Saturday, September 13, 2003
Amos Latteier’s presentation is like a manila envelope with light bursting out from the seams. It seems he has an endless resource of novel insights into everyday subjects. When I type his name in Word, it wants me to change it to letterer, flatterer, atelier, clatterer, flattener, lateen, latherer, attire, lattice. I’ll bet he already knows that. Andrew Dickson’s name seems acceptable to the computer though and what about Bradlee Simmons? Nope. Simmons is ok but Bradlee wants to be Bradlees, Bradley, bridle or beadle. With a strangely believable naiveté in the vein of Spinal Tap, Bradlee awkwardlee charms. There was an intriguing maze of stairs and storage rooms to get to Bodyvox and out again. On my way to the next show, Portland seemed vaguely interesting for a minute. I was actually going from one event to another. The next venue was the Scottish Rite Temple. (A place of secrets). 3 Leg Torso assembled on the stage, lit like mottled memories and readied themselves to accompany David Greenberger in his journey through the stories of those who have lived longer, longest. A spotlight shone from the dome above and held Mr. Greenberger through each sampling. It is interesting to hear how people summarize their lives. The stories they choose to tell. They curate their memories and bring out the things they consider worth showing. I always liked Duplex Planet for the way it presented each comment or viewpoint as if it were a gift no matter how surly or simple or wise. He is mining a rich resource. I’ve been trying to think of a way to describe how the words and the music interacted. 3 Leg was as textured and rich as the tapestry hanging behind them and the stories seemed not to meld with the music but to bead up like drops of water on a swans back. And to think for each story we heard, there are thousands, millions more. I am glad that someone is listening. Listening to whispers.
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