Author: Dan Goff

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Uprooting radio: At WTJU’s new home, DJs spin records to break a record

WTJU began in 1957 as a classical music and education station and now includes jazz, folk, and rock, as well as community stories. The station launched from its new home in Ivy by breaking the Guinness World Record for most simultaneous DJs in a single show. Photo by Eze Amos

The broadcast to WTJU listeners on the afternoon of Saturday, March 23, began with one DJ announcing to a sea of others, “Here’s Ol’ Blue Eyes, spreading the news that we’re leaving today—Lambeth, that is,” followed by a snippet of Sinatra’s iconic “New York, New York.”

It was the first day of operations in its new Ivy Road home, and local station WTJU packed 82 announcers into the space. The crowd was diverse, composed of both student DJs and locals, but everyone had a common cause—to christen the new location with a momentous, Guinness World Record-breaking feat. Within two hours, each of the participants would sit in the announcer’s seat for less than a minute to introduce themself and play a sample of a chosen song, in a madcap game of music-lovers musical chairs.

Nathan Moore, WTJU’s general manager, admits that the record-breaking stunt was his idea, but the move to Ivy Road wasn’t. About two years ago, Moore was informed by UVA student affairs and housing that the station’s longtime location within Lambeth Commons, a home it had held for 19 years, must be vacated. “We hunted around for a lot of different spaces,” he says, but soon realized that not many spots in the city could accommodate WTJU’s needs. “Where can we find at least 2,500 square feet that we have round-the-clock access to, that students can get to readily, that can be slightly noisy…that has parking, that has visibility?”

Moore was pleased, and a little relieved, to find the Ivy Road real estate, which once housed beloved indie video store Sneak Reviews. Instead of DVDs, the building’s walls are now lined with WTJU’s massive record collection, most of which is housed on the second floor. While Moore is excited about this area, his passion is focused on the first floor, which he expects to be conducive to community building—an essential component, in his opinion, of the station’s future. “We have to be more than just a great place to spin records,” Moore says. “We also have to be a place where people experience music and arts and connection.”

Saturday’s event certainly fit this vision. The DJs took turns jostling their way to the microphone, contributing tunes and cracking jokes. The humor was unfailingly corny, but the music proved a bit more diverse. Aside from Sinatra, everything from k.d. lang to Still Woozy got airtime. The genres spanned classical to K-Pop, and local artists got some love too, whether a classic Landlords track or a song from Alice Clair’s new album—played by Clair’s mother and dedicated to the musician herself, present in the crowd.

The stunt was successful, beating previous record holders by 22 DJs, but it doesn’t erase the fact that some members of the radio community have concerns about the move. Audrey Parks (or DJ Al), a second-year at UVA and a co-rock director for WTJU, says she understands both the student perspective and the administrative side. As a local with a few years of radio under her belt, she also grew to love the Lambeth location. “I feel like the old station had such a personal value for me,” Parks says.

One of the students’ main worries—the distance from Grounds to the new location—is on her mind too. “For the late-night shows…that would be a pretty scary hike.” But even at Lambeth, she points out, “it was also kinda scary going back through frats at that time.” And she’s a fan of the move in that it sets WTJU apart as a community landmark. “It’s an interesting process‚ you know, still making it a UVA space, but being part of the Charlottesville community too.”

The station has become just as essential to the city as it is to students. Professor Bebop, aka Dave Rogers, hosts of one of WTJU’s longest-running shows—he initially got involved in 1973—and has witnessed several moves. “We were in Humphreys, the basement…then we moved to Peabody Hall,” says Rogers. Next was Lambeth, and now Professor Bebop finds himself spinning his signature mix of rhythm and blues on Ivy Road.

He says that the previous location changes “didn’t change the flavor of what we were doing.” Strong leadership is essential to keeping the same spirit, he adds, praising both former manager Chuck Taylor and Moore. “He continues to come up with great ideas that are really amazing ways of reaching out to community,” Rogers says, referring to Saturday’s event. “You’ve got people who haven’t been back in 15 years who came in to do this.”

The station will host its annual rock marathon from April 8-14. This year’s fundraiser T-shirt is a design by award-winning syndicated (and C-VILLE Weekly) cartoonist Jen Sorensen, and fans of Bowie, the Beatles, and Frank Zappa will be happy to hear that entire shows are planned around those artists’ music.

Change is inevitable, it seems, especially for a media outlet that wants to remain relevant and available to the community. And if their record-breaking event is any indication, the DJs of WTJU aren’t going to let a detour down Ivy stop their weird, eclectic mix of music from reaching Charlottesville. As Moore said near the end of the 82-person broadcast, “There are scant few institutions that still bring people together in genuine ways, in genuine community connections—and we’re that. We’re one of them.”

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Conscious comic: Hari Kondabolu brings hilarity to an age of anxiety

Underlying almost every joke is the near-constant theme of race—or, as Kondabolu likes to call it, “made-up bullshit.” Publicity image.

Fourteen years ago, Hari Kondabolu thought a career in stand-up comedy was impossible. “In 2004, 2005… South Asian stand-up didn’t seem realistic,” he says. “I couldn’t imagine anyone wanted me to do that.” Though Aziz Ansari  and Mindy Kaling were rising stars, there were few popular South Asian comics in America at the time.

Jump forward a decade and a half, and Kondabolu is a leading voice in the industry he thought he would never break into. With a rise to fame that includes four recorded comedy specials, one of them released through Netflix, and the truTV documentary “The Problem with Apu”—not to mention two shows this week at the Southern Café & Music Hall—Kondabolu has garnered considerable awe during his ascent, surprising himself as much as his contemporaries.

“It’s still kind of shocking to me that the window was open,” he says. The “window” he refers to is HBO’s Comedy Festival, a now-defunct extravaganza that launched Kondabolu from Seattle, where he was working as an immigrant rights organizer by day and performing at night. He was introduced to a wider audience, and suddenly “had a career from that point on.”

It’s a career that has always incorporated his commitment to social justice. Even after the festival, Kondabolu made a point of getting his master’s in human rights before pursuing comedy full-time.

At first, he worried his interest in politics and activism would be a stumbling block to a successful career. “I said things that could bother people,” he explains.

Early on, he felt pressure to adopt a more palatable style of humor. “I think if I had, my career would’ve been a little faster,” he admits, but adds that such a sacrifice would have radically affected his comedic identity. “I didn’t want to change my tone or how I did things.”

W. Kamau Bell, a comedian whose work incorporates similar themes of activism, helped to convince Kondabolu that he should preserve his own values. “When I saw [Bell]…I was like, ‘This guy’s like me!’ We want to make this comedy that’s thoughtful and doesn’t throw marginalized people under the bus, that is intersectional.” He describes Bell as someone who “busted their ass to get themselves in a position to speak their truth to a national audience. …He’s doing this, so I’m going to stick to my guns and keep going too.”

Now, he’s among a wave of comics, like Hannah Gadsby and Hasan Minhaj, who’ve embraced political and social messages in their stand-up.

What aspect of Kondabolu’s humor makes it so edgy? Admittedly, he tackles America’s most taboo topics, whether it’s comparing the three Abrahamic religions to the Back to the Future trilogy or cleverly subverting Jonathan Swift’s “A Modest Proposal,” suggesting that our nation’s poor should harvest the bodies of the rich for food. Underlying almost every joke is the near-constant theme of race—or, as Kondabolu likes to call it, “made-up bullshit.”

Despite the content of his comedy and the passion that obviously imbues it, Kondabolu says his stand-up isn’t meant to be interpreted as a call to action. “I don’t think I’m changing minds,” he said. “I just want to make people laugh.”

It’s safe to say that he succeeds. Kondabolu offers something for everyone, even those who aren’t accustomed to such socially conscious stand-up. There’s a disarming, almost giddy sense of release in hearing him roast “American liberal cowards” for wanting to move to Canada, or compare Trump’s infamous “Grab her by the pussy” line to a Mortal Kombat character’s catchphrase. Kondabolu works a rare kind of magic with loaded issues, helping to defuse the tension around them but never denying their relevance.

While in the early 2000s, Kondabolu didn’t think he had a chance, he concedes that popular culture  has recently shifted in his favor. “I think, in a lot of ways, society changed and I made more sense to people,” he says. “Now you have a lot of people who are talking about some of the things I’ve always talked about.”

Even with the increase in acceptance, he still faces resistance at his shows—often, in very ugly ways. Sometimes, during the middle of his sets, “people just yell Trump’s name as a heckle,” Kondabolu says. “It’s a weapon. It’s something that frightens people, or it shocks people. The word Trump is loaded now.”

On the other end of the spectrum are audience members who are deeply touched by what Kondabolu has to say. These people approach him after a show, Kondabolu says, “because they want to share something personal with me and how my comedy helped them through something.”

Rather than be put off by the polarized responses to his comedy, Kondabolu is reassured by them. “On both ends, there are these extreme reactions, which I think means I’m pretty good,” he says. “If it’s a scale of five, you want ones and fives. Threes heard you. Ones and fives mean you’re doing it right.”

Hari Kondabolu performs at the Southern Wednesday and Thursday nights.

publicity image

Underlying almost every joke is the near-constant theme of race—or, as Kondabolu likes to call it, “made-up bullshit.”

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Attention grabbers: Dont-miss documentaries at the 31st annual Virginia Film Festival

The Ballad of Shirley Collins is one of many don't-miss documentaries at this year's Virginia Film Festival. Photo courtesy VAFF

At a festival that offers more than 150 films, highlighted by selections that have awards buzz and super-special guests, it can be difficult to choose wisely (and, with the way the VFF tickets sell, quickly). Here are five under-the-radar documentaries that rose to the top of our list, and are well worth your time.

Key changes

Whether or not you agree that Mumford & Sons ruined the genre, folk music has undeniably gone through enormous changes in the past decades—many of them thanks to innovators like Shirley Collins, who helped pioneer the shift from traditional to contemporary during the English folk revival of the 1960s and ’70s. British documentary The Ballad of Shirley Collins studies a similar shift in Collins’ career, juxtaposing some of her most famed classics alongside the creation of her first album in 38 years. As is the case with all music documentaries, the tunes are just as important as the story. In addition to a talk with the film’s directors and producers, the event features live music from Charlottesville’s Ned Oldham and Jordan Perry, a duo whose alt-country, electronic stylings truly bring folk into the 21st century.

Saturday at 7:45pm. Violet Crown.

 Not a drop to drink

When it comes to pollution, few forms are as extensive and hard to ignore as a tainted water supply. West Virginia’s capital, Charleston, known for its industrial infrastructure, made headlines in 2014 for a chemical spill that left up to 300,000 people without clean drinking water, a tragedy chronicled in the documentary Still Life. The nation was shocked when a Freedom Industries facility released crude chemicals into the Elk River, but residents of Charleston and its surrounding counties were no strangers to unethical and irresponsible practices of corporations. Charlottesville native Johnny Saint Ours directed this documentary that takes a personal approach, focusing on the ways in which individual lives were affected or put on hold by the unnatural disaster. A discussion with Ours, along with producer Nana Agyapong, follows the harrowing film. Vivian Thomson, a retired UVA environmental science professor, moderates.

Saturday at 5pm. Jefferson School African American Heritage Center.

Collision of color

Black and Blue tells the story of Nate Northington, an unsung hero of the civil rights movement. When the African American football player joined the Kentucky Wildcats in 1967, he broke a major color barrier as the first black athlete to compete in the Southeastern Conference. This documentary details the incredible true story of Northington’s tumultuous journey through an all-white environment, spurred on by the memory of a fellow black athlete and friend whose plans to play alongside him were cut short in an unforeseen accident. Along with director Paul Wagner, Wilbur Hackett, and Paul Karem—one a fellow black athlete, the other an advocate for athletes’ rights, and both subjects of the film—will all participate in a discussion moderated by Claudrena Harold, a UVA professor of African American and African studies and history.

Friday at 6pm. Vinegar Hill Theatre.

Cultured creativity

There’s more to M.I.A. than just catchy hip-hop tracks. The artist everyone knows by her three-letter moniker and energetic, politically charged tracks like “Paper Planes” and “Go Off” has lived under three identities in her life—Mantangi/Maya/M.I.A.—and the documentary of the same name seeks to capture each phase. From being a daughter of the resistance in civil war-torn Sri Lanka to finding both physical and creative refuge in the U.K. to her birth as a musician, the brilliant, brash artist’s voice has been shaped over multiple continents and a life’s worth of experience. This documentary compiles the musician’s personal videos, filmed during the past 22 years, as a means of explaining the unique circumstances that made M.I.A. one of the most singular and important voices in hip-hop.

Saturday at 8:30pm. Alamo Drafthouse Cinema.

Highest education

Whether a conversation focuses on solving climate change, curing cancer, or perfecting artificial intelligence, it seems like “the next generation” is always referenced. But how well equipped is the next generation to tackle such enormous projects? The documentary Science Fair seeks to provide an answer, tracking nine bright high school students from across the globe as they progress through the eponymous competition while at the same time dealing with issues that come with growing up. Though the prestigious “best in fair” hangs over each competitor’s head, this story is less about the contest and more about the young minds involved, giving an impressive, reassuring window into the lives of some of the geekiest teens on Earth. A discussion follows the film with Charlotte and Emily Keeley, two associates of the Boston Consulting Group, and Curry school professor Jennie Chiu. The panel is moderated by Matthew Shields, a science teacher at Charlottesville High School.

Thursday at 6pm. Newcomb Hall Theatre.

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The Charlottesville Chamber Music Festival explores Asian influence

Lin Ma is a master of the pipa, a four-string Chinese musical instrument that draws comparisons to the lute. Publicity image

Though beloved by some, chamber music enjoyed its heyday in the 18th century but is less popular today, with the average person possibly knowing little about the classical style beyond its name.

Tim Summers has devoted his career to changing that. Co-founding the Charlottesville Chamber Music Festival in 2000 alongside Raphael Bell, (when they were both young musicians fresh out of Juilliard), Summers now has nearly two decades of experience under his belt—and that’s crucial to the innovative concepts of 2018’s program.

“While there is never really a theme to the festival, there is always a trajectory,” says Summers. 2018’s trajectory? Asian influences on chamber music. Many attribute solely European influences to the genre, but Summers wants to highlight Eastern contributions to “present some of the contacts that classical music has made with Asia over the past century.”

Summers first became aware of these contacts when he realized how often he was traveling to Asian cities and countries to play music—Beijing, Shanghai, Tokyo, and Hong Kong. On one trip, he met with Keith Lipson, a clarinet player for the Beijing Symphony Orchestra and one of the performers in this year’s festival. “His wife is a pipa player…and he was learning traditional [Asian] instruments,” Summers says. “There was an element of exchange which was not merely casual.”

Last October’s meeting with Lipson inspired Summers to pursue what he dubs the “European/Asian/American exchange.” He spent the ensuing months studying the intersection of chamber music from all three cultures and the media in which it appeared—including world-famous movies with Asian roots like Akira Kurosawa’s Ran and Ang Lee’s Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. Japanese legend Toru Takemitsu and the more contemporary Chinese composer Tan Dun created music for the respective films, and works from both musicians will be featured in the festival, alongside European selections from household-name composers like Bach and Brahms.

Summers attributes big themes to the pieces, describing the music as being about “harmony, voice and nature, and materials and structure.” Though tying together three separate world forces, he wants the experience to transcend geography. “Towards the end of the festival, the idea of location disappears somewhat,” he says.

Location may vanish, but confusion about certain terminology may persist. Lipson’s wife’s pipa, for example. Though it’s an instrument central to Chinese music and has been for centuries, it’s unlikely to appear in a Western ensemble. As one of its masters, Lin Ma is among the most qualified people alive to talk about the pipa—and she also happens to be one of the festival’s featured musicians.

Ma, who grew up in China, has multiple names for her instrument of choice, including “Chinese lute” and “king of the plucked string,” describing it as a “half-pear-shaped instrument” with four strings. Her love affair with the pipa began when she was just three-and-a-half years old, and although she was dwarfed by the instrument’s size, she began playing the pipa as soon as she was physically able, practicing “six to eight hours a day,” even as a child. “I didn’t have time to play with other children, because I had to practice my instrument,” Ma says.

The enormous amount of practice paid off when Ma attended the Central Conservatory of Music in Beijing, the “top music school in China,” and got her master’s in pipa performing. It was a formative time, she says, not in the least because she studied under pipa master Guanghua Li. “He gave me more space to form my individual performing style, which is essential to my playing,” Ma says.

Ma will perform three times total at CCMF, but she said she’s most excited for what she’ll play on September 16 at PVCC’s Dickinson Theatre: a contemporary piece by Tan Dun. “It’s called Ghost Opera,” Ma says, adding that it evokes “water, stone, paper, and metal” imagery. “This is a very interesting and creative piece, not like the traditional music style of the pipa.”

Summers explains that the decision to bring Ma onboard, like many decisions made for this year’s festival, resulted from that first meeting with Lipson in Beijing. The original plan was to bring Lipson and his wife, but due to visa issues, it became clear that both could not attend. Lipson’s wife recommended Ma, who was already in New York at the time. “She is a wonderful musician, and we look forward to working with her,” says Summers.

The festival, among other things, is a way to see “what we can find between us,” says Summers. He expects the cultural exchange to be a valuable one. “I think the idea was not to give the impression that we had something to teach about Asia,” Summers says. “Only something to present and explore.”

Lin Ma appears at the Charlottesville Chamber Music Festival

September 10 at Live Arts

September 13 at Old Cabell Hall

September 16 at Dickinson Theatre

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Cartoonist Zach Weinersmith draws humor out of science

Armed with a background in physics, cartoonist Zach Weinersmith incorporates wit and wisdom into his Sunday Morning Breakfast Cereal comic and his book projects. Image courtesy of the artist

If you saw Zach Weinersmith around town, he might not immediately stand out. His thin frame and shoulder-length red hair fits the bill for an average guy in his 30s—he wouldn’t be out of place browsing at New Dominion Bookshop or catching a show at the Jefferson.

He’s not out of place at Three Notch’d Brewery, either. Weinersmith sits comfortably at one of the restaurant’s tables and chats about his life. “It’s not very interesting,” he says at one point, a statement sure to make aspiring cartoonists scoff. Aspiring physicists too, for that matter.

If the name doesn’t ring a bell, Weinersmith is better known as the creator of Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal, a successful daily webcomic. It’s often one panel, sometimes more, with few recurring characters, and its themes are just as varied—topics range from neoclassical economism to world religions to imagining (tastefully) what Medusa’s pubic hair would look like. In short, SMBC follows the trajectory of Weinersmith’s brilliant, delightfully random mind.

So what brings him to Charlottesville? According to Weinersmith, his wife Kelly was the main reason for the move. “We thought we should move somewhere and buy some land to build a little laboratory,” Weinersmith says, explaining that he and his wife met in college—when Zach was a physics undergrad, and Kelly a biology grad student. He expresses their desire to pursue research “like gentlemen scientists from the 19th century, without having to deal with the tough stuff in academia.”

This tough stuff is “bureaucratic” and “very stressful,” Weinersmith says, adding that it only gets more difficult once you have kids. He and his wife have two—Ada, 4, and Ben, 1—and they romp in the background of the interview. Ben makes multiple bids for freedom throughout the interview, gleefully padding across the restaurant as Weinersmith dashes after him. “The problem is, he thinks it’s a game now,” he says after snatching Ben for the umpteenth time. Weinersmith feigns annoyance, but it’s clear he’s enjoying himself as much as his son.

Charlottesville “checks a lot of boxes for us,” Weinersmith says. “There’s a vibrant academic community, lots of yuppie stuff—used bookstores, coffee shops, stuff like that. And despite all that, you can buy a little farm for not that much money.”

The original tip-off as to Weinersmith’s whereabouts was a nonfiction cartoon he published earlier this year featuring caricatured versions of him, his wife, and anonymous small business owners of the community. The strip dealt with exorbitant health care costs, and “even when it was really awful, the community came together,” Weinersmith says, calling the experience very heartening.

Politics aren’t frequently tackled in his strips, but Weinersmith is working on a project that he expects will ruffle some partisan feathers. He describes it as a nonfiction graphic novel making the case for open-border immigration. Weinersmith is mostly doing illustrations, working with an author he labels as a right-wing economist. “The thought was to reach out to a different audience than would usually hear about it,” he says. “It’s a little bit terrifying, but as a rule I try to do at least one terrifying project every year or so.”

He’s also just finished a book co-written with Kelly, titled Soonish: Ten Emerging Technologies That’ll Improve and/or Ruin Everything. It’s exactly what it sounds like, an alternately hilarious and academic nonfiction work predicting the future of concepts like gene editing and 3D printers. Weinersmith’s comics are dropped throughout the text, one-panel punchlines to lighten up intellectual (and sometimes worrying) topics.

Weinersmith is modest about the success of the bestselling book. He also brushes aside the idea that explaining complex scientific theory is hard, saying that the trick is to “remember what was difficult to understand in the first place.”

The couple has other ideas in the works, but Weinersmith won’t go into detail, saying he doesn’t like to discuss projects that are “too tenebrous.”

As the conversation winds down, Weinersmith circles back to SMBC. Though he started it in the ’90s, he doesn’t foresee ending the comic. “You get to a point where you do a thing so often, it’s almost like a daily workout,” he says. “The comic has kind of become the launch pad. I’m working on other projects that are more narrative-driven, more involved, because I can. The comic is a reliable source of income. I know my family will be taken care of, so now I can try risky, crazy things.”

And this city is the place he and his wife have chosen to take risks. “I hope I die here—but not soon,” Weinersmith says.

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Pale Blue Dot makes the unknown beautiful

Pale Blue Dot (from left: Darby Wooten, Drew Pompano, Peter Balogh and Tony LaRocco) opens for the Skip Castro Band at Fridays After Five. Photo by Eze Amos

Ever since he was a kid, Tony LaRocco has been enamored with cosmos—both the Carl Sagan show and the concept powering it, seeing the universe as a “well-ordered whole.” It’s an obsession that permeates his musical life, from lyrics to sound choices to the name of his band, Pale Blue Dot, a reference to a 1990 photo of Earth taken by a space probe.

LaRocco and his mother bonded over their love of the final frontier. “She raised me on the old Carl Sagan videotapes,” he says. “We plowed through a big box set. When The Daily Progress ran the pale blue dot story, my mom cut out the picture and stuck it to our fridge. It’s something that’s always been very poignant to our family.”

Though LaRocco founded Pale Blue Dot, he calls it a “socialist” group in which every member has equal say. Drummer Darby Wootten and bassist Drew Pompano huddle with LaRocco around a tiny table at C’ville Coffee. Guitarist Peter Balogh is absent, but there wouldn’t have been room for him anyway. The tight setting feels even more intimate thanks to LaRocco’s sudden, infectious laugh, and his passion when talking about his music.

Just a few years ago, LaRocco thought he was done with writing and recording. In 2011 Charlottesville, he says there wasn’t an audience for his type of music. “Rock was dead, and I was still writing these rockish tunes.” But then, creative inspiration struck in the way it often does, without source, explanation or timing, and LaRocco got back to making music.

As is the case with many bands, the guys who make up Pale Blue Dot all have separate day jobs. LaRocco and Pompano are music teachers, while Wootten works at several local businesses. Balogh is a stem cell researcher.

This level of maturity is reflected in the band’s music. Its most recent album, Anatomy, released in May, is a tour de force with lyrics centering around turmoil and stress, both personal and political, and powered by a clean style of rock rarely heard in modern music. Cosmology is at its center, giving the LP a timeless, existential twist that’s both uncomfortable and somehow comforting.

As with many bands based in Charlottesville, PBD spends time contemplating August 11 and 12, and the group’s impressively uplifting single, “Only Love,” takes a direct look at the topic. LaRocco attributes the hopeful mood to Yolonda Jones, a local photographer, musician and activist (described by LaRocco as the “bee’s knees”), who provides some of the vocals and influenced the songwriting.

LaRocco says that a few of the original words were “get out of my town and don’t come back,” but Jones found the message too aggressive. “So I asked her what she would want to do and she said she would want to talk to them. I said, ‘Come on inside and let’s find a path?’ Boom. Perfect.”

Other tracks on Anatomy are political on a larger scale, with the moody, guitar-heavy “Stained Glass Window” referring to the 2016 election, and “Yesterday’s News” in direct response to the rise of fake news.

As for the sound of the album itself, Pompano explains that the songs were recorded in three different studios—in Nashville, Washington, D.C., and Nelson County—and that this resulted in a distinct sound for each set of songs, attributing “emotionally draining tunes,” “angsty” ones and “pensive, technically ambitious” songs to each respective studio.

Wootten emphasizes that songs can change from day to day, defining it as a strength. “In the recording studio, we just make a picture of that song at that moment,” he says. “The songs will warp down the road.”

While LaRocco stresses that Pale Blue Dot isn’t a political or protest band, he acknowledges that some of the songs on Anatomy skirt these themes—he even admits that the style of the band’s music is tailored to these ideas. “I don’t feel like you can get angry and scream at someone like Donald Trump without an overdriven guitar and drums,” he says. “I love Joan Baez and I love Bob Dylan, but I don’t think an acoustic guitar has the same effect. Sometimes, you just gotta yell.”

To the beat of his own drum

When he’s not drumming for Pale Blue Dot, Darby Wootten has an unusual side hustle—he manages the Putt-Putt Fun Center. Opened in 1966, it’s located on Rio Road and is the oldest of its kind in the country. The course features a safari theme with several wildlife statues, including its iconic giraffe, which is visible
from the street.

“My friend got me a job at the Putt-Putt place 12 years ago,” Wootten says. “I was 19 then, and now I’m manager. I thought putt-putt would probably suit my lifestyle well.”

Cosmology is at its center, giving the LP a timeless, existential twist that’s both uncomfortable and somehow comforting.

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David Cross’ cringe-worthy, cutting-edge humor

David Cross is infamous for his no-holds-barred style of comedy, which can provoke as many gasps as it does guffaws. He performs at The Paramount Theater this Friday. Courtesy of Just For Laughs.

In stressful times, as the current American climate could be labeled, many people seek out comedy as a means of release. David Cross might seem like he fits that bill, but only if you can handle some seriously jarring jokes. Known for his “Arrested Development” role as the bumbling Tobias Fünke, his standup routine is almost unrecognizable by comparison. The real-life Cross is searing, sharp-edged and often shocking. Just a few minutes of his humor makes you wonder, is anything off-limits? Cross spoke to C-VILLE by phone to answer this question (kind of) and several others about his tactics, politics and singular style.

C-VILLE Weekly: This is all on the record unless you say otherwise, in which case we can strike it.

DC: Okay.

I wanted to ask you about—

I refuse to answer that question. This interview is over.

I didn’t get very far, did I? Come on, just one question.

Alright, you can ask me one.

When you announced the Charlottesville show on your Facebook page, you said, ‘Despite Mayor Nikuyah Walker’s doing her best to keep me out, I’m coming!’ That confused some people here. Can you explain what you meant?

It was just a joke. I use the same thing for every city or town. I just used the mayor that was applicable for that. There are no mayors in the United States or Canada who have tried to prevent me from doing a standup show.

Not yet, anyways.

Not yet.

Do you have any specific Charlottesville material planned, considering our recent history?

I don’t, but I imagine I’ll touch on it. I don’t have anything specific that has occurred to me yet. As of now, no. But that’s not to say it won’t be addressed.

Your style of comedy provokes some people, to say the least. Are there any topics that remain taboo, that you are unwilling to joke about?

I won’t talk about John Deere products for personal reasons, and also the difference between whoever and whomever. Those are just two topics that are too taboo for me.

You’ve gotten walkouts for your comedy before. What are some of the most extreme reactions you’ve gotten to some of your jokes? Anything threatening?

Nothing really dangerous, I wouldn’t say. A long time ago, I had this guy stand up and do a pounding-his-fist-into-his-hand kind of motion, one that denotes he wants to fight me. But nothing on this tour. I’ve had a couple people leave, but not vocally get upset. Last time, people got really upset, but no one is getting that upset on this tour. It’s different material, and we’re in a different place.

Would you say that this material is different in tone than “Making America Great Again?”

I wouldn’t say very different. It still follows the same formula I apply to all sets when I tour. I try to mix it up. Roughly a third of the set is jokes. They’re just jokey jokes—it doesn’t matter what your politics are, anybody can like them. Roughly a third is anecdotal stuff—just stories that happened to me, whatever. And then roughly a third is political, topical, current events, religious material, stuff like that. The formula is the same, but all the material is different.

Can you talk a little about your work in Sorry to Bother You, as Cassius Green’s white voice? I’m curious to know how you landed a role like that.

Boots [Riley] and I became friendly when we did a benefit together back in 2001 or 2002. He asked me at some point if he could show me a script he’d been working on. ‘I’d like you to take a look at it, just tell me what you think.’ I said sure, not really expecting very much, because he’d never written a script before. So he sent it to me—this is like eight years ago—and it was fucking great, just really funny. His ear for dialogue is great, and his sensibilities. I was blown away by it, and told him so. He asked me if I ever wanted to do anything for it and I said sure.

Years and years and years went by. Sometimes it’ll take eight years to make a movie. And then he said, ‘Hey, I’m doing it. Do you want to be one of the white voices?’ And I said sure. …Not the most thrilling story.

Have you ever been told you have a distinctive white voice?

I don’t think so. … obviously, the voice in Sorry to Bother You isn’t the voice I’m using now. There’s a little bit of an affectation. You pitch it up a little bit, you add a little sparkly, golly-gee type stuff, y’know? And that becomes the white voice. It’s not how I speak normally.

Did you have to give any refunds to Trump supporters confused by your “Making America Great Again” tour?

[Laughs] No refunds. I had already been doing stand-up for about 45 minutes before I brought up Trump, so I would only refund them 25 percent of their money anyway.

Cross performs at The Paramount Theater on August 3.

 

David Cross is infamous for his no-holds-barred style of comedy, which can provoke as many gasps as it does guffaws. He performs at The Paramount Theater this Friday.

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Arts

Sundream. rocks hard with an emotional core

United through a Craiglist ad, Sundream. plays at Twisted Branch Tea Bazaar on Thursday. Photo by Jacob Somerrio.

Craigslist isn’t just the go-to site for selling your car or finding a place to live—it’s also a surprisingly effective way to start a band. This is the realization John Tosches had last July when he posted on the site to gauge interest in a new musical project.

Jordan Chambers describes how he stumbled across Tosches’ Craigslist post: “It was like, ‘Hey. I’m moving to Charlottesville. I just want to record and play music. I don’t care what you want to do—but I’ll do it.’”

Tosches nods in confirmation. He and Chambers sit at a table in the main room of Tosches’ apartment, where a complicated motherboard of screens and keyboards takes up the back half of the room, indicating Tosches’ passion for creating songs.

Tosches and Chambers, Sundream.’s drummer and guitarist/vocalist, comprise one half of the band. The other members couldn’t make it—bassist Dale Hyldelund is picking up his 8-year-old daughter and the other guitarist/vocalist, Donovan Christopher, is in Fredericksburg—but Tosches solves that with a conference call. The absent members’ staticky voices chime in from a phone acting as the table’s centerpiece.

Chambers does most of the talking. He’s very laid-back, as if he’s been interviewed a dozen times before. His easygoing air seems more fitting for an acoustic singer-songwriter type than a member of an indie-pop, emo, alternative rock group—the way all the members of Sundream. agree to classify their sound. (Hyldelund also describes it as “taking everything in your refrigerator and deciding to make a big soup out of it.”)

One year into bandhood, Sundream. still cares about classification—and what better way to solidify your presence in the music scene than by releasing an album? The band’s self-titled LP, a seamless collection of ferocious, musing tracks, debuted last month. Though short—eight songs clocking in at 25 minutes total—it’s not soon forgotten.

According to Chambers, the songs are all about transitions. “Breakups, jobs, Donovan transitioning as a transgender man…” he lists off. “That’s a lot of life right there, and our album reflects that.”

“Strange Boy,” the track that specifically relates to Christopher’s transition, is one of the LP’s most powerful songs, and at two minutes, it’s also the shortest. Christopher’s vocals glide over moody guitars and drums, creating a subdued sound synonymous with the deeply personal subject matter. Christopher describes the track simply as “what being trans is like.”

“I made a video for it!” Tosches adds, conjuring the clip in question on one of the room’s myriad screens. It features Christopher’s singing, disembodied head with a background that initially shows what seems to be home video clips from various families’ Christmases and backyard barbecues (the whole thing is edited to look like VHS tape footage). As the song’s intensity increases, the images change to news footage. Headlines like “TRUMP BANS TRANSGENDER SERVICE MEMBERS” and “Caitlyn Jenner’s Courage Award: Does She Deserve It?” flash across the screen as Christopher belts out the song’s core—“They cannot tell me what to feel / I am nothing but a strange boy.”

The video, set to be released this month, indicates just how skilled the members of Sundream. are—whether it’s video editing, penning poignant lyrics or just knowing how to play well together. Nurturing a group dynamic is especially impressive for Sundream., because, as evidenced by the conference call, it’s not easy to get everyone in the same room. “We all have very separate lives,” Chambers says. “John lives in Charlottesville but commutes to Maryland every week for work. I work full-time at Milli Coffee Roasters. Dale lives out in Wintergreen, Donovan in Fredericksburg.”

Craigslist really was the vehicle that brought the musicians together, Chambers insists, in what he calls a “happy circumstance.” It’s a term he uses often, saying, “It explains us as a band. Things happen and we’re just gonna roll with the punches.”

The last track on their LP, “Here and Now,” an acoustic song described by Tosches as a “freakin’ banger,” fits this philosophy. “It’s about finding all these people in life who are important to you,” Chambers explains. “Even though they might be gone, we’re going to meet them again someday.”

Since the “happy circumstance” of Sundream.’s formation, the band has enjoyed several others—winning the first round of a Vienna, Virginia, battle of the bands competition, having the unconditional support of Tosches’ fiancée, Christina, a medical student who fills the roles of “merch girl and band mother,” and finding support in other members of the community.

Community is essential to Sundream.. “We’re just trying to put you in a better headspace,” Chambers says. “All the songs deal with really heavy subjects, but at the end of the day, we want to end on a hopeful note. We’re happy guys who are really excited to be together and creating a community around music.”

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Arts

Heritage Theater’s Harvey preserves humor and heart

Heritage Theatre Festival continues with the classic bunny tale, Harvey, through July 15. Photo: Martyn Kyle

Who, exactly, is Harvey?

Although it’s a central question of this play of the same name, the latest from 2018’s Heritage Theater Festival, perhaps a better one to ask is, Who is Elwood P. Dowd?

According to his sister Veta, Elwood is her “biggest heartache.” He is also jobless, a notorious drunk and best friends with the title character, an enormous, anthropomorphic rabbit only visible to Elwood.

With this is mind, Veta’s attempts to put Elwood in a sanitarium—the driving conflict of the comedy—start to make more sense. Her decision to do so starts a hilarious chain of misunderstandings during which Veta herself is mistaken as crazy and the sanitarium staff starts to question whether this rabbit is as imaginary as he seems.

Through all the confusion, Elwood (Bryan Close) waltzes in and out of the action and consistently steals the show. Viewers whose last experience with the story is the 1950 movie version, in which Jimmy Stewart plays Elwood, will enjoy the unique direction Close takes with the character.

Just as engaging is Julia Brothers’ interpretation of Veta. As Elwood’s high-strung, status-obsessed sister, the multilayered character goes from simpering to ferocious to surprisingly emotional within seconds. Her interactions with Close are some of the play’s most entertaining and provide the core of the story which, despite its distracting side-romances and fantastical elements, raises questions of family and preserving one’s character.

While the siblings’ tension is Harvey’s strongest feature, lesser roles shine too. Payton Moledor is excellent as Myrtle Mae, Veta’s daughter who just wants a normal family. Kevin Minor and Dan Stern work well together as Drs. Sanderson and Chumley, the bumbling heads of the sanitarium whose efforts to commit Elwood become increasingly less effective as they stop worrying about his sanity and begin doubting their own.

If the story, with its themes of mental illness and excessive drinking, seems intense to be treated as a light comedy, it’s important to remember that the entire play centers around a talking rabbit that may or may not exist. The discussion of Elwood’s mental health never goes further than discussing Harvey, and whenever Elwood visits a bar, he’s accompanied by Harvey himself—there’s just something about the image of a man getting trashed alongside a giant bunny that turns a problematic concept into something laughable. It also helps that Close portrays Elwood’s drunkenness adorably, having the character choose his words with care and take acrobatic bows whenever a lady steps onstage.

The other element to consider is the play’s historical context—it was originally written in the 1940s, a time when Elwood’s character, with all its troubling quirks, was maybe easier to accept. Harvey keeps this fact in the back of viewers’ minds with set and costume design, employing Victorian furniture (over top of a beautiful backdrop of sketchy lines—a whimsical style that’s in keeping with the play) and antiquated outfits to make it clear that this story occurs several decades ago.

Harvey doesn’t ask any big questions, but this may be its ultimate strength. In an age where stories often buckle under their own weighty message, this play exists as a reminder that tackling social and political themes, while important, is not the only way to tell an entertaining story.

Take Elwood’s life philosophy as he phrases it to Dr. Chumley. After explaining that his mother told him he could either be a smart person or a pleasant one, Elwood says, “For years I was smart. I recommend pleasant. You may quote me.” Harvey is one of the most pleasant, must-see productions of the summer.

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Arts

Jenny Wales ushers in a new era at Heritage Theatre Festival

UVA graduate and drama major Jenny Wales’ first production season as artistic director of the Heritage Theatre Festival includes A Chorus Line, Harvey and The Mountaintop. Photo by Martyn Kyle

By Dan Goff
arts@c-ville.com

It’s a Friday afternoon at Grit Coffee on Elliewood Avenue. Jenny Wales sits at an outdoor table, one of the few open seats. Finals are fast approaching and the shop is swarming with students. Wales doesn’t seem to mind, and, in fact, seems perfectly at ease—she’s home.

“This is my 20-year reunion,” she says. Wales isn’t just referring to the drama degree she received from the University of Virginia in 1998, but also to the reason she returned-—to become the new artistic director of the Heritage Theatre Festival.

Wales’ is the classic success story of a drama major. After graduating, she made a career as an actress in New York. This was followed by a stint in 2011 at Chapel Hill’s PlayMakers Repertory Company as associate producer and director of education and outreach, what Wales describes as her transition “from solo performer to artistic administration.”

“On Grounds, there’s so many opportunities to deepen what we’re doing,” Wales says. “I think Play Makers really set me up to move that forward.”

On cue

Jenny Wales high-steps into her role as HTF’s artistic director with A Chorus Line on June 21, and the process to cast the musical about auditioning to be in the cast of a musical had its own IRL dramatic moments.

“At Heritage Theatre Festival’s first NYC open call, we weren’t sure how many women would show up,” says Wales. “When we arrived at 9:25 to put down the sign-up sheet for the 10am dance call, there were already 205 signed up. All of a sudden the three hours to see the women didn’t seem like enough time. By the time we got to group seven, it truly felt like a chorus line!

“Julian Sanchez, who is playing Paul, went very method and turned his ankle during the dance audition in Charlottesville. He went to the doctor and got crutches and returned the next day to do the callback on crutches and still made us cry!”

Though it’s been two decades since she attended the university, Wales has a student-like energy and wants to apply it to her role as artistic director, and she’s already full of ideas. “What I’m really interested in is producing entertaining and engaging theater that’s also allowing us to question ourselves and who we are,” Wales says. “I think we’re in a moment to do that, and we should be doing that.”

A big aspect of her plans is increasing the “national presence of Heritage,” and bringing even more prestige to what is already one of Virginia’s most renowned theater groups, and Charlottesville’s only summer theater festival. This entails hosting auditions not just in Charlottesville, but also artistic hubs like Washington, D.C., and New York City. “We saw over 300 actors in one day,” Wales says, laughing a little at the memory.

This summer marks the Heritage Theatre Festival’s 44th season, featuring a blend of comedy and drama, contemporary and classic—the powerful combinations that have made the festival a success for so many years.

The process of selecting these plays was not an easy one, Wales stresses. “I read hundreds of plays, I’ve seen hundreds of plays,” she says. “We really selected and chose with intentionality, and I think each provides something different from the other.”

Though Wales is unable to choose a favorite production out of the 2018 lineup, she can’t hide her excitement about opening with A Chorus Line.

“From a purely personal standpoint, the opportunity to collaborate with Matt Steffens is pretty incredible for both of us,” says Wales. Steffens, the director of HTF’s A Chorus Line, is a fellow UVA grad and has also enjoyed considerable success in professional theater, with involvement in multiple Broadway productions.

“For us to create work together here at the university where we met, where we really challenged one another to define who we are as artists…that’s something that doesn’t happen every day,” Wales says. “It’s something that both of us are really grateful for.”

She defines the relationship between them as being “each other’s artistic touchstones,” and notes their “very difficult conversations.”

In Wales’ role within HTF, it’s a time of change, though she prefers the word shift over change, calling change a “tricky word.” What she hopes to shift, is something that keeps reappearing in the conversation—accessibility.

“What I’m really interested in is expanding the reach of the work that we do, and hopefully reviving a place for the expansion of our audience,” Wales says. She has some practical solutions in mind such as lowering the price of single tickets—but she acknowledges that “price isn’t the only barrier to entry.”

More than anything, Wales seeks inclusivity. “How can we program our work in a way that provides a space for everyone to come and take part in what we’re producing?” she asks.

It’s clear that Wales has countless ideas for improvement—along with a genuine passion for theater. “I think there’s a lot of change with the arts on Grounds,” Wales says. “You can sense the energy and focus on the arts in a really powerful way. And it’s humbling to be a part of that.”