Art Event: MFA Party

Sheila Heti presenting How Should a Person Be? / Margaux Williamson presenting Teenager Hamlet / Tomboyfriend presenting Don't Go to School

Stone's Place. Thursday, October 14, 2010.

Declaring the completion of their respective long-gestating projects to be their matriculation from a DIY art school where they used each other as teachers and subjects, this was a triple-headed project launch party. The night was being held at Stone's Place, a Rolling Stones-themed pub in Parkdale. I'd never been inside before, and truth be told I'd always assumed it was for people who wanted something less edgy than, say, the Cadillac Lounge across the street — to say nothing of Wrongbar a couple doors down. And maybe it is, but it was actually rather cozy inside, with lots of couches gathered into intimate zones. Perhaps a bit decentralized for an event where you'd want everyone to pay attention to the stage, but well-suited for a crowd that was decidedly on the familiar-with-each-other side.

I found a couch to sit on against a wall perpendicular to the stage, which was comfortable enough, but poorly situated relative to the blinking lights flashing directly at the wall behind. I pondered whether my grand mal seizure would be an awkward bringing-people-together moment, and got back up to wander around amongst local celebs (and semi-celebs) that I recognized as people that maybe I should accost and start conversations with, though my will to mingle was not, on this night, particularly strong.

In between rock'n'roll oldies playing over the house system, Misha Glouberman, MC-ing in his inimitable style, stepped up to the stage to announce that things would not be starting on time but, in fact, at some subsequent time. No problem for the bulk of the chatty crowd on hand, which skewed older and, natch, artsy-ish — the sort of scene where people can be overheard talking about their "projects". And while it was getting crowded along the bar, there was also more than a few people in sight killing time by reading a book.

Once things got going, the night was presented in a two-part format — first a chance for each of the artists to present a sample of their work to the crowd; and then, after a break, a full set from Tomboyfriend. Margaux Williamson led off, showing a short clip from her movie Teenager Hamlet. In this situation, it was harder to get a grip on what the whole thing might be like, though even in what we saw the night's hallmarks of collaborative DIY self-referentiality were on display.

That was followed by Sheila Heti reading from the beginning of her novel How Should a Person Be? It sounded like a good ride, and though based in a version of her own actuality, also not entirely unlike the fables of her Middle Stories. Perhaps it's that in both her voice comes through so strongly — which I mean literally: I've heard Heti reading before, and after the fact could hear her as I read her work, almost as if it were an audiobook. I haven't tackled the novel yet, but do look forward to it.

And then a one-song sample from Ryan Kamstra's Tomboyfriend, playing "Almost/Always", one of the more wordy/literary songs from their album Don't Go to School. And then a break to mingle and cruise the merch table and consider what had just gone down.

The most striking thing about all these works of art is how closely intertwined they are. From Heti's reading: "Margaux complements me in interesting ways: she paints my picture and I record what she is saying. We do whatever we can to make the other one famous." These cross-connections go all the way around — Kamstra is in both the book and movie, while he in return writes songs about his friends. I'm sure far more thoughtful people than myself have put more thought into this, but I found myself musing on what it means for the glamourous people to gain that status by virtue of self-declaration and what the boundaries are between mutual reinforcement and mutual masturbation, and between creating mythologies and telling in-jokes. Handicapping the merch race, it looked like the book was winning — though it was also the bulkiest and hardest to conceal on one's person.

And then, once the band started getting ready, I looked upon the awkwardly-shaped stage (long and narrow, presenting the short front to the dance floor) and had a momentary Seeing Things-like vision of mediocre Stones cover bands cranking out rehashed Keef riffs. The crowd was a little thinner now — obviously some people didn't stick around to rock'n'roll, but there were plenty of vocal supporters on hand.

Showing a sense of occasion, bandmembers were celebrating the "don't go to school" theme, sporting uniforms marred by various school supply impalements.¹ The choir, who would join the band on several songs were wearing graduation gowns. For the full set, the band led off slowly with "Romantic Shut In", just Kamstra accompanied by Sholem Krishtalka's piano and backing vocals, and then flipping to the other pole of the band's sound with the scrappy glam of "The Swan". Kamstra's musical vision is based in a synthesis of some disparate elements — the sexual chug of rock'n'roll against the narrative scope of showtunes, to name a couple.² That murky mix reflects the fundamental ambiguities of sexuality and identity that Kamstra is expressing in his lyrics, blown up larger-than-life with his theatrical (and sometimes wilfully over-the-top) delivery.

Theatrical, too, in the sense of putting on a show. During "Hardboiled Wonderland" Kamstra took to the floor and danced like he was auditioning for an old-fashioned burlesque act. "I'm getting a little more comfortable with you," he said after, undoing his shirt to reveal a training bra underneath. The band, meanwhile, was getting into the giddy fun of it all, but definitely keeping things grounded with their solid playing. As I'd suspected after seeing them play some of these songs at an "open rehearsal", things were held together a lot more with a steady backbeat. Meanwhile Krishtalka and noted illustrator/cartographer Marlena Zuber gave vocal support as the songs lurched back and forth from cabaret to dive bar.

Now, I'm one who likes scrappy garage rock more than torch songs, so the fact that I'm more compelled by that side of band's work isn't too surprising. Thus, I'm drawn to stuff like the B-52's-on-poppers "Skank", with vocal parts passed all around and cowbell rhythms hitting on all cylinders. But I'm not blind to that other side, like the melodramatic hustler epic "Goldfinch Gluespoo", which arcs like a mini-musical. That one closed out the set, but everyone knew that there was going to be one more, and the band didn't wait long before plowing into signature song "The End of Poverty".

Afterward, Kamstra looked like he'd just played about seven periods of hockey and sweated out any evils in his system. As a communal dance experience, this was convincing — enough that one doesn't feel too bothered on the way out to fret, "but is it art?"

Check out a couple tracks from this set here and here.

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¹ I assume it's in that spirit that the album's title is mis-spelled "DON'T GO TO SCHOOOL" on the disc's spine.

² In their recorded incarnation, the band throws even more elements in the mix, including a couple flirtations with a more electronic/dancey sound, such as on the heavily autotuned "Big in Afghanistan".