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

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

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