Audience Participation
'Luckily, it's not just me
making it up,' Bushwalla says. He and I are talking about his show later
tonight and, specifically, I'm trying to analyze his very unique musical
process. I've been watching the show every week since he started his residency
at Hot Monkey Love and I know there's going to be an intangible, but palatable
inertia there. Just like on all the other nights, tonight's audience arrives
ready and arrives early. Seating is quickly filled up and the band is just as
anxious and excited as the audience. This show is about everyone in the room,
not just the people on stage. Tonight's show will neither be a repeat of
previous performances nor is it likely to be repeated in the same way down the
road. Bushwalla (or just 'Bush') is hoping to once again do the dance. 'If the
audience is really going for it and they want to bring the funk, oh yeah!
Okay!'
Bushwalla
has been cultivating his art and his audience for a long time Ñ and it shows.
Whether he's singing, dancing, juggling, or laughing, he's doing something very
unique in a way that smacks of practice as much as talent. Bushwalla Fridays at
Hot Monkey Love include, but may not be limited to, Talking Heads cover songs,
beat-boxing, live DJs, Beanie Babies, and, of course, audience participation!
Having lived in Cleveland, New York, Los Angeles, and San Diego, Bushwalla has
expanded the definition of his live performance over and over to include an
eclectic array of performance pieces, and he relies on the audience to make
them really special. Usually by the middle of the night, he'll be guiding the
entire audience in one giant sing-along, like a conductor poised in front of
his symphony. Think back to the last time you were somewhere and the guy on
stage mentions 'audience participation.' Everyone in the room shuffles
uncomfortably in their seat and considers going to the bathroom until this
obligatory segment of the show has ended, right? Breaking down the audience's
apprehensions and reminding them that music can be a contact sport is a noble
achievement.
Synergy
I'd hesitate to refer to the
other musicians on stage as 'Bushwalla's band,' since they all take the reins
at various times during a performance. They coordinate flexibly like multiple
arms on a musical octopus, where and when they are needed. They work together,
constructing various messages, each one contributing fresh ideas to the mix.
There is no static name for this band. It is, as they say, a mystery wrapped up
in an enigma. Under many names this band has existed. Additionally, the band
appears in different incarnations (which still changes from week to week). The
relationships are musical and personal and some histories go back further than
others. But one thing is evident from watching Bushwalla perform: his passion
for music is as strong as his passion for the people around him.
Bushwalla
calls himself the Original Gangster from Cleveland. Cleveland's a rough town.
Bushwalla is a mellow guy, a
people person. Maybe that is why he's acquired such a large band Ð a bit like a
rhythmic mafia crime ring. Andre Desantana has been performing with Bushwalla
for over six years. Hailing from Brazil and armed with two barrels of rhythm,
he's a force to be reckoned with on bass. Andre is also producing Bushwalla's
upcoming record, due out this fall. Justin Kirk (trombone), Ben Adamson
(trumpet), and Aaron Liebowitz (saxophone) are like the horn section equivalent
to the musketeers, a triple reminder that romance and virtue exist in all
places, in all songs. Keith Benton brings the beat on percussion and Ian
Sheridan (also on bass) sets the groove while the vocal stylings of MC Raz,
Jessie Payo, and Bushwalla, himself, paint the melodies.
So,
how did this collection of characters assemble? When did this story begin? It
began when Bushwalla (then William Galewood) left Cleveland, Ohio, and made
tracks to the American Musical and Dramatic Academy in New York City, where he
studied musical theater. He loved performing, music, and theater. However, the
academy didn't give him what he wanted Ð it wasn't true north. He went back to
Cleveland and pursued any and all opportunities that were made available to
him. Continuing musical theater locally and acting in independent films,
Bushwalla diversified his roles and experiences, which eventually included
announcing for the WNBA. It was a productive phase in his life that enabled him
to sharpen his public appearance skills and learn to make connections with the
general public through performance.
For
a handful of years, Bushwalla followed an unlikely breadcrumb trail of jobs,
hobbies, and relationships, even moving to Virginia where he took a job running
a recreational gymnastics program. Not that he had any experience with
gymnastics Ñ he lied on his job application and got the job! He was looking for
'any job that didn't feel like a job; anything where I was performing.' Working
with kids gave him an audience, a tough audience. 'They'll boo you!' he
exclaims. Although he liked working with kids, the job was short lived because
he wasn't comfortable with the environment and didn't like the politics.
Finally, San Diego wound up on his radar. He came out and connected up with his
old college roommate (from New York), Jason Mraz, who was playing gigs around
San Diego and L.A.
He
moved in fits and starts, working again as a gymnastics coach in Los Angeles
between 2000 and 2003, but it didn't satisfy him. 'I've got to do something
that's true to my heart,' Bushwalla says, recalling the lesson that he learned
from that experience. Running seven different open mics in the Los Angeles area
during the six years he lived in there connected him to a community of
comedians and musicians. 'I was working on my stage [presence], working on my
timing,' he remembers. 'I didn't have a home; I was living in coffee shops.' By
2001, Jason was doing regular shows and Bushwalla started doing opening sets
consisting of stand-up comedy and music at Java Joes (where he even lived in
the back) under the name Mr. Funny Man.
Like
many artists, they live a life and then they make their art from what they
have. In Bushwalla's case, the music has obviously been influenced by his own
experiences, but the evidence of his varied backgrounds shows through as well.
His band is an amalgamation of folks he met in New York, L.A., and San Diego.
He's invented his own unique style that fuses theater with music, East Coast
with West Coast, and creates something all-new that a lot of people can relate
to right off the bat. 'It took me a long time to find my sound; it took me 12
years.'
Bushwalla's
residencies at Twiggs Green Room and, currently, Hot Monkey Love keep him sharp
and aware. You're likely to catch his show in San Diego and L.A., weekly or
monthly. He's regularly paired himself on stage with numerous local artists,
L.A. bands (like regulars Raining Jane), and out-of-town heavy weights like Bob
Schneider as part of his ongoing search for new live experiences. If you step
outside for a butt break during this phase of his development, you're going to
miss something. He is charged with gratitude and creative energy and plans to
release his new full-length record in late summer/early fall of this year.
The Whole World's An Improv!
Live, everything about a
Bushwalla show is highly dependent upon the vibe in the room from minute to minute,
night to night Ñ a series of moments in which music defines the mood, bonding
every person in the room. 'That is how the audience connects,' explains
Bushwalla. 'Because we're just going on one little journey. We're right there
in the moment; we're being there now and there's nothing else that really
matters in those moments.' It's an experience that mimics everyday life. It's
full of surprises, where new possibilities are always present. At the top of
this article, I explained that I was analyzing Bushwalla's unique musical
approach. I wanted to be able to recognize the ingredients in his performance
recipe, discover their individual properties, and articulate the experience
that they combine to create. However, his model rejects that kind of analysis
because it isn't premeditated. It is always 'becoming.'
'Basically,
all day, all we're doing is [improvising],' he says. 'We improv our lives, you
know? It's just a metaphor for what you do. There's no reason we've got to come
to a show, stand up [on stage] and say 'this is how we do this.' The whole
world's an improv!' The fact that so many kinds of talents and creative
journeys take place, from free-styling to story-telling, makes the show more
vital than it would otherwise be if there was simply a recipe to follow. The
consistency of the band's output keeps fans coming back and the variety keeps
everyone engaged Ð including the musicians themselves who all have commitments
in several other bands and as independent artists.
Improvising
leads to one of the big challenges on the upcoming record: synergy. I'm not
talking about the synergy among the band members. That's never been better.
Live, the band participates in tandem with audience; it is an exchange, not
just a recital. Fans are part of the show and they help to create the
experience. So, the synergy between the studio environment, where things tend
to be rehearsed and polished, doesn't naturally accommodate the organic style
of musical performance that Bushwalla is known for. This has posed interesting
creative questions for Andre and Bushwalla as they've worked on the record
together. They are resisting the temptation to create in isolation Ð a
temptation that the studio environment makes so available. They want to have a
full, lush 'produced' feel without sacrificing the groove and energy that they
showcase on stage.
In
talking with Andre about the recording, process he explained that the approach
in the studio is to follow the same paradigm that Bushwalla applies on stage.
The idea is that if you create a space in which enthusiasm and encouragement
fuel a unique artistic performance, the end result becomes more creative and
more elaborate over time. The record, like each performance will be unique.
They have a bit more control over the pitch of the energy they capture, but
they understand the contribution that the larger community makes to the music
and they want to embrace that contribution on tape. With such an eclectic group
of performers and such a willing audience, Andre and Bushwalla have a great
opportunity to create exactly the synergistic cycle, in the studio, that the
music needs to flourish.
Mistakes and Victories
Just as the route that
Bushwalla took in his 12-year journey to find his 'sound' was long and
circuitous and just as his band represents an unlikely range of musical
backgrounds and influences, so do his live show travel a unique and wandering
path to creation each and every night. Even the simplest of boundaries Ð one
that separates the performer from the audience Ð is dissolved, blending in well
enough to blur the line where the stage starts and the seating ends. Keep in
mind that defying predictability isn't simple or easy. Bushwalla still needs to
gain perspective to keep things moving along nicely. 'Before I go on stage every
[time], I like to do affirmations. I tell myself that I can do this, [that] I'm
enjoyable to watch, and that the audience and I are sharing these moments. I
repeat that to myself. I know that the whole band feels that way, that we are
as much their audience as they are ours.' Bushwalla rests on the support of
everyone around him and he's learned that honesty of expression is the best
policy. '[The audience is] giving us a show and we're responding to something
that they're doing. I think that when you're completely honest Ð and they'll
love you for your mistakes Ð if you're completely honest, they'll love you for
your victories.'
Afterglow
I'm relatively confident
that different people get different things out of Bushwalla's music and the
show. However, for my part I've interpreted a few clear messages there: let
loose, share your gifts, and be grateful for the chance to do all of the above.
Bushwalla isn't preachy. He lives by example and even that feeds the music like
fuel. Quirks and mistakes are just part of the landscape. It's like Bushwalla
said, 'If you're completely honest, they'll love you for your victories.' The
mixture of different people in attendance testifies to the fact that many
people want (and even need) the chance to share their gifts and they are truly
grateful Ð some, so much that they come every week just to live another chance.
Later
that night, following our interview and after the show was finished, I took
notes while Bushwalla and the band mingled and caught up with friends. There
was a steady roar of chatter and conversation. The mood was buoyant and
everyone reveled in the afterglow of an uplifting and refreshing experience.
Day-to-day apprehensions and insecurities faded a little bit. The audience
found a respite from the serious world - the 'real' world - that they had been
seeking. When the show is over, it isn't really over. It has simply entered
into another phase of being. Everyone wants a few more moments in which their
refreshed selves can settle as if building up a store of positivity they can
rely on to get them through until the show next week -
You
can catch Bushwalla live every Friday night in July at Hot Monkey Love. The
show starts at 7:30pm, and Alma will keep you well caffeinated. You can also
learn more online at http://www.bushwalla.net.