Word: hoboed
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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...real entertainment began when baritone Earle Patriarco's Sergeant Belcore took the stage. A classic miles gloriosus, this Belcore had a vapidity no strutting could conceal. Equally but independently ridiculous was bass Dale Travis' Doctor Dulcamara, a hobo-quack who bore an eerie resemblance to the poet Donald Hall. Dulcamara's vendor antics completely undercut his dramatic entrance and resonant "udite" ("listen!"), and his abracadabra, Darkwing Duck gesturings made one laugh out loud. If it hadn't been for the skillful comic acting of these two, the farcical plot would have been in awkward tension with the gorgeous music. Though...
...stop working. When I stop working, I hurt. My head, my back, my legs hurt. I get dizzy. I can't stop." However, in speaking as her younger alterego, Kingston acquired an oft-frustrated voice, touched with a confused innocence: "I don't want to hear Wino Ghosts and Hobo Ghosts. I've found some places in this country that are ghost-free. And I think I belong there, where I don't catch colds or use my hospitalization insurance. Here I'm sick so often, I can barely work. I can't help it, Mama." By reading out-loud...
...want to be left alone," says Doherty, whose back was injured in a tank accident in the Army. "When I come home from work and I've had a bad day, I watch The Lion King," he says. "It makes me cry." He has sheared his purebred Chow, Hobo, to look like a lion: "He's my buddy." Each night, Doherty drinks a 12-pack of beer. "It's the best pain-killer I know," he says...
Recipe for theatrical disaster: take a moldy 19th century German opera about a Faustian pact with the Devil and turn it over to a composer of hobo rock, a legendary writer from the Beat Generation, and a director who specializes in performance pieces for the art crowd. But don't go away. A pop opera of very odd sorts called The Black Rider is a triumph for its three collaborators, Tom Waits, William S. Burroughs and Robert Wilson...
...songs take chord structures simpler, even, than Lois Maffeo's--simpler than anything; sometimes only two chords will do for a whole song, switching back and forth in sinuously uneven rhythms like the ghosts of hobo-laden freight trains switching tracks. There are no guitar "pyrotechnics" allowed, or even possible, here; there's not even much distortion, despite the Sub Pop name on the label (though recording at AmRep Studios in Minneapolis must have helped to put an electric edge on the guitar sound, an edge that's developed only since last year). Rebecca Gates' playing has to carry...