Blaise Pascal supposedly once wrote that “If I had more time, I would have written a shorter letter.” I plead guilty to having not left myself time for editing this and apologize.
Five years and the holiday show just keeps growing in previously inconceivable ways. This show really is the Twin Cities arts and entertainment highlight every year. It is creating traditions and developing a canon all its own. There is a body of music that has become new holiday standards so enduring that it must be agonizing to develop the set list—space on that list has become so precious. And it can all be traced back to the talent and courage of three men. What an accomplishment and how fortunate we all are.
Spike and Dr. Neau have captured the essence of the show. Generosity of spirit is what defines the night, just as Spike said. And the Dr. identified Aby Wolf. She is no less than a supernova; more on her later. Spike also alluded to Chan losing Eleanor earlier this year. Her presence was palpable throughout the evening. Much of the night came off as an examination of loss, learning how to cope with it, and, ultimately, redeeming it. It was unspeakably moving and what could be more generous that sharing that experience with all of us?
Chan’s family and John’s family were in two of the private boxes. I’ve always wondered who inhabits those boxes and it was nice to know that the premium tickets went to folks who would appreciate them.
Speaking of the balconies, the show started with “Do You Hear What I Hear” from the band’s new instrumental album. A French horn was in one balcony and it was answered by a trumpet in the opposite balcony. The most beautiful of surround sound. A pair dancing a Tango punctuated the bit.
How about some whiplash? Hendrix’s “Manic Depression” followed. Red eyed, marching marionettes were projected on the back wall of the stage. A commentary of the pervasive consumerism and empty traditions of the season? John dug in with relish and it was then that I noticed the band was cleanly shorn and without facial hair. Farewell Movember.
Dan Hicks’s set list stalwart, “I Scare Myself” was next. The band was complimented by drums and Hookers and Blow, the tremendous brass section that we’ve seen many times before. The band really seemed to settle in on this familiar number.
Then transcendence struck for the first time. The Rogers and Hammerstein classic, “My Favorite Things.” I’ve written on this one at length before and won’t belabor it, but it is a testament to the excellence of this band that it has re-arranged such a classic and made it incontrovertibly its own. Indeed, it may have achieved the impossible by improving upon the perfection we’ve all heard from Julie Andrews to Nat Cole to John Coltrane as they’ve left their stamps on the song. The coruscating, ringing exchanges between the piano and the vibes get me every time. If you don’t own Candy Cane, you need it for this piece alone. Mid-song one noted that, among the other lyrics, Chan was singing this:
“When the dog bites,
When the bee stings,
When I’m feeling sad,
I simply remember my favorite things
And then I don’t feel so bad.”
The handbill for the show indicated that the performances were dedicated to Eleanor’s memory and for Chan to sing this song this year was a moving tribute. He was a tower of grace.
Introspection was interrupted by our first surprise. Hugo Klaes, the Suburbs drummer, sang a wicked song about an abandoned doll, “Baby Heartbeat.” I didn’t recognize it, but it is apparently a Suburbs original. If the band continues to dip in to the macabre, how about Amanda Palmer? She’s a local now that she’s married to Neil Gaimon. Imagine letting her loose for a song.
There was then a brief break to watch a projection of the video on the new instrumental record. Great fun to see it in large format.
Tim Frantzich read a Bill Holman poem, “Angels We Have Heard on High.” An amazing meditation on Scandinavian reserve. Holm died two years ago, shortly before he was to read at the holiday show. It was a nice tribute to him. Coincidentally, when I heard there would be more poetry this year, I thought certainly we’d be hearing Robert Bly read some Transtromer. The Holm poem was perfect, though, and the Frantzich brothers project such a sense of peace that I could happily see either one or both of them every year.
Rachel and Morgan, a folk pair from New York (they have a children’s project called Gustafer Yellowgold) did a song called(I think) “Bring Me Peace Bring Me Joy.”
Another big surprise. The Current’s own David Campbell came out in all red and white. The band called him their elf. Where was his beard?! He did a grand Broadway ensemble style version of “Twas the Night Before Christmas.” Think Michael Buble/Andy Williams at their most show stopping. Horns, percussion, choir and David just hammed it up incredibly. Check out Charles Robinson’s Facebook photos to get a sense of what happened. It brought the house down.
The horns stayed out and tore into “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen.” The house was so rocking that John’s Fender fell out of its stand and almost took out his acoustic axe. During the break down of “save us all from Satan’s power,” a creepy fetus-like Christ child sitting in a Buddha pose was projected on the wall. Aih calls it the “Exorcist baby.” Make of it what you will—I’m still working on it.
