Saturday, October 01, 2005
Stomp Out Loud
I just watched Stomp. Wow.
Two incredible works within the past week has been an overload for my sense of culture. The costs have been significant, but worth every cent, and possibly more – I am beginning to wonder just how much the theatrical arts have in store for me, and just how much I have been missing all these years.
Foremost, I need to thank the greater powers that be. Without divine intervention, I would not have been able to catch Stomp today, in other words, effectively flushing away my $220. The reason I chose a Saturday night when I bought the tickets one month ago was because I figured, ‘well, surely the army wouldn’t deny me a Saturday night off this week!’ Well, it turns out that fortune frequently decides to take a piss on me – considering other hilarious antics such as declaring my birthday to be Barrack Orderly duty day, being amongst my favourites – and so, she decided to take another shot at screwing up my plans by declaring today to be a freaking commissioning parade. To further increase the chance of irony, She also decided to make me one of the two wet weather standby crew – meaning, whether it rained or not, and whether the parade was cancelled consequently, was inconsequential to me, since I would have to work my ass off either way, bound to a fate I have no control over.
Thankfully – the powers that be granted me divine mercy today, by giving us not only perfect weather, allowing the parade to commence as soon as possible without interruption, but also going further than that, by allowing me to get a cab amidst a throng of waiting people (albeit a harsh fare of $20). Even better, it turns out that my driver was a lunatic, driving at an average speed of 100km/h even on a relatively congested highway, sometimes topping out at 120. It was as though he was aware of my dire consequences, subconsciously. Weibin and I hypothesized that it could have been one of those Neil Gaiman moments where He decided to send one of his angels in disguise to assist me in accomplishing the seemingly hopeless. Anyway – no thanks to Weibin’s incessant reminders of the curtain call – I made it to the Esplanade with two minutes to spare. Two freaking minutes – how much closer can I cut it, I wonder? At least, despite today’s fiasco, I can still maintain what I so proudly declare all the time: I have never been late for any concert or performance, and if I’m late means I’m either not coming at all, or I’m dead. That was close though. Mental note: changing in a public area is not fun. And I don’t mean a bathroom.
Stomp! Stomp stomp stomp. Where do I begin? It was certainly as entertaining as I had hoped. I’ve been a Stomp fan for a long time – since I started percussion – and what started out as a casual interest in percussion has led to a full blown obsession with this touring show. I’ve watched it many, many times, video clips, dvds, whatnot. I’ve caught just about every separate item that I could humanly get my hands on. I know just about everything there is to know about Stomp – the cast, the creators, the origins, the shows, the awards, and the different items. So what were they going to surprise me with this time round? Granted, having watched Quidam last week made me feel a bit uneasy in the artifice of the place – a mass of derelict, rusting corrugated steel boards, with unstable looking junk welded on to widely spaced wire mesh flanking the balcony of a pile of rubble, on the stage of a grand, dedicated theatre stage?
Once they started, of course, all unease gave way to awe, amusement, laughter, and sheer respect for the group of performers who were professional in every respect – trained entertainers, sporting performers, and masters of theatre. They made the audience laugh, they made the audience stand and clap, stomp on the ground, slap themselves, and most importantly, instilled a sense of wonder towards common household objects. I recognized only two members of the cast – and only about half of the items that they performed. Brooms, of course, was their opening act, the most famous of all, and having written the entire brooms out by hand before, I can safely say that they took some liberty in modifying the original. Other familiar favourites were the basketballs, the kitchen sinks, the pails, the suspended signboard act, and of course, the famously spectacular closing act with the signature ‘S’ trash can-lids cymbals. There were some new and genuinely amusing acts – such as a metallic chairs one, a rubber tubing one, a crate hopping one, a bag of assorted carrying bags, and a wonderfully creative full-body slapping one. However, the act which had the most stage presence and ‘wow’-factor was the lighters one – completely in the dark, the performers flicked their Zippos open and close in perfect unison, despite the lack of communication in the total darkness, flaring the stage for a few, perfectly coordinated moments, and illuminating selected areas once in awhile, creating a complex flurry of patterns about the stage. It was truly magnificent to behold – something like a portrait of fireworks exploding, with a landscape of pitch blackness in the background lending a hand in helping to create the perfect contrast between light and darkness. Wonderful.
I also learnt that toilet humour is timeless.
It was energetic, it was lively, it was entertaining, and the way the performers yelled at each other, laughed, hollered and whooped, even the most composed of the audience were unable to control themselves in joining in with some rhythmic clapping, or even foot-stomping action. It was one of those moments that reminded me as to why I enjoyed being a percussionist – and why I’m so absolutely confident that not all instruments were created equal. I maintain that percussion is the only instrument that allows for such a degree of creativity and energy, as not only a musical art, but a performance art.
Change of Guards at the Istana is on tomorrow (Sunday), and we’re marching down from Heeren to Plaza Singapura again. This time, we’re playing marches written by our own bandsmen and our captain himself, interspersed with our usual percussion solo – but this time, we’ve gone full balls to the wall in it’s composition. This is just about the most difficult solo we’ve come up with, and we’ve written it keeping in mind the best players for their specific instruments of speciality. We’re not holding anything back this time – the reason is because more than a few of the percussion section are leaving within the next month, so it’s like a last hurrah for them. It will be quite a show, I promise. It starts at 5:30pm, next to the Heeren, for anyone interested.
Damn, I need to watch Corpse Bride sometime soon. And I need more theatre, soon. I need my fix. I only know one other cultural snob, though. Ideas, Weibin?
Paranoia out.
Two incredible works within the past week has been an overload for my sense of culture. The costs have been significant, but worth every cent, and possibly more – I am beginning to wonder just how much the theatrical arts have in store for me, and just how much I have been missing all these years.
Foremost, I need to thank the greater powers that be. Without divine intervention, I would not have been able to catch Stomp today, in other words, effectively flushing away my $220. The reason I chose a Saturday night when I bought the tickets one month ago was because I figured, ‘well, surely the army wouldn’t deny me a Saturday night off this week!’ Well, it turns out that fortune frequently decides to take a piss on me – considering other hilarious antics such as declaring my birthday to be Barrack Orderly duty day, being amongst my favourites – and so, she decided to take another shot at screwing up my plans by declaring today to be a freaking commissioning parade. To further increase the chance of irony, She also decided to make me one of the two wet weather standby crew – meaning, whether it rained or not, and whether the parade was cancelled consequently, was inconsequential to me, since I would have to work my ass off either way, bound to a fate I have no control over.
Thankfully – the powers that be granted me divine mercy today, by giving us not only perfect weather, allowing the parade to commence as soon as possible without interruption, but also going further than that, by allowing me to get a cab amidst a throng of waiting people (albeit a harsh fare of $20). Even better, it turns out that my driver was a lunatic, driving at an average speed of 100km/h even on a relatively congested highway, sometimes topping out at 120. It was as though he was aware of my dire consequences, subconsciously. Weibin and I hypothesized that it could have been one of those Neil Gaiman moments where He decided to send one of his angels in disguise to assist me in accomplishing the seemingly hopeless. Anyway – no thanks to Weibin’s incessant reminders of the curtain call – I made it to the Esplanade with two minutes to spare. Two freaking minutes – how much closer can I cut it, I wonder? At least, despite today’s fiasco, I can still maintain what I so proudly declare all the time: I have never been late for any concert or performance, and if I’m late means I’m either not coming at all, or I’m dead. That was close though. Mental note: changing in a public area is not fun. And I don’t mean a bathroom.
Stomp! Stomp stomp stomp. Where do I begin? It was certainly as entertaining as I had hoped. I’ve been a Stomp fan for a long time – since I started percussion – and what started out as a casual interest in percussion has led to a full blown obsession with this touring show. I’ve watched it many, many times, video clips, dvds, whatnot. I’ve caught just about every separate item that I could humanly get my hands on. I know just about everything there is to know about Stomp – the cast, the creators, the origins, the shows, the awards, and the different items. So what were they going to surprise me with this time round? Granted, having watched Quidam last week made me feel a bit uneasy in the artifice of the place – a mass of derelict, rusting corrugated steel boards, with unstable looking junk welded on to widely spaced wire mesh flanking the balcony of a pile of rubble, on the stage of a grand, dedicated theatre stage?
Once they started, of course, all unease gave way to awe, amusement, laughter, and sheer respect for the group of performers who were professional in every respect – trained entertainers, sporting performers, and masters of theatre. They made the audience laugh, they made the audience stand and clap, stomp on the ground, slap themselves, and most importantly, instilled a sense of wonder towards common household objects. I recognized only two members of the cast – and only about half of the items that they performed. Brooms, of course, was their opening act, the most famous of all, and having written the entire brooms out by hand before, I can safely say that they took some liberty in modifying the original. Other familiar favourites were the basketballs, the kitchen sinks, the pails, the suspended signboard act, and of course, the famously spectacular closing act with the signature ‘S’ trash can-lids cymbals. There were some new and genuinely amusing acts – such as a metallic chairs one, a rubber tubing one, a crate hopping one, a bag of assorted carrying bags, and a wonderfully creative full-body slapping one. However, the act which had the most stage presence and ‘wow’-factor was the lighters one – completely in the dark, the performers flicked their Zippos open and close in perfect unison, despite the lack of communication in the total darkness, flaring the stage for a few, perfectly coordinated moments, and illuminating selected areas once in awhile, creating a complex flurry of patterns about the stage. It was truly magnificent to behold – something like a portrait of fireworks exploding, with a landscape of pitch blackness in the background lending a hand in helping to create the perfect contrast between light and darkness. Wonderful.
I also learnt that toilet humour is timeless.
It was energetic, it was lively, it was entertaining, and the way the performers yelled at each other, laughed, hollered and whooped, even the most composed of the audience were unable to control themselves in joining in with some rhythmic clapping, or even foot-stomping action. It was one of those moments that reminded me as to why I enjoyed being a percussionist – and why I’m so absolutely confident that not all instruments were created equal. I maintain that percussion is the only instrument that allows for such a degree of creativity and energy, as not only a musical art, but a performance art.
Change of Guards at the Istana is on tomorrow (Sunday), and we’re marching down from Heeren to Plaza Singapura again. This time, we’re playing marches written by our own bandsmen and our captain himself, interspersed with our usual percussion solo – but this time, we’ve gone full balls to the wall in it’s composition. This is just about the most difficult solo we’ve come up with, and we’ve written it keeping in mind the best players for their specific instruments of speciality. We’re not holding anything back this time – the reason is because more than a few of the percussion section are leaving within the next month, so it’s like a last hurrah for them. It will be quite a show, I promise. It starts at 5:30pm, next to the Heeren, for anyone interested.
Damn, I need to watch Corpse Bride sometime soon. And I need more theatre, soon. I need my fix. I only know one other cultural snob, though. Ideas, Weibin?
Paranoia out.
# posted by Paranoia Incarnate @ 10:20 AM 
