Latest news with #AuditoriumTheatre
Chicago Tribune
01-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Chicago Tribune
Dance for Life announces lineup for 2025, its biggest in decades
Dance for Life has announced the lineup for its 2025 performance and gala in August at the Auditorium Theatre and Venue SIX10. The list of Chicago-area dance companies participating this summer includes the Chicago Tap All-Stars, Deeply Rooted Dance Theater, Giordano Dance Chicago, Hubbard Street Dance Chicago, the Joffrey Ballet, Movement Revolution Dance Crew, South Chicago Dance Theatre, Trinity Irish Dance Company and Visceral Dance Chicago, plus a first-time appearance for Aerial Dance Chicago. Choreographer Jonathan Alsberry, who contributed in 2024, will return to create the performance's finale, a work including dancers from across the Chicago area. Dance for Life 2025 co-chairs are Jamin and Ekua McGinnis. This will be the 34th annual fundraiser for the nonprofit Chicago Dance Health Fund, and according to an announcement Thursday, it will have the largest lineup since 1993. More information about the works the companies are performing will be announced in June. Dance for Life was launched in 1992 to raise money to support Chicago-area dancers in response to the AIDS crisis. In the years since, it formed as a nonprofit and expanded its mission to provide financial support for preventive health care and medical needs for members of Chicago's professional dance community. 6 p.m. at The Auditorium, 50 E. Ida B. Wells Drive, followed by an After Party Gala at Venue SIX10, 610 S. Michigan Ave.; tickets ($45-$125 for the performance only, $500 for performance and gala) go on sale June 3 at 312-341-2300 and A presale runs May 13 to June 3 with $125 tickets available for $75; use code DFLPRESALE.
Chicago Tribune
29-04-2025
- Entertainment
- Chicago Tribune
Review: Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds at Salt Shed: Less outlaw, more spiritualist
'We've all had too much sorrow,' Nick Cave sang Monday at the first of a two-night stand at Salt Shed. 'Now is the time for joy.' And so it was. The esteemed singer-songwriter teamed with his longtime backing band the Bad Seeds, complete with a four-piece choir, to deliver engaging variations on gospel. Cave gave new meaning to the laying on of hands as he reached into the sold-out crowd to grasp outstretched arms, and at several points, a few hands volunteered as temporary receptacles when the vocalist sought a place to put his microphone as he mopped sweat from his brow. For 150 unhurried minutes, Cave channeled spirits and spirituals. Touring in support of the recent 'Wild God' album, the 67-year-old Australian native embraced proven storytelling concepts such as exuberance, wonder, grandiosity, exaggeration and imagination. Cave tapped a deep well of Old Testament mythology and metaphorical language, and with his clear tenor and adaptable ensemble, brought the right tools to create soundscapes that matched his vivid imagery. No matter how bloody and horrific things got — unrepentant prisoners, trigger-happy madmen, lustful murderers and wicked schemers all figured into his songs — Cave kept returning to love, mercy and redemption. Yes, the singer —adorned in his typical black suit and polished black dress shoes — plays the roles of dapper villain and charlatan evangelist as well as anyone in rock 'n' roll. But the transformation of Cave into a mellower, comforting presence that began a little more than a decade ago continued to take shape here. Nearly eight years have passed since Cave last hit town with the renowned Bad Seeds. Not that the group's leader has been a stranger to the area. Cave treated fans to two rare solo shows in fall 2023 at the Auditorium Theatre, where he and bassist Colin Greenwood distilled songs to a skeletal form. A year earlier at the same venue, he paired with veteran Bad Seed Warren Ellis — his creative foil on more than a dozen soundtracks and one original studio record — for their first tour as a duo. Perhaps coincidentally, Cave's output during the 2010s didn't require the full-on force of the Bad Seeds. Pursuing directions hinted at on 'Push the Sky Away' (2013), and adopted on the ambient-leaning 'Skeleton Tree' (2016) and meandering 'Ghosteen' (2019), he pursued quieter, intimate fare that prized synthesized lushness and modular architecture. The most pronounced detours followed the death of his 15-year-old son, Arthur, and served as solemn meditations on unspeakable anguish. Grief and doubt — Cave lost another son in 2022 — informed portions of the 22-song set. Threatening to shatter with every word, his threadbare voice captured the unremitting pain that accompanies desperate uncertainty on a remarkable solo rendition of 'I Need You.' The melancholic beauty of 'O Children' functioned as a simultaneous confession and call to action, though Cave's recurrent command to rejoice remained mired in hopelessness. Those efforts stood in contrast to the tidal swell and hymn-like uplift of Cave's newest fare. Structural similarities aside, the emotional tugs toward reassuring optimism and courageous adventure on 'Wild God,' 'Frogs' and 'Conversion' proved as sincere as the melodies that washed over arrangements like a purifying balm. Drawing on church traditions — call-and-response exchanges, layered harmonies, the female members' robed attire — the backing vocalists helped mold the shimmering moods and material. Not every moment gave a positive impression. The soupy 'Cinnamon Horses' took too long to burst out of the gate. 'Song of the Lake' too closely recycled the patterns of other atmospheric, late-era Cave tunes. The singer's incessant 'yeah, yeah, yeah' interjections grew stale. He also briefly lost his place amid the stalking 'Red Right Hand' and, shockingly, confused Chicago with Detroit when he mentioned the latter city while interacting with the audience. Apologizing, an embarrassed Cave stated he and his band's faculties often hung by a thread. Understandable. A famously physical performer, Cave divided time between sitting at a piano and prowling a stage-width walkway that brought him face to face with his fervent congregation. Hopping, bounding, conducting, clapping, pointing, punching, dropping to his knees: He moved as if electrical currents surged through his wiry frame, his pipe-cleaner arms darting out from his torso in opposite directions, his quick-draw feet operating in concert with his swiveling hips to dance an impromptu tango. Cave is no longer the full-time outlaw who once presided over stages with an endless reserve of savage chaos and manic intensity, yet he can still flip that switch. As the Bad Seeds conjured the violent sounds of turbulent thunderstorms, shredded metal and snapped limbs, he chronicled the disastrous flood of 'Tupelo' with a frightening discharge of howls, barks, shouts and screams. The coda of an extended 'Jubilee Street' witnessed a frantic Cave casually flip his microphone and let it fall to the ground as he rushed to the piano to pound boogie-woogie lines before he indulged one final delirious vocal purge. Content to operate in the shadows, drummer Larry Mullins, percussionist Jim Sclavunos and Greenwood (of Radiohead lore) anchored sophisticated rhythmic footings that involved specialized devices ranging from the marimba and xylophone to suspended chimes, mallets and cymbals. Squirreled away in his own little area, surrounded by an armada of amplifiers and pedals, Ellis preferred an extroverted, animated approach. The only person to compete with Cave on the showmanship front, the hirsute multi-instrumentalist conjured the freewheeling disposition of a snickering prankster and the innocuous nature of an old barfly who adores attention. He precariously stood on a curved chair, bent into L-shaped positions to add backup vocals and slouched, cross-legged, into his seat during brief pauses. Ellis was a hoot, and his violin and electric guitar playing, as well as his wordless vocal cries, warranted praise. Cave offered as much, calling his friend's contributions 'beautiful.' It's a description the singer used on multiple occasions, most notably on his spoken introduction to 'Skeleton Tree.' Cave talked of rediscovering the ballad and putting an end to its cursed status. As he ushered the subdued song to its conclusion, the reclamation came full circle. 'And it's all right now,' Cave repeated in soothing tones. Even if only for that instant, no matter what the outside world suggested, you had no logical choice but to believe him. Gospel, and the good news, at its finest. Bob Gendron is a freelance critic. Setlist from Salt Shed on April 28: 'Frogs' 'Wild God' 'Song of the Lake' 'O Children' 'Jubilee Street' 'From Her to Eternity' 'Long Dark Night' 'Cinnamon Horses' 'Tupelo' 'Conversion' 'Bright Horses' 'Joy' 'I Need You' 'Carnage' 'Final Rescue Attempt' 'Red Right Hand' 'The Mercy Seat' 'White Elephant' Encore 'Papa Won't Leave You, Henry' 'The Weeping Song' 'Skeleton Tree' 'Into My Arms'
Chicago Tribune
03-03-2025
- Entertainment
- Chicago Tribune
Alvin Ailey returns to the Auditorium as the company enters a new era and a dancer says farewell
'A scene ends in blackout and suddenly the stage is ablaze with a burnished, orange sun. Out come the women, in white frocks and wide hats, their hands aflutter in a desperate, probably losing battle to stave off the heat. They're in church, but they're home, too … We're in Alvin Ailey territory, and the work, of course, is 'Revelations,' dance images as distinct and memorable as any in our fading century.' Tribune critic Sid Smith wrote in 1998 of Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater's annual trip to the Auditorium Theatre — a tradition almost as old as the company itself. In the same review, Smith lauded both Judith Jamison, a founding dancer who assumed leadership in 1989 when founder Alvin Ailey died, and a young dancer, Matthew Rushing, who shepherds it today. Rushing has been interim artistic director since 2023, filling the shoes Jamison wore for decades before Robert Battle's 12-year tenure. Former Ailey dancer Alicia Graf Mack, who most recently was head of the dance program at Juilliard, will be the company's permanent artistic director leading into the 2025-26 season. It is thus the dawn of a new era for Ailey, which returns to the Auditorium Theatre March 7-9. The opening performance includes a special tribute to Jamison, who died in November 2024. It's also the final time Chicago native Vernard Gilmore will perform here as part of the company; after almost 30 years with the organization, he'll retire at the end of the season — the last company member on the current roster Jamison hired. 'You just know,' Gilmore said of his pending departure. 'I'm ready to take on new things.' It is an uncharacteristically short run in Chicago, lasting just three days and four public performances. Rushing said touring has shifted significantly since the pandemic, but Chicago is one of just a handful of non-negotiable cities. Despite the short stay, they've added an additional school show, bussing children from all over the city to sit in the Auditorium's golden seats for a daytime performance. That's how Gilmore first found out about Ailey. 'It's a pretty amazing legacy to be a part of,' Gilmore said. A full circle moment was performing the iconic 'I Wanna be Ready' solo from 'Revelations' as part of the Auditorium's 2019 showcase celebrating 50 years since the 1889 venue reopened to the public after closing during the Great Depression. 'It's been a constant inspiration to keep a coalition together to keep reaching out to the public and bring people into the theater,' said Gilmore, 'especially people like me from the South Side.' Gilmore grew up in Englewood. His early dance training included Joseph Holmes Dance Theatre and Barat College, a private college in Lake Forest that housed a dance conservatory. The conservatory folded when DePaul University bought the college 2001. The campus closed altogether in 2005. Gilmore praised his teachers at Joseph Holmes and Barat; he's kept them in his biography since joining Ailey II in 1995. 'Not many dancers can boast such a long performing career,' said Rory Foster, a former American Ballet Theatre dancer who was dean of the Barat College Dance Conservatory. 'There was never a doubt among our faculty that (Gilmore) was destined to have a successful professional career.' 'Vernard pushed himself constantly in class, listening and absorbing everything, which made it a pleasure to teach him,' said Emily Stein, who taught Gilmore's ballet classes at both Barat College and Joseph Holmes Dance Theatre. 'He could see what he wanted and was willing to make the commitment and do the work to get there.' As Gilmore now looks to pass the torch to the next generation, he feels the responsibility of his role as a senior company member, passing down the stories and culture of a uniquely American institution. But he's also been on stage often and long enough that he can now just enjoy being in the moment. 'I'm a firm believer in Judith Jamison's words: Hold onto the past, live in the present, reach fearlessly into the future,' he said. As for his own future, Gilmore plans to seek opportunities to choreograph, following in the footsteps of colleagues such as Hope Boykin and Rushing, whose pieces 'Finding Free' and 'Sacred Songs' will be performed for the first time in Chicago. The mixed-bill, divided into two distinct programs, also features a refreshed, 25th-anniversary staging of Ronald K. Brown's 'Grace,' a new production of Elisa Monte's 1979 'Treading' and the Chicago premiere of 'Many Angels,' a rare new piece by Chicago native Lar Lubovitch. Rushing looks forward to resuming his role as associate director when Graf Mack takes over, giving him more time to choreograph. He managed to squeeze in a new piece for Hubbard Street Dance Chicago, set to premiere in May, in addition to 'Sacred Songs,' a work culled from discarded parts of Alvin Ailey's original evening-length version of 'Revelations.' But he's got no plans to leave Ailey. 'It's simple but it's profound,' Rushing said. 'Mr. Ailey wanted to make a place and a vehicle for dancers of color when they didn't have it. But he also wanted to celebrate humanity. When you step into this organization and you experience that firsthand, there's something that shifts in your life. You can't shake it. It gets into your DNA.' Lauren Warnecke is a freelance critic.
Los Angeles Times
06-02-2025
- Entertainment
- Los Angeles Times
‘It got a little messy': Stephen Stills and Graham Nash on CSNY's early days
On Sept. 20, 1969, Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young played the fourth of four concerts over two nights at the Fillmore East in New York City. A month earlier, the quartet had played the now-legendary Woodstock festival — its set began at approximately 3 a.m. — which itself was just the band's second gig following its live debut the previous evening at Chicago's Auditorium Theatre. Superstardom was on the horizon for this rock supergroup that combined former members of the Byrds (Crosby), the Hollies (Nash) and Buffalo Springfield (Stills and Young). 'Déjà Vu,' the first album by CSNY following a 1969 LP credited to Crosby, Stills & Nash, would top the Billboard 200 in May 1970 on its way to a Grammy nomination for album of the year and eventual sales of more than 7 million copies. That night at the Fillmore, though, the band was still figuring itself out. A new concert album captures the moment: 'Live at Fillmore East, 1969' documents the two sets CSNY played on Sept. 20 — one acoustic, one electric — comprising 17 songs, including 'Suite: Judy Blue Eyes' and 'Helplessly Hoping,' both from 'Crosby, Stills & Nash,' and '4 + 20' and 'Our House,' both of which would end up on 'Déjà Vu'; there's also a ripping 16-minute version of 'Down by the River,' from Young's 'Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere,' which had come out that May. Weeks before Nash, 83, and Stills, 80, performed together at last month's FireAid benefit concert, the two gathered on a Zoom call — Nash from 'yet another hotel room' before a tour stop in St. Louis, Stills from 'my extremely messy office-slash-bedroom' in Los Angeles — to discuss the live album, Joni Mitchell's return to the stage and their memories of Crosby, who died in 2023. Stephen, you famously said onstage at Woodstock that you guys were 'scared s—' because the festival was only the band's second time before an audience. I wondered whether that was still the case a month later at the Fillmore. Stills: Scared s— was gone by, I'd say, bar 16 of the first song at Woodstock. Nash: We did pretty good there. I've not actually seen the entire 'Woodstock' movie — I've seen [John] Sebastian and Richie Havens — but we did pretty well. When we started the suite, it sounded fabulous to me. Wait, you've never seen all of 'Woodstock'? That seems insane. Nash: You know, Woodstock has taken on this incredible myth in the years since, and I understand why — it was an incredible gathering. But it's gotten larger and larger and larger, the myth of it all. Stills: Quite frankly, Coachella is just as big now, so it's like: So what? It was just the first time all the hippies of the world got together. You'd argue that the myth is now out of proportion with the event itself. Nash: We're still talking about it. Stills: See? Do you remember playing the specific Fillmore show documented on this new live album? Stills: I have no specific memory of the show, but hearing the tape took me right back. We were a brand-new band just learning to play together electric. We were playing insufferably loud, which made it all the more surprising how good the singing was. Was insufferable the goal for the electric set? Stills: It was the trend — everyone played incredibly loud back then. The Hollies didn't. Nash: That's true. Stills: But big stacks of Marshalls were all the rage. I tortured my bandmates enough with those. Nash: When we made ['Crosby, Stills & Nash'], we kind of realized that it was coming out at a time of Led Zeppelin and Hendrix and stuff. We thought that the acoustic-y feel to our first record would sneak its way through. And it did. Stephen, you said the music takes you right back. Does hearing it make you think about the relationships in the band? The culture at the time? Stills: This record reminds me of where we were maturity-wise. Graham was the seasoned bro, and David and I had had a stab at it. The Byrds had more more success — everybody had more success than the Buffalo Springfield — but we were as yet unformed. As for the culture, it's like suddenly we were the spokesmen for it, which led to some disastrous things. A reporter sticks his microphone in your face and says, 'So how are you going to change the world?' It got a little messy. But we lived. In 2014, you guys released 'CSNY 1974,' which documented a tour of stadiums the band played that summer. Looking back, which were better shows: the stadium gigs or those at theaters like the Fillmore? Nash: I prefer more intimate settings — when you can see their eyes and you can see that they're appreciating it. Stills: The question is answered by the quality of the singing, and the quality of the singing in this concert is what made it for me, because we had our blend. By the time of that stadium tour, we were all moved to separate mics and there was lots of oversinging and overexcitement because you're selling so big. Right before the Fillmore, you did seven nights at the Greek Theatre in L.A. Nobody does that anymore. Nash: Nobody has Joni Mitchell opening for them either. Stills: Those Greek shows are really what made us coalesce. That vocal blend is showcased on the 'Fillmore' record in a cover of the Beatles' 'Blackbird.' Nash: That was Stephen's idea. We had heard the Beatles do 'Blackbird,' of course, and Stephen in his brilliant record-making said, 'You know, I think we can really sing this in some good three-part harmony.' Stills: The thing that set it off is I figured it out on guitar. [Paul] McCartney saw me play it later and said, 'Why so complicated? It's a [different] tuning.' But I figured it out. Harmonically, yours veers pretty far from the Beatles' original. Nash: That was a part of the magic that we had discovered when we first started singing together. The Hollies and the Byrds and the Buffalo Springfield were very decent harmony bands. But when David and Stephen and I made our voices into one, we knew we'd struck magic. Stills: I give a lot of the credit for those voicings to David Crosby. He was the master of coming up with the really far-out parts. I referred to him as the glue. Have you heard Beyoncé's version of 'Blackbird' from her 'Cowboy Carter' album? Stills: All I've heard on that Beyoncé album is the treatment she gave my song. She actually gave me a writer's credit [in her 'Ameriican Requiem'] for using 'For What It's Worth.' I'm like, Where is it? [laughs] It's a completely different song, but I was very flattered. She's known for being very thorough in her album credits. Stills: Actually, that's endemic to the whole rap world — much to my benefit. Mailbox money, baby. After opening those Greek shows, Mitchell went with you to New York. She's said to have been in the audience at the Fillmore. Nash: Joan was there, absolutely. I think it was the first time we played 'Our House' live. I remember how incredibly joyous we felt about life. Yes, Richard Nixon was crazy. Yes, the Vietnam War was still going on. But for me, particularly coming from England, it was kind of the difference between black-and-white movies and Technicolor movies. 'Our House,' of course, was inspired by your and Joni's romantic relationship. Did the two of you talk about the song after the show? Nash: Nope [laughs]. What's it been like for you to watch this comeback journey she's been on? Nash: First of all, she's alive. We nearly lost her — I mean, we really nearly lost Joni Mitchell. So to see her come back to life and to see her still performing is amazing. Her range has shortened somewhat, but her phrasing is incredible right now — jazz-like and deliberate. I'm so pleased that she's thriving. How do the two of you think about the ways your voices have changed with age? Nash: I'm amazed that I can still sing like this. Stills: Tony Bennett once told me — I said, 'What's the secret of longevity?' and he said, 'Never be afraid to lower the key or use a teleprompter.' I've taken that to heart. Do you think CSNY might have played together again had Crosby not died? Nash: It really would've depended on the songs. I would say it's unlikely, but when Stephen comes to me with a song that breaks my heart, I want a piece of it — I want to add to it and help him say it. Stills: I don't think we realized how badly we would miss David. Nash: Don't forget what Stephen said: David Crosby was the heartbeat and the glue of the four of us. Did his death come as a shock? Nash: Well, the truth is that even Crosby thought he was going to die decades earlier. It's not funny, but it is. David expected to go years and years ago, and the fact that he made it to being over 80 years old was astonishing. The four of you have made music in any number of combinations. Does the idea of Stills, Nash & Young appeal, or would that just bring too much attention to David's absence? Nash: Feeling his absence is probably why we would never do it.
