Concert Review: Alisa Weilerstein, Sergey Khachatryan, Inon Barnatan and Colin Currie at the Folly Theater

While I was tempted by several other noteworthy concerts last Friday, I opted for the auspicious quartet of cellist Alisa Weilerstein, violinist Sergey Khachatryan, pianist Inon Barnatan and percussionist Colin Currie at the Folly Theater upon discovering that almost every seat in the front row was still available a few hours prior to showtime.  The ticket I purchased in Row A provided 130 intimate minutes with the classical music luminaries.

I heard Barnatan’s every inhalation and each dramatic gasp and telling sigh emitted by Weilerstein.  I could also read the sheet music over Barnatan’s shoulder.  Ignoring the 200 people seated behind me in the 1,050-capacity theater allowed me to pretend that the event presented by The Friends of Chamber Music was a private concert intended solely for my benefit. 

Forty-four years after his death, Kansas City still isn’t ready for Dmitri Shostakovich.  An interpretation of the Russian composer’s Symphony No. 15 anchored the program.  Supplemented by two additional percussionists, that ish was lit.  Currie’s solo marimba (!) attack on new music composer Rolf Wallin’s absolutely bonkers Realismos mágicos was the zaniest thing I’ve heard in Kansas City this year. 

I mirrored the mournful expression of MacArthur genius grant recipient Weilerstein during Beethoven’s so-called Ghost trio.  Only Schoenberg’s “Verklarte Nacht” failed to move me.  A critic for The Washington Post felt differently.  The newspaper deemed the ensemble’s concert at the Kennedy Center on the previous night worthy of a review.


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I write weekly concert previews for The Kansas City Star.

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I reviewed a performance by Havilah Bruders and Paul Shinn at Plastic Sax.

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Imagine a mash-up of Nina Simone and Kendrick Lamar.  “Basquiat” is among the songs on Jamila Woods’ Legacy! Legacy! that meet that lofty speculative standard.  I need to spend more time with the album before verifying that  it’s as good as Solange’s When I Get Home, my presumptive album of the year. 

(Original image by There Stands the Glass.)

Album Review: Willie Clayton- Excellence

Several of my friends and associates are raving about Durand Jones & the Indications’ American Love Call.  While the group’s spot-on evocation of a lost 1972 album by the Dramatics is a neat trick, I don’t understand the point of the nostalgic exercise.  After all, Whatcha See is Whatcha Get and Dramatically Yours are just a few clicks away.

Unlike Durand and his admirers, Willie Clayton isn’t desperate to return the past. As he suggests on the aptly titled new album Excellence, Clayton’s Southern soul contains “a little old-school with a little new.”  The approach has made him a star on what’s left of the chitlin’ circuit.

The varied Excellence recalls Al Green’s classic work for Hi Records, the commercial peak of the Isley Brothers and the contemporary R&B of a certain pariah.  The music video for the so-wrong-it’s-right “Where You Get That Body” is something else.


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I write weekly concert previews for The Kansas City Star.

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I reviewed a performance by Ryan Keberle & Catharsis at Plastic Sax.

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Drummer Hal Blaine has died.

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Keith Flint of the Prodigy has died.

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The South African icon Dorothy Masuka has died.

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Sara Romweber of Let’s Active has died.  It’s hard to believe at this late date, but there was a moment in my life when “Every Word Means No” was important to me.

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Four acts from Kansas City- the Get Up Kids, Hembree, Kadesh Flow and Shy Boys- have official showcases at SXSW this week.  I wish them well.

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I’m not terribly interested in the gender dynamics explored on Angel-Ho’s Death Becomes Her.  It’s the startling sonic blend of the noise of Death Grips, the futurism of Grimes and the New Orleans bounce of Big Freedia that fascinates me.  Do I like it?  I’m still not sure.  Here’s “Pose”.  (Tip via Big Steve.)

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When I saw Caleb Burhans’ Past Lives described as  “emo-classical,” I cued it up with the intention of hate-listening.  The opening track is titled “A Moment for Jason Molina,” for Pete’s sake!  In spite of my pernicious intent, I quickly became entranced by the album’s sentimental beauty.  RIYL: Jóhann Jóhannsson, melancholy, John Fahey.

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Forward-thinking improvised music doesn’t get much more fun than Glitter Wolf, the latest album by Allison Miller’s Boom Tic Boom.  Equal parts klezmer, chamber jazz and pop, the drummer-led project features violinist Jenny Scheinman, cornetist Kirk Knuffke, clarinetist Ben Goldberg, pianist Myra Melford and bassist Todd Sickafoose.  RIYL: Charlie Haden’s Liberation Music Orchestra, joy, Charles Mingus.

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Good news, old-timers: most of Meat Puppets’ Dusty Notes is entirely acceptable.  RIYL: Son Volt’s Trace, fried psychedelia, the Dead’s Wake of the Flood.

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I’ve heard Havilah Bruders sing plenty of times, but she’s never sounded better than she did at my church on Sunday morning as she redeemed U2 in a restrained rendition of “Love Rescue Me.”

(Original image by There Stands the Glass.)