I didn't say anything ahead of time about Joe Frank's sold-out run @ Largo because it sold out fairly quickly, as all knew it would. Sure, we got tickets for opening night, but it would have been impolite to rub it in.
I talked about this guy a little bit on the defunct previous site, but I don't think I got into why he occupies such a high and treasured space in my personal pantheon. (I'm not about to do that now, either, now that I think about it.) I will attempt a full report on "The Blue Room," his latest performance piece which he's performing live on Wednesdays this month during a sold out run*** at the Largo later; I want to take in the show at least once more to factor in a wildly perceptive tidbit the Bunny Lord caught that I didn't. (Shorthand, the show is about loss, sex, aging, sex and also sex. It contains maybe 85% new material. It's wonderful.) For now, a couple of related FanGirl highlights from the evening, featuring slightly reconstructed exchanges!
Our group of four was seated in the front row, one body-length from the stage, a little to the right. We can see everything clearly except for the guys behind the big speaker to the right, the drummer, the guitarist and, depending on what he was doing, the saxophonist. Frank is sitting on a low-back barstool behind a podium, an item of furniture that became my particular obsession for the evening two minutes into the show. The same thing that happened the last time I saw him live, maybe four years ago during a festival down in the OC, happened again this time ... I found myself weirded out by being able to look at him! Usually he's on the radio or in my cd player, and I'm listening either while driving or while lying upside down on the couch with my eyes closed. That is how I interface with his work, in private spaces. For me it's slightly jarring to experience one of his pieces with him there and the band and all the stuff going on. So what I did half the time was stop looking at him and stare at the floor or the candles. Though I wished that Frank had not worn dark glasses, because I like to see eyes, the reflection of the script on his lenses was actually kind of cool.
So! Show's over. Flee outside for nicotine and immediate-aftermath debriefing. The Secret Lord of Fluffy Bunnies says something I instantly disagree with. I figure the only way to get the truth would be to look at the script. That would be those pages Frank put into the podium as he was finished reading them. The ENTIRE script is in that podium. All alone. Unguarded.
So! Back inside, to the poduim, where the sax player and another band member are chatting with the crowd. They are standing between me and the podium. Hmmm. Well, I can at least tell the sax guy how great a job they all did, and then find a way to bring up the script! I can be casual, like! That was the On The Fly plan.
BGF: From where I was sitting, because of the speakers? Sometimes I could only see your hands. If you weren't leaning forward, I could only see your hands wiggling. When you were doing the keyboard, it was like a hand all by itself. Wiggling.
Joe Frank's Saxophone Player: Yeah?
BGF: It was kind of cool. Creepy a little bit, but cool.
Joe Frank's Saxophone Player: Yeah.
BGF: What is he going to do with the stuff he put in the podium?
Joe Frank's Saxophone Player: <blinks, furrows brow>
BGF: The script. He put the pages in the podium as he went along.
Joe Frank's Saxophone Player: Yeah ... I don't know.
BGF: Can I have them?
Joe Frank's Saxophone Player: <blinks.> I think he needs those.
BGF: C'mon. Isn't on computer? He can just print out another one! Can't he just print out another one?
Joe Frank's Saxophone Player: You're going to have to ask him.
BGF: What? He's gone!
Joe Frank's Saxophone Player: He's right over there.
BGF: <!!!!!>
In my defense, when Frank was finished and the handler from Largo walked him off stage and toward the back, I could have sworn they went out the back door. Until the sax player pointed it out, I did not notice that Frank was actually at the back of the room surrounded by a clutch of very tall hipsters, chatting.
So! Moments later, after hovering around Joe Frank waiting for an opening in the crowd and trying not to hyperventilate, there is an opening in the crowd. I pounce, dragging the Bunny Lord along with me.
BGF: <after making with the gushing of sincere praise> My friend and I have already started arguing about one element of the show. We have a question for you.
! JOE FRANK !: I can answer questions about my work.
BGF: One of us thinks you were doing a little bit of improv. I don't think you were doing any improv at all.***
! JOE FRANK !: <explainer, the gist of which comes down to I was right>
BGF: <to Bunny Lord> I told you!!! <To ! JOE FRANK !> What are you going to do with the pages in the podium?
! JOE FRANK !: <furrows brow> Uh. I need those.
BGF: <almost said 'can't you just print out another one?' decided not to.> Can I just look at them?
! JOE FRANK !: I need those.
BGF: <again comes dangerously close to saying 'you can just print out another one' but manages not to> Oh. Okay, then.
More on this excellent show toward the end of the month.
*** "Sold out" is a relative term. If you want to sit down,
be comfy, eat and watch the show, too bad. All that's sold out. But if
you're willing to take a chance and have no problems standing for long
periods of time, go down to the Largo, stand by the front door and when
they open up they will let an extremely limited number of people pay the $20 to
get in and watch the show from the bar and from the standing-room-only
section. No guarantees you'll get in, but you never know until you try. To prevent having to trust fate in the future, join his mailing list. The mailing list got an alert about these Largo shows in July. That's why we got tickets and you didn't.
You're welcome!
*** Frank's work is too tight
structurally and thematically to be improv. My guess was that between
the writing and the rehearsals he's gone over it so much that he's
pretty much memorized it, and he can easily look up from the page to
address the audience without losing his place or breaking the story
thread. Too, he might have stage directions on the script telling him
when to look up and talk to the audience. Between memory and page
cues it comes across as spontaneous when it's not. When it works, it's
beautiful to see/hear.