This week, I had the privilege of attending three vastly different live performances in Northampton.
On Sunday, Oct. 17, I walked down to the Academy of Music for “An Evening with David Sedaris.” I’d had tickets to this particular show since 2019, but due to COVID-19 restrictions, the renowned comedy writer arrived in the Pioneer Valley now, in late 2021. As I sat down in my balcony seats, surrounded entirely by gray-haired locals, I started to feel a little out of place. Sedaris, decked out in a long, ruffled coat, began his “evening” with what I can only describe as one of the worst attempts at satire fiction that I have ever heard: a story from the perspective of a “woke” college student returning to his liberal hometown to visit his parents. Under the guise of criticising progressive culture, Sedaris made jibes at Black people, Indigenous people, trans people, undocumented people, queer people, and funnily enough, Smith Twitter lesbians. The story left me wondering what exactly he was trying to say; is Sedaris really so out of touch to think jokes about cultural appropriation and misgendering are topical?
I hoped his nonfiction pieces would be better. After all, in his essays, Sedaris is known for his wit and honesty. Instead, he read a long piece about his “pandemic experience,” a subject already tired to those of us who have experienced the pandemic without buying a second apartment on the Upper East Side. As he described his pandemic experience, I realized that Sedaris has lost his edge; nothing murders comedy like being rich and famous. He told stories to which no one could relate, like holding three to four dinner parties a week during the pandemic, buying the apartment above his own so he wouldn’t have to listen to his partner play piano, and traveling frequently across the country. But as he described his irresponsible behaviors, he still managed to criticise the everyday actions of working people during the pandemic. I sat there in open-mouthed horror that someone could be so oblivious to the world of the non-rich.
He ended the night by reading a series of jokes from his diaries, making sure to miss no one (Jewish people, fat people, etc.) with his offensive remarks. One remark stood out the most: when talking about unhoused people, he said something along the lines of, “First they were homeless people, then they were unhoused people, then they were people who are unhoused… but whatever you call them, it has to fit on a little scrap of cardboard.” Big words coming from someone with two apartments in Manhattan. In one of his final remarks, he said that he hates having to go through rebrandings every couple of years to keep up for the new labels for gay people. First he was homosexual, then gay, and now queer, but he hates being called queer. He joked that he now identifies as straight just to avoid the relabelling. I sat stoney-faced as all the middle-aged women sitting next to their husbands laughed raucously at this joke.
I left the Academy of Music feeling greatly unfulfilled. Up until then, my main exposure to David Sedaris had been his appearances on “This American Life,” where he read funny, down-to-earth pieces about his family. But my Evening with David Sedaris had shown me something different: an embittered, privileged old man unwilling to accept a world changing around him. As my friend said afterwards, he’s punching down. Now at the top of the socio-economic hierarchy with nowhere to go, he chooses to focus on those less privileged than himself, and instead of being funny, it just felt rather cruel.
As the show concluded, I kept thinking about an Iggy Pop interview I’d once read in which he talked about seeing The Doors in Ann Arbor as a teenager. Jim Morrison was drunk that night, came on late, refused to play guitar and only sang in a Betty Boop voice. That was the night Iggy Pop decided he had to become a rock musician; he couldn’t let assholes like that win. Well, David, think of me as Iggy Pop.
After the immense disappointment of my evening with David Sedaris, I was desperate for good live media; fortunately, sixty-eight-year-old New Wave musician, Robyn Hitchcock, played a stunning performance at the Calvin Theater on Thursday, Oct. 21. Hitchcock has been performing since he made a name for himself with his 1984 album “I Often Dream of Trains.” With so many years under his belt, he is an adept performer, serenading the audience with songs from his solo career and his bands, The Soft Boys and Robyn Hitchcock and the Egyptians. Hitchcock performed solo, starting with an acoustic guitar and transitioning to an electric guitar later into the set. He played harmonica for a couple of songs, apologizing afterwards to any cats who might have happened to be in the audience. For the record, there were no cats in the audience, which consisted mainly of people over sixty and a few out-of-place college students.
Between songs, Hitchcock kept the audience entertained with witty anecdotes. He joked that Bryan Ferry, former Roxy Music singer, supported himself through the pandemic by playing at former nuclear test sites in Eastern Europe. His comments not only made it clear that he has a sense of humor but that he is personally acquainted with the greats of rock ’n’ roll. I’d seen Robyn Hitchcock before, in middle school with my father, so I had an idea that the show would be great, but the friends I brought to the concert weren’t as excited. Imagine my delight when my friend—the same friend who I’d subjected to an evening with David Sedaris—turned to me after the show to say, “That was amazing!” Sometimes seeing old rockers… rocks?
Doing a 180 from the world of old rockers, my final show this week was WOZQ’s own concert in Capen Garden on Friday, Oct. 22. Of all the venues I experienced, this was by far the best. Around 30 Smithies sat on picnic blankets and watched the show, Doc Martens strewn on the grass. Three acts performed: Zoë Viñas ’22; Kara Jackson ’23 and Hana Vu, a musician based in Los Angeles.
Viñas sang vocals over their pre-recorded bedroom pop beats with Reggaeton influences, performing two songs that they released last year and four unreleased songs Before the show, Viñas remarked on performing again: “It feels great, especially as a musician, because I was doing stuff online for so long. Music was just something that I was just producing in my bedroom, so I missed live performance a lot.”
Viñas also spoke about live music on campus, saying she had to work hard to get more opportunities for musicians on campus. With COVID-19 and few college-sponsored musical events, live performances are difficult to pull off. But Viñas has hope for the future of performance on campus: “I think that Smith is definitely moving towards a supportive music environment. I feel like there are a lot of students on campus that are really passionate about making that happen.”
After a 40-minute set from Viñas, Kara Jackson took the stage with a guitar to perform both covers and original songs. Dressed in a bright green dress and green eyeliner, their outfit paired well with the greenery in the garden. They began their set with a beautiful cover of Karen Dalton’s “Right, Wrong, or Ready” and afterwards played new music. Between songs, they spoke about their life, calling themselves a “one-trick pony” for playing a lot of songs about love and heartache. They ended their show by playing two songs off of their 2019 EP, “A Song for Every Chamber of the Heart.”
Hana Vu concluded the afternoon by playing her first ever show at Smith College. She told the audience that she had arrived in Northampton at 5:00 a.m., but her performance was anything but tired. With a loop pedal and acoustic guitar, her music was intense and emotional. Between original songs, she covered “Passenger” by Angel Olsen, much to the delight of the crowd. As Vu set up her amplifier and tuned her guitar, she asked the audience, “What did you guys have for lunch?” She was shocked when someone shouted out “sushi,” unfamiliar with the Nielsen Library’s lunchtime delicacy. Vu had a chicken salad sandwich from Familiars Coffee & Tea for lunch.
After the show, I was struck by the talent that I had just witnessed. Being impressed by seasoned performers like Robyn Hitchcock is enjoyable, but it comes as no surprise: he’s been doing this since the ’80s. It’s a totally different feeling to see twenty-somethings with far less experience get on stage and perform astounding sets of original music.
Live performance should be fulfilling and inspiring, but it’s hard to find a lot of it, especially at Smith. This week was a fluke; most of the time I don’t spend money to see older men perform in Northampton, and most of the time there aren’t live music events at Smith. I encourage the bookers at the Iron Horse, the Calvin and the Academy of Music to continue booking talented performers (and refrain from booking David Sedaris ever again), and I encourage the Office of Student Engagement to allow more live performances on campus. Everyone deserves the same chance as I had to attend many live performances, feel impressed or dazzled or disappointed or angry, and most importantly, to have something to talk about with their friends.
