All posts by Sarah Crisman

About Brett McDonald

Brett

“The experiences and training I had at UNT have proved themselves indispensable in the post-graduation world of the music business. My teachers explained to me what was valued by contractors in the business, and prepared me for my time in New York City.”

-Brett McDonald on the University of North Texas Jazz program.

Where  were  you  born?

McDonald:  I  was  born  in  Calgary,  Alberta,  Canada  and  lived  there  most  of  my  life.  My  parents  were

from  the  surrounding  rural  areas  and  met  while  living  and  working  in  Calgary.

Where  do  you  live?

McDonald:  Currently  I’m  technically  homeless  -­  I’ve  been  a  touring  musician  since  December,  but  I like  to  say  that  I  live  in  New  York  City.  That’s  where  all  my  possessions  are  in  storage  and  where  I spent  the  few  months  before  I  left  for  tour.

What  were  you  like  at  school?

McDonald:  School  was  an  interesting  time  for  me,  but  has  definitely  been  very  valuable  in  developing my  personality.  In  grade  school  I  was  generally  quite  introverted  and  shy,  though  all  of  those  barriers came  down  in  performance.  Most  of  the  time  I  kept  to  myself  because  I  enjoyed  reading  non-­fiction books,  practicing  and  listening  to  music.  My  favourite  thing  to  do  was  pretty  hilarious  for  a  high  schooler -­  my  other  friends  would  look  forward  to  Friday  nights  as  an  opportunity  to  be  social  whereas  I  would want  to  watch  the  CBC’s (Canadian  Broadcasting  Corporation)  documentary  showcase  “The Passionate  Eye”.  It  would  show  award  winning  documentaries  from  all  over  the  world,  and  I  found  it  all fascinating.  I  still  had  my  social  activities  -­  I  was  actively  involved  in  playing  competitive  soccer, badminton  -­  many  sports  really.

University  was  a  sharp  shock  for  me.  I  had  never  intended  on  choosing  music  as  a  career  -­  I  had planned  on  going  to  the  University  of  Alberta  in  Edmonton  for  Pharmacology  -­  the  science  of  how pharmaceutical  drugs  interact  with  the  body.  In  my  mind  music  was  only  a  hobby,  and  pharmacology gave  me  an  opportunity  to  combine  my  talents  in  my  favourite  subjects:  Mathematics,  Chemistry  and Biology.  I  sent  off  my  audition  tapes  to  The  University  of  North  Texas  on  a  whim  fully  expecting  to  be rejected.  In  my  mind,  UNT  was  this  glass  tower  of  jazz  education,  I  could  view  from  the  outside  but  I would  never  get  accepted  -­  luckily  for  me,  I  was.  My  academics  were  strong  enough  that  I  received  a large  scholarship  and  suddenly  this  dream  became  a  reality.  Going  to  school  in  Texas  was  then  cheaper than  my  subsidized  education  in  Canada,  and  my  parents  and  I  decided  that  I  really  had  no  choice  -­  I must  go  pursue  this  dream.

Needless  to  say,  my  musical  education  up  to  that  point  didn’t  prepare  me  to  compete  against 120  saxophonists  for  45  spots,  and  initially  for  a  few  weeks  I  didn’t  even  place  in  an  ensemble.  It  was  a dark  time  that  I  look  back  on  fondly  now  -­  even  though  it  isn’t  fun  to  relive.  Starting  from  the  bottom has  made  me  appreciate  every  little  thing  that  I’ve  worked  for,  and  my  whole  post-­secondary education,  including  graduate  school  has  been  geared  towards  growing  up  and  away  the  shy  kid  who shut  himself  out  from  the  world  -­  my  musical  and  interpersonal  experience  from  university  has  been responsible  for  that  transformation.

How  did  you  get  into  making  music?

McDonald:  My  parents  and  grandparents  all  casually  played  musical  instruments  -­  my  Mom  and Grandmother  played  piano,  my  father  played  piano  and  trumpet.  By  the  time  I  started  playing  piano when  I  was  7  years  old  my  brother  had  already  started  playing  the  trumpet.  I  actually  remember  the  first time  I  learned  a  song.  I  wanted  to  surprise  my  brother,  Reid,    on  his  10th  birthday,  so  I  decided  that  I was  going  to  learn  how  to  play  Happy  Birthday  on  the  piano.  I  figured  it  out  by  ear  (with  a  pinch  of  help from  Dad)  and  played  it  for  him  at  his  party  for  Reid  and  all  of  his  friends.  I  vaguely  remember  being volun-­told  into  piano  lessons  a  few  weeks  afterwards.  I  hated  the  lessons  and  eventually  quit  in  the  5th grade  after  completing  nearly  half  of  the  Royal  Conservatory  piano  curriculum.  It  is  one  of  those frustrating  decisions  that  I  made  in  youthful  ignorance  of  my  future,  but  at  least  the  foundation  was  there for  future  musical  development.  At  the  time,  I  was  so  bored  by  the  practice  of  scales,  and  since  music was  a  hobby  at  the  time,  not  the  media  of  creative  expression  it  is  now,  I  was  only  into  it  for  fun! Practicing  monotonously  for  hours  on  the  same  patterns  was  as  mind-­numbing  as  the  repetitive  math problems  I  was  assigned  at  school.

What  instruments do you play?

McDonald:  I  play  several  instruments.  As  a  woodwind  performer  I  play  saxophones,  flutes  and clarinets.  I  have  since  rekindled  my  interest  in  the  piano,  though  it  isn’t  an  instrument  I  regularly  perform on.  I’ve  dabbled  in  brass  instruments  in  grade  school,  playing  trumpet  and  trombone,  and  a  little  bit  of drums.  I’m  of  the  belief  that  having  a  fundamental  understanding  of  all  the  instruments,  even  if  it  is elementary,  is  crucial  for  performing,  directing  and  composing  effectively.  There  are  some  things  that  are particularly  tricky  to  play  on  a  saxophone,  for  example,  that  are  easy  to  play  on  a  piano  or  guitar.  If  I want  to  have  my  music  performed  well,  I  need  to  prepare  it  in  a  manner  that  makes  it  as  easy  as possible  for  other  artists  to  recreate.

Recently,  I’ve  been  exploring  the  computer  as  an  effective  instrument.  I’ve  been  working  with Ableton  Live,  a  MIDI  sequencer,  to  learn  about  all  the  options  available  for  music  making.  Electronic music  comes  with  it’s  own  aesthetics,  which  in  my  opinion  was  born  less  out  of  the  active  attempt  to formulate  a  “genre”,  but  the  limits  and  boundaries  of  the  instruments  used.  For  example,  making repetitive  beats  and  samples  is  really  easy,  as  well  as  combining  different  phrase  lengths,  key  centers and  new  textures  previously  unheard  (the  womp-­womp-­womp  of  dubstep,  for  example,  is  a  creative use  of  a  dynamic  range  compressor  and  an  effect  called  side-­chaining,  which  uses  the  signal  from another  track  as  a  type  of  switch).  Some  of  these  things  are  intuitive  and  simple  to  create  in  the computer,  but  are  extraordinarily  difficult  to  perform  with  live  musicians  and  instruments.  I  find  it fascinating  just  to  explore!

Do  you  write  your  own  music?

McDonald:  Absolutely.  I  feel  like  writing,  composing  and  performing  your  own  music  is  a  key  to developing  yourself  as  an  artist.  Not  only  do  you  get  a  familiarity  with  basically  all  of  the  musical principles,  you  get  to  play  with  what  is  effective.  When  you  are  at  the  helm,  you  can  claim  complete ownership  over  the  final  product.  A  producer,  guide,  or  mentor  may  make  suggestions,  but  ultimately you  took  the  time  to  manifest  any  of  those  ideas.  That  kind  of  propriety  over  the  musical  decisions  is important  and  makes  you  unique  -­  because  no  one  will  ever  make  the  same  decisions  as  you  at  the same  time,  in  the  same  order.

Mostly,  I’ve  written  for  jazz  ensembles  -­  instrumental  music  from  duos  to  full  18  piece  big  band. Nearly  all  the  recognition  I’ve  gotten  has  been  for  my  big  band  writing.  A  piece  of  mine,  “The  Beat  In Progress”  received  a  composition  prize  from  the  Jazz  Education  Network,  as  well  as  an  ASCAP  Young Jazz  Composer’s  Award.  The  appeal  of  big  band  for  me  has  been  the  dynamic  range  and  textural diversity.  My  goal  with  writing  music  is  to  induce  specific  sensations,  mostly  frisson  and  autosomal sensory  meridian  response (ASMR),  and  big  band  thus  far  has  been  the  instrumentation  that  can  really get  that  response  from  me  most  consistently.

Writing  is  also  a  very  engaging  activity,  it  uses  up  all  of  your  musical,  psychological  and  intellectual sensibilities.  Whether  you  are  planning  out  the  form  of  the  tune,  the  harmony,  the  dynamic  contour  or  the establishment  and  deviation  of  expectations,  you  must  have  developed  a  keen  intuition  for  how  people will  respond  emotionally  to  the  effects  you  use,  as  well  as  what  must  be  done  to  prepare  any  sort  of craft-­based  technical  construct  into  a  musical  “moment”  that  causes  goosebumps.  There’s  lots  of  trial and  error  and  hair  pulling,  but  it  is  absolutely  worth  it.  If  you  do  it  right,  and  do  it  for  yourself,  every  time you  hear  your  own  music  played  at  a  high  level,  you  can  initiate  those  euphoric  feelings  -­  after  all,  who knows  better  on  how  to  trigger  those  responses  in  yourself,  than  yourself?

Who  have  you  worked  with  production  wise?

McDonald:  I’ve  only  been  out  of  school  around  10  months  at  this  point,  so  most  of  my  work  has  been worked  with  my  teachers  at  various  schools.  At  Rutgers  University  I  worked  with  Conrad  Herwig, Ralph  Bowen,  Victor  Lewis,  Mark  Gross,  Frank  Lacy,  Joe  Magnarelli,  Charles  Tolliver,  Stanley Cowell.  I  also  started  meeting  some  of  the  best  that  New  York  City  has  to  offer:  performing  in  a masterclass  for  Chris  Potter,  performing  in  Jazz  Ensemble  with  Lead  Trumpet  phenom  Tanya  Darby, studying  Jazz  Historiography  with  the  Coltrane  historian  Lewis  Porter.  Each  and  every  one  of  these people  have  influenced  me  in  ways  that  I  struggle  to  put  words  to.  A  stand  out  from  my  time  at  Rutgers is  definitely  Ralph  Bowen,  who  isn’t  the  most  well  known  musician  outside  of  the  upper  echelon  of players,  but  has  to  be  the  most  knowledgeable  persons  I  have  ever  met.    He  was  able  to  make  every lesson  engaging  and  rewarding,  and  has  been  a  huge  inspiration.

At  UNT,  I  was  able  to  work  with  Brad  Leali,  Jim  Riggs,  Jay  Saunders,  Paris  Rutherford,  Steve Wiest,  Stefan  Karlsson,  Lynn  Seaton,  Mike  Steinel.  A  veritable  stable  of  thoroughbred  pedagogues. Each  one  has  their  own  specific  influences  and  pushed  me  in  different  directions,  which  was  one  of  the reasons  I  actively  sought  out  an  experience  like  UNT,  where  my  focus  would  be  on  growth  and diversifying  my  abilities.  A  stand  out,  however,  has  to  be  Paris  Rutherford,  and  his  adjunct  professor  at the  time,  Akira  Sato.  They  were  the  ones  that  got  me  writing,  and  at  just  the  right  time!  I  probably would  have  in  my  junior  year  without  their  guidance  and  encouragement.  Developing  an  individual  voice as  a  writer  was  so  intuitive  under  their  direction.

How  would  you  describe  your  sound?

McDonald:  An  artist’s  sound  is  something  that  is  really  difficult  to  pin  down,  in  my  opinion  -­  especially when  referring  to  myself.  Personally,  I  think  sound  is  defined  by  the  expressive  limits  of  the  artist  at  the time  of  creation,  which  a  lot  of  times  is  reflective  mostly  of  the  expressive  range  of  the  artist  as  well  as the  environment  the  work  is  created  in.    Another  way  to  say  that  is  an  artist’s  voice  is  defined  by  their humanistic  imperfections.  For  me,  there  are  countless  limitations  that  I’m  constantly  working  on,  and most  of  them  fall  into  a  technical  category  that  may  be  difficult  to  describe  to  the  lay-­person.

I  can  say  that  my  writing  tends  to  fall  in  contemporary  sounding  categories,  as  I  try  to  blend  in as  many  components  of  modern  music  as  possible.  Electronic  genres  like  Jungle  and  Drum’n’bass  and the  quality  of  fast  paced,  heart  thumping  drive  is  definitely  present  in  my  music,  but  then  at  other  times, sometimes  the  same  time,  we  have  the  textural  colour  palate  of  orchestrators  like  Maria  Schneider, Percy  Grainger  etc  -­  evocative  of  deep  seated  expressions.  My  best  analogue  is  to  describe  a  diverse artist  or  group,  my  example  being  Queen.  How  does  that  group  sound?  They  perform  in  countless different  styles,  with  hits  stemming  from  Rap,  Swing,  Bossa  Nova,  Country  -­  countless  genres  really.

If  I  had  to  define  my  voice  within  the  limits  of  words,  I  would  say  that  it  is  reflective    of  human expression,  especially  of  the  age.  There  is  a  very  unsettling  quality  to  the  harmony  I  use,  which  vastly differs  in  quality  to  the  largely  singable  and  “happy”  melodies  that  I  write.  The  whole  mixture  of  our prejudices,  preconceptions  and  definitions  of  what  makes  a  sad  song,  a  happy  song,  a  weird  song  is fascinating  to  me  and  reminiscent  of  Cole  Porter  and  Antonio  Carlos  Jobim-­  who  are  famous  among musicians  for  these  contradictions.

What  are  your  primary  musical  influences?

McDonald:  This  is  tough  to  describe  -­  the  components  of  what  have  gone  into  what  I  currently perform  are  primarily  saxophonists  and  jazz  musicians.  Michael  Brecker  was  an  enormous  influence,  as was  the  obvious  Charlie  Parker  and  John  Coltrane.  Cannonball  Adderley,  Kenny  Garrett,  Paul Desmond,  Sonny  Stitt,  Dick  Oatts,  Earl  Bostic,  Art  Pepper,  Jan  Garbarek,  Rick  Margitza,  Bob  Berg, Bob  Mintzer.  Each  has  their  own  aesthetic  that  can  be  learned  and  imitated,  but  never  copied.  The process  was  important  because  it  developed  my  aesthetic  sensibilities  for  different  goals  -­  whether  it  be a  lighter  sound,  h

heftier  sound,  harmonically  dense,  lyrical,  rhythmic,  etc.  The  goal  was  to  explore  all  of the  possibilities  and  let  my  subconscious  personality  take  over  and  prioritize.  I  also  explored  other instrumentalists,  trumpeters  Freddie  Hubbard,  Clifford  Brown,  Ingrid  Jensen,  Louis  Armstong;;  pianists Chick  Corea,  McCoy  Tyner,  Robert  Glasper,  Oscar  Peterson,  Bill  Evans;;  Guitarists  Kurt  Rosenwinkel, Charlie  Christian,  Jimi  Hendrix.

If  I  had  to  describe  who  I’m  most  similar  to,  I’d  have  to  say  a  combination  of  Dick  Oatts, Kenny  Garrett,  Charlie  Parker  and  Paul  Desmond.  Keep  in  mind  that  I’ve  stolen  artistic  sensibilities from  all  of  them,  so  my  tone  may  be  most  similar  to  Kenny  Garrett,  but  my  rhythmic  concept  may  be more  similar  to  Dick  Oatts,  and  my  melodic  ideas  to  Paul  Desmond.

Compositionally,  I’m  a  little  easier  to  track.  Most  of  my  melodic  and  harmonic  ideas  come  from the  work  of  Wayne  Shorter  -­  my  favourite  jazz  composer.  Orchestration  wise,  Percy  Grainger  holds  a very  special  place  in  my  heart,  as  well  as  John  Adams,  Steve  Reich,  Maria  Schneider.  The  electronic music  of  Aphex  Twin,  Deadmau5,  Daft  Punk  have  also  been  influences  and  for  big  band  the  writing  of Thad  Jones,  Bob  Brookmeyer,  Chuck  Owen,  Vince  Mendoza,  Jim  McNeely,  among  others,  have  been very  important  in  developing  my  big  band  voice.

What  did  you  grow  up  listening  to?

McDonald:  I  definitely  departed  from  the  popular  tastes  of  my  peers  at  an  early  age.  I  remember listening  to  a  huge  diversity  of  classic  rock  -­  an  influence  of  my  dad,  and  a  lot  of  early  grunge  -­  an influence  of  mostly  my  brother.  Nirvana,  Soundgarden,  Pearl  Jam  were  constantly  being  played  and  I grew  a  strong  affinity  towards  that  sound,  though  I  was  younger  than  10  years  old  and  had  no  context for  what  it  was  supposed  to  represent.  In  fact,  most  of  my  affinities  for  music  are  largely  unrelated  to  the supposed  intentions  of  the  artists  -­  I  was  far  more  fascinated  with  my  own  interpretations  and  feelings than  what  the  composer  or  lyricist  was  trying  to  convey.  That  was  a  curious  quality  about  art  that  I grasped  at  an  early  age.  Creativity  is  cathartic  for  the  artist,  but  the  end  result  most  often  acts  as  a  mirror to  our  own  souls  as  audience  members  as  opposed  to  a  window  into  the  soul  of  the  creator.

I  got  hooked  on  jazz  and  instrumental  music  pretty  quickly.  I  bought  “The  Jimi  Hendrix Experience”  when  I  was  11  years  old,  and  picked  up  the  saxophone  shortly  afterwards.  I  quickly  dove into  the  world  of  jazz,  and  the  rest  is  history.  My  study  of  saxophonists  continues  to  this  day  -­  there  are several  musicians  with  extraordinarily  unique  approaches  to  the  instrument  and  the  music  that  may  not have  the  same  historical  exposure  as  a  iconoclast  like  Coltrane  or  Charlie  Parker.

Do  you  come  from  a  musical  family?

McDonald:  Nearly  everyone  in  my  family  plays  a  musical  instrument,  at  least  casually.  Music  was constantly  playing  in  the  house,  though  by  the  time  high  school  came  around  that  was  mostly  due  to  my practicing  and  listening  habits.  Music  was  considered  so  important  to  our  family  because  it  is  an expressive  activity  that  teaches  many,  many  of  life’s  lessons.  In  many  ways,  practicing  and  performing helped  me  deal  with  bullying,  stress,  and  the  many  emotions  that  pass  through  a  young  person’s  mind.  I also  was  able  to  derive  confidence  through  the  ability  to  do  something  really  well  -­  playing  saxophone. Studying  a  technical  skill,  such  as

instrument  does  wonders  for  self  esteem,  and  I  think  that  was  the main  goal,  if  anything,  of  my  parent’s  continued  push  to  perform  music.

What  do  you  enjoy  most  about  what  you  do?

McDonald:  Currently,  I’m  playing  saxophone  and  flute  on  the  international  tour  of  “Dreamgirls”,  and the  best  part  of  this  experience  is  the  opportunity  to  travel  across  the  continent,  and  out  to  Japan  in August  of  this  year.  I  get  to  spend  my  free  time  with  wonderfully  talented  people,  and  see  parts  of  the world  I  would  normally  pass  over.  At  the  end  of  the  North  American  leg,  there  will  only  be  4  states  out of  50  that  I  have  not  visited  and  performed  in  -­  something  most  Americans  don’t  get  a  chance  to  do, especially  something  a  Canadian  would  rarely  do.

In  terms  of  writing  and  performing  my  own  music,  I  think  the  most  enjoyable  aspect  has  to  be the  study  portion.  I  listen  to  all  sorts  of  types  of  musics,  and  analyze  what  I  hear  into  manageable  chunks that  I  can  combine  together  in  a  manner  that  works  best  to  get  a  response  out  of  me.  When  you  finally hear  the  fruits  of  all  your  labor,  and  your  music  hits  that  climax  you  planned  out  weeks  ago  on  a  napkin at  a  bar,  the  chills  running  down  your  spine  and  out  to  your  fingertips  is  all  I  need  to  continue  on  the  path I  have  been  on.  The  euphoria  is  addictive,  even  though  the  process  at  times  can  be  extraordinarily painful.

What  makes  you  different  to  the  current  wave  of  artists?

McDonald:  I  think    one  of  the  biggest  differentiating  factors  between  myself  and  the  current  wave  of popular  artists  is  my  education.  There  is  a  large  group  of  people  who  feel  like  education  has  hindered their  creativity,  but  I  felt  like  education  was  the  key  to  a  wider  expressive  range.  The  popular  artists  I enjoy  usually  have  enlisted  the  assistance  of  highly  educated  or  experienced  individuals  to  help  them bring  their  artistic  vision  to  life.  My  best  example  is  Quincy  Jones,  a  talented  jazz  trumpeter  and arranger,  who  brought  his  musical  sensibilities  -­  through  decades  of  experience  -­  to  the  ears  of  millions on  the  records  of  Michael  Jackson.    The  principles  he  learned  writing  big  band  charts  for  the  Count

Basie  Band  are  present  in  his  work  as  a  producer,  and  I  believe  it  can  be  heard  and  felt  -­  and  your layperson  recognizes  it,  but  struggle  to  define  it  since  they  don’t  have  the  education  to  apply  technical labels  to  what  they  are  hearing.  Those  labels,  as  arbitrary  as  they  might  seem,  are  of  huge  assistance  in bringing  ideas  to  life.  I  feel  like  with  my  education,  I  have  been  taught  to  create,  recognize  and communicate  labels  in  an  effective  way  to  get  my  ideas  across  -­  and  more  importantly  than  anything, I’ve  gained  insight  into  the  learning  process.  Learning  is  so  crucial  to  stay  on  top  of  what  is  new, because  as  an  artist,  one  has  to  have  the  capacity  to  evolve  with  the  changing  times  in  order  to  be relevant.

What  would  you  do  if  you  weren’t  doing  music?

McDonald:  I  mentioned  this  before,  but  it  is  likely  that  I  would  be  pursuing  a  career  in  the pharmacology  field.  The  maximalist  attitude  of  the  discipline  is  what  draws  me  to  it,  still  to  this  day.  I also  feel  like  it  would  be  an  excellent  career  in  which  to  be  creative,  as  the  whole  industry  is  based  upon innovation.  I  would  be  spending  hours  pouring  over  research,  trying  to  find  the  unexplored  -­  much  like  I do  currently  on  my  instrument.

Dreamgirls is still touring the United States, finishing June 9th in Dayton, OH. The remaining tour dates can be found athttp://www.dreamgirlsontheroad.com/ and the production opens in Tokyo on July 29th.

Contact:
Brett McDonald
brett.mcdonald@gmail.com

   

OffBeat News: LGBT Special

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Celebrating Harvey Milk Day with a look at the week’s victories and challenges in LGBT news.  Music provided by G Koop & O-man (featuring Lush One, P Funk All Stars Jerome Rodgers and Kim Manning, plus Eastside Lock).

Written by Sarah Crisman.  Theme music and engineering by Graham Richards (BMI).

Direct download.  

Subscribe on iTunes.

Listening while you drive?  Add us to your Stitcher Favorites Playlist.

Follow us on Twitter: @CrismanRichards @grichardsbros @gkoopoman

Live at Mynah Music

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I saw myself in the window and just couldn’t resist.

This week, we gathered in a cozy Oakland conservatory to interview special guests Graham Richards (Piano, Yeah!) and Dan Duval (Portland Jazz Composers Ensemble).  Special thanks to Elisabeth Johnson and Patrick Liddell of Mynah Music.

Music by G Koop & O-man.  Engineering and theme music by Graham Richards.

Hosted by Sarah Crisman.

Direct Download

Subscribe on iTunes

Follow us on Twitter: @sarah_crisman @grichardsbros @gkoopoman

Fascination of Plants

Dr Rajnish Khanna.  Photograph by Graham Richards.

Dr Rajnish Khanna and Sarah Crisman. Photograph by Graham Richards.

Art and science collide as Dr Rajnish Khanna joins us on the program to discuss the International Fascination of Plants Day celebration in Livermore, California (May 18, 2013).

Music by G Koop and O-man.  Theme music and engineering by Graham Richards.

Direct Download.

Subscribe on iTunes.

Add us to your favorite Stitcher Playlist.

Find us on Facebook and Twitter.

TCS Podcast | Blackout

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Blackout podcasting ghost stories by candlelight.

Lights out!  Tonight we broadcast from a conveniently-timed rolling blackout (thanks, Apogee).  Grab a cuppa tea and some s’mores and have a listen to our candlelit ghost stories from my ancestral home of Muncaster Castle in Tom Fool and the Ill-Fated Loversthen stay tuned for Public Dick: The Rootin’ Tootin’ Adventures of Rick Perry.  

Sexy musical interludes by G Koop and O-man, featuring Sayknowledge.  

Come on out and see us sometime:

Graham Richards Live | Tuesdays at Double Barrel Wine Bar (Livermore)

Crisman’s Comedy Soundcheck | Thursdays (Livermore)

G Koop & O-man Live | First Fridays at The Legionnaire Saloon (Oakland)

The Crisman Show Live with Graham Richards & Dan Duval | Friday, May 10 at Mynah Music (Oakland)

Special thanks to Dr Bethany Poston, Sayknowledge, Elisabeth Johnson, and Anthony Caruso. 

Direct Download

Now Available on iTunes and Stitcher Radio

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Follow me on Twitter: @sarah_crisman

We are syndicated and easier to subscribe to than ever before.  Check out all our episodes from Blanketfort Studio on your favorite gadget.  Add us to your favorite Stitcher Playlist for weekly updates, or go for an old fashioned iTunes subscription.  Either way is free and we’ll find our way through the microphone to your ears.  

This week’s episode, Husbands, features a new segment gathering the secrets to lasting love from our favorite married gay men (including a swinging theme song by Graham Richards, naturally).  Plus Off Beat News explores whether or not American history is ready for equality.  

Slick beats provided by G Koop and O-man.

Special thanks to Jane Espenson, Justin Chavirra, Loch Cook, and James Parker.

Thanks for listening!

Subscribe on iTunes

Like us on Facebook  

The Crisman Show Podcast: Minions

Follow our adventures on Instagram @crismanshow.

Follow our adventures on Instagram @crismanshow.

 

 

Comedian Sarah Crisman offers political commentary and creative activist news to a banging instrumental hip-hop soundtrack by G Koop & O-man.

Written and produced by Sarah Crisman. Theme music and engineering by Graham Richards (BMI). Music by G Koop and O-man (RM Moods and Colors, BMI) featuring Lincoln Adler and Marianne Thompson. For licensing information contact Rob@gkoop.comor visit GKoopandOman.com.

Find us on Facebook.

Special thanks to Kyle Harris.

 

 

The Crisman Show Podcast: Coots

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Comedian Sarah Crisman offers political commentary and pop culture essays punctuated by instrumental hip-hop.

Written and produced by Sarah Crisman. Theme music and engineering by Graham Richards (BMI). Music by G Koop and O-man (RM Moods and Colors, BMI) featuring Taylor Eigsti. For licensing information contact Rob@gkoop.com or visit GKoopandOman.com.

For more stories, podcasts, and video episodes visit crismanshow.com.

Special thanks to Dr Bethany Poston.

Shattered Reflection 

A parallel interpretation of Katy Perry’s “Wide Awake” music video with events unfolding in my own life.  

 Since moving to California, I find myself listening to a lot of Katy Perry.  For years I have followed her career with a fascination generally reserved for mirrors and her majesty, the Queen.  I miss my best friend, Bethany, and I don’t really have any California girl friends yet.  I wind up alone quite a bit, inflicting dance parties on my step-dogs in an effort to girl up my new home.  Do you know how frustrating it is to live in San Francisco without your Gays?  They don’t come around every day, you know.  Spectacular friendships like that take time to cultivate.  On top of which,the cross-country move triggered my debilitating social anxiety disorder.  What I’m trying to say is I spend more time at home watching Katy Perry videos than I do going out around people.  I am developing a keen understanding of California culture.  I see myself in her miniature films, in particular, “Wide Awake.”

After going through the looking glass, Katy arrives before an eerie labyrinth.  Reflecting on my own life, I look at the gothic maze and see my emotional transition to California.  Beyond the dark walls lies a sunlit hill.  As soon as she enters, the walls begin closing in on her — only, rather than be crushed, Katy draws on her inner-strength and summons the same kind of golden pyrotechnics we saw in her “Firework” video and that I have seen in dreams and meditation for years.  Sparks shoot from her hands and her heart, specifically.  Imagery I’ve seen dance across my fantasies for years — brilliant flames igniting from my own hands and heart..  The walls retreat.  This, my friends, is what a panic attack feels like.  In fact, if it weren’t for my daily devotion to meditation and Katy Perry, I would be in a constant state of panic.

The walls part, revealing Katy as her Former Self — Kiddie Perry, if you will.  Kiddie Perry helps guide her grown-up self through her perilous voyage — and even helps save her with a commanding stomp. Never underestimate the power of nostalgia.

While trapped in a mirror of paparazzi, Katy’s fantasy world begins to crumble behind her.  She pushes through the glass in time but is left debilitated, confined to a wheelchair and unable to defend herself.  Kiddie Perry steps up in swift defense, abolishing the critical minotaurs standing in her way.  Katy wakes up and they make a run for the end of the labyrinth.  The walls peel away to reveal a dazzle of sunlight now chasing the darkness to reveal a lush green landscape not unlike the valley I live in today.

The Katies Perry high five and share a hug.  True to many meditations, Katy’s guide places a keepsake in her doppelganger’s hand as they part ways.  In this case, a butterfly signifying her innocence and bravery.  The gift is meant to impart the wisdom of the journey together.  To remember how far you have come and what you learned along the way.  It is a souvenir of possibility.

The final scene pans out from the butterfly in Katy’s open hand.  She is back in her dressing room, this time backstage before a show.  Here we have an internal representation of the most powerful moment from her documentary, Part of Me.  Her marriage to Russell Brand fell to pieces over the course of this film.  It is gut-wrenching, especially considering we love Russell Brand as much as we love Katy Perry.  There is a reason Royals shouldn’t split.  Katy is weeping in her makeup chair and removes her wedding ring.  At this point in the 3D movie theater, Bethany and I humiliate my son with our emotional display.  We cannot keep it together.  But my younger self, Katy Perry, can.  Thousands of Brazilians are waiting to see her.  She pulls it together and is lifted on stage.  The arena fills with love.

When I feel defeated and frightened, I listen to Katy Perry.  I remember her strength.  I remember my own.  I pull it together and lift myself to the stage.

The Crisman Show Podcast: Silent Applause

Comedian Sarah Crisman offers political commentary, audio essays, and interviews laced with Bay Area hip-hop.

This week, Crisman sits down with Oakland producers G Koop, O-man, and Anthony Caruso — masterminds to all the sounds heard on this program.

Written and Produced by Sarah Crisman
Produced and Engineered by Graham Richards

Recorded at Blanketfort Studios, California. Themes by Graham Richards (BMI). Other music by G Koop & O-man, ©2012 RM Moods & Colors (BMI), “Lige”, “Juice” featuring Blush, Foreign Legion, DJ Toure, DJ Platurn; “Guitar Jam” featuring Jerome Rodgers. Kim Manning, and The Mastrs. For licensing information, contact Rob@gkoop.com.

For more visit gkoopandoman.com

 

Jack Benny

Jack Benny

“Silent Applause”

The sound of my little sister’s breath deepens.  She always fall asleep before me.  The chow chow next door barks again.  I think about the creepy image of a little girl staring saucer eyed into the darkness and shut my eyes tight.  I roll over toward the drafty window as the wind swirls through the tall pine trees surrounding our street.  I reach my arm between the bed and the wall and grab the handle to the pink boom box my Mom gave me for my 8th birthday.  The plastic scrapes along the wall, knocking a bit of plaster loose.  My sister lets out a tiny snore.  I hold still then carefully pull the radio under my Strawberry Shortcake pillow.  My fingers navigate the dial in the darkness.  I make sure the volume is at zero before clicking the power on.

Bringing the sound up a single notch, Diana Ross sings a muffled melody through the pillow to my waiting ears.  I imagine myself on stage with the Supremes.  The station cuts to commercial.  I edge the dial through the static along less satisfying channels and long distance dedications.  I know every station by ear. Oldies. Classic Rock. Love songs.  Jazz. Pausing on a big band at the edge of the dial, I remember it is Sunday and immediately flip the switch to AM.  More static.  I turn the volume down and ease the knob silently to the general vicinity of WBBM.  AM stations are better for Golden Age programming as they operate on the preferred wavelength of World War II veterans and odd, insomniac children.

Talk radio and Tejano crackle by as I nimbly hone in along one edge of my fingertip to the other.  My deft ears are rewarded with trumpeting fanfare as the voice of Don Wilson announces: “The Jack Benny Program!”

Applause.

I close my eyes and listen to the great miser’s familiar quips and the space between every laugh.  Jack Benny’s poignant pause.  The longer his silence between subdued jokes, the louder the audience laughs.  I am tickled by Mr Benny’s indignant banter with Fred Allen and wonder what the audience got to see that I cannot.  Something is terribly funny.  Even Mary Livingston is breaking through her lines — and she’s married to him!  Jack lets out an exasperated “Now cut that out!”

My own laugh escapes into the darkness.  I broke.  I slap my hand over my mouth and listen to my sister mutter incoherently and turn over under her quilt.  I mute the radio until I am sure she is fully asleep.  A car rolls into the gravel driveway next door and I bring the show up to an audible yet undisturbing level, just in time for a Lucky Strike cigarette spot.  I close my eyes and drift off to sleep to the smooth sophistication of 1947 advertising.

Jack Benny grew up in Chicagoland, only an hour away from where I was growing up.  We were both on the skirts of the Second City.  I wonder if he longed for the city as much as I did, ever searching the horizon for the towering skyline.  Jack Benny’s Chicago was shorter than mine.  The city taught him vaudeville.  I learned improvisation.  We gravitated to the stage.  My great grandfather was a vaudevillian in those days.  I wonder if they ever met and if Dr Clutterhouse was as mean to Jack Benny as he had been to me.  The historical overlap inspired me to one day write my own vaudevillian character, Dr Clusterfuck.

Jack Benny’s sidekick, Rochester is my favorite character; played by an astute, seemingly flustered Eddie Anderson.  Unlike many black supporting characters of the time, Rochester was a regular member of the fictional household of Benny — and actually black. Benny treated Rochester as a partner rather than hired domestic, writing Anderson’s character to subtly transcend racial stereotype.  This conscientious equal treatment on the show is clear during World War II episodes when Benny pays frequent tribute to the diversity of Americans drafted into military service.

After the war, when the depths of Nazi racism and hatred were seen, Benny made a conscious effort to remove the stereotypical aspects of the Rochester character. In 1948, it became apparent to Benny how much times had evolved when a 1941 script for “The Jack Benny Program” was re-used for the show one week. The script included mention of several African-American stereotypes— for example, a reference to Rochester carrying a razor— and prompted a number of listeners to send in angry letters protesting the stereotypes. Thereafter, Benny insisted that his writers make sure that no racial jokes or references be heard on his show. Benny also often gave key guest-star appearances to African-American performers such as Louis Armstrong and The Ink Spots.

I would have never pursued a life in radio had it not been for Jack Benny.  Though we were not alive at the same time, we followed a parallel path.  In one episode he talks about his first live performance playing violin on Market and Taylor, less than two miles from where I first stepped on to a San Francisco stage.  Jack Benny’s influence over my ear remains in tact thanks to Netflix, Spotify, and Stitcher radio.  You’d be hard pressed to know what year it is if you passed through my mind today.  I have my show.  I have my stage.  Now all I need is my Rochester.

The Crisman Show Podcast: Petionnaire

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We’ve evolved to a properly written program.  Inspired by these new surroundings and my voracious news-addiction, I am putting my writing chops to the test to bring you a fresh, thoughtful program every week.  Graham is by my side with G Koop & O-man providing musical accompaniment to rival The Roots.  As always, I promise to make every episode better than the last.  Thank you for listening.  Here is this week’s audio essay for your eyeball reading pleasure.

 

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Nerd Lady Awry: SF Sketchfest 2013

Every laugh lead to this moment.  For 12 years, the deepest nerds in the comedy industry have gathered in San Francisco for the mother of comedy festivals, SF Sketchfest — a triumph of talent and endearing crowds standing in applause for days on end.  Three weeks into my new life in the promised land, I stood shoulder-to-shoulder with a troupe of enthusiastic volunteers, smiling maniacally as Kenneth on 30 Rock.  I just love comedy so much.

SF Sketchfest welcomes seasoned veterans and bright-eyed rubes like myself in a playful bond united by the joy of laughter — Pure laughter filling 26 venues across our Beloved San Francisco.  Between green room hospitality and directing fan traffic, my own laughter laced into a fraction of these programs.  I stepped into my element in service to my heroes.

My first assignment:  Drew Carey Presents The Midnight Show at Eureka Theater.  When given the chance I believe it important to communicate a champion’s influence over one’s life in the least sociopathic way possible.  I have personally thanked President Obama for inspiring me to great things and Stevie Wonder for existing.  Drew Carey is no exception.  When Drew Carey first appeared on Johnny Carson, his stand up set made me laugh until Orange Fanta came out my nose.  The other girls at the slumber party found this hilarious.  They weren’t even paying attention to the television.  I made them laugh because Drew Carey made me laugh.  In that moment I experienced the surprising cycle of being tickled and getting a laugh.  Simultaneous horror and delight.  I was hooked.  21 years later I stood over a box of empty beer bottles thanking Drew Carey for sparking me into life in comedy.  He thanked me earnestly and told me the toilet in the green room wasn’t flushing.

The California Academy of Sciences proved to be an overwhelming rush of energy as hundreds of Nerdists descended upon Golden Gate Park in a swirling mass of Tig enthusiasts and Proop Kittens.  I confess I find it a challenge keeping my shit together around Greg Proops.  His esoterism is as close to religion as I care venture.  Though we met last year in Hollywood, I still broke into a full-on, immediate ass sweat the moment he appeared vampire-like at my side.  Serendipitously, I was in the middle of a wildly animated discussion with SF Sketchfest founder, Janet Varney, when the Smartest Man in the World popped up out of nowhere.  When I told Janet my story, she said they built Sketchfest for me.  Our kindred passion and determination born of a deep commitment to the art of live comedy had lead us to this very moment.  It was this precise moment that Greg Proops materialized at my side.  Flop sweat.  Startling hug.  Comics, in general, are not a huggy-bunch.  But there I was enveloped in Greg Proops.  He remembered me from numerous fan Tweets, my email two days earlier, and excessive reminders detailing the first time we met.  Poor Mr Proops labored graciously under the tyranny of my affection as I stood in silent panic until he asked me the way to the Green Room.  Follow Janet, I said.

The remainder of my evening was a roving blur of jellyfish and happy fans attending podcast tapings and all star stand up sets in various corners of the world class museum.  I carried one other thank you note tucked into my lady business jacket.  A fart joke on fancy paper scrawled addressed to Chris Hardwick, the leader of the Nerdist world himself.  After fulfilling my volunteer responsibilities and wandering star-eyed through the aquarium, I caught his stand up set in the Piazza then nipped to the Green Room to say goodnight to my Lovely Lady Crush, Janet.  As I passed through the security checkpoint I saw Mr Hardwick in nearby conversation and immediately pretended to check my phone.  Really I was curving the alarming spike in my heart rate, wiping my clammy palms against my skirt and ironing out the fine stationery now subtly shaped by my breasts.  As he broke in my direction, I slipped right into his line of sight.

“I wrote you a fan letter.”  I said, presenting the ivory card in the least creepy way I could muster.

“You did?” He said with a satisfying amount of genuine surprise.

“Yes, well, your work has shaped my career; so, thanks.”

“I’m going to read the shit out of this!”

I introduced myself and took no more of his time.

“I’ll see you around.”  I said and fucked off into the night, thus marking myself as a wee blip on the Nerdist radar.

“Yes,” he said.  “I will see you around.”

Two days later I was at Cobb’s Comedy Club.  The next message to deliver was simple:  “Pete Holmes, you bring such joy to my life!”  That was it.  I will be happy to one day get lost in hours of bawdy enlightenment with the host of You Made It Weird — but not today.  Today, he must simply know he brings me joy, specifically.  Pete was my favorite 2012 discovery thanks to Comedy Central shows like TJ Miller’s Mash Up and John Oliver’s New York Stand Up.  The hours I spent listening to his podcast inspired my New Year Resolution: Be playful, be joyful.  I also meditate a lot more than I did before I became a bonafide Weirdo.  It works.  I am playful.  I am joyful.  And Pete Holmes gave me a hug.

Nothing short of Conan O’Brien himself could have improved my final night of Sketchfest.   Armed with coffee and a jar of fresh lavender from my “Calm the Fuck Down” garden, I returned to the Eureka to serve the current regime of my ultimate comedy dream job: Conan’s Writers.  Josh Comers and Laurie Kilmartin joined Write Now! with Jimmy Pardo — a panel game show hosted by gentleman responsible for warming up Conan’s studio audience and one of the most influential podcasts drifting through the ether.  Simply meeting Pardo and super producer Matt Belknap would have left me with enough revenge bliss to make my ex-boyfriend wild with a lifetime of professional jealousy (at least in my imagination).  Instead, I left elated.  I had not anticipated so much face time with Mr Pardo, nor did I shirk my responsibility at quick-witted banter.  Never Not Funny taught me how to handle party conversation — and boy, was our conversation a party!  His was the first podcast I followed in earnest.  I thanked them for teaching me the importance of Yes, And-ing in repartee.  I surprised myself.  I made them laugh.