So I wandered around the City by myself on foot and walked, oh, maybe four or five miles before I found the place I was supposed to meet my friends. Salt Lake has one of those numbered, north south east west grid type things that's supposed to be easy, but really isn't in the end. Anyhow, finally found this place called Orange, where they were doing a kind of spoken word free-form jazz thing that kind of bugged me right off the bat. I can't help being snobby about this stuff sometimes, besides, it just wasn't really all that good. It was kind of like an undergrad attempt at what somebody thought a beatnik gathering should be like, complete with a guy doing visuals by crumpling up paper and spitting on the face of an overhead projector. You can see him all the way to the left. Then, next to him, you've got a woman typing free form poetry on a typewriter while someone reads on stage and the brass is doing it's thing. It almost could've been a Saturday Night Live Skit. It was kind of like the Japanese version of baseball. They're trying very hard, and you can tell they're having a good time, but it's just not right. Thing was though, in their own right, they kind of puled it off. Once I got past the whole judgement thing, they were up there, doing their thing, and for that, I give them credit. So.. interesting, but I enjoyed my conversations with my friends in the other room more.
No comments:
Post a Comment