The Rice Thresher, Vol. 95, No. 17, Ed. 1 Friday, January 25, 2008 Page: 10 of 16
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10
THE RICE THRESHER ARTS ft ENTERTAINMENT FRIDAY, JANUARY 25, 2008
Ask a groupie how she likes JAN IS
her eggs at breakfast
This Sunday I went to the Yeasayer
and MGMTconcert And Ihadmyflrst
taste of what if s like to be a groupie.
The Yeasayer moved
me. They have a mythologi-
cal sound, as if I'm listening
to a prayer but with elec-
tronic beats that make me
want to dance.
The lead singer had on
skinny yellow pants and
thick black glasses. The
guitarist's beautiful long,
dark hair flowed in waves
over his face. The guy who
looked liked Crosby Stills
and Nash with the white
cotton headband played the bass. I
was too short to see the drummer, but
I know that he went shirtless during
the second half of the set
During a between-song shout out,
Yellow Pants mentioned it was the
band's first time in our fair city. Then
it occurred to me: This is my fair city.
I, the sweaty, boot-wearing brunette
up front, knew this town quite well
and if indeed the Yeasayer was
interested in seeing it, my friends
and I would make the perfect tour
guides. I knew I was taking Yellow
Pants' weak attempt at connecting
with his audience too seriously, but I
also knew that I was eating the best
breakfast in Houston the next day
and everyone loves breakfast.
And so my friends and I schemed.
We would invite Yeasayer to breakfast.
The set ended and our new favorite
band took its post behind the T-shirt
table. My friend Marie seized me and
together we approached.
Before long I was talking to Yellow
Pants. 1 told him 1 liked his pants. Yes,
he said, they are yellow. Myeyes edged
towards M arie, who was thankfully hav-
ing more luck with Good Hair. Feeding
off each other's energy, Marie and 1
built up to the breakfast invitation. We
raved — raved! — about die potatoes
and the chicken apple sausage. I flipped
my hair and pursed my lips and spilled
beer on MGMT shoelaces.
Nikki
Metzgar
Oh yeah, said Yeasayer, we
eat breakfast
A little black book was produced
and inside it amongst the
names of countless desper-
ate females, I wrote my
number. I wrote"delicious."
And I wrote "breakfast"
MariegotCSN-face—or
Ira as he is more commonly
referred to — to give her
his number. Yellow Pants
gave me a band button and
showed me his tattoo.
When you hear the word
groupie, all kinds of bad
associations come to mind.
Now I wonder, does "delicious" mean
something else when underlined three
times? Was the expectation that Yellow
Pants would defile me in the back of
the band bus, or in Yeasayer's case,
one of their two vans?
True groupies invite rock stars to
hip after-parties, but I really did mean
breakfast in the literal sense. Sex aside
though, maybe our motivations are the
same — we are moved by the music.
That and I need friends.
But somehow, for any guy with
a guitar, there are countless girls.
Frank Sinatra started it Elvis and the
Beatles likewise enjoyed the fruits of
groupiedom. As I walked away from
the T-shirt table, a halter-topped babe
took my place right away. Groupies are
working against terrible odds. So the
question arises of what is so gratifying
about the company of musicians.
For me, it's not the tight pants. The
music has something to do with it —
ideally it is good. But what is really so
attractive about guitarists, drummers
and even cellists, is the fact that these
men (and women) have a craft they
are truly passionate about. When they
strum their guitars and bite their lips
in concentration, the burning coals
of creative intensity are alive in their
eyes. It's hot.
Nikki Metzgaris a Baker College sen io r
and Arts and Entertainment editor.
From page 9
The stumbling soliloquies of
"Dear Mom" and "Love, Janis" are
rarely interrupted, and only by
an anonymous interviewer (Paul
Hope) — done in voiceover that is
far from subtle.
The questions are not unreason-
able ones for a journalist to ask of a
musician, but it is painfully obvious
that they are only asked to fill the holes
the letters leave out of her story. J anis'
relationship with the interviewer
evolves, beginning in deference
and progressing through a series of
scenes full of quippy wit and biting
resentment Ryan's last dialogue with
the interviewer, on the subject of Jimi
Hendrix's fatal overdose, is the most
poignant speech in the show.
The production's setting, and the
staging intended to capture it have
split personalities of their own. For-
tunately, the double-entendre gim-
micks unfold more smoothly than the
overarching dual-character concept
Norm Schwab's set design allows the
Janises to flow seamlessly from their
San Francisco apartment to a number
of stages around the country, and a
convenient projector screen invokes
the Golden Gate Bridge when it is off
duty from displaying a trippy blob of
psychedelic goo.
The production's
music captivates
viewers with a
psychedelic
SPLENDOR
that undoubtedly
saves the show
This impressionistic interpreta-
tion of Janis' movement around the
country is surprisingly effective, and
it helps the audience to suspend their
disbelief at imaginary props such as
the invisible dogs Ryan plays with
throughout the production. The
free-flowing set also reflects Janis'
meandering, not-all-there movement
through her musical career.
The successes of Love, Janis
belong to the show's production
crew and to its musicians' ability to
channel Janis' various bands with
eerie accuracy. Davies flaps around
her bands in a perfect reflection of
Janis' idiosyncratic stage persona,
and her guitarists (Ben Nieves, Eric
Massimino and Stephan Badreau)
and drummer Oim Wall) seamlessly
transition from their roles in Big
Brother and the Holding Company
to Janis' later backup artists, the
Kozmic Blues Band, making audi-
ences wish the performances were
just concerts in themselves.
But since the letter-writing Janis
is a much less accessible character
than the leather-and-feather siren of
the '60s stage, viewers' frustration
with the portrayal of the spoken-word
Janis might not be such a bad thing.
And if audiences can fight through
that frustration, they will be treated
to the best Janis Joplin cover band
they have ever heard.
Heath Ledger, 1979-2008
Heath Ledger's death caused
a ripple effect of shock and con-
fusion among Rice students on
Tuesday. Within hours of receiving
the news, many registered their
grief on Facebook. Even some who
were not serious Ledger fans dur-
ing his lifetime are affected by the
news, because his death is the first
among major actors of our genera-
tion's entertainment culture.
Fondly remembered as tough
and dreamy Patrick from 10 Things
I Hate About You and later in his
career, sensitive and grim Ennis
Del Mar in Brokeback Mountain,
Ledger's career transition reflects
in some ways our personal evolu-
tion over the past 10 years. His
characters appealed to both our
childish admiration for charming
foreign accents and our maturing
intellectual concern with relevant
social issues. For some, Ledger
was a first crush.
A favorite for many of us, Led-
ger did not rely on his increasing
popularity to become Hollywood's
next heartthrob. Instead he moved
onto more challenging film roles
including his latest as Bob Dylan
in the bio-pic I'm Not There. Movie
audiences can still expect to see
Ledger again in The Dark Knight,
the latest Batman installation due
out this summer.
Ledger's death reminds us that
even the young are not bulletproof,
and our generation certainly shows
that it regrets the loss of such a
promising artist as well as the loss
to his friends and family.
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1-25-08
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Well, that was impressive
He swam out through the broken
helmet, and re-bigulated himself
while holding his breath.
He was a so naked
Too bad really... This
suit is trashed Now
It s a shame, really, since now
nobody can even USE this one
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Whitfield, Stephen. The Rice Thresher, Vol. 95, No. 17, Ed. 1 Friday, January 25, 2008, newspaper, January 25, 2008; Houston, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth443110/m1/10/?rotate=90: accessed July 18, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu.; crediting Rice University Woodson Research Center.