Wednesday, December 29, 2010

Artist & Creator

 
The gentleman hiding behind the tote bag is David Liebe Hart.  He is an actor/comedian/musician/public access host.  He has appeared on such television programs as "Good Times," "What's Happening," and "Tim And Eric Awesome Show Great Job."  He recently performed in Portland, Oregon at Valentine's, and I was lucky enough to attend.


It was a bit of an odd night.

Bearing in mind that this was some of that "outsider art" that people go on about, I showed up an hour late, hoping to bypass at least one of the opening acts.  Unless they are legitimately nuts themselves, the class of people who get roped into opening for this sort of thing are either half-assed "experimental" "artists" or annoyingly unfunny "comedy" acts.   My luck running true to form, there was one of each on the menu, and no, I hadn't managed to miss them.


The first act was called "Sustentacula" (I know, right?) and it was one of those two-dudes-and-a-ton-of-gear-making-white-noise propositions, which is usually fine with me as long as the set stays under twenty minutes.  Unfortunately, one of those dudes (I think his name is Dude With Beard) started singing.


He had one of those affected, pseudo-folky, Neutral Milk Hotel/Decemberists kind of voices, and the fact that he was singing over a bunch of atonal electric gurgles meant that he didn't really have to stick to any sort of melody, instead opting to intone lyrics like "Fish tale mammary inside the pelvic womb, impale the menstrual heart June cocoon."  Not exactly, but you get the idea.  He'd also get up occasionally from his bank of whoosh-makers and do some preposterous performance-arty antics... hopping on one foot while windmilling his arms, or leaning backwards while flapping his lyric sheets like flippers and then scowling.  That sort of crap.


It was while he was doing this second bit that something amusing actually happened.  When Dude With Beard finished flapping his lyric fins, he tossed them "contemptuously" toward the audience, then sat back down at the Gurgle Controls.  At this, David Liebe Hart LEAPED to his feet and scrambled over to pick up the lyric sheets.  He carefully dusted them off, stacked them neatly, and placed them on top of DWB's stack of gear.  It was great.  DWB is trying to be all "I'm a Supes Intense Artist" and Liebe Hart is just like, "Oh, dear, you dropped these.  Let me help you out, buddy."  Classic.


Eventually, the gear stopped burbling and the dudes went off to shave or something.  Then a group of ladies (allegedly) got up, all dressed in fancy-ish dresses with loads of makeup on (one lady also had her hair tied under her chin like a beard, which I guess created a bit of artistic unity with the first act) and began doing some of that "performance art" you kids seem so keen on these days.


They were called "Galactic Daughters of Passion", and I include their name here so you will be able to AVOID THEM AT ALL COSTS.  Their act basically consisted of a bunch of tantric breathing exercises done at irritating volume into a microphone... and then they started rubbing their crotches on each other's legs... and talking about how they're "gonna come".  And then one of 'em tore her dress and put on a warped old blues tape and stood on a table... and then I don't know what happened because I got out my Mike Tyson book and focused on my Manhattan.  People were laughing, so I guess it was supposed to be funny... question mark.


Look, I can find transcendent qualities in art that is stupid, in art that is vulgar, in art that is amateurish, in art that is awkward, and in art that is annoying.  But when your art is stupid AND vulgar AND amateurish AND awkward AND annoying?  You can pretty much fuck off and quit wasting my time.

Thankfully, David Liebe Hart finally got up and did his thing.  He did not bring any puppets with him, which was probably for the best, as it allowed us to focus on the man and his music.  He was accompanied by his partner Adam Papagan (visible at extreme right in the video) on guitar and THAT'S IT.  No frills.  No antics.  Just a man with delightful, life-affirming songs sung with a strong voice and a rockin' guitar.  And the occasional interlude about being seduced by alien women who look like Betty Page.


And sometimes, that's all you need.  Easily the best live performer since Jonathan Richman, and all the idiots who walked out (passing DIRECTLY in front of David Liebe Hart, btw) are the worst sort of scum.


Which is to say, they were fans of the opening acts.

Anyway, here's yr ipod filler for the day.  Only one jam, 'cos David Liebe Hart really needs yr money.  This is off the "Public Access" album from 2008.



Sunday, December 19, 2010

A Squid Eating Dough In A Polyethylene Bag

 
The world is a smaller, sadder, less luminous place with the news that Don Van Vliet has left us land-lubbin' women alone.  While it is perhaps redundant for me to toss my humble scribblings into the deluge of Beefheart memorials, it is a testament to the Captain's powers that NO AMOUNT of hyperbole can really do justice to the man's art.  It is impossible for Beefheart to be overrated.  Despite being thirty-nine years old, the clip above is as assaultive, as mind-warping, as ALIEN as it was at its inception.  Even moving in Beefheart-saturated circles (as I do), there is no way to get used to this stuff.  No matter how many Arab On Radars, no matter how many Flying Luttenbachers or U.S. Maples I obsess over, Captain Beefheart and his Magic Band got there first, strangest, and best.  I could listen to these albums for the rest of my life and never exhaust their store of innovation, wonder, and energy.


Thank you, Don Van Vliet.  Thank you and goodnight.