PRAISE POEM FOR THE IMPROVISATIONAL COLLECTIVE FANOPLANE (OF WHICH I AM A MEMBER.)

 
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 11^th 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. 

This 360-degree video produced by Bob Boilen (an excerpt from the show) can be rotated
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. 

Oi.

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 11^th, 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.