by Laura Wasson
Photo: Rebecca Greenfield
The second evening of BAM’s Crossing Brooklyn Ferry was no less jammed packed with talent and excitement than the first. The only problem I could see after spending seven hours running all around the building for various acts? It was impossible to see everything! I had a sinking suspicion this would be the case, as I clutched my crumpled schedule while riding up the escalator to the BAMcafé to hear NOW Ensemble. I would have to be efficient, and I would have to be choosy.
The first two hours of the evening proved to be the most relaxing, as they were spent happily ensconced in the BAMcafé. NOW Ensemble was up first, and while I missed the majority of the set, I was present for an utterly delightful film they screened. Titled Plan of the City and directed by Joshua Frankel, the short featured all of NOW’s members performing the jittery and excited piece they played live as Manhattan morphed from skyscraper-filled city to Mars-bound rocket ships. The madcap fun, and stop-start cut and paste gave the effect of a latter day (and much more cheerful) Eleanor Rigby.
Photo: Rebecca Greenfield
Composer Missy Mazzoli and Victoire followed with a set so filled to the brim with haunting romance it would have been cloying if it hadn't been executed so well. Considering the lack of noted female composers (and playwrights, chefs, etc.), it was refreshing to hear Mazzoli’s accomplished work and the fevered, excellent playing of her ensemble. While Mazzoli admitted with a laugh that many of her songs were about moving to New York and falling in love (a nod to Sharon Van Etten from the previous night), I found myself closing my eyes and dreaming of a dew-kissed, magical forest filled with sprites and possibilities. If anyone needs a modern score for A Midsummer Night’s Dream (sorry Mendelssohn), Mazzoli would be the one to do it.
I quickly downed a whisky before rushing downstairs to the Howard Gilman Opera House for So- Percussion. Eric Beach, Josh Quillen, Adam Sliwinski, and Jason Treuting were playing eight bongos, taking turns developing and building on one another’s rhythm. It was methodical to a fault, but tribal as well. They closed with a few selections composed for them by legendary drummer Glen Kotche that involved one passage that can only be described as a symphony for foley artists, but that wasn’t the most interesting part for me. Rather, a composition by Oscar Bettison involving tuning forks proved to be most engrossing. The quartet gently built a web of high, lilting sounds interjected by slight taps of their instruments on a table; it was suitably spacey.
Knowing I would have been a bit late for Nadia Sirota or Ava Luna, I grabbed some pretzels and headed to Rose Cinemas for the short film program. One of Mazzoli’s pieces from earlier in the evening was being used in a short by Poppy de Villeneuve. Being a fan of one and a new fan of the other, I thought it would be a fun little break before The Antlers and St. Vincent. Unfortunately, de Villeneuve’s was far and away the best of the nine films and it was first. Her stark scenes of the Everglades and the people and animals that inhabit them proved an interesting contrast to Mazzoli’s haunting and lush work, and certainly gave the piece a much different tone than what I had originally heard only a few hours prior. After a number of woefully laborious and overly stylized films (except Su Friedrich’s Practice Makes Perfect—that was excellent, too), I headed back over to the opera house to hunt for a seat for The Antlers.
Despite having started out with a much more lo-fi sound, Brooklyn’s The Antlers have grown considerably over the years and developed into something far more symphonic. Taking a page from the Radiohead and New Order playbook, The Antlers have built a sound that is layered, beautiful, but somewhat morose. Throughout their light-filled set, the crowd swayed and nodded to songs like "Rolled Together" and "VCR," although it was clear they were really here for the next act.
St. Vincent, aka Annie Clark, took to the stage shortly after The Antlers wrapped up and was greeted to a wave of esctatic yelps and peals of glee. Clark ripped through a number of her best-loved songs from Actor and Strange Mercy, including “Cruel,” “Cheerleader,” and “Save Me From What I Want." The crowd loved those particularly, screaming with delight as she brandished her axes. That’s something I haven’t seen in a while: genuine excitement over guitar solos.
During “Dilettante,” I realized that Clark is in some ways like a modern Lou Reed. Her poetry is accessible, but no less true, and on "Dilettante" she captures that same conflicted-but-hopeful love of New York that Reed so perfectly illustrated on “Take A Walk on the Wild Side.” Her utterly fashion-forward ensemble (complete with leather hot pants) also called to mind a trendy woman’s take on Reed’s macho penchant for a slick-black hide.
The best part of the evening, though, came after her rousing cover of The Pop Group’s "She is Beyond Good and Evil." Clark jumped into the audience to the security guards’ obvious dismay. As she was passed around—stumbling but powerful—the crowd sang with her, reaching out to her, and she commanded them even while huddled on her back. It was such a stark contrast to the elegance of the setting (maybe the punk spirit isn’t dead after all). If Clark is the one bearing the torch, we are in capable hands. Photo: Rebecca Greenfield