body music

Second Annual International Body Music Festival (12/5/2009)

admin — Mon, 08 Mar 2010 01:00:00 +0000

San Francisco, California

Body Music is an inherently populist art form. You just need a body, your hands, your feet, your mouth, the ground, a sense of rhythm, or any of these elements in any combination. Body Music has been around forever, created and passed down through generations of people from all parts of the world, and often serves as an expression of freedom in the face of oppression.

The Herbst Theater, on the other hand, is a fancy schmancy theater decorated in ornate European style, whose very architecture denotes class and spectacle. The mostly white, well-dressed audience reinforced the feeling of formality fostered by the space, but the performers at the second annual International Body Music Festival attempted to break down that divide.

Saturday night's show opened with the Manuia Polynesian Review, a San Francisco-based dance troupe that performed high-energy traditional Polynesian dance based on activities like slapping mosquitos and paddling canoes. Festival founder Keith Terry then took the stage and led the audience in call-and-response rhythms and vocalizations that highlighted the best possibilities of audience participation—true engagement on a physical and energetic level that creates a shared experience, breaking down the “fourth wall.”

My friend Joe responded to the intricate rhythms of Parisian dancer and percussionist LeeLa Petronio, affirming her with a loud “yeah.” She looked in our direction and said “yeah?” which was kind of hot, and seemed to encourage others in the audience to interact and participate. It was sweet to feel the audience loosen up a little, and entertaining to hear the middle aged white men around me busting out with their “mm”s and “ow yeah”s.

One of the most popular performers of the night was Kenny Muhammed, the “human orchestra” from New York. An amazing beatboxer capable of doing seemingly thousands of different things at the same time, watching his facial muscles twitching in syncopated coordination was entertainment in itself. I also deeply enjoyed the music of Bouchaib Abdel Hadi Ensemble with Amine Mohammed, Susu Pampanin and Faisal Zadan. This was the only act that included instruments other than the body—drums and an oud—accentuated with layered clapping rhythms, and occasional barefoot stomping and clapping from the lead musician.

I have a preference for loud, solid rhythms as opposed to quirky shuffling ones, so it's not surprising that I found Step Afrika! to be one of the most compelling performances of the night. Part military drill, part hip hop, part African dance, stepping as an art form originated in African American fraternities in the early 1900's. It grew out of circles where men would sing together, but after World War II it evolved into lines that mirrored military formations. The director of Step Afrika! discovered similarities in African gum boot dance, which originated with diamond miners in South Africa who found that their rubber boots, filled up with water and sweat, made interesting sounds when they stomped.

Step Afrika!'s first piece had them dressed as diamond miners in gum boots (galoshes), speaking with South African accents, practicing their moves when the boss wasn't looking. The stomping, slapping rhythms are joyful, defiant, and LOUD—I found myself wondering how their boss wouldn't notice. A minute or so into the dance, a whistle blows and the boss enters. Played by the most light-skinned member of the troupe, at first I read him as a white man. It was thought-provoking that they chose to put him in the role of the boss, highlighting racial stratification rather than adopting a color-blind approach.

After Step Afrika! left the stage, a woman from the balcony yelled “your auntie loves you, Makeda!” and emcee Linda Tillery said “I think I know you, do we go to church together?” It was funny and sweet, and I was grateful for the presence of African American community in the space.

I found last year's venue, Theater Artaud, to be much more accessible, creating a more unified feeling among the audience and performers. I am happy for the organizers that they were able to grow into a larger space, but I wonder if the sacrifice of intimacy was worth it. There are plans for a 2010 tour of US cities, and next winter the IBMF will be produced in another part of the world, which feels like an authentic way of living up to the “International” part of their name.

Written by: Nomy Lamm, March 7th 2010

1st International Body Music Festival (12/05/2008)

admin — Tue, 30 Dec 2008 11:20:00 +0000

Theatre Artaud

San Francisco, California

I love step teams, hand-clapping games, and beat-boxing. I even once had a plan to create a band out of fat people playing drumbeats on our stomachs (it was going to be called “Bongo Jam”), but I never thought of this as falling into a specific category of music. Body music, of course. I was lucky enough to attend the opening night performance of the first International Body Music Festival, an extravaganza of performances and workshops, which took place over a weekend in the Bay Area. The event covered a wide range of musical and dance styles and traditions, and was truly international with performers from the US, Brazil, Turkey, Bali, and Canada.

The immediacy of the body as an instrument means there is nothing to hide behind, for performers or audience members. The whole event was so visceral. I loved the way it interrupted the tendency of audience members to resign themselves to simply being spectators; the audience became involved, sometimes being called upon to breathe or snap in time, erupting into whoops and thunderous foot-stomping at the end of acts that moved us to really feel ourselves and our connection to our environment.

The soft, watery movements of the Turkish duo Kekeca played out over long cycles that don’t fit into 4/4 or other recognizable time signatures, offering a sinking in rather than a showing. The solid beats and goofy antics of French clowning duo Loop It, who made the kids in the audience shriek with laughter, elicited my delight when showcasing the various sounds made by hitting belly fat (Bongo Jam!). The Hambone tradition was revived and revitalized by Derique McGee. His hands moved so fast they were literally a blur, but never missed a beat. Interweaving melodies, jungle sounds, warrior games, and dazzling visual patterns were highlighted in a piece created specifically for this show by Dewa Putu Berata, a Balinese artist. And these are just some of the possibilities of body-as-instrument.

“How do you figure out that you are good at this?” my girlfriend wondered to me at intermission. My guess is you just start doing it, and you get obsessed. I remember spending hours playing “see-see-oh-playmate” with my sister when we were kids, perfecting our timing, going as fast as possible. I could see myself on this stage if my life had gone in another direction.

The MC, Diane Ferlatte, spoke about her ancestors being brought here from Africa, having everything taken from them—their names, their languages, even their drums. ("They thought they were using them to communicate. And we were!") But they still had their bodies, and they used them to make rhythms. This, she said, is what we have when everything else is taken away.

I was touched by the stunning intimacy of Inuit throat-singers Celine Kalluk and Lucie Idlout, cousins who stood face to face, grasping each other’s elbows and singing into each other’s mouths, using their throats as echo chambers. Their songs reflected sounds from their environment: melting ice on the rivers, a saw cutting down a tree. The songs had no endings; they would go as long as they could, a kind of contest, pushing each other until they would burst into laughter. It made me miss my sister.

I was mesmerized and lulled by tai chi master Dr. Alex Feng, who flowed around the stage in shimmering white fabric that caught the light and deflected sound. I kept waiting for music to come in. I could hear chirpings from backstage, so low I almost believed I was imagining them. Afterward, the MC commented on the need for silence in order to recognize music.

The whole show was great, but the truly spectacular moment of the evening was Barbatuques, a Brazilian ensemble who were making their North American debut. Their beats were powerful, the dancing playful and ecstatic, weaving contemporary and traditional influences. And the singing! Strong voices, more open and immediate than the sound of most trained American singers. Loud, joyful, childlike, and expressive. Music that plays through your whole body. They utilized a jaw harp, rapped in Portuguese, and wore super cute outfits. I went home and looked them up on YouTube, posted about them on Facebook, and watched their video over and over again. But nothing could let me relive the stampeding feet, whoops, and hollers of an audience entranced and engulfed in the power of their presence.

Written by: Nomy Lamm, December 30th 2008

1st International Body Music Festival (12/07/2008)

admin — Tue, 30 Dec 2008 11:19:00 +0000

Theatre Artaud

San Francisco, California

I wasn’t sure what to expect. What is body music anyway? It’s more than music you can see, and dance you can hear. It’s more than the percussive sounds and melodies made by rhythmic clapping, stomping, chanting, cheek popping, and belly- and chest-slapping that can perfectly mimic any instrument or generate sounds you’ve never heard.

Body music is a collaboration among performers and spectators that takes one of our most basic assets and transforms it into a medium through which we connect, communicate, and create a music of movement.

The nearly week-long International Body Music Festival was the first of its kind, bringing together a variety of body music styles from nine ensembles in settings that were both educational and entertaining. Youth and teacher training workshops filled the days, while concerts featuring throat singers, hambone, Slammin All-Body Band, Balinese Kecak (or monkey chant), and Brazilian body music ensemble Barbatuques took place during the evenings.

The festival’s final concert began with the young woman of Top Notch Steppers, a San Francisco-based drill team. Next, Canadian cousins Celine Kalluk and Lucie Idlout performed the ancient art of Inuit throat singing (katajjaq), whereby the partners use each others’ mouths as resonators to produce guttural vocal sounds through distinctive voice manipulation and breathing techniques. In an intimate nose-to-nose stance, the woman sang in a playful contest to see who could outlast the other. Derique McGee kept the audience laughing with his youthful presentation of clowning and hambone—a style of body music originating from the plantation-era when slaves were banned from using rhythmic instruments.

Truly striking, though, was the brilliant premier of the Barbatuques-Slammin collaboration. Close your eyes and try to imagine the sounds of a tropical rainforest as day breaks—of an orangutan, frog, or rooster. Imagine horns and flutes, the infectious harmonies of a jazz band, and a dance-inducing percussive pulse. Now, imagine all of this accomplished with nothing more than one’s body. In the grand finale, Brazil’s Barbatuques and Oakland’s Slammin All-Body Band transcended barriers of time and space as they moved through a fresh cross-cultural dialogue of diverse body rhythms. The organic, authentic performance pulled from rich musical traditions and transformed spectators into participants.

While the performers departed from expected norms of music creation, I noticed too that the customary categories of distinction (and often oppression), seemed to melt away as well. The first International Body Music Festival opened up an egalitarian space, offering an inspiring exploration into the roots of music and community cohesion.

Written by: Sofia Marin, December 30th 2008