The Philharmonic's big bang

Plus Mark Cutler, Atwater-Donnelly,
and Jiggle the Handle

by Michael Caito

The Philharmonic's season finale this past weekend was a dervish of an evening featuring, as conductor Larry Rachleff opined later, a "Schubert sandwich" surrounded by slices of Stravinsky and Daugherty. Opening with Daugherty's "Oh Lois!" was more than a case of one pal doing an old college chum a favor (Rachleff and Daugherty first met at Oberlin; the latter even phoned the conductor 21/2 hours before the concert to wish him well). Inspired by Clark Kent and Lois Lane, it was a five-minute Superman flight through a Kryptonite hailstorm. The program notes sussed "Oh Lois!" (part of the larger Metropolis Symphony) as a modern "Flight of the Bumblebee," except Saturday Daugherty's bee was hunted by a Terminix hitman with a jumbo can of Raid and thus wasn't too happy about the flight. The string, percussion and wind sections played a caffeinated cat-and-mouse game with Daugherty's elusive theme. It was action-packed, leaving the listener craving more from the obviously mischievous Daugherty. Picture what this guy could do with the Tick: "HEY, you bassoonists! Knock off all that evil!" Good clean fun.

The ensuing Schubert, as Rachleff noted afterwards during the Q&A, marked a performance high point for the musicians. Graceful, colorful and patently inoffensive (especially considering what was to follow), it spotlighted the composer's talent for Classical-era ear candy, though when listening to Schubert Ialways wind up remembering how phenomenal Beethoven and Mozart were. It was a knock on Schubert which proved difficult for him to duck, then and now, but that's as unfair as saying that a chess player stinks because Kasparov beat him. Entertaining and well-played, yes. Exciting, no.

The craziness arrived with Stravinsky's Rite of Spring. That was just nuts. He has three keys going on at once (driving the two patrons seated in front of me out into the rain before the first movement was over), plus percussion and strings which growled like sleep-deprived grizzlies. Stravinsky inadvertently invented the mosh pit when the piece premiered in 1913 -- crowd jeering led to actual audience fisticuffs (and I bet there were more than a few nasty mink stole burns). Whatever . . . .

The central idea of the piece involved some Einstein deciding that a young maiden had to be sacrificed to appease some earth god. At least they were enlightened enough to not set her on fire (a surefire Nielsen winner!), opting instead to allow her to dance until she died, at which point her corpse was lifted to the heavens. Much in the work reflects the darker elements of "Admiration" of the earth and this young woman dancing herself to death, and Stravinsky took pains to examine the gentle beauty of the blooms of springtime and that peculiar sense of glee one can only get by falling down a mine shaft and having it cave in after you. The most confrontational piece the orchestra has attempted in some time, what it lacked in subtlety and tonal splendor (especially following the lightweight, listener-friendly Schubert) was made up by some razzle-dazzle, precision playing. Had this knotty arrangement (another RIPO premiere) been attempted by a less talented group I was out of there fast, because that would have made a mid-air collision sound like an infant's hiccup. Stravinsky, the orchestra and Rachleff get high marks for cogently bringing it all together, despite the work's occasional hammering. It was a great ride and by the end I felt beat up, but in a good way. Duly noted:season ends with bang.

STARS & BARS. The Internet geek in me was rewarded with four .wav files from the highly-anticipated LP by one of our most enduring rock performers. Mark Cutler's Useful Things have finished seven new tracks with producer Dave Minehan (ex-Neighborhoods). This is in addition to the nine already recorded with TBuck at Millrat, so they've pushed back the release date of Sky Lo Lo (or Low Lo or Lo Low, depending on which online spelling you pick.) Anyway, the sampled four tracks ("Know Me By Now," "Call Me a Stranger," "Working Man's Wage" and the title track) showcase a much rounder, fuller sound than the comparatively stripped-down debut, Gasboy (Potter's Field). Cutler is touring with new guitarists and he's still on top of his game, as he demonstrated so impressively at the Met Cafe last Friday. Ask GQ; they wax poetic about the new Cutler disc this month (further props to that uber-glossy for giving superb pianist Dave McKenna praise in a March piece about the Concord jazz label).

Atwater-Donnelly's latest, Where the Wild Birds Do Whistle(Rabbit Island), finds the wife-husband duo playing to their strengths all around. Noted fans of legendary Appalachian performer Jean Ritchie, A-D's devotion to this particular brand of American folk is no fad. They've organized several area festivals focusing on the Mountain Music sound, and have invited several old-school stalwarts to these fests, which are always part performance and part hands-on instructional woodshedding for all ages. Before you go thinking that this is just another trad folkie disc with dulcimer overload, get this: it's a far more fully-realized work than '95's lithe Like a Willow Tree, incorporating Aubrey Atwater's recently-published poetry (some spoken-word) and the portentous talents of their musical friends. Singer-songwriter Cari Norris' voice has never sounded better, and how can you pass up a disc which features both harmonica ace Chris Turner (frequently at the Custom House on Mondays) and master fiddle player Kevin Fallon? I'd crawl a mile to watch these two guys read the comics, never mind hearing Fallon sizzle on "Blind Fiddler" and "Catherine Reel," or Turner on "Red Rockin' Chair" or the accordion of Everett Brown on "My Little Doney Gal." One of the most enjoyable folk releases since Pendragon's Working River? You bet. And perfect for our fast-improving weather.

Boston-based jazz quintet the Sonic Explorers feature two Rhode Islanders, pianist Joe Parillo and drummer Mike Connors, and their mostly-first-take Birth of the Kakalla (Nada Brahma) is a populist's picnic. Led by Jerry Sabatini (flugelhorn, trumpet), the Explorers include John Vaillancourt (tenor/ soprano saxes) and bassist Thomson Kneeland. Kakalla's populism isn't feigned, and actually that's my major beef with Parillo's own Ensemble. It's so obvious on the Parillo Ensemble records (even their latest and best Block Island Summer) that the capacity for invention is severely limited by one or two players' inability to run with the ball. With jazz improv most of all, how crucial is that?

As the Explorers show here, it's crucial. Five players on the same page make for a confident, provocative feel, and even if the music's not staking out brand new turf it doesn't lack for insight and an inviting, energetic rush of sound -- tuned in like Greg Abaté with Claudio Roditi, but with less of a Latin feel. It's neither splashy or dull, yet leaves loads of room to breathe and pass around the rock like five point guards walking home after practice. Also, it doesn't sound like overly-schooled jazz served by guys who've read more than they've played, and have been told what to do when. That'll douse all energy, and the Sonic Explorers know it.

Lotta action this week: Two must-go's: Ladysmith Black Mambazo arrive at the Strand tonight. More exquisite singing you may never hear, and that's a promise. Monday, don't miss The Headcoats at the Met. Paul Slifer (ex-Boss Fuel, A.V.H. & the Haters) got me revved on Billy Childish a few years ago and I never thanked him. Thanks, Paul. Itchies and the Makers open.

Allston-based Jiggle the Handle's new Mrs. White's Party (JTHDiscs) is more than dippy hippy, though Phish comparisons will ensue. A little neo-psych noodling (whoa, 10 minutes of "From Inside You" is a bit much) is overruled by the spirit of the groove. It's not incredibly substantive, but it's a lot more danceable than, say, the Agents debut disc, also recently released. Agents come from ska and JTH are mouthing off in the general direction of the Dave Mathews/Phish camp, but where the Agents struggle to find one memorable hook they're all over the new Jiggle disc. The Allston beat (sorry) invades the Living Room May 10. On the 9th, One Ton Shotgun, fresh off two excellent singles releases, play with CIV at the Met. You don't want to miss this Shotgun set in particular. On the 11th, Honeybunch (fronted by Jeffrey Underhill, whose last name we botched last week) play with Push Kings and Bermuda. That excellent Push Kings tape is still goin' on as Itype this, and Honeybunch (now a quartet with the addition of keyboardist Lisa Dermanouelian) seldom fail in the melodic pop department. Later in the week, the Call will host Eugene Chadbourne. John Zorn, himself a musical visionary, has always been a big Chadbourne fan. Interludes with Camper van Beethoven (whose posthumous splintering gave us the less clever, harsher and more commercially successful Cracker besides Monks of Doom), Violent Femmes, Half Japanese and most recently Paul Lovens have cemented my opinion that Chadbourne's is one of the most perceptive, sly minds in modern music. His chops are unquestionable (banjo, dobro, spring rake, whatever), as is his tendency toward sublime parody. He once put out a C&W"opera", Jesse Helms Busted With Pornography (Fire Ant). He filleted the loser. His imminent release with Lovens, Patrizio: A Suite to the Waiters of the World (Les Disques Victo) is probably up there on the freakometer. Will it feature wonderfully timed (and occasionally silly) swipes at laissez-faire attitudes? Will he reveal They Might Be Giants as the true musical dorks they are by comparison?One can just never tell with Dr. Chadbourne. The latest features his stringed mixture plus percussion and Stradivarius by Lovens, a September Band alum, for tunes called "Disco Stomach" which segues into "Acid Disco Stomach." Don't forget "Mt. Pleasant Thoughts of Maryjane" and "Snail Roulette." Realistically (because I've seen him in Providence three times) he's gonna draw maybe 100 people on a Monday night, but rest assured they will leave smiling and satisfied . . . if slightly bewildered. One of a kind.

SPREADING OUT. If you haven't heard, there are odd rumblings at Vets Auditorium and they're not caused by the imminent RISDFashion Show. They hope to open the expansive downstairs space in early 1998. Speaking with Tereann Greenwood of Vets last week, she mentioned several possibilities for the space (which is roughly set up like an 80 percent scale of Lupo's with a wider, three-sided mezzanine). These include a fixed site for visual arts, perhaps a sculpture exhibit space which, as Greenwood explained, would maximize the artistic synergies already at work in smaller galleries whose square footage prevents exhibition of larger works. Another possibility being entertained is one of a small resident theatre company. If their plans work out, the big-ass Providence (dis)Place(d) Maul will be effectively bookended with arts venues (with the Philharmonic and Stone Soup Coffeehouse on one side and downtown proper on the other). Meanwhile on Empire Street, negotiations have begun between AS220 and the owners of the adjacent Packard Building, which lies just across Washington Street from Trinity Rep. The continued success of Perishable Theatre's programming alone plus a high demand for artists' living/working space within AS220 makes this a logical choice. (Also, this weekend is your last chance to see Hot 'n' Throbbing, with V Majestic's Russell Kellogg onstage and FrankDifficult raising hell in the sound booth.) So best of luck to both organizations. But remember -- don't think that just because you happen to be dead you can get away with overnight parking.

Couldn't leave that one alone. Occupy the Castle.