”.Though not available for streaming yet, Little Village’s review of the EP signals it as a promising showcase of experimentation for the band.

Hardly pausing between songs, the band members were of few words and let their music do the talking. “Go Back Down,” a high-energy track with simple lyrics and a catchy guitar hook, was my personal favorite.

Each member seemed fully absorbed In the middle of the set; a PBR can knocked over on stage and they weren’t even fazed, Haigwood simply sliding the still-fizzing beer out of the way with his foot while completing a guitar solo.

Finishing out the night with the cacophony of noise that is “Under the Feral Spell,” I felt like a groupie for a rock band as the final guitar chords faded out to the whoops and hollers of the crowd.The carefree nature of their sound transferred into the demeanor of the audience as well, a few listeners hopping up and down around in front of the stage, just free. Toeing the line between rock and metal, the Commanders music could make anyone bang their head along to the beat.

The post Witching Hour: Commanders @ Gabe’s 10/12/18 appeared first on KRUI Radio.

Walking into the Englert, I didn’t expect much from Ancient Posse despite my fruitless attempts at googling them beforehand.

Only being able to find one music video available to watch on YouTube to get a sense of who they were, I can honestly say that I wasn’t necessarily feeling their vibe. I didn’t let that deter me from having a good time this evening, however.

Once I got the go-ahead from one overbearing security guard, I walked into the dark theatre and found my home for the next hour in an end seat.

Which, if I may say, was not the best idea. I mean, how many people honestly get up during a show?

A lot. Whatever, that’s beside the point. Thanks, Nichole.

After a few minutes of everybody and their mama shuffling into the soon cramped theatre, the lights dimmed, and Ancient Posse took the stage.

To say the least, the show was quite interesting. Not being a fan of the particular genre – synth R&B gaze – I found the show quite engaging and stimulating.

With the lights and vocals, there was never a dull moment. Don’t get me started on the cool drum action and piano – I think it was a piano – it was dark – playing.

As I mentioned earlier, before I came to the show I did a little googling and found quite a few interesting facts about Ancient Posse that held true tonight.

Having been influenced by Erykah Badu, My Bloody Valentine, and Gorillaz, it was clear to see how those three distinct styles were smashed together, creating the Ancient Posse we saw perform tonight.

In a way, it was like seeing three of my favorite artist perform all at once tonight.

Chaotic good.

Knowing that Kamillah Jonaé – lead vocals – and Steven Bergeron – keys – both come from very dichotomous backgrounds, it was cool to see how they were able to harmonize with one another.

It was like they were soul searching and found one another through the music. I mean, if Tinder isn’t working for you, try soul searching. Not trying to be funny, but for a lack of better words, life is just better when you find someone that just gets you.

All too soon, the show came to a close and I will admit that I was a bit disappointed that it ended so quickly. In a way, it was as if time just flew by because I was so engrossed in the performance that I lost all concept of time.

The round of applause that came was one that was due because Ancient Posse did one hell of a job on stage.

Next time they’re in town, make sure to check them out.

If you haven’t already, stop by their webpage and buy some cool merch.

I know I will.

The post Mission Creek Festival: Ancient Posse @ The Englert Theatre 4/8/18 appeared first on KRUI Radio.

She is a seasoned master of her craft, graduating from the Julliard School with a Master’s degree. It is clear after an hour that she has an immense knowledge of her field, and knows how to relay it to newcomers in an interesting way.

While my knowledge of the viola is sparse, save for a few film scores that I enjoy, like the Lord of the Rings, Sirota presented a blend of knowledge and musical prowess in a very interesting format that made anyone not familiar with the style of music at home.

The hour long show served as a real-life podcast, with Sirota weaving personal anecdotes and interviews revolving around the specific composer she was speaking of, with live performances of some of their hand-selected pieces.

As someone who came in not knowing what to expect, the show was very engaging and never suffered a dull moment. Live viola performance transitioned into background story and behind-the-scenes interviews with various composers.

Sirota presented composers such as Caroline Shaw, and spent about 30 minutes delving into each of the three composers she talked about. She played recordings of their work, and made the audience understand why and how these pieces are so important.

Perhaps the most compelling part of the show, save for Sirota’s performances of the pieces themselves, were the audio clips that she played in which she interviewed each of these composers.

Sirota played clips that gave the audience insight into the various composers’ creative processes, giving each individual in the audience time to ponder how they created their work before hearing it live.

The highlight of the show, however, were Sirota’s performances. You could hear a pin drop in the Englert Theatre every time she raised her bow and began to play.

Each composer’s work brought a different style of play into hand for Sirota. Her style with each piece varied from cinematic, to frenetic, to an aesthetic of pure tension. Each note was played deliberately and without hesitation.

Sirota furrowed her brow, often times her whole body shifting from side-to-side with passion and energy, as she plucked and strummed away. As someone that had never seen a live viola performance before, it was enthralling.

The show was a great learning experience on top of a downright incredible display of musicianship. Sirota left me wanting more, and as she bowed to the crowd I couldn’t help but wish she continued on.

It was one of the highlight’s of The Witching Hour Festival without a doubt.

The post Witching Hour: Nadia Sirota @ The Englert Theatre 10/21/17 appeared first on KRUI Radio.

RADinc. harnesses their creative energy well.

Their attire is nothing to celebrate. The drummer, Kevin Shea, wears a red baseball cap that casts a shadow over half his face and a black oversized shirt. The keyboardist, Matt Mottel, wears a blue bucket hat that covers his long brown hair and a loose button down.

They feed off their energy, glance at each other for cues, manage a few quick laughs, and immerse themselves in their own Antarctica.

Their multi-textured music is hidden underneath a clattering ensemble of sound. It seems at times to have no intention. Their two-part set features eight instrumental songs that make us feel something before they can make any sense of their own.

From Talking Heads’ synthesizers that waver and distort, to Sonic Youth’s percussion that sustains and frustrates, Talibam! is able to, “confront the establishment of culture.”

This streamline performance immerses the audience into Antarctica. The disoriented- pixilated- and saturated pictures on screen crackle like an old newsreel. Their meaning is very much up for interpretation. It leads us along in some hazy form of retrospect.

From tranquil mountain peaks- dancing Oompa Loompas- and waddling penguins- to fist-bumping soldiers- floating baby dolls- and drunken hippies- Talibam! creates an out-of-body experience.

The disoriented, pixilated, and saturated pictures on screen crackle like an old newsreel. Their meaning is very much up for interpretation. It leads us along in some hazy form of retrospect. From tranquil mountain peaks, dancing Oompa Loompas, and waddling penguins; to fist-bumping soldiers, floating baby dolls, and drunken hippies, Talibam! creates an out-of-body experience.

Mottel calls their performance, “An alternative political vision, which was matched by our cultural determination to provide an alternative to the landscape of music and performance we were surrounded by.”

Formed six months after the start of the second war in Iraq, Mottel and Shea have developed a unique sound that dares us to ask the age-old questions, search for a resolve, and work towards political change, without mouthing a word. Mottel and Shea are interconnected with the audience. The show ends with Mottel throwing a baby doll into the crowd.

The post Witching Hour: Talibam! Endgame of the Anthropocene @ RADinc. 10/20/2017 appeared first on KRUI Radio.

First on stage was the eclectic group, Greg Wheeler & The Polygamist Mall Cops. Self identified as “manic garage punk slime”, this band lived up to the impression of their name: strange and incomprehensible. From the first glance, I knew this would be a unique performance. The guitarist sported an oversized Milwaukee Bucks jersey while the drummer wore a traditional mall cop uniform, complete with badge, and finally, the bassist and only female in the group danced around in a sexier version of a cop uniform. It was perplexing but not particularly fascinating. Instead, it created a sense of confusion and ultimately, annoyance at whether or not they truly had a method to their madness. They began songs with the cliche “1, 2, 3, 4!”, making them sound even more like an angsty group of teenagers in a garage. Despite their shortcomings, I’ve gotta give it up to them for their originality, even though I still don’t quite understand the meaning behind their name, Greg Wheeler & The Polygamist Mall Cops.

Next onstage was Chicago-based trio, Gosh!. This intriguing band plays minimalistic psychedelic dream pop, gracing the stage with an eerie sound. With matching curly locks down to their shoulders, the two men and one woman were in cohesion with each other throughout the entire performance, creating a vibe that was easy to get on board with. Their vocals were in sync, floating together with “ooo”s that transported the audience into a dreamlike state, holding true to their title. They stuck to their minimalist roots, their whispering voices crooning above a stripped down guitar. As their set went on, the music became more complicated, subtle songs growing into a fast-paced scream of instruments that lifted the audience off of the ground and sent vibrations into each chest.
Gosh! finished their set with my favorite song of the night: “Not That I’d Care” from their album Cities of the Plain. This track had a more carefree vibe than their other songs, making me feel as if I were prancing along a colorful brick street in the whimsical world of a Wes Andersen film. Gosh! has a distinct style that I was pleasantly surprised by, stealing the show.

Finally, the headliner of the night was punk rock band, Lifestyles. The three-person band took the stage nonchalantly, the male drummer wearing a Metallica t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, male bassist dressed in a plain white t-shirt and leather jacket, and the female lead singer and guitarist sporting knee-high leather lace-up boots, tattooed arms exposed through her ripped grey t-shirt. They all looked badass and ready to put on a show. The lead singer gave a smile to the crowd just before beginning to play, and this was the last glimpse of any joy we caught for the rest of the night.

From the moment they began playing, the room was filled with brutally rough, loud and angry music. The band members are definitely talented instrumentalists, their fingers moving rapidly over the strings of the guitar and the drummer’s sticks never ceasing from moving, but their music itself was extremely unpolished. The lead singer’s voice was scarily screechy, incomprehensible and just plain unpleasant to listen to. Her screams were so sporadic that it made me wonder if she was even singing a song or simply making up everything as she went. The bassist’s voice was a bit more appealing, bringing some levelheadedness to her chaos through his background vocals. There were several instrumental breaks that were interesting and enjoyable, but would always be interrupted too soon by the lead singer’s harsh voice, jolting me back into discomfort.

It was difficult to distinguish one song from another, because all included the same aspects: grating instrumentals, screaming vocals and lots of anger. Anger is an immensely interesting emotion and music involving anger can be powerful. However, there is no way for the audience to connect with angry music if they have no idea what the musicians are angry about. I could not understand the meaning behind any song that Lifestyles performed, so I had nothing to grab onto emotionally – all I heard was noise. Maybe this is the purpose of Lifestyles’ music – to be noise. If they simply want to create a specific sound, not audible words or stories, then they accomplished their goal. If they want to entertain, then they have not achieved their goal.

Lifestyles’ performance was full of energy, with each band member visibly giving it their all. The bassist eventually ripped off his jacket, white t-shirt underneath soaked against his skin, throwing his head back and screaming the lyrics with his eyes closed, mouth wide open, teeth exposed. The drummer shook his head spastically, eyes wide and intense like a maniac. The lead singer had a constant dangerous look in her eye, just visible through the strawberry blonde hair that she let fall over her face. She was clearly in her own world for the entirety of the performance. I cannot say that Lifestyles did not have a purpose with their performance, because they are clearly performers. But what I can say is that I haven’t the slightest clue what that purpose was.

The post Mission Creek: Lifestyles @ Iowa City Yacht Club 4/5/2017 appeared first on KRUI Radio.

The most enthralling part of this experience was his medium. The entire soundtrack was just a guy playing drums really really well. My father had been a part of a heavy metal cover band when I was a child, so I have a pretty good amount of nostalgia attached to a drumkit.

When I walked into the Englert, I noticed that there were a lot of people waiting in line to buy tickets, as though they’d decided to attend last minute. A lot of people were standing around and talking as well, most of them middle-aged or older. The theater itself was comfortably vacant in the sense that it wasn’t crowded, but there were enough people there that it was still busy.

When the event started, Sanchez came onto the stage and was greeted with applause. He began by telling us he wanted to explain his history as a drummer and how he came up with the Birdman soundtrack.

He tells the audience about growing up in Mexico City and that he’d been drumming since he was five years old. He pursued drumming as he moved to the United States and that he became a US citizen two months ago. “The timing on that couldn’t have been better,” he proclaims with the loudest laughter that would take place that night.

He discusses that the director, producer, and writer of Birdman, Alejandro González Iñárritu, was particular about how he wanted the soundtrack to sound.

They would sit in a studio and work through each and every scene to make sure that it was how Iñárritu liked it but was also improvised to Sanchez’s liking. He then told us that he improvised all the time during these live performances and that we would be hearing things no one else had. A performance that was completely unique.

As the movie begins, it’s easy to tell how tied the drums are to the film. The first seconds of the movie reveal a quote, the letters revealed a bit at a time. With every beat Sanchez made, a new set of letters were revealed. There was such a clear amount of precision involved with the soundtrack, that it was easy to forget that it was being performed in front of us.

As the scenes of the movie continued, the percussion created the largest intensity in a way that none of the actors could’ve. Sanchez knew the movie forward and backward and was able to use his drums to elaborate on the film. They drew out movement in the scene, literally as the characters made gestures and slammed doors, and figuratively with their emotion.

The beginning of the credits was very similar to the intro when it came to the letters appearing with the beat of the drums. I thought about how it would be such an honor to know how my name sounded to Antonio Sanchez.

As the credits kept coming, Sanchez kept playing and created the most influential and intense part of the performance. At this point, I think he was improvising since there was nothing going on in terms of plot anymore. He was moving so fast and making such detailed rhythms that would change every two seconds. He was playing like nobody could tell him what to do, like his kit shared some kind of extension cord that connected to his mind. He just knew what he was doing, but gave off the impression that he was just experimenting with sound at the same time.

The only word that I can come up with to describe the performance is “phenomenal.” The movie itself was captivating, naturally, since it won Best Picture at the Oscars in 2015 along with three other awards. I left not understanding it, and I found it enthralling but obscure and fascinating but also really bizarre. The cinematography was beautiful, and probably the most appealing part of viewing it.

However, Sachez put his entire soul into playing his set and made a specific effort to put on a spectacular show. I can tell that he could have sat there after the credits had rolled past and drummed for us forever. Going to the Englert last night wasn’t about watching a movie, it was about listening to the music that was designed with it. I wish it could’ve gone longer.

Listen to the Birdman soundtrack here or on Spotify below.

The post Show Review: BiRDMAN LiVE with Antonio Sanchez @ The Englert Theatre appeared first on KRUI Radio.