Festivals

Fourth Presbyterian Church Noonday Concert and Chicago Jazz Festival – September 1, 2023

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At the church, Ashley Ertz (oboe) and Lillia Woolschlager (piano) treated us with a Samuel Coleridge-Taylor piece I can’t remember the name of, possibly because I never looked at it in the program. 

I didn’t stay for the rest of the concert, featuring composers unknown to me, and compositions from the latter half of the 20th century, a potential red flag for me, though, I admit, the music wafting through the Sanctuary as I left sounded like something I might have liked. But I had other fish, or beignets, to fry and so headed for the Jazz Festival.  

As promised to myself last week after seeing the Juan Pastor trio at the Noonday Concert, I went to see Pastor’s Chincahno, expecting a quintet, but pleasantly surprised to hear a septet, whose sound filled Millennium Park with Peruvian-inspired top-tapping rhythms.    

And, as with any music festival worth its salt, a wide variety of overpriced t-shirts were available for purchase.  

More interestingly, there was a creole food stand, whose offerings included the aforementioned beignets. The last time I had one of those, it was with a cup of coffee and chicory, sitting outside at the original Cafe du Monde (there are now 10) on the banks of the Mississippi River in New Orleans, where the beignets are served in threes in case eating just one of these deeply fried treats is not enough to clog every artery in your body. The approximately 60 million steps I’ve taken since then hopefully have negated that indulgence, but I decided not to risk further damage this time, even though there was a medical vehicle stationed not too far away.

Chicago Jazz Festival – Chicago Cultural Center – August 31, 2023

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I was drawn to this program by the fact that it was promoted as Zack Markstet, Performing Horace Silvers’ 1966 release “The Jody Grind”. My interest may have been surprising as I had never heard of Markstet or The Jody Grind.

However, I have three CDs (remember them) of Silver’s music, two of them featuring The Jazz Messengers. The third is entitled Jazz . . . has . . . a Sense of Humor (his final studio album), a title that fairly reflects part of why I’m a fan of his music.

That said, for all I knew going in, Markstet’s sextet was make up of guys from downtown street corners who would turn the six-track album into something resembling the theme song from The Jetsons. I still don’t actually know anything about the musicians, but they sounded good and, as far as I could tell, remained true to the original recording, though they substituted a trombone for the second saxophone that the Blue note label gave us in 1966.

I don’t write music, so I found a website that told me that a trombone can read alto sax parts by reading as in bass clef and adding 3 flats to the written key. Unless those changes are written out ahead of time, it sounds like playing blindfolded chess to me, which would be a real grind.

Coming Attractions (or not) – September, 2023

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I was berated today for not telling people about events before they happen. So, for all of you out there who haven’t yet learned how to use your computer, and since I have a little time to kill, here are some ideas for things to do in September.

First, and foremost, and before you tire of my sarcasm, you must go to the Porchlight Music Theatre’s Icons Gala on the 8th at the Athenaeum Center. It will, as always, be a very entertaining evening and, if you buy one of the top-tier tickets, you get to mingle with me at the pre-show cocktail reception. Also, the guest of honor, Ben Vereen, will be in attendance.

As I alluded to in an earlier post, the Chicago Jazz Festival comes to town the first few days of the month. You’re on your own as to which acts might interest you. I stopped going years ago, as I tired of the modern, atonal nonsense they inappropriately call music, but there are a few acts on the calendar this year that I either have seen before and liked or am confident enough about to risk a trek down to Millennium Park or the Cultural Center for a look-see.

The Fourth Presbyterian Church takes its Noonday Concerts indoors starting this Friday, which seems premature to me, but allows them to put to use their big honking organ, though, fortunately for my tastes, not until the end of the month, so, again, why not keep things outdoors until then.

The Harris Theater for Music and Dance is celebrating its 20th Anniversary (seems like 40 years taking into account having to traverse all those stairs) on the 9th in Millennium Park. The unprecise schedule makes it hard to know when I might want to drop in, though the likelihood of families attending the afternoon sessions is fair warning to avoid those.

The Printers Row Lit Fest is that same weekend (both days). It always presents a plethora of interesting exhibitors and programs, if you can find them in the event’s labyrinth (watch out for the Minotaur).

And, not finally, but I’m tired, the American Writers Museum is hosting Get Lit: Grown-Up Book Fair on the 12th, which will feature refreshments, carnival games, and an Adult Spelling Bee, which, I assume, means either dirty words and/or easier ones than the obnoxiously well-prepared kids at the real one have to tackle.

Chicago Storytelling in Bughouse Square – The Newberry – July 15, 2023

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Last year, in regard to this annual event, I quoted Will Rogers about things not being what they used to be. This year, they were even less than that.

Last year, I visited the Society of Smallness table and exchanged small talk with them. But, after many years of underwhelming us with their underachievements, they didn’t make an appearance this year. Perhaps they had little left to say.

A few times, in past years, I’ve been entertained by the ragtag Environmental Encroachment Brass Band, and, last year, the Sheryl Youngblood Blues Band. This year, no offense, musically there only was a DJ whose job it was, I think, to help keep people awake between speakers in Ruggles Hall, which, as far as I know, despite being in a library, is not an eponym for the protagonist of the novel Ruggles of Red Gap, or the movie of the same name, wherein, interestingly, the actor Charles Ruggles plays, not the title character, but rather Egbert Floud.

Last year a couple of the scheduled speakers struck my fancy, including the one who talked about pigeons, a relevant topic when we were in the park as usual, but the threat of bad weather (even that’s not what it used to be – way more often now as Armageddon approaches), kept us inside, and the only orator I listened to was, coincidentally, Chad the Bird, who, in case you don’t know, is Chicago’s leading avian op ed columnist, who gave us the history of Malort, the iconic Chicago undrinkable drink.

Meghan “Big Red” Murphy – Wells Street Art Festival – June 10, 2023

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The Wells Street Art Festival should really be called the Wells Street Drinking and Eating Disgusting Fried Foods Festival, but there was art on display.

This was a different kind of Big Red performance than what I have seen in the past, and I’ve seen quite a few – a bawdy holiday show with her and The Boys at a couple different theaters, a tour de force performance as The Lady of the Lake in Spamalot, a solo cabaret show, a third of a We Three trio of ladies at Steppenwolf of all places, a musical guest at the Green Mill’s Paper Machete, a private birthday party performance in the courtyard of my building during the pandemic and, originally, a turn as the star of a production of Woman of the Year.

This time there were no risqué songs, no double entendres, no scatting, and no live music, as if she were David Byrne trying to break the Broadway rules requiring pit musicians. (He finally agreed a couple days ago to use 12, instead of the normal minimum of 19 the union wanted).

There was only great singing and engaging banter in an outdoor street fair setting that is less than perfect for performers, though Red managed to get members of the milling crowd to dance and sing along, all while drinking along (Red stuck to water, I think).

My only disappointment with Murphy was when she sang a disco version of “If You Could Read My Mind” and said how surprised she was to learn that it was originally a Gordon Lightfoot song. I was surprised that there was a disco version.

Totally unrelated, I feel required to mention that I saw former Bears and Illinois head coach Lovie Smith walking around at the festival, one of the few people there who was old enough to know Lightfoot had written the song.

Chicago Blues Festival – Millennium Park – June 9, 2023

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You don’t even have to enter the park to hear the music. It was so loud it made my throat hurt and my skin flaked. But the couple acts I heard induced a lot of head-bobbing in the audience and sounded great – Lightnin’ Malcolm, representing his birthplace on the Visit Mississippi Juke Joint Stage, and Stephen Hull, from that hotbed of blues, Racine.

Unsurprisingly, I have no interest in visiting Mississippi, but who doesn’t love a juke joint, which, in turns out, is a term derived from the Gullah word juke, which means bawdy or disorderly. What that has to do with a basketball player juking a defender, I’m not sure.

Besides the music and the everywhere-you-turned, blues-related merchandise, including items from the foundations of Muddy Waters, Eddie Taylor, Little Walter, and Willie Dixon, in case you need something from one of them to fill out your collection, the big draw at the festival is the smokehouse meat, which, I’ve found, has its own section concerning emission factors on the EPA website, which seemed like a good reason for taking a wide berth from where the cooking was taking place.

Access Contemporary Music – Thirsty Ears Festival – August 13, 2022

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Promoted as Chicago’s only classical music street festival, this annual two-day event, now in its seventh year, is not quite on the scale of Lollapalooza, but has two important things in common with that and every other outdoor music happening – you can buy a beer and a tee shirt.

I came for Crossing Borders Music, represented on this occasion by the talented duo of violinist Jennifer Leckie and pianist Marianne Parker. I wasn’t disappointed, as their engaging selections crossed numerous borders, including music by composers from Cuba, Uruguay, Armenia, Colombia, and Arkansas.

I also was pleased with the sound system, the ease of parking, and the availability of seating, though I chose to stand, which if I understand the research correctly, caused me to burn up an extra 75 calories.

It also enabled me to hang out in front of the Mathnasium, Math Learning Center, and try to respond to the half dozen, grades K-12 questions on their windows, while simultaneously listening to music and breathing. Since the answers were not shown, I’m going to assume I got them all right, except, okay, maybe one of them.

Chicago Storytelling in Bughouse Square – Washington Square Park – July 30, 2022

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“Things aren’t what they used to be and probably never were.” – Will Rogers

The ACLU was handing out flyers, but there were no soap boxes in the park. No anarchists in sight. No spectators shouting down speakers.

There were people hanging around, perhaps waiting for an argument to break out, but, times being what they are, the Newberry staff had to be happy to have a docile event, where the biggest controversy was the position taken by Northwestern professor Bill Savage that it was okay to put ketchup on hot dogs. Even I booed at that.

Savage had some interesting, less hot-button things to say about Edward Brennan and his years-long effort to successfully rename many streets and renumber addresses throughout the city, accomplishing things that many mistakenly credit as being part of Daniel Burnham’s Plan of Chicago.

The only other speaker I heard any of was Katie Prout, a freelance-writer, who, amazingly, had a lot to say about pigeons, a fairly safe topic.

I then headed over to the Documents Bureau table where Society of Smallness clerks listened to a random complaint I came up with for the moment and issued me a certificate granting me the authority to do something about it. I was going to snap a photo to attach to this piece, but when I got home I discovered that they, ironically, had given me somebody else’s document. Next year’s complaint.

Back to the main stage for Sheryl Youngblood and her blues band, who did a sweet half hour before more talking heads appeared and I disappeared.

Bastille Day French Night Market – Summer Thursdays at Lincoln Common – July 14 2022

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As I circled around the bandstand, from which there was a notable absence of music emanating, I saw a woman on stilts, a man juggling while riding a unicycle, and an artist doing caricatures, a scene just as I have always imagined it when that angry mob attacked the French prison in 1789.

Also, I could not help but notice that a mime was following me, imitating my every movement.

But I ignored him. Sure there was the temptation to do something embarrassing, to see if he would follow suit, but there were numerous small children in attendance, so I grudgingly restrained myself.

Then I started to feel sorry for him. He had committed to making me his target, but I was disinterested and no one else was paying any attention to him either. And he couldn’t just give up. That would be antithetical to the unspoken mime code of conduct.

So I engaged. I started making revolutions around him, causing him to spin to maintain his relative position to me. I spoke. He didn’t. I told him I had gained the upper hand, as I was now following him.

He bowed and conceded, non verbally, smiling and silently applauding, before walking away, while the band continued not to play on.

American Writers Festival – Chicago Cultural Center and American Writers Museum – May 15, 2022

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I’ve delayed writing about the American Writers Festival because first I wanted to watch the animated Love, Death & Robots on Netflix. Huh?

I went to the festival primarily to see my favorite living science fiction author, John Scalzi (which reminds me, Willie Mays celebrated his 91st birthday earlier this month), whom I first discovered at an AWM program in October, 2018, at which time I had yet to read any of his books (Scalzi, that is – I don’t think Mays has written anything, but he sure could do everything else). Since then I’ve read all 16 of his novels and one of his short stories.

But I didn’t know, until I saw Scalzi at the festival, that five episodes of L, D & R were based on other stories of his. So, I now also can recommend those, with a special shout out for When the Yogurt Took Over.

I was planning on going too to two other programs at the festival, but a staff member at the museum wouldn’t let me go to the ready room to annoy, I mean say hello to, Jennifer Keishen Armstrong (it wan’t a cold call – she does know me, honest) before she came out to do her live Dead Writer Drama podcast, which then caused me to lose interest in staying to hear her and later Peter Sagal and several of his closest friends for them to tell me how to write comedy, as if they could. This was not unlike how the actions of a couple high school teachers caused me to lose interest in studying for years. Also, I was lazy.