What the hell is a “hair harp?” That was the question on my mind when I sat down at Nico Muhly’s show Skin, Bone, Hair at The Kitchen Friday night. Scanning the program with my guests Erin and Alec, we wondered what we were in for, as the set that greeted us suggested an atypical evening. Yet it was the inclusion of “human hair harp” under the instrument list that had us especially confused.
An email exchange earlier in the day warned me that the proceedings were going to be strange. Nico piqued my interest with his admission that “the point of [the] whole show is to horrify people into not thinking I’m so nice.” It’s not as if Nico (who I wrote about for Movmnt) has an Oprah like reputation, but a barrage of press throughout the past year has consistently heralded him as the young composer to watch. If they’re going to watch, you may as well give them something to talk about.
When we made our way into the theater we were greeted by a set that looked more like a fantasy torture den than somewhere to play music. A collection of ropes that stretched out to create a spider-web like structure were cluttered with various skulls and bones sheltering a percussion set up. Directly in front of that was a white horse draped with a saddle made of hair. Centered upstage was a raised platform with three women laying down, long hair cascading off the edge. The title began to make sense.
(Nico (second in from left) takes a box on the bizarre set.)
The lights came down and a series of musicians made their way onto stage. Their faces were coated with a layer of white paint, presenting them as ghostly creatures that fit perfectly into Icelandic artist Hrafnhildur Arnadottir’s upside down fantasy design.
Last to arrive was Nico, donning maestro coattails capped off by a ghostly face and tussled hair. To say what followed was mesmerizing is an understatement. From the moment Nico sat down at the piano, boxed in by a set of computers and smaller keyboards on either side, every level of the evening transfixed me.
My only previous experience with Nico’s music was the ballet he did for ABT, his CD on iTunes, and a variety of files he was kind enough to send me off of his upcoming album. All were pleasures to listen to, but it was seeing him in action that made me fully appreciate his creations.
Skin, Bone, Hair is a collection of four movements for four musicians. After a brief introduction, there is an extended percussion solo (It’s About Time), a pair of viola etudes (Hair Passacaglia) and the meeting of the instruments in the 15-minute final piece (The Only Tune).
What made the evening fascinating to me was the inability to categorize the type of music that made up the four movements. Most mesmerizing of all was the percussion solo that had an air of surprise to the performance that seemed delightfully improvised. The inclusion of folk singer Sam Amidon added an aura of pop relevance to The Only Tune, while other moments sounded purely classical.
Yet even in the classical sections, there were odd moments. At one point Nico started violently combing a fellow musician’s hair underneath a microphone, which added a scraping whisper while he plunked out keys on the piano. Minutes before, he had knelt down beside the violist and shaken his fingers through the women’s hair at the back of the stage, essentially playing the rhythms of the music through this “human hair harp”. The music began to get more violent and he took the women’s hair between his fingers and ratted it in time with the notes of her viola.
(Erin attacks the steed. Typical.)
Of all the performers, Nico had the most unique physicality that was unable to be harnessed despite being seated behind a piano. Perhaps most intriguing is that he possesses talent and a look in his eyes that reaches far beyond his 27 years, while also maintaining a childlike fascination with the proceedings. With his hands folded on his lap, he would close his eyes and get lost in the other musicians’ performances, only to search and release a key with the determination of a typewriter letter that immediately settles back into place.
I couldn’t ever decide where to focus throughout the 45-minute program. Watching the musicians play was both a sonic and physical dance that overwhelmed my senses. Nico may have to do something a little more startling (perhaps bite the head off a bat on stage) to prove he’s not quite so nice, but it was still refreshing to hear something that wasn’t quite what people have come to expect of him. It was the type of evening that renewed my faith in the arts, and showed that there are worthwhile evenings to be had at the theater for under $100.
(The lovely Alec and Erin pose for the blogarazzi.)
