JEFF WALL THROUGH MAY 29 A FUNNY THING happens after you spend ...
A FUNNY THING happens after you spend some uninterrupted time studying Jeff Wall-reality begins to look a lot like one of his staged photographs, which in turn look a lot like classical painterly compositions. Despite his insistent reliance on cinematography as a method, Wall approaches photography as an academic painter, and his construction of normality reveals a quiet mastery of everyday life. The problem is that Wall frequently burdens his pictures with overstated sociopolitical content, which doesn't leave much room for interpretation or enjoyment.
Take a picture like 1985's Diatribe. It features two working-class mothers of different ethnicities turning a corner, frozen in serious conversation. It's so loaded with PCness that you're forced into pretending to give a shit about the issues it raises even though you probably don't. But we can forgive Wall, because a lot of other, less intelligent artists in the 80s got locked into this debate and weren't able to accomplish much outside its narrow discourse.
Educated as an art historian, Wall is a political artist who maintains that the avant-garde has invented as many laws as it has broken, thereby imitating the constitutional state of democracy. He's a Modernist, taking his cue from Baudelaire's Le Peinture de la Vie Moderne, whose focus is always on contemporary life. On the flipside of the Modernist coin, he can't resist engaging with painterly tradition-his work is loaded with nods to the early images of Monet, Manet and Seurat. As in a painting, there is no motion in Wall's photographs. His human subjects are frozen in their carefully prearranged poses, stuck forever in the artist's eye. His subject matter is often the mundane, naturally fraught with inferential data, and the pictorial composition is near-perfect-the work of an old master. The finished color photograph is displayed as a transparency in a light box, which has become Wall's signature.
Marian Goodman Gallery, 24 W. 57th St. (betw. 5th & 6th Aves.), 212-977-7160, Mon.-Sat., 10-6, free.
Yep (or maybe Uh-huh!). When it comes to Jeff Koons, a chasm splits those who'll have a fine time strolling through C&M's two-floor spectacle, and those who would never. Ever.
The latter should probably grit and take the plunge, as Koons is as much the offshoot of Duchamp's readymades and Warhol's ironic chic as he is the arch-promoter of commercial luster and media iconography. Sleek, relentlessly effusive, he was off to a big start by the mid-80s, suspending basketballs in glass tanks ("Highlights" includes one full immersion tank and one with three floating balls), posing showroom-ready Hoovers in fluorescent vitrines ("The New" series), then riffing stainlessly on balloon pets (a monumental chrome-orange puppy just touches down on C&M's upper landing).
Koons went on to an explicitly public marriage to Cicciolina, the porn star/Italian parliamentarian ("Highlights" shows both a marble bust of the beaming couple and a photorealist painting of them working the missionary position), and then the four-story impatiens/begonia terrier that blossomed at Documenta in '92, and at Rockefeller Center in 2000.
The puppy's New York moment was a hit ("a remarkably cogent vision of art's recent worldly estate," wrote critic Peter Schjeldahl) and bolstered Koons after years of messy divorce and a sagging reputation. While polychrome wood sculptures in "Highlights" seem tepid, big workshop oils like the (Easyfun-Ethereal) canvases splash canny references in a brash palette, with Elvis from 2003 melding two huge, skin-flick poses by a St. Pauli Girl lookalike with an image of the same vinyl lobster that hangs in another room on a red chain.
"To me, integrity means unaltered," Koons said in an early interview. The one modification made on his stainless steel toy train, ceramic Michael Jackson (with chimpanzee Bubbles) and Martell cognac advert, is in attaining the most exacting degree of objective manifestation imaginable. Elite commercial manufacture meets high religion, that supreme fount of finest art, and since Koons spent five years trading Wall Street commodities, he may have more to say about what's sacred these days than most.
Does Koons mean something? Or nothing? "Though his hand's not involved in production," says C&M partner Jennifer Vorbach, "his personal involvement is remarkable. He's such an impresario of the work, even to the point of positioning himself in it." Vorbach notes Dali's precedent, then adds that "Koons' dedication to perfect finish is taken as a facility yet he sets himself challenges that can be remarkably cumbersome." The Koons/Cicciolina bust is about 700 pounds of marble, so for those who think Koons can't get heavy?
C&M Arts, 45 E. 78th St. (betw. Madison & Park Aves.), 212-861-0020, Tues.-Sat., 10-5:30, free.
Cuban Culture Week is a partnership of the Cuban Artists Fund (a nonprofit organization with the mission of supporting and showcasing the work of Cuban artists worldwide) and several of New York's leading cultural institutions. According to Chairman Ben Rodríguez-Cubeñas, the festival began as a means of uniting Cuban-American artists in the New York area with those from Cuba. For last year's inaugural series, the fund arranged for a Cuban dance company to perform in the U.S. for the first time (although, in the end, only eight of the 10 dancers were allowed to come).
Because of the difficulty in obtaining visas, Cuban citizens this year are largely represented by visual artists such as Yoan Capote, whose work will be on display in "El futuro es ahora/The Future Is Now" (opening Weds., May 5 at 1133 Ave. of the Americas). The exhibition will explore themes equally meaningful to island Cubans and Cuban-Americans, such as the illusory nature of life and work.
"Both communities have struggled to create their own worlds," Rodríguez-Cubeñas says. "We can see the fruits of their labor and invention in this series." Cuban resourcefulness is exemplified by performance artist Marianela Boán, who emigrated to the U.S. a year ago. Working in Cuba, Boán fashioned her entire piece (Sun., May 9 at the Dance Theater Workshop) out of nothing more than a flag, trunk and several lights. Other notable programs include two events at El Museo del Barrio: a concert of Cuban-composed works by the Carpentier Quartet (Sun., May 2) and a reading by Carlos Eire from his acclaimed memoir, Waiting for Snow in Havana (Thurs., May 6).
"We can guarantee one thing," Manny Rodríguez says of the series. "Everyone will have a reaction that will match their pre-inscribed notion of what they think has happened in Cuba."
"Because the arts get within people," Rodríguez-Cubeñas adds, "we hope that these events will challenge that notion and loosen viewers up, deepening their perceptions of Cuban culture."
Events are free or inexpensive. For complete schedule, visit cubanartistsfund.org or call 212-969-8435.
When he went solo, Cole went first-like Morrissey-toward the lush with 1991's Don't Get Weird on Me Babe. Then he stripped himself down, like Morrissey, to a blunt, bare-bones sound that, though once oddly enough produced by Stephen Street (The Smiths), has always maintained the tartness necessary to maintain the unique singularity that has garnered him a devoted following.
On his recent, most intimate excursion, Music in a Foreign Language, Cole's deep, cool, rich burr is more subtle than ever as he approaches the bossa nova of "Brazil" and the country twang of "No More Love Songs" with tangy lyrics ("My Alibi") that exude a bittersweet tenderness more raw than usual. Lloyd Cole is no hairdresser on fire, my friend.
Joe's Pub, 425 Lafayette St. (betw. E. 4th St. & Astor Pl.), 212-539-8778, 9:30, Tues. at 7, 9:30, $25.
Okay, maybe the high-haired elders needed some scalp-braiding done in order to fill in the patchy spots. Maybe LeGrand is a novice when compared to Guns or Sixx. But, where Hollywood metal is concerned, they're vintage velvet-pirate shirt stuff without sounding-yes-dated. And LeGrand's got enough thunder power in his husky, dusky voice to clear out the Whiskey at last call like that. Think back to watching Guns N' Roses on that Grammy-cast. Remember how sick you felt watching a pasty Axl run through some slapped-together tech-grunge after having rehearsed for two years? You won't get that from the Brides of Destruction. With Amen and Living Things.
CBGB, 315 Bowery (Bleecker St.), 212-982-4052, 7:30, sold out.
who pioneered the art of playing two of the same record and extending the drum breaks. Flash called it the clock technique, placing a sticker on the record and keeping track of rotations and time to flip back to the next turntable, where a duplicate platter was set at the beginning of the break. This gave break dancers all the time in the world to do head spins and electric boogaloos.
The DMC (which stands for Dance Music Community) competition, has been picking up steam since its inception in 1986. Tony Prince, a UK radio jock who started the community in 1983 for DJs to trade records and mix tapes, was also the founder of the influential glossy Mixmag. The competition started out as one in which DJs tried to put together the best mix. That's changed. Former champion jocks like DJ Craze from Miami can scratch two records at the same time. And keep them on beat.
Besides the scientific, you'll also get the abstract on this bill, as Def Jux, the king of all that is indiehop, unleashes its roster of artists on the disenfranchised white b-boy. RJD2 has stolen some of the heat and creativity that was once heaped upon DJ Shadow by music hacks. His production work is much more eclectic, ranging from "Midnight in a Perfect World" downtempo to "Block Rockin' Beat" bangers. Aesop Rock, who seems to be getting weirder by the album, will drop his intellectual college notebook rhyme schemes for all to rub their soul patch. The man to watch, though, is Mista Sinista, a former member of the turntable crew the X-Ecutioners. This guy can do a lot more than just scratch "Fuck the Police."
The winner of the New York Heat will go to battle in L.A. to fight for the U.S. crown on August 7. The World Finals in September are being held in London.
Webster Hall, 125 E. 11th St. (betw. 3rd & 4th Aves.), 212-353-1600, 8, $20.
Apart from his work with Anastasio, Marshall fronts Amfibian, alongside songwriting partner Chris Metaxas as well as Anthony Krizan, Joe Larsen and Bob Kay. The group has recently released a second album, From the Ether, which is admittedly influenced by psychedelic-era Beatles and Pink Floyd.
"We were listening to Penny Lane," Marshall said in a phone interview, "but people who have heard the album mention?also Pink Floyd albums such as Atom Heart Mother in other songs."
Fans who go to the show will "be lucky," says Marshall, "because we will be reunited with our horn section for a couple of Steely Dan and Beatles covers alongside solid music from the new album, such as 'Isolate' and 'Distortion.'" Marshall also promises special guests. At a recent Vermont performance, Phish bassist Mike Gordon showed up.
The Knitting Factory, 74 Leonard St. (betw. B'way & Church St.), 212-219-3132, 11:30, $20.
Rather than rely on the monotone of her previous CD (the looped-lesbo shouts of Muscler's Guide to Videonics) Greenwood's new Culture for Pigeon feels less like a project than an actual album. This softer, rounded electronic record-with contributions from like-minded femme-punks the Need and Le Tigre-shows a wobbly, warbling Greenwood dearly reaching for lost souls on the bloopy ballad "Big Stereo" and the tribal techie of "What You Still Want." With Greenwood's singing a pretty indicator of all things Pigeonholed, the once-distant desires of communication and human congress now seem yearningly attainable or attainably yearning-or something to that effect. With Wikkid and DJ Dirty Jean.
Knitting Factory, 74 Leonard St. (betw. B'way & Church St.), 212-219-3006, 11:15, $10.
There was no jokiness to their sound. Can were aggressive and angular, improvising their way through a maximal minimalism of jarringly odd but sensual textures and off-kilter rhythms. Equally as rousing-and yes, nearly as crucial-is Czukay's solo catalog, one as devoted to experimental short-wave collage, Eurocentric classicism and dub rhythm as Can's. Since 1980, Czukay has steadily unleashed twisting, truculent atmospheric electronic CDs like Movies and On the Way to the Peak of Normal, the latter pairing him with like-minded bassist Jah Wobble. And as well as producing the cathedral, steely wonders of solo CDs like Good Morning Story and La Luna, Czukay is often found in a collaborative mood-the best being several haunting efforts with cranky crooner David Sylvian.
In preparation for this, his second tour of America, I asked Holger a few questions.
I can only remember you doing music. I knew you taught. What was the last proper job you held?
I wonder if one can regard my teaching being a proper job without any qualifications-I mean official qualifications! Nevertheless, the last proper job I did after the Can period was delivering, personally, a thick letter to a bank in Switzerland. Got $200 for it and the sender a million credit! All the rest of my jobs had more or less something to do with music.
After careful thinking, I came to the realization that, despite the long shadow of influence you cast, I couldn't think of one particular act who's been able to copy you. Do you hear what you've done in any one artist's sound?
That makes me think of the very beginning of my career when someone in the audience shouted toward composer Karlheinz Stockhausen that he only tried to shock people with his music and therefore make a lot money with it. Karlheinz answered that he had only musical reasons in mind for what he was doing. Concerning money, he said that he had married a rich wife. So, when I cannot figure out that someone is trying to copy my style of music it must have something to do that he didn't find a rich wife yet. Apart from joking, Brian Eno and I have fallen over similar or even the same ideas simultaneously over decades though we don't contact each other over years. Must have something to do that those ideas are anyway in the air. All you have to do is breathe in order for an idea to become yours.
I'd be hard-pressed to guess what religious beliefs you hold. But there's always been a sense in your music of grasping for something higher. How does that fit in?
To say the truth, when my car didn't pass the M.O.T. (Swiss modern vehicle bureau test), I went to court in order to declare getting dis-abandoned from church. Being asked for my reasons, I replied because my car hadn't passed the M.O.T. With this official certificate I went back to the M.O.T. and immediately got permission to drive my car for another two years. That's why I now believe in God.
Knitting Factory, 74 Leonard St. (betw. B'way & Church St.), 212-219-3006, 8, $25.
"We are a little out of place whatever we do and wherever we are playing," says S.E.M. director Petr Kotik, a flute virtuoso and accomplished composer/conductor. Which may be saying S.E.M. will be at home at Tonic, playing what Kotik terms "a historical program." Two of his compositions date from the 70s and 80s, with a version of John Cage's Ryoanji reworked with Kotik for S.E.M. after the two men sustained a working relationship since meeting in 1964. Frederic Rzewski's Les Moutons de Panurge, which Kotik terms "one of the first pieces based on repetition and melody," dates from the late 60s, with Alvin Lucier's Silver Streetcar for the Orchestra and last year's Percussionists (with flute) by Wolff completing the bill.
Kotik's Drums forms a core in his work, as "all of the drums that I've been composing since are more or less based on that idea from 1978. We'll also play some solos that are instrumental excerpts from There Is Singularly Nothing," a work Kotik based on Gertrude Stein texts (another, Many Many Women for voice and ensemble, can extend for hours). "Drums hovers around certain pitches then goes back or moves along," a method of reiteration Kotik contrasts to strict repetition and likens to Feldman's style in which "a phrase will repeat except one note is missing. Your hear it again but it doesn't sound exactly the same and you're not sure what's happening." (S.E.M.'s recorded the world premier of Feldman's The Turfan Fragments, released in 2001 on Dog w/a Bone).
The Tonic gig will be an intimate taste of S.E.M., who've been part of recent and vast European concerts of "Music in Space-Compositions for 3 Orchestras," and who will be at Merkin Concert Hall in early June with orchestral works of Kotik, Wolff, Mitchell, Phill Niblock and Alex Mincek.
Tonic, 107 Norfolk St. (betw. Delancey & Rivington Sts.), 212-358-7501, 8, $12, $10 adv.
Yet Lerche isn't here to confound you. Rather, he's spoon-feeding you love's deepest mysteries with sugary sounds to go with the bitter pills. It's as if he's letting you in on a dark secret whose hidden horrors he's only recently discovered-like a snitch. Or your sister. Or both.
Irving Plaza, 17 Irving Pl. (15th St.), 212-777-6800, 8, $17.50.
Contributors: Lionel Beehner, Adam Bulger, Jim Knipfel, Jeff Koyen, Aaron Lovell, Dan Martino, Kristina Ramos, Dennis Tyhacz and Alexander Zaitchik.