It’s art, but is it music?
Keelan Whitmore melds into the sculpture.
Alonzo King Lines Ballet in the city last night. We saw this troupe a few months ago and were stunned by their artistry and athleticism, so here we were again.
We still like the artistry and athleticism. The set, by Christopher Haas, is inventive and evocative. The lighting is dynamic and spectacular. The costumes are perfectly appropriate, merging the players with the set.
The music, there’s the rub. I like things avant garde, I’m all in favor of modernism. Nonetheless, I still think music is composed of rhythm, melody and harmony. What we heard last night had none of the above.
The score for the performance was written by Mickey Hart, the percussionist (too upscale to be a drummer) for the Grateful Dead. It’s sort of an interesting collection of sound, but that doesn’t make it music as far as I am concerned. What we ended up with was beautiful people moving in an interesting fashion around a unique space to the sound of, of, of, well, sound. Noise. Items banging on other items. Currents of air being blown through things. Nothing rhythmic, nothing melodious, nothing harmonic. I didn’t get it. Gail didn’t get it. Our friends didn’t get it. Can it be that we were simply the four least hip people in the room? Possibly, but not likely.
I’ll stay on their mailing list, but be looking very closely at the programs before I buy tickets in the future.
Totally Unauthorized 