Jeb Bishop & Jorrit Dijkstra
Neptune’s Parlour
Nov. 15, 2012

Against a backdrop of exposed brick and dimly lit by scattered lamps and tabletop votive candles, the casual performance Jeb Bishop and Jorrit Dijkstra offered last night at Neptune’s in Raleigh offered welcome shelter from the chilly breeze and spitting rain outside.

The set began unassumingly, as trombonist Bishop and saxophonist Dijkstra convened near the back of the bar, in the loosely defined patch of floor they treated as a stage. Bishop offered a brief introduction, and the musicians lifted their horns and began to play an hour-long, 14-song set notable for its close harmonies, nimble navigation of rhythm and playful explorations of texture.

The second of four dates supporting both their duo album 1000 Words and the debut of the Steve Lacy tribute ensemble The Whammies (The Whammies Play The Music of Steve Lacy) drew heavily from the former. It began, however, with a faithful rendition of the latter’s namesake. That choice set the tone for the remainder of the set.

Lacy’s influence looms large on the duo. They wove two more Lacy tunes—“Blinks” and “Hemline”—into the setlist, fitting seamlessly with the pair’s original pieces. In leading The Whammies and researching Lacy’s archives, Dijkstra, who studied briefly with the late saxophonist and composer, has taken an interest in Lacy’s music to an academic pursuit. But in their performance last night, the Lacy influence seemed much more spiritual than analytical. From a recent European tour with the Peter Brötzmann Chicago Tentet, Bishop explained his attraction to Lacy’s music: “It's hard to lay it out briefly, but for me Lacy's music has this amazing complexity born of simplicity, and a playfulness that I love.”

Those qualities come celebrated in the compositions Bishop and Dijkstra prepared for 1000 Words. Most pieces began with a strong and deceptively simple melody, often played in close harmony or unison, or in a precise call-and-response. The “complexity born of simplicity” Bishop mentioned was apparent in frequent, staccato pauses, in melodies with notes volleyed between players. As each took their solos, they steered the songs away from the foundation, playing on the boundaries of free-improv. Bishop favored an array of mutes—plunger, several metal mutes, what appeared to be a Tupperware container—and at one point used a small synthesizer to add a noisy complement to the duo’s playing. Dijkstra muted his alto, once, with a ball, and twice swapped the horn for a lyricon—a rare wind-synthesizer—to give his half of the composition a futuristic sensibility.

As faithful as they were to their album, Bishop and Dijkstra managed to retain a sense of playfulness and spontaneity—ideal for the informal, stageless setting.

Macklemore
Cat's Cradle
Friday, Nov. 9, 2012

On Friday afternoon, several hours before Macklemore’s Friday performance at Cat’s Cradle, he and a female companion sat down across the street for a meal in a secluded corner of the patio at Carrboro gastropub, Milltown. They ate, and Macklemore washed the food down by reading a few pages of the paperback version of Jennifer Egan’s Pulitzer Prize-winning novel, A Visit From the Goon Squad. Minutes later, Macklemore hopped on his skateboard and rode down Franklin Street, amid a town full of folks celebrating UNC’s homecoming. This isn’t the standard routine for most visiting rappers, but the 29-year-old Seattle rapper/ singer has amassed a devoted following with his ambitious, hip-hop homilies, not standard rap follies.

A sold-out crowd of Macklemore fans, who’ve personally dubbed themselves Shark Face Gang, erupted as Macklemore opened with his ode to Cadillac-cruising “White Walls” from his chart-topping album with producer Ryan Lewis, The Heist. The song’s studio version features Compton-area rapper Schoolboy Q, but the crowd of mostly white, Generation Z kids who’ve probably seen The Twilight Saga films more than Menace II Society weren’t parsing socio-cultural backgrounds. Macklemore wouldn’t let them.

In fact, he reminded them of just how much he stands for equality before jumping into The Heist’s fourth single, “Same Love”, a song originally made in support of Washington’s Referendum 74, which gives same-sex couples the right to legally marry. Earlier this moth, the referendum was approved by popular vote; three days later, Macklemore brought the celebration here to North Carolina, where same-sex marriage is still not recognized.

Then there was the case of Macklemore’s wardrobe changes: a throwback Seattle Supersonics jersey with his name on the back, a pink rabbit fur coat passed on to the stage from the crowd during “Thrift Shop,” a poncho purchased from an actual Chapel Hill thrift shop, and a purple-and-white-striped cape with a glam-rock wig straight out of the video for the riot-inciting “And We Danced”. None of this seemed out-of-the-ordinary, especially compared to Macklemore’s hypeman—a black, bare-chested trumpeter who ran around the stage waving a giant Irish flag while dressed in nothing but a Scottish kilt.

“You people did a better job than any major label could have ever done,” Macklemore told his fans, thanking them for helping The Heist eventually become the No. 1 downloaded album on iTunes during the first week of its Oct. 9th release. He began chanting the chorus for “And We Danced”: “And we danced/ And we cried/ And we laughed/ And had a really, really, really good time/ Take my hand, let's have a blast/ And remember this moment for the rest of our lives.” Macklemore’s emotionally charged bon voyages are tender enough to captivate and memorable enough to want to be relived.

• Photo by Ashley Melzer

An Evening for Richard Adler
Monday, Nov. 5
UNC’s Hill Hall

Crowds gathered early last week to celebrate the legacy of UNC alumnus Richard Adler, class of 1943. Adler, who died this past summer, was a prominent figure in musical theater of the 1950s, best known for The Pajama Game and Damn Yankees. Theater geeks will remember him for his (and partner Jerry Ross’) drive to relates stories about issues of the day; masses will know him for songs like “Steam Heat” and “Whatever Lola Wants.”

Students and faculty alike contributed to this night of performances. The rotating cast performed songs from across Adler’s career and featured two short lecture breaks from musicologist Tim Carter. Chancellor Holden Thorp, who initially suggested organizing the event, was on hand to welcome attendees; he contributed his skills as an accompanist later in the night.

The real stars of the night were the company of UNC students who performed songs from Adler’s catalog. Highlights included Todd Lewis’ rendition of “I May Be Wrong but I think You’re Wonderful” from John Murray Anderson’s Almanac and Emily Spokas and company’s take on “Hernando’s Hideaway” from The Pajama Game. Other acts keyed on a terrific sense of comic timing (a nod to Mason Cordell and Nathanial Claridad’s “I’ll Never Be Jealous Again” from The Pajama Game) and choreography (a great ensemble ender from Paige Burhans and company performing “Six Months out of Every Year”).

Each piece offered a glimpse at the talents brewing in the music and dramatic arts programs at UNC, but they also provided time to reflect on how far the musical has come—for better or worse. Adler’s original songs are a refreshing flashback from our era of jukebox musicals and commercial gimmicks. At the same time, the tunes sported an old-fashioned flare, veering from jazzy swing to operatic high note in an eight count.

• Photo by Eric Tullis
• On and on: Erykah Badu spins in Raleigh's Five Star, while 9th Wonder looks on.

Erykah Badu
Five Star, Raleigh
Friday, Nov. 2

The celebrity DJ hustle earned a bad rap when Jersey Shore's Pauly D started pissing people off with his outrageous booking prices and piss-poor skills. But it's a lot different when a class-act artist like Erykah Badu offers her services for a room of dance-ready folks accustomed to 9th Wonder's True School Corporation's juiced parties. So last week, on the Friday night kickoff of N.C. State and N.C. Central's homecoming festivities, 9th hosted the best party in town, with the most unexpected DJ.

A little after midnight, a flock of True School affiliates outfitted in Zulu Nation hoodies formed a barricaded lane so that Badu could make her way to the stage and sink into her role as DJ Lo Down Loretta Brown. As a spectator, the task of being cowed by her majesty and being buttoned-up with the urge to dance to her set offered some difficulty. She worked, so, you had to work with her. 9th Wonder supervised at times but largely because he was happy to be a part of the show.

This is a huge month for 9th Wonder. On Nov. 13, his collaborative albums with Boot Camp Click's Buckshot and the West Coast's indie hip-hop king Murs will be released, so this affair acted as a prelude to all of the release-date hoopla surrounding those two long-awaited projects. Indeed, on a platform in the middle of the room's far-corner staircase, painter Jason L. Ford worked on an acrylic portrait of 9th as the Grammy-winning producer warmed-up the crowd for Badu's set. It was her night, but it was still 9th's house.

Sometimes when celebrity DJs manage turntables, it's like they're battling quicksand—they get so fatigued from the floundering and life-saving that they eventually drown themselves out of their own mix. With minimal hiccups, Badu labored with ease and elegance—never breaking a sweat, mismatching a beat or showing any signs of overall technical deficiency. Of course, she wasn't born to be a turntablist, but she lives to emit music. She figured it out on Friday night just like she did a few years ago when her son, Seven, taught her how to use GarageBand to record parts of 2008's New Amerykah Part One (4th World War).

Badu's R&B touch came into play when she threw on Musiq Soulchild's "Just Friends (Sunny)"—a rarity for this setting—before blending it into another Philly classic, Beanie Sigel's party knocker "Roc Da Mic." Her other rare picks—like Devin the Dude and Snoop Dogg's "Fuck You" followed by Too Short's "These Are the Tales"—highlighted Badu's breezy, Southern persona.

"This is my therapy. I just spin what I like," Badu said toward the end of her set. Moments later, to accompany the Jay Dee-inspired song "Telephone," she told the story of a dream that the late, celebrated Detroit producer told her in his last days. In the dream, Ol' Dirty Bastard told Dilla to "get on the white bus, even though the red bus looks like a lot of fun." As Badu explained, ODB was trying to tell Jay Dee how to get "home."

Badu sang on her night in Raleigh, but only enough to satisfy a thimble-sized appetite. She wasn't here for that. She came to help her fellow Zulu Nation brother 9th Wonder continue his legacy.

When asked about future 95 Live guests, Five Star owner Michelle Bender remained tight-lipped about whom 9th has lined up for his January birthday party, but not without suggesting that it would be a big name. To some, Erykah Badu is as big as it gets; to 9th Wonder, she seemed another legend on call.