L to R: Brie Anderson, Patrick Whitehead, Bob Boilen, Yours Truly,
Ted Zook, Jerry Busher, and Doug Kallmeyer. Photo by Mike Zito.
On October 11, 2024 the
improvisational band known as Fanoplane found itself chilling in the green room
at the Black Cat, a storied music venue in Washington, D.C. The mini-fridge in
said enclave bore the stickers of the many bands who had waited there on other
nights in anticipation of their sets. We helped ourselves to a tidy assortment
of red grapes and green apples. We quipped that we had made “the big time.” It
felt quite nice to be there.
Perhaps owing to our
unconventional sound, the venue had chosen us to open for Xiu Xiu, an
experimental rock group with a national following. The foundation of “our
unconventional sound” revolves around two key details: we have no repertoire
and we frequently feature a large mixture of instruments. We rehearse, but we
have no songs. Fanoplane invents new pieces every time it takes the stage.
Co-led by Ted Zook and Bob Boilen, the personnel may vary from show to show. It
may present with two members, or, as with the Black Cat appearance, it may
perform as a septet, or still other combinations.
In addition to Ted (electric cello) and Bob (electronics),
the musicians on October 11th included Brie Anderson (guitar),
Patrick Whitehead (trumpet), Jerry Busher (drums), and Doug Kallmeyer (bass). For
my part, I did (I always do) words. My affiliation with these extraordinary
musicians dates back several years to previous incarnations of related improv
bands, including Lost Civilizations and Heterodyne. While these groups have
performed at several other iconic venues—including Baltimore’s An Die Musik and
DC’s Velvet Lounge—the Black Cat would have to be the “biggest” space with the
largest audience: as many as 300 people watched us take the stage.
by dragging your mouse or finger. I personally get a little crazy between 10:30 and 10:45.
Those in the audience impressed
me. They were young and open-minded; individuality abounded. They had not paid
to see us, no, they had come for Xiu Xiu, and yet, they pressed up to
the stage and wanted to groove, they wanted us to groove, they wanted the band
to discover them amid the groove and stay close, just like that, interlinked.
The audience spurred us forward. They gave the warmup act their full attention
and allowed themselves to be surprised by our mayhem.
Despite my frequent appearances
with Fanoplane and its ancestor bands, I can’t predict exactly know how a song will
begin. Perhaps our beloved co-leader Ted Zook will saw across his basscello, but
the budding moments may spring out of the entire collective sort of testing out
their instruments. We all make eye contact, nod our heads, and then we realize
that the new piece has commenced. None of the musicians seeks to dominate the
proceedings. Fanoplane bandmates know when to drop down a bit, and conversely,
when to step into a “lull.” Everybody plays—and everybody listens. It is a
cooperative, so we cooperate.
Similarly, my role as “words” may
be to suggest a new idea or a thumping new beat but just as often I will adapt
my delivery (and my choice of material) to the established cadence and/or tone.
As much as I enjoy my contributions the group, I equally cherish listening to
the other bandmembers. Thus, we “shape” a performance.
On October 11th, I’d
say that Fanoplane discovered a few new things, none more heartening than our
connection with a vibrant young audience. We also found a foothold within a
certain system of vivid overlaps and speculative forays, or to put it another
way, our seven selves meshed musically, transformed into separate shapes altogether, before untethering entirely from our own expectations. As if we
were clouds, then people, then rain.
