Word: kazoos
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...more at the door. Saturday night at 8 p.m. Michael Cooney performs traditional American and British folk music at the Joy of Movement Center, 536 Mass Ave. Cooney, as much folklorist as musician, should put on an entertaining, varied show, playing everything from banjo and 12-string guitar to kazoo and penny-whistle. Admission...
Lunatics with apocalyptic visions can be wearisome. Thanks to Percy's inventiveness and rapid pacing, Lancelot is not. In fact, he often sounds like a man playing out a symphony of Dostoyevskian experiences on a kazoo: "Did you know that the South and for all I know the entire U.S.A. is full of demonic women who, driven by as yet unnamed furies, are desperately restoring and preserving places, buildings?" He tosses off witty remarks about the vacuities of Hollywood and about the strange things that occur when the film crew sets up in his town: "What was nutty...
...three sisters look like they have wandered out of an unsuccessful nursery rhyme. Auntie Pasta's striking pallor is accentuated by her puddle-blue coat and Auntie Awful is dourly dressed in pea green and black. Raima Evan's coy voice, which seems to pass through a kazoo, brings out the meddlesome but well-intentioned manner of Auntie Tomato...
...expect the typically slick rock production--where some big rock superstar lays down one track, then overlays a track so he can accompany himself on the kazoo, throws in a moog synthesizer because the moog is oh so hip--look elsewhere. The music here is all recorded on a home tape recorder with one to three mikes. Dylan dislikes recording any song more than a couple of times, which is why you can sometimes here him laugh in the middle of a take, or talk to a member of The Band. What is lost in neatness is more than made...
...lies the burnt-out hulk of the weekend's first sacrifice, an old sedan of indefinable lineage. Rising out into the bright night sky, thick acrid bellows of smoke reach for the high-scudding clouds. A spectral group of dancers passes by, cavorting to the raucous notes of a kazoo. Men and women are madly intertwined in their grimy jeans, holding out bottles of wine to balance their steps. Like shadows stretched across a brick wall, these forms stumble onward--players possessed by the harkening strains of Death in a Medieval Dance...