A Gentleman's Guide to Love & Murder

The State Theatre is my favorite venue on the downtown strip of Hennepin, all fancy curtains and ornate woodwork. And it is the perfect setting for the fancy, albeit bloody, shenanigans of Monty D. Navarro in A Gentleman's Guide to Love & Murder. I'd heard a bit of the music from this musical as I can never refrain from exploring the Tony-winning stuff, but I'd never seen the show.  I brought my kid sister and we thoroughly enjoyed this quick, witty, murderous comedy.

The cast is fantastic. Led by our hero (can we call him that if he likes to kill people?), Kevin Massey as Monty Navarro, and joined by a stunning John Rapson, who plays eight characters, sometimes in miraculous succession, the voices rounding out this show deliver hilarious asides with the same punch as a soaring solo. The ladies don't slouch either, as Kristen Beth Williams and Adrienne Eller, as Sibella and Phoebe respectively, inspire just as many laughs and rounds of applause as the leading men. I was struck by how quickly the 2 hours and 20 minutes (including intermission) sped by, never a dull pause. 

Murder is in the title, and it's central to the plot, but this isn't a remotely scary show so don't worry about bringing kiddos or fraidy cats. The house was packed last night for the opening, so I wouldn't waste time in grabbing tickets.  Showing at the State Theatre through January 10th, don't forget to check out the discounts for teachers, students, and military. 

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Carmen

Carmen was the first opera I went to, a beautiful, intimate production at Theatre de la Jeune Lune.  Like most people, especially the opera novices like myself, Carmen is accessible in part because so much of the music is recognizable. One forgets how deeply Bizet's melodies have woven their way into everyday life, each spicy, sensual vocal or orchestral dance bringing a smile of recognition.

That immediate recognition must make Carmen equal parts exhilarating and exasperating to direct and envision. The Minnesota Opera takes a classic and runs with it, embracing the heat and flash of the 1970s and delivering Carmen's sultry take on doomed love with the gusto it deserves. Sung in French with English subtitles, the three hour show moves at a robust pace. There were no yawning lulls, as even Micaela's heartache moves at a quick clip. Carmen's steady march toward destruction is made all the more dramatic by stunning visuals courtesy of top notch lighting and a beautiful play of shadows and light.

Performances are astounding. My only sadness was that Micaela was a bit dowdy. I prefer a brighter contrast to Carmen, not so much a housewife vs. a harlot, but an angel vs. a demon. But vocally these two women are a perfect foil, Micaela's soaring, pristine soprano offering a ladylike, almost regal, contrast to Carmen's mezzo-soprano sensuality and darkness. Don Jose is properly torn between this darkness and light, and the tenor perfectly imbues that struggle with the crazed passion it requires. Thankfully, he removes his sweater vest before closing in on his beloved, as I can't quite believe a murderer in a sweater vest.

Sweater vests are only the beginning of a costume parade that includes roller skates, fringed leather, and a pair of satin pants that makes Toreador as much a thrill to watch as to hear. This is a lush, sexy world and every inch of the stage seems to pulse with that sensual energy. Embrace a bit of tragic yearning and don't miss Carmen at Minnesota Opera, playing through May 10th.

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Once

For anyone who has seen the movie (add it to your Netflix queue immediately if you haven't), there's a certain hesitance in thinking of Once as a musical.  The intimacy of a close-up seems like it would be lost in the expanse of live theater.  How do you translate all those heart-sparking moments, often communicated with a glance from a piano, to the back of the house? For one, you cast beautiful vocal talents and genuine musicians and you somehow (miraculously?) transform a stage into an intimate space where the audience feels equal parts privileged and guilty to eavesdrop on a love story.

The movie, Once, introduced me, and the rest of the planet, to Glen Hansard, already a well-loved Irish songwriter by people more in the know than myself, and Marketa Irglova, who together penned the music and lyrics for the musical. I've since seen Hansard in concert as well as obsessed over The Swell Season's haunting/rocking (how often do those go together?) melodies. So my love for the story, the music, and the personalities aligned with this Tony Award-winning musical set me up for some pretty astronomical expectations and I'm thrilled to note that I was not disappointed. This short run at the Orpheum is a must-see for anyone in need of a love story, a sweet song, or proof that the dreams that matter will be bolstered by those that love you.  So really, it's a must-see for everyone.

Following an improbable meeting of a down-trodden Dublin busker and a music-loving (and gifted) immigrant, the audience watches as our heroine nudges our hero back into songwriting. With each song the would-be lovers step a bit closer to a shared dream and the success of that dream is deeply woven into the strength of their connection. Are they soul mates? Mutual saviors at a specific point in time? How would the answers to either question impact a lifelong dream?

These actors aren't alone in their travels.  Far from it, they're surrounded by a community of musicians of such grit and talent, every duet is underscored by a beautiful chorus of warmth. Each actor plays their own instrument and there's no question that the heft of this story lies as much in the connection between our lovers and in the character of a Hometown (in this case, Dublin), as personified by a pack of Czech immigrants and native Irishmen and women who answer life's trials with music.

Once is only in town through April 6th so don't delay on this one! And if you're a student/educator, don't forget to take advantage of rush seats, available at every performance.

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Dulono's Pizza

Dulono's has been my go-to on lazy weekend nights for a few years. With beer, pizza, and bluegrass starting at 8pm every Friday and Saturday, it's often where I head when I'm anxious to get out of the house but don't have a hankering for exploring new-to-me locales.

The music is sometimes hit-or-miss for a true blue bluegrass lover. Some nights are better than others, but even the less exciting acts are good background ambience for beers and pizza in a cozy, kitschy booth. I've almost always stuck to the House Special pizza (pictured), because I'm a sucker for olives, but I bet all the specialty pizza are worth a whirl (although I can't get behind the cheeseburger-themed one, there's something about pickles on pizza that disturbs me). I split a Medium, which was plenty for two people, but having a cold, leftover slice of this in the morning would not be a bad thing.

Family-friendly, reasonably-priced, and quick to deliver those pizzas to table, Dulono's is a welcome dose of ease, lacking in any pretension, in the often over-priced and crowded Uptown haunts. Just around the corner from Cause Soundbar, Huge Improv Theater, and the Jungle, Dulono's would be an easy supper to start off a night of further entertainment, too.  No reservations necessary (do they even take reservations??) but for more well-known bluegrass acts you'll want to get there early for a good table.

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Prince

I debated writing anything about Prince's Saturday performance at Myth Nightclub. I mean, it's Prince. And I am, by no means, a music reviewer any more than I am a restaurant or theatre or festival reviewer. I would say, moreso than a reviewer, I experience certain things and I want to share them. I write to share, not to warn, or complain, or even to overly promote. Over the 6 years I've lived in the Cities I've slowly, sometimes painfully, built a little world for myself peppered with pretty awesome experiences.  And it's those experiences I want to record for posterity.

So, in the interest of sharing, here we go...

Prince has been on my bucket list for a long time.  Knowing that he was from Minneapolis, that his presence was inextricably woven into the music history of the city, just made the thought of seeing him seem all the more elusive.  When he played at the Dakota recently I was crushed to learn of the exorbitant ticket prices and just resigned myself to yearning for some magical moment when I'd happen to be at some late show at First Ave and he'd pop up and decide to play. A quasi-ridiculous daydream, I know.

I thought the Myth show would be another such heartbreak when the $280 tickets went on sale. That is 25% of a round trip ticket to London. There is no part of me that can justify $280 for a ticket, not in this paying-off-student-loans period of my life. And I will admit there is some part of me that was bit peeved at the Purple One for being so inaccessible. At some point Prince was a poor, scrappy kid buying records in between paychecks, right? He wasn't always so removed from the rest of us.

But mere hours before the show, some cheaper tickets went on sale for $140 and $99.  I opted for the cheapest ($112 with fees) and still shut my eyes when I hit "submit" on the payment button and hoped however they were dividing these strata of tickets would make sense.

I was solo with my ticket (a dear friend went for the stellar ticketing and probably felt Prince's sweat on her at some point) and I wished we'd gotten there a bit earlier just so I could have had a closer view from the beginning. I'm very short so standing behind 3-4 rows of people (is everyone in Minnesota 6'2?) was just not going to work out. I could see snips of someone (Prince?) for the first 2 songs and then decided to risk it and check the balcony for the second time and see if I could squeeze somewhere with a better vantage point. Success! I landed tucked in a Rachel-sized space dead center of the balcony with a perfect view.

I know other reviewers have said Prince never really took off, but for me, as someone who'd never seen him live and never dreamed I'd get to, the experience was just impossibly fun.  Swinging from newer songs (Screwdriver)  to some classics (When Doves Cry, Purple Rain with Bobby Z on the drums), the pendulum moved from pounding tempo to piano-laden croons. I suppose that could be called uneven, but to me it was just a perfect taste of everything I love about Prince. Unpredictable. Kind of weird. Guitar licks and vocals that just make your jaw drop in their intensity. Slow jam instrumentals that confuse you until you place the tune (Even Flow by Pearl Jam). It just all felt perfectly Prince to me, which was all I wanted for my $112. And I suppose what I loved the most was Prince's warmth, his constant shout outs to his "hometown," his heartfelt admiration for Bobby Z's lifelong loyalty as they played Purple Rain together. Prince seemed happy to be onstage, happy to introduce his new band, happy to show off a bit, and happy to sit back and let the crowd sing along. And for me, that happiness was definitely infectious.

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Crankshaft

I happened upon Crankshaft last night, hallelujah. As a Southerner, anyone professing to play anything remotely akin to bluegrass, rockabilly, think-early-Elvis-and-throw-in-a-harmonica-and-a-heavy-beat causes my heart to swell with happiness. 

Crankshaft, who also appears as part of a trio as Crankshaft and the Gear Grinders, is the real deal.  I couldn't help but compare him a bit to JD McPherson, who I also heard recently at First Ave, and it struck me that these two boys could probably rip a couple new holes in their guitars if on stage together. 

We spoke briefly while standing in line for the bathroom and I asked him how he settled on his moniker.  He smiled when he mentioned a family of gear heads and truck drivers and one guttural guitar riff after another, it's clear the name is a perfect fit for his rootsy, grinding sound. It's music you want to swing to, and music that makes you want to make out in the bed of an old Ford.  Maybe that's just me...

Every song is a commitment and I was amazed at how solid he stayed the entire set, a one man show has to be exhausting but he never tired, always kept a balance between a bluesy, heavy croon and that rock-n-roll growl.  He's officially a new favorite, and his Feb. 9th CD release party at Famous Dave's is already on my calendar.

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JD McPherson with Farewell Milwaukee at First Ave

This was my first time at First Ave solo. I've been dozens of times with dear souls in tow. I've seen shows I've loved, shows I barely remember, shows that marked the beginning and end of wonderful things.  But I've never stood solo, beer in hand, rocking out the way one only does in the company of strangers.

I debated going by myself. It wasn't intentional, the soloness, just the result of a last minute scheduling snafu. But I'm thrilled that I swallowed my pride and drank my beer by myself. Farewell Milwaukee was fantastic, the lead singer gushing about having watched his idols play First Ave. The crowd was a happy, almost-Friday crowd and I felt perfectly comfortable being the girl who squeezes into the best spot on the floor. If there's only one of you, you can squeeze wherever you like!

But the joy of the evening was JD McPherson and Co. There is no weak link in that band. It's just a treasure trove of talent (yeah, alliteration!). And at its center is JD, whose voice is equal parts Elvis, Johnny Cash, and Etta James (no joke). It's like bourbon with an undercurrent of rock and roll mashed potatoes. Stick to your ribs nourishment in musical form.

I loved every moment of my solo First Ave experience. This just adds to my general impression that this non-Minnesotan can be content in this chilly city, home to venues like First Ave that overflow with warmth, the pulse of guitars, and music worth a solo hunt for a parking space. Rock on.

Music in the Zoo

This was my second time venturing across the river for the Music in the Zoo and this time around I did said venturing having never heard of the bands playing.  But as is often the case where Minnesota music opportunities are concerned, I was super grateful that the chance arose despite my ignorance. Robert Randolph and the Family Band and their opener, JJ Grey and Mofro, were absolutely fan-friggin-tastic!

Having moved here from New Orleans, I am of the opinion that there's a certain need for humidity and a touch of heat for certain types of music.  If there's a pedal steel guitar involved, there really needs to be a cold beer somewhere nearby and a thin sheen of sweat on most foreheads. Minnesota can leave a bit to be desired on the humidity front most years (which native Minnesotans would disagree with but the bulk of Minnesotans have not spent ample years in Arkansas, Missouri, Virginia, and Louisiana).  But the last few weeks have been pleasantly sticky and last night as just humid enough to really feel like summer but not so humid that you just wanted to lay on the concrete and play dead.  And that was a very good thing, because the music last night was definitely fit for dancing.

The venue is wonderful, big enough to draw a crowd that can get raucous but small enough to feel intimate.  We had seats at the very top, which I definitely recommend.  As a person of painfully short stature, I am frequently plagued with the Tall-Guy-Right-In-Front-of-Me issue. But if you're up top, you can stand on the benches to your heart's content without worrying too much about blocking any views behind you.  It's the perfect spot for people who are 1) short or 2) itching to dance or 3) a bit of both.

Perfect summertime music in a perfect summertime venue.

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Bastille Day Festivities

Bastille Day at Barbette seems to be cursed by a string of 95+ days. Last year I attended with the hopes of seeing Solid Gold but due to some rain/humidity issues their equipment quasi-imploded. It wasn't a totaly loss as we had the great fortune to experience Har Mar Superstar, quite possibly the most surprisingly awesome performer to ever wear a wifebeater.

This year was equally hot but I wasn't able to stay long enough for any surprises.  One of the things I love most about summer in the Twine Cities is the plethora of free, wander-around-and-drink-stuff opportunities nestled into various neighborhoods.  Bastille Day fete next to Barbette is nestled in the heart of Uptown and was the perfect mid-afternoon location for a Big Ginger (Jameson is well and good but I'm pretty fond of 2Gingers whiskey, courtesy of this drink) and some people-watching.

The people being watched were excellent swing dancers, cuttin' a rug to Patty and the Buttons (Patty was sick but the fella who filled in was lovely) as we sat on a hot curb and sipped our drink. I love a good multi-generational band, and I don't think you can ever have too many accordions.  There's something lovely about watching a bunch of people dance around to the pulse and swing of a steady bass.  And the whiskey makes it that much sweeter.