April 8th, 2007, 7–11 p.m. @ {open} (2226 E. Fourth St.)
By Greggory Moore
Perhaps simply powerless to resist the chance to ride “Resurrection” terminology, {open} held their soft opening April 8th, and apparently a lot of people in Long Beach felt that being there would be a good way to spend the end of Easter. Music, verse, the blood of Christ, communion, freshly-shelved books, &c.
The Blank Tapes (on this night, at least) was Matt Adams on ukulele and (then) guitar. His songs are straightforwardly presented and lack any sort of ostentation (thus giving the impression of there being even more simplicity than there actually is). His pop structures frame an understatement in the (more) airy (than breathy) vocal delivery, and the overall tunefulness is the kind of thing that would make it a surprise every single time you came across someone who didn’t find The Blank Tapes at the very least palatable. This is what the Top 40 might sound like if stripped-down music were king and affectation didn’t sell.
(Hear and find out about The Blank Tapes at www.theblanktapes.minus-world.net and/or myspace.com/theblanktapes.)
Derrick Brown can read his ass off. It would be very possible to find yourself enjoying his reading of a poem that you wouldn’t like on the page. (But since he can write, too…) Part of the reason why is that Brown stays in the moment; what comes out of his mouth is structured by the open book in front of him, but his words and eyes are often elsewhere—on where he is and what’s happening there. He’s in the room and not just a mouthpiece for channeling that abstract realm of “art” (you know, that “place” where idea(l), incorporeal versions of individual poems (etc.) would coexist with Platonic eidos). He’s not afraid to screw up, and he revels in the chance to gloss a line or strike upon a natural digression. Stopping just a few phrases into his second piece of the night, Brown didn’t make any effort to hide his delight in realizing, “I’m gonna have a lot of non sequitirs in [the reading of] this poem!” During one that was interrupted by someone having neglected to turn her cell to vibrate, after a failed attempt to get the caller on the line and on mic, Brown quickly recapped what he’d read and picked up just where he’d left off (something made workable by the fact that his poems are meaty, vivid, and compact enough that you’re actually taking in what he says). The first and last passages of Brown’s performance were sung, natural progressions to and from his spoken words, his low-key Chris Martin vocals emitting a wistfulness present in many of his lines (e.g., “I don’t know if I’m possibly in love / But I know that I love possibility”).
(Yes, it’s not a live reading, but still you may find it worthwhile to check out www.brownpoetry.com (wow, someone got lucky with his Web address); and everyone’s got a MySpace page (don’t you?), so there’s also myspace.com/brownpoetry.)
{open} has a new locus, but it appears it’s going to be business as usual—so, beginning April 17th, avoid the general area of Junipero and 4th (just a couple of doors west of Portfolio) if you detest an independent business ethos, music and words, an easygoing atmosphere, and artsy types. If you’re scared but curious, you can call (562) 499-OPEN for more info (or hang up if it’s too big a first step), or you can go to www.accessopen.com (or, of course, myspace.com/open) and get on their mailing list.
OPEN brought alot of great events and professional exposure to the East Village and we know they will continue to do that on 4th Street.
Good Luck to them!