If I had to choose one word to describe this performance, it would be raw. At all stages in the show, you could feel the vulnerability, the power of these dancers. The performers presented their hearts and minds in a web of art forms – interlocking movement, comedy, poetry, and music. Their roles as performers, but also their individual identities, were never hidden from us.

As audience members trickled into the Englert, handpicking their seats on the floor, we watched the dancers stretch and warm up. Their bodies bent and contorted in impressive ways, but not in a boastful way. It was a glimpse into the world of dance and the community built between performers. They rehearsed moves and conversed with each other, occasionally waving to the audience as they spotted a familiar face. Immediately, the audience was immersed along side them on their stage – no boundaries or exclusivity.

The show was divided into three acts, all directed and choreographed by Jennifer Kayle, associate professor at the University of Iowa. Kayle also co-directs the university’s MFA program. The three acts were titled “Nocturne for Sleepwalkers,” “Turns at the Intersection,” and “Another Stage of Staging Ourselves.”

When the first act began, you could feel the dancers shift into focus. The performers delivered their moves with unmatched liveliness. The audience laughed and grinned as the performers tossed pillows back and forth – a visual expression of the energy exchanged between them. They delivered comedy exclusively through motion, calling Charlie Chaplin to mind.

The second act, “Turns at the Intersection,” maintained the first act’s palpable energy, but expanded its influence beyond choreography. The back curtain of the Englert’s stage lifted to reveal two sound technicians who worked in tandem with the dancers to create an improvised performance. The hypnotic, pulsing soundtrack intermingled with the dancers’ intermittent narrations. Taking turns at the mic, some performers briefly detailed their experiences. Others ventured into the audience, asking for our experiences to narrate the movements unfolding onstage. The musicians then remixed and echoed these sound bites, creating a surreal atmosphere of total truth.

The experience was severe in its simultaneous approachability and intimidating rawness. The act concluded with two duets, inspired by weightlessness, which we had just seen be developed, reworked, and finalized. These overlapping art forms captured the human experience in a stunning and inspiring way. I have so much respect for the creativity, vulnerability, and genius of these artists.

Brady Van Patten and Zachary Bird performed the third and final act. The duo once again immersed the audience in their creative process by combining choreography and dialogue. The pair effortlessly transitioned from comedy to vulnerability, raw movement to narration. You could never guess their next step. Each phase revealed a new truth about the performance and the performers.

Brady and Zach boldly retold the intricacies of queer identities and relationships. They tore open the pushes and pulls of life – the forces that act on all of us but seem so personal. The performance capitalized on the anticipated intensity and the liberation of honesty.

All three acts of this performance completely blew me away. Its intentional mystery left the interpretation of this piece to the audience. Every moment infused centering and reflection. The performers silenced our minds and awakened our hearts, forcing us to acknowledge how unique this night was, that there would only be one performance like this. “Another Stage of Staging Ourselves” perfectly encapsulated the humanity of movement and art.

The post Witching Hour Review: Another Stage of Staging Ourselves appeared first on KRUI Radio.

Hirway and Youngs were quick to show their personalities and steal our hearts. They were funny, charismatic, and overall charming. Youngs even called us their friends. They were excited for their “extensive three day tour of the Midwest.”

The two clearly shared a meaningful bond. Hirway acknowledged Youngs’s exceptional career and Youngs called “Rishi” a “notable podcaster and cool guy.” It was impossible not to smile and laugh with the joyous duo. To start the show off, they detailed lovable stories from how they almost met, how they did meet, Hirway’s marriage, Youngs’ teenage years, and other fun snippets from their careers.

Jenny has just concluded her podcast “Buffering The Vampire Slayer,” and she wrote an original song based on each episode. The singers performed a delightfully chilling song called Hush. Their smooth voices melted together perfectly and I had goosebumps the entire time.  This was the first song they wrote together but definitely not the last.

The artists preceded each song with some background information. The individual pieces meshed together to create a beautiful and calming set. A couple songs including Memory Palace and Between There and Here brought tears to my eyes. Just when I thought they couldn’t top themselves, Youngs performed arguably my favorite song from the show, Next Time Around.

An hour and a half of the friends’ comedic and lovable dynamic was not nearly enough. It was a joyride to be on. Their songs were heart wrenching, and then their whimsical friendship had the whole audience laughing.

The artists shared personal details that furthered our love for them. They covered a range of topics including family, Sandra Day O’Connor, reincarnation, county fairs, and video games. It was a wonderful experience.

The closed the show with their newest song and had the audience sing along to a part of the chorus. It was a charming idea that formed a friendship between everyone in the room. I speak for myself and all of the audience when I say they gained several fans. I even bought their merchandise at the end. Without a doubt go check out Hirway and Youngs’ music and catch them on tour if you can.

The post Witching Hour Review: Hrishikesh Hirway & Jenny Owen Youngs appeared first on KRUI Radio.

A collaboration between the Englert Theater and Little Village Magazine, Witching Hour “welcomes artists and thinkers to push the boundaries of their respected crafts.” With classical music traditionally being a sit-and-listen type of performance, Chromic Duo provided a refreshing take by centering their performance around audience interaction. 

The duo’s staple toy pianos and audio mixers sat onstage as audience members trickled in before the show. Accompanying the instruments was a poster board with the question “What identity do you hold?” Post-It notes and golf pencils were passed out to audience members to write down their answers. 

Known for their playful performances and inspired by self-discovery, Chromic Duo played compositions of nostalgic sounds. The music encouraged listeners to either escape or embrace their identities. 

The first composition resembled a song chosen for a film’s ending sequence. Music swelled in crescendos of hopefulness, adding clarity to uncertainty. The hazy pink stage lighting incorporated with the uplifting soundscape transported me to a state of ease, reminding me of the carefree child that I once was. And that’s what was so compelling about Chromic Duo’s show— you got to decide the story that fit the composition and let it take you closer or further away from your identity. 

After two more compositions, Chromic Duo performed “Homecoming,” their fourth and final piece of the night. Inspired by their Asian-American identities, the piece delved into the violence towards Asian-Americans amid the 2020 pandemic. The piece included snippets of spoken interviews and poems, along with an augmented reality experience.

Audience members scanned a QR code at the beginning of the show, leading them to a scenery of floating lanterns. Although each person in the audience had their own interpretation of the performance, we were all brought back together through the shared AR experience. 

Chromic Duo’s performance was a one-of-a-kind experience that allowed audience members to experience a new form of classical music performance— something we don’t get that often. 

Follow Chromic Duo on their musical journey via their instagram, @chromic_duo.

The post Witching Hour: Chromic Duo reinvents classical music performances appeared first on KRUI Radio.

Chromic Duo is made up of Asian-American composers Dorothy Chan and Lucy Yao. The two artists are third-culture-kids and create sounds that describe the road to self-discovery. In their bio, the phrase “inspired by the small wonders of the everyday” encapsulates their inspiration for the music-making process.

In an interview with Little Village Magazine, Yao stated “A toy piano… might be something that you think is just for a kid to learn. But then when you start to look a little bit deeper, you notice that the toy piano actually has this beautiful character and all these different toy pianos are characters in themselves.” A sense of playfulness is at the heart of Chromic Duo’s pursuit to connect with those trying to find a sense of belonging.

Chromic Duo is no stranger to new modes of storytelling and delightfully integrate sound and visuals in their 2020 YouTube video entitled “Chromic Nightbloom.” The piece demonstrates multidimensional art and music production. Live generated visuals of pastel skies move cautiously along with the melancholic plucking of piano strings. Then, the mood changes to a more lighthearted composition and transports you to a tranquil dimension. Chromic Duo’s ability to reimagine everyday musical instruments will have you smiling and reminiscing on childhood curiosity and creativity.

The musical duo will bring their soundscapes to the Englert Theatre’s annual Witching Hour festival. Chromic Duo performs at the James Theater in Iowa City on October 21st at 7:30 P.M.

The post Witching Hour preview: Chromic Duo’s playful soundscapes appeared first on KRUI Radio.

The contemporary scene is flooded with familiar instruments like the piano and the guitar, so a gong – yes, the big, metal, cymbal-looking thing – seems out of place in that part of the music world. However, that doesn’t mean you should skip the performance. The Nakatani Gong Orchestra will indulge your ears with metallic sound waves.

The multiple gongs under the expert leadership of the percussionist and composer Tatsuya Nakatani creates a unique, eerie and ethereal feel. Nakatani is so dedicated to his craft, he spent ten years rehearsing with the group before their first performance in 2011. While Nakatani includes elements of traditional Japanese music, such as dramatic pacing and space, he also strives to create a more contemporary sound that leaves the listener with something that is from both the past and the present.

Not everyone wants to spend their evening listening to gong music (even though it sounds pretty cool). If the music alone doesn’t intrigue you, the performance itself should. The second installment of this year’s Witching Hour festival, the Nakatani Gong Orchestra is something you don’t want to miss. After ten years of preparation, the masterful Nakatani and his skilled musicians are ready to deliver.

The Nakatani Gong Orchestra is something out of this world. You can listen to the group on Spotify, or join them live at the Englert Theatre at 7:30 p.m., Oct. 2.

The post Witching Hour Preview: the otherworldly Nakatani Gong Orchestra appeared first on KRUI Radio.

The show sounded much like the planets in our solar system. DEBIT’s musical primordial soup demonstrated uncommon patience, like she was constantly fine-tuning her sound. She infused herself into the performance, breathing life into the speakers.

Her use of a special synthesizer known as “The Pipe” was particularly compelling. An instrument that functions by receiving incoming air and emitting synthesized tones, “The Pipe” is part vocoder, talk box, and kazoo all rolled into one. The results are unique sounds that command the audience’s attention.

The planetary music likened DEBIT’s performance to the Book of Genesis. The layered, droning, tonal weave reminded the audience that nobody had ever heard these exact sounds before, nor would they ever be heard again.

Like many creation stories, the purpose was not entertainment, but education. And with any good teacher, DEBIT was not the night’s subject. There were no crazy stage lights to claim our attention, no gaudy outfits, no other distractions. She drew all focus to her art. And for me, she was willing to give five minutes for an interview after the show.

I hung around afterwards, eavesdropping on her conversation with the theater crew. I learned that the crackling noises, which probably appeared intentional to most of the audience, were the reason the show ended early. DEBIT, who is currently on tour and departing for Europe soon, explained that “the challenge of electronic music is technical.”

The unintended feedback is just one of many technical issues that electronic artists have to deal with. But she embraces the challenge, saying that she enjoys “adding to the medium, and with experimentation comes risk.” She seeks catharsis for her audience, something that technical difficulties make difficult to achieve.

I asked her what she says to people who question whether her art is music. She smiled and said she hopes her art “encourages the question of what music is.” She spoke of her pride for the electronic genre and its acceptance into the cultural conscience as music. “Frequency creates tonality, which creates music, and at that point anything is up for grabs.”

Finally, I asked her what she hopes her audience takes away from her work. Without hesitating, she dove into what it means to be human and discovering “something fundamental to the human element, which everyone can relate to.” Her words leaned towards “cosmogony”: stories that explain creation in order to show how we relate to one another.

In speaking with her, I sensed wisdom beyond her years; an ancient soul who spoke eloquently and with authority. She is clearly a student of music and, through her vocation, has become a teacher. Her thirty-five minute lesson taught me that music’s capacity for inspiration (and dare I say catharsis) lies not in words nor sounds, but rather in the innate ability to reveal thoughts and emotions we did not know we had.

The post Witching Hour: DEBIT gives a lesson in cosmogony appeared first on KRUI Radio.

But what about a Mayan flute? Drawing a blank, huh?

Mexican-American DJ and producer DEBIT conjures up more than just music in her new album, “The Long Count.” Using obscure sonic material (archival recordings of ancient Mayan flutes, for example), DEBIT explores the sounds within sound.

The album’s eighth track, “4th Day,” is free of melody, beat, motif, and virtually any other musical component that one might expect. Casual listeners and audiophiles alike are forced to make sense of something different. Easy listening? Not at all. The experience requires feeling, not just active/passive listening.

Her newest work departs from 2018’s electronica-driven “Animus”, her debut effort, but they share much of the same DNA. From the beginning, DEBIT has strived to avoid repetitive tropes and canned sounds, instead finding unique sources of inspiration. In a recent article, The Guardian deemed her music “deliciously strange.”

Her polymorphous, soundscape, and ambient work challenges many Western music concepts. While you could compare her to some well-known ambient artists, like U2 or Moby, DEBIT occupies a liminal space that’s all her own.

DEBIT has DJ’ed across North & South America since 2010. She has appeared at Ghetto Gothic, MIXPAK, and performed with Kode9, ARCA, Nick Hook, Jubilee, and more. Join her at the James Theater in Iowa City at 7:30 p.m., Sept. 17.

The post Witching Hour Preview: DEBIT’s liminal sound appeared first on KRUI Radio.

Loopable Experience

Story’s blips and tones usher you forth upon entry. It feels like a post-show vibe session with a group of tech-heads taking turns sharing tunes. Each speaker displays sounds you swear you recognize while simultaneously feeling fresh and exciting. The installation is a cacophony of smaller songs easing in and out as one edge of the 8-sided circle. At times it is a communication between two sounds. Other times it is a duet between you and a single emitted noise. And further into the experience, it becomes a dance between you and other spectators as you weave in and out of the physical boundaries of the environment.

Though the audio of the sound installation does indeed loop (I was told the album consisted of about an hour of looped audio), the placement of the spectator changes these loops for each listening session. I first found myself wandering around the space, wanting to experience every position or perspective I could think of to fully understand the piece. I stood next to active speakers, listening to sheets of metal produce horn-like washes. I tuned into speakers not playing any noise at times for a bubble of calm between two whirs of electronica. I crouched and laid down to get a sense of the verticality of auditory sensation. I stood outside the ring of speakers to observe the blending of lights and colors along the walls. I played with shadows. I sat and watched how other spectators were interacting and responding with the piece.

I noticed other listeners who couldn’t sit still. Folks who gravitated towards a specific corner of the stage. The occasional glance and whispers of contact. These loops of interaction I found embedded within the soundstage as well as the physical environment of the install. Audio feedback, bleeps, and bloops all shaped the peppered pulsing of the beat over washes of sound. Springs of textured tones influenced feedback between spectators as their bodies created washes of color. I felt the need to close my eyes at points and just experience the piece with my body. Allowing legs, feet, arms, shoulders, head to all follow along with the rhythms. You name it, it grooved. And as soon as Elbow 1 entered the stage, you know my elbow felt the need to respond.

I was also surprised by how much info a merch table can give you about an artist. Maybe the groovy album art resonates with your aesthetic; Perhaps past collabs with audio authors you’ve been listening to for years; or the staff helping run the merch. I commend everyone who had a hand in helping put this installation together and for how welcoming and informative the merch lobby came to be. It acted as a fantastic introductory space not only to the exhibit but as a fun info booth regarding the legacy of Story. I, as a relative newcomer to the world of Story, greatly appreciate this inclusion of clearly passionate staff. Bravo good chaps!

Reflections

I was also able to sit in on the discussion and reflection panel Friday evening (led by the lovely Lauren Lessing) which provided insight into Story’s workflow and intentions. Being that this was paying clear homage to the late Dieter Moebius, it drew sound recordings directly from his backlog. Story explained how he placed himself in the ‘Moebius Mindset’ through converging unorthodox sounds or unremarkable noises with underlying rhythmic beats. How unorthodox and unremarkable you ask? There was a playful anecdote regarding Moebi arriving at Story’s house many moons ago to record a squeaky door for a piece. This became a melodic aspect of an album which a listener later experienced as a soothing saxophone. What was once simple foley now paints melodic symphonies and interesting tonalities, a splendid capture of Moebius’ thought process.

When asked how he reads an audience, Story said he rarely gets the opportunity to witness live interactions with his pieces. The majority of his previous audience engagements were from folks explaining how their relationship with a piece had changed over time. His work is a literal auditory amalgamation of loops as well as a cycle of listener perception as they re-experience it. It is a piece changed by outside experiences and perspective. Story has become increasingly aware of this symbiotic relationship between listener and source media, articulating how particular emotional textures resonate with different folks at specific moments in their life. The idea of sound developing new meanings throughout an individual’s life creates a fascinating, dynamic, and living relationship with loopable media.

When prompted on his typical workflow and how the pandemic has changed the process, Tim said he’s been privileged in that regard. Most of his time spent noodling and crafting sounds is usually been in isolation. Sending files back and forth every so often for collabs when not in-person has been something he’s done for a while. He’s cognizant of how ambient music doesn’t necessarily rely on live audience engagement. This has allowed him to continue working in a very similar fashion, sometimes spending months on individual works to get the feel just right. One thing that drives Tim is his personal interest in the piece and whether it can hold his interest for more than a few days. As for what’s next in Tim’s Story, readers and listeners should gear up for an upcoming piano collab with Roedelius.

You can find Tim’s music over on his site!

The post Moebius Strips and Subsequent Reflections appeared first on KRUI Radio.

When I first walked in the door, I saw spectators all the way up the staircase to my right, filling the two large doorways to my left. Eventually, I found a spot within the crowd and saw Christopher-Rasheem McMillan – a University of Iowa graduate student who studies both Dance and Gender, Women’s & Sexuality Studies – emotionally dancing across the floor amidst disturbing YouTube videos. A teenage boy spewing racist bulls**t on Snapchat repeated over and over. 

McMillan wore a bland, navy blue sweatshirt. He had nothing on his legs aside from underwear and covered his face with a black mask. I felt that this was a way for McMillan to represent the black community as a whole, a statement that white supremacy is both a personal struggle and an attack on an entire population, though I am not confident in that assumption. However, I am confident in saying that the performance was incredibly powerful. I have to admit, in a way I felt uncomfortable. Interestingly, every spectator at The Mirror/The Reaping was white. I wonder if others felt the same.

Every once in a while, McMillan would respond emotionally. As the voice of a white slave-owner echoed through the room, he cried in anguish on the floor. At one point, he laughed loudly, but the laugh was ironic and devastating. For the last few minutes I was inside he lay on the floor, completely still, as the same videos repeated on the walls. As I walked back out the door, I heard a voice say, “You just have to wait ‘til they die.”

The post Witching Hour: The Mirror/The Reaping @ Public Space One 11/2 appeared first on KRUI Radio.

Contrary to a traditional performance, vacant auditorium seats were silent spectators to the real audience onstage. The stage became filled with audience members—participants and yogis game for a unique hour of meditation. 

As the lights dimmed, a local yoga instructor addressed an eager group: “If you’re someone who usually closes your eyes during yoga, maybe keep your eyes half-closed and let some of the visuals in.” The visuals in question were trippy animations with a cast of rich, colorful characters. Each participant had front row viewing to mind-bending graphics that experimented with movement, shapes, and visually stunning color schemes.

The audience members lunged in unison, hands reaching towards castles, constellations, and clouds. The visuals crafted a narrative surrounding the relationship of a horse and a small child as well as three half-otherworldly, half-human figures manipulating elements of water, fire, and earth. It is nearly impossible to fully make sense of the projections, but, ultimately, trying to interpret the dream-like storytelling would take away from the wonder it is meant to create, fully in line with the yoga mentality. As cities were rapidly built up, only to crumble to ash onscreen, the yogis rose to Mountain Pose and fell to Downward Dog.

The visual landscape was artfully complemented by the ambiance provided by Naioti and Steir as they stoically control the atmosphere of the space standing at their respective synthesizers. The audio rose and fell with waves of abstract synth tones and wordless vocalizations, along with brief spurts of sounds reminiscent of rainfall and chirping crickets. Both artists felt like they were in conversation with each other as the audio became progressively more layered, providing a calm and meditative space. Halfway through the event, Naioti quietly picked up a guitar, incorporating sporadic bursts of strumming that added additional texture to the audio tapestry the pair have weaved. The guitar is then passed off to Stier, adding contributions to the ongoing musical tone—the audience member truly felt as if they were witnessing the duo in their offbeat laboratory, experimenting and building off of their findings. 

Naioti and Steir brought a delicate and creative partnership, fusing ambient and psychedelic elements from their collective musical experience. Hailing from Des Moines, Iowa, Ryan Stier provided vocals and instrumentation for folk-pop band The River Monks, indie rock group Annalibera and, most recently, psychedelic rock project Extravision. Naioti, a native of Fairfield, Iowa, released I’m On Your Side earlier this year—blending aspects of folk and electronic music with authentic, raw lyrics. Naioti also developed a 40-minute ambient music piece entitled Watery Grave that provides a general idea of the atmosphere created for the Dimensions experience. The album’s description astutely explains the power surrounding the transportive atmospheric music Naioti and Steir crafted during the yoga event, “Structure and familiarity lost ground to the abstract’s ability to express the things we experience but words fall short of describing.”

Indeed, no words were necessary here as the audio creation effectively filled the room, only accompanied by the exaggerated exhales and inhales from the crowd. The yoga instructor gently instructed the audience to stay meditative and guided the audience throughout.

Eventually, each participant finds themselves in Corpse Pose—fully lying down, eyes towards the ceiling—the auditorium lights slowly begin to rise while the final notes of synths are isolated, echoing and dying out. As the crowd slowly snaps out of their meditative daze, each member reluctantly starts gathering their belongings and rolling up their yoga mat. Someone enthusiastically exclaims, “This should be a thing all the time.” She receives warm indications of agreement, seemingly voicing the collective group’s opinion. The participants linger a while longer before they ultimately step out into the streets of Iowa City—chaotic in comparison to Naioti and Stier’s loving constructed world.

The post Dimensions @ Englert Theatre 11/2/19 appeared first on KRUI Radio.