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Tuesday, October 01, 2002

Arts & Entertainment writers offer capsule comments on this, that and the other thing ...

Red Priest

Whatever stuffiness remained in the once-stodgy field of early music blew out the windows of Synod Hall on Saturday. Taking its place was the uproarious conduct of Red Priest, an English foursome that appears to have discovered music's fountain of youth. This Renaissance & Baroque Society concert found the period ensemble -- comprising recorders, violin, cello and harpsichord -- revitalizing Vivaldi's "The Four Seasons" and several works by Biber, Van Eyck and Bach.

Fun-loving minstrels and good musicians, virtuoso recorder player Piers Adams and the bunch are master arrangers, especially if you include theatricality. Their pared-down version of "Seasons" lacked some musical elements, but the work's essence emerged. Its comic nature was pronounced in Adams' uncanny mimicry and the troupe's acting out of some of the programmatic elements (becoming drunkards, hounds and flies in the process).

Even though Red Priest gave a new arrangement of "Seasons," (originally written for strings and continuo), the performance seemed more authentic than one by an orchestra, modern or period.

And that is simply amazing. Any group that can make you rethink a masterpiece and also make it fun is rare indeed.

-- Review by Andrew Druckenbrod, Post-Gazette Classical Music Critic

"Care vs. Cure"

It's fitting that "Care vs. Cure: Healing the Environment," an eco-art exhibition, is at the Homestead Pump House, the site of the 1892 confrontation between locked-out steelworkers and Pinkerton guards. This is activist art but not showy street activism. Rather, these women artists are confronting established ways of thinking through works that have emotional resonance and are often visually stunning.

For example, Carol Kumata's circle of seven rose-filled ceramic urns, evocative of the funereal, questions, among other things, the value society assigns the artificial and the real, and the refusal of American culture to face mortality. Yuki Yoshida's "Umbrella Falls" subtly provokes through its understated beauty. "Cultural ecology" is also addressed, as in Steffi Domike's revealing "The [former] River's Edge" and "Story Stones" by Joan Guerin, which give voice to the displaced.

They, and the other artists -- Stephanie Flom, Reiko Goto, Constance Merriman, Wendy Osher, Indigo Raffel and Cindy Snodgrass -- engage, inform and stimulate progressive ways of thinking about our history as it relates to our future. The exhibition also provides an important preface to one addressing related concerns at the Pittsburgh Center for the Arts next month.

"Cure" continues through Oct. 13 and is open from 11 a.m. to 5 p.m. Saturdays and Sundays. Information: 412-268-3673.

-- Review by Mary Thomas, Post-Gazette Art Critic

Johnny Mathis

During his tune "Johnny Mathis' Feet," singer/songwriter Mark Eitzel imagines Mathis offering the insight that "a real showman knows how to disappear in the spotlight." Watching Mathis stroll the Heinz Hall stage Sunday night during the first of his two dates with the Pittsburgh Symphony, it became clear that Eitzel nailed the great crooner's performing aesthetic.

Mathis used his entire body to sing, wringing the proper emotion from each phrase, yet he appeared to do so effortlessly. Acting as nonchalant as if he were having a dinner conversation with his audience, Mathis stunningly sang of the unpredictable idiosyncrasies of love. And what better instrument for the topic than Mathis' nearly ethereal tenor voice? Perhaps less liquid than it once was, Mathis' tone has gained richness and gravity that make his singing all the more engaging.

One could quibble over a few issues. Mathis' two sets were surprisingly brief. And occasionally the arrangements, such as on a needlessly lugubrious "All in the Game," relied too much on synthesizers and prerecorded sounds than the fine musicians assembled. But this is nitpicking. The genius of a great interpreter of song was on display at Heinz Hall, and Mathis plied his tools with subtle precision.

-- Review by John Young, Free-lance critic for the Post-Gazette

"MacHomer"

It was a busy, glittering Friday evening in the Cultural District -- "The Producers" at the Benedum, Tchaikovsky at Heinz Hall, Shakespeare at the O'Reilly and, uh, "Mac-Homer" at the Byham.

OK, so it did feel odd walking past the big halls with the bigger names to watch Rick Miller tackle "Macbeth" solo with nothing to aid him but the whole "Simpsons" Community Dramatics Society. But add them together and I'd say there was as much sheer intensity of energy and invention in Miller's 70 minutes at the Byham as on those other stages.

As I say, Miller doesn't really work alone. He becomes Homer for a particularly thick-headed and unsympathetic Macbeth, Marge for a ditzy Lady M, Mr. Burns for an evil King Duncan and Ned Flanders for an okley-dokely Banquo.

Miller's text is predominantly Shakespeare, although cut to the bone, with added explanatory and comic inserts including an occasional recap. A couple of moments provide tragic relief -- Lady Macbeth consumed with guilt, MacDuff (Barney Gumble) stricken with grief. But the Birnam Wood that does in MacHomer is a golf club, and everyone celebrates at the end by singing "We Are the World."

For an encore and for no other reason than to prove that he can do it, Miller ends with blitzkrieg parodies of 25 famous rock singers. Apparently he still had energy to burn; me, I was exhausted with laughter and keeping up.

-- Review by Christopher Rawson, Post-Gazette Drama Critic

Denyce Graves

Classical vocal recitals are all too scarce in Pittsburgh. We're grateful, therefore, to the local chapter of The Links, Inc. -- a national service organization of African-American women -- for presenting Metropolitan Opera mezzo-soprano Denyce Graves in what may turn out to be this season's only local recital by a world-class vocalist. Sunday's fund-raiser at Carnegie Music Hall was a glamorous event on both sides of the footlights.

Best known as today's "Carmen" of choice in most major opera houses, the Washington-born singer used that role to cap each half of her program: the Seguidilla just before intermission, the Habanera as her first encore. Movie-star gorgeous and irresistibly alluring, Graves delivered these chestnuts with enough dramatic flair to create the momentary image of being on stage in a full-scale production.

One might quibble on purely vocal grounds that her dusky-toned voice is bottom-heavy -- with a break in the middle and some thinness at the top -- but there is no arguing that her compelling manner of delivery makes such matters all but irrelevant.

Graves benefited in this serious, substantial program from the extraordinary pianism of Warren Jones, who -- as vocal accompanists go, is top of the line.

-- Review by Robert Croan, Post-Gazette Senior Editor