Take Me Out to the Ball Game - NEW YORK STYLE (review - Sarah Gluck)

Sarah Gluck

Who: New York Yankee’s

What: New York Yankee’s Baseball Game

When: Saturday, April 25^th 2015 @ 4pm

Where: 1 East 161^st Street, Bronx, NY 10451

Yankee’s Stadium

Review:

Waking up to a bright and sunny morning always has great potential of being an excellent day for a baseball game. Even the action of getting to the stadium is an event in itself. Everyone riding the subway is going to the 4 o’clock Saturday game. The subway is divided up into two different categories. Bright orange Mets jerseys and hats are on one side of the train, while the other side of the train is packed with die-hard Yankee fans. It’s defiantly game day!

As you arrive to Yankee Stadium on 161^st street, you are immersed into the most diverse atmosphere. Along the sidewalk in front of the stadium the rush of thousands of fans strut on by. A little glimpse of conversation passes by my ear and my sight is full with every type of person known to man. New Yorkers and their heavy accents talking about what to eat, Spanish arguments, girls talking and taking selfies in their matching sports apparel, couples, single bachelors, people who have already had too much to drink, some people who have never drank, pregnant women, elderly folks wearing fanning packs, and very small children. Anything and everything has arrived to watch this rivalry baseball game.

Gates open and the people of New York are grabbing souvenirs and beers. Small wooden black bats are given to young children as they walk in the doors.  Excitement spans all across their small loving faces and they are already so content with this unexpected gift. Along the way to your seats, the wonderful white stadium opens up to clear blue skies above, which helps give one the impression and interpretation that baseball is still an outdoor sport. Lots of hot dogs, beer, lengthy bathroom lines, and vendors selling cracker jacks are in view. These fans are getting all stocked up for the next nine innings of a good game.

The game begins when all the baseball fans remove their caps for the National Anthem. The crowd roars as the players enter the field and it’s hard to tell whether there is more Yankee fans or Met fans present. Previously to this day, the Yankees recently broke the Mets 11 game win streak so regardless, this has the potential to be a close game.

Starting the game off, the Mets score their first run in the first inning. Tension runs high on the field and is reflected back onto the crowd. It isn’t until the third inning where the home team scores their first run. Yankees 1 - Mets 1. Just as the teams are tied up, the fourth inning comes around and four more runs are added to the scoreboard for the Mets. Images of orange and blue clutter my vision and Met fans are going crazy. The best thing about the game is the energy. The people come from all around just to see their favorite players up on the huge bright screen walking up to the batting box.

The fifth inning comes and passes and no one scores. Mets currently hold the score of five runs vs. the Yankees who are still only at one. Two more running feet pass home base as the Mets count up a total of 7 runs. The “close game” status doesn’t look too promising at this point. But just when you don’t think there’s any hope, the Yankees score a run in the 8^th inning and the fans rise to their feet to stand after hanging their heads so low.

Unfortunately, no more runs were scored for either team after that. The Mets go home with the win. Pitcher Matt Harvey was only one out away from a complete game, and he got his 4^th win of the season. Whereas pitcher CC Sabathia, on the Yankees, got his fourth loss of the season. It was a great game for a Mets fan, but a sore home turf loss for the Yankees. But whether you’re a fan or not, it’s absolutely an amusing and delightful experience to go to a New York baseball game.

Happy Birthday Gilbert Sorrentino! (review - Sarah Gluck)

Sarah Gluck

Who: Speakers include - Sam Lipsyte, Mark Chiusano, Christopher Sorrentine, James Wolcott, and Don DeLillo

Hosted by: Gerald Howard

What: Brooklyn Voices Presents The Gilbert Sorrentino Birthday Tribute

When: April 27^th 2015 @ 7:30pm

Where: St Joseph’s College New York –Tuohy Hall Auditorium

245 Clinton Avenue

Brooklyn, NY 11205

Review:

Just like every good birthday celebration, the person who's birthday that is worth celebrating is directly in the spotlight. Whether they planned their own party or someone is surprising them and they have no idea, it’s that one person’s special day. In this case the birthday celebration isn’t for someone present. They are indeed directly in the spotlight, but it isn't a surprise that they are being recognized. It's April 27th, the fiction and short story author Gilbert Sorrentino’s birthday. Sorrentino would be turning 86 years old today if he was still with us. The event, held at St Joseph's at 7:30 on this windy evening, is a tribute to this great and well-known author, a day of celebration and a tribute to recognize his admirable work.

It's the last event being put on by the Brooklyn Voices for the spring and perhaps to some it’s the most important night in the series. Up on stage eight men sit in black plastic chairs side by side. The lighting seems too bright because some of the men are squinting and even have their eyes closed. Later in the event, one of the speakers mentions that they are unable to even view anyone in the audience –“is there anyone out there? Are there thousands of you out there? I wouldn’t know”, he snarls sarcastically. Each man sits and waits patiently for his turn to talk. All the men are in attendance because they have some connection to Gilbert himself. Whether that connection means they’re blood related, originated from the same city, colleagues, fellow authors, or just people who have kept up with his work and hold him in high regard, they all respect and recognize Gilbert Sorrentino’s achievements. 

The group of speakers all had their chance of speaking. Some told short little stories that involved themselves and Gilbert more personally. Some read passages from books, and funny lists that Gilbert had written where the voice of his character made the entire audience chuckle. Snippets of chapters where read that romanticized women, or brought attention to the Bay Ridge area of Brooklyn where he grew up and lived. Some of the books and passages used in the reading included The Moon In It's Flight, Red the Fiend, Mulligan Stew, and Imaginative Qualities of Actual Things. The speakers did an excellent job of choosing the texts they decided to present, because without being familiar with Gilbert and his writing, one thing that was for sure was how brilliant & hilarious this new author (or rather old) was in my eyes. The tribute didn't just read over works Gilbert produced throughout his life, it had the capability of bringing Gilbert and his work back to life himself, even if it was only for an hour. And like any good birthday celebration, wine and cupcakes, laughs and stories were shared.

The St. Mark's Poetry Project. Wednesday April 22nd. Launch: SOS Poems 1961-2013.

The reading this Wednesday at St. Mark's in promotion of SOS, Amiri Baraka's posthumous release from Grove Press, was an event that suffered from a case of "phantom-limb syndrome” in the words of Ammiel Alcalay. Alcalay was the first physically present speaker to grace the pulpit at St. Mark’s that evening. Just prior to his reading of poems from the new collection was a disembodied audio presentation by Thomas Sayers-Ellis: a haunting intermeshing of saxophone riffs, Baraka’s words being sung, and simultaneously recited by two distinct voices.

Ammiel Alcalay’s tribute focused upon the audience of the night.The “phantom-limb syndrome” that he spoke of was the absence of a full venue at St. Mark’s that night. He talked about how people took very “ambivalent views” of Baraka’s work.

Rachel Eliza-Griffiths also gave a passionate reading of Baraka’s poems including “A Poem for Neutrals” (SOS, p.55, 2015). She was reverent in her reading as well as somber.

David Henderson opened his portion of the night by pointing towards Amiri Baraka’s “politicized last few decades.” Speaking about Baraka’s post as Poet Laureate of his home state of New Jersey and his subsequent ouster after the release and reading of his poem “Somebody Blew Up America” in 2002.

Basil King an old friend of Baraka’s back when he was still “Roi Jones” gave a short narrative of being intoxicated with Baraka and read some of his more Blues inspired poetry.

Rickey Laurentiis was probably the most poignant speaker/reader of the night. Laurentiis said at the beginning that he “follow[ed] Baraka reluctantly.” It quickly became clear, with two pointed quotations from Alice Walker and James Baldwin, where the confliction came from. Much like the next speaker/reader Eileen Myles, Laurentiis focused on the poetics of homophobia in Baraka’s work. It was a powerful note for the evening that was part of fleshing out the “ambivalent views” that Alcalay had spoken of earlier.

The second to final speaker of the night was the Poetry Project’s own Simone White who presented three of Baraka’s poems with power and reverence that none of the other speaker/readers that night matched.

In his foreword to SOS Paul Vangelisti compares Baraka to Ezra Pound as, “one of the most important and least understood American poets of the past century.” Vangelisti’s comparison is provocative for both poets were full of political vinegar throughout the latter parts of their lives as well as being charged with anti-semitism and anti-americanism. The “ambivalent views” that Alcalay talks of are a consequence of art’s intersection with politics. Lots more people in the United States of America can stomach a poem than can stomach Marxist-Leninist ideology or Black Nationalism. Similarly lots more people can stomach a poem than can stomach Jewish caricatures and Homophobic verse. This dual nature to the politics (not the art) of Baraka’s poetry create a vacuum around it that one must reason with if one is to take Baraka’s Shadow upon one’s back and push poetry forward in his absence.

Six - Riley San Nicolas

March 3rd 2001 - September 11th 2001

Shake my head, raise my thumb.

A grin - the future - empty look

White, yellow, turtles in tanks, television.

We show up, but don’t listen

Haircuts, moving mouths, a human being?

Riley San Nicolas - Route 66 Smokehouse

I text Dusty to ask him where he’s playing tonite. “Route 66 Smokehouse. Right off of Wall St.” Ahh, Wall St. Haven’t had the pleasure yet. Make my way through the cobblestones on William Street, dominated by the grand obelisks that make up the financial district. A heavy skyline pushing the moon out of orbit and drawing in the air of the night like a frozen breath. 

I step into the bar and immediately notice I’m the only one in here younger than my parents, besides the waiters. I’m late but I still wade through a few beers and some hot mac and cheese before the band starts playing. They call themselves the Dusty Wright Project, led by Dusty Wright strapped into his guitar wearing a harmonica about his neck, and I can already tell what his music is going to sound like. I was given his number through a generous connection and was told he would be interested in having an intern. To do what, polish his guitars and get him beer? I don’t know but it sounds like the perfect opportunity for me, so in the meantime during his 2-hour set, scatterbrained I swim through some more drinks in a bit of nervous anticipation. I finally get the chance to talk to him, when there’s no more than 5 other people there paying him slight attention. He’s a wearing a denim jacket with a Sasquatch patch on his breast, underneath a graying mop of hair and a cheesy round smile. I introduce myself, he says he’ll give me a call the next day, very polite to me as he can probably tell how drunk and awkward I am and let’s me off easy. I’d been thinking about his music. About how it’s tired old-man tunes, I can play guitar twice as good as him and he’s barely got any chops, getting very cocky and brash before that disappears after I waddle up to him himself. The music doesn’t excite me though its apparent that he is a seasoned songwriter. His voice is tired but bright and hopeful. The harmonica shakes a sweet vibration throughout the set. His guitar player shreds a severed light all the way through, screaming and soothing. I can never go to a show without envisioning myself up there center stage, and sit through half of it dreaming. Long way to go son, and I suppose I gotta do my fair share of ass-kissing and listening before I get too ahead of myself.

Still waiting to hear back from him.

Riley San Nicolas - Yankee Stadium (review)

4-25-14

 In the subway station in the Bronx and surprised not to see anyone going to the Yankees-Mets game. This is the first subway I’ve been in where I see multiple police officers patrolling the station and we’re the only two white people I can see. A bit of a shock, a good shock, and not scared but it puts perspective on things and placement and what does it feel like when its reversed? All of a sudden I hear a heavy New York accent and some buzz as a whole group of Mets fans strolls up from the steps and they’re obnoxious chatter blocks out everything else in the chatter. More fans roll up and the illusion is over, it’s clear we’re headed to the Subway Series game 2. 

 Out of the train and the big stone history of Yankee Stadium looms in the clear afternoon like an ancient statue and all of sudden I can see Joe DiMaggio and 1920’s aristocratic gamblers and street kids going to their first game and its a hectic vision presently filled with what seems like every citizen of the city dressed in blue and pinstripes and bright orange. The talk you overhear is a lot of baseball, accompanied by work talk and foreign languages and beer talk. It’s all a little overwhelming and after the Team store I don my new Yankees T-shirt. Not sure why, I’m a fan for the day but really just a fan of the spectacle, I could really give a damn about who wins. Every things overpriced and the cost of a bottle of Budweiser could have bought me a sixer of some real quality brew back home, but this is where I am. 

 It’s loud. The Mets are dominating and after awhile it seems like the number of Mets fans is growing. I suppose they’re only a few subway stops away, hence the rivalry name “The Subway Series”. “LET’S GO METS”. “BOOs” for A-Rod. All sorts of chants and the masses turn into a single entity like a great rippling sea monster rolling with the tides of the cheers and chatter and triumphant jumping and hollering. 

 America’s past-time. New York’s past-time. The working man’s escape. The white collar man’s delectable hobby. Father and son’s greatest memories. This is the heart of the town and it beats long after the players hit the showers and the bars close the doors and the moonlight hits the fading World Series banners. 

Six Word Stories Jessie Branch

Emotion wells up like sore thumbs.

Stale, my breath isn't sitting well.

Downstairs dogs get told 'shut up'

Simple things still feel untrue now.

Obey this man, must be complacent.

Will I become unafraid of feeling?

Review of Tribute to Amiri Baraka by Jessie Branch

Amiri Baraka was a poet of great social and political import. He has spoken out against hate and has also been accused of spreading that same anger. Baraka believed that poems should follow a poets natural breath and used this when creating his poetry, often putting it to music. After his death in 2014, many poets felt that his impression was lasting and needed to be expressed as such. Several of these poets gathered at St. Marks Church on April 22nd to read some of Baraka's work and release the compilation of his poems, entitled "SOS". Readers included: Ammiel Alcalay, Thomas Sayers Ellis, Adam Fitzgerald, Rachel Eliza Griffiths, David Henderson, Basil King, Ricky Laurentiis, Eileen Myles, Camille Rankine, Ariana Reines, Paul Vangelisti and Simone White.

            The evening began with "Heroes Are Gang Leaders", an essay paired with saxophone smoother than honey. A child's voice began the piece, and then a woman began singing with honesty and vibrant charm. Depictive of the aesthetic in Baraka's work, this piece utilized music along with poetry to create an exchange in emotion and rhythm. One of the disappointing facts of a tribute dedicated to Amiri Baraka is that he is not reading his words, and his reading is such an essential part of his poems.

            The readers were clearly selected with great thought. This review will focus on the readings of Basil King, Eileen Miles, and Simone White. The other readers were excellent as well, but these three in particular were very memorable. King was a friend of Baraka's back in the 60's in New York City, and began his reading with a story about the moment he first saw the Kennedy's driving in New York City in the back of a convertible. He asked Baraka what was going on, to which Baraka replied, "White people". King had the demeanor of being very sweet, and seemed very calm. When he began reading, however, his energy immediately picked up. He read with vigor.

            Eileen Miles is an impressive poet in her own right, and described herself as exactly the person Baraka frequently spoke out against. That being said, they had been friends during his lifetime, which she believed spoke to his true character. She read "Numbers, Letters", and the particularly humorous "Arts Gratica Artis", which contained the line "My poetry has always been aimed at destroying ugly shit, so why, Ronald Reagan, shd you get away?”

            Simone White is the woman essentially in charge of the Poetry Project, and it was an honor to see her read. She seemed collected, carefree, and like her true purpose there was to celebrate the life and work of Amiri Baraka. She spoke with ease and the audience was captivated by her energy. She read "Confirmation", which talked about song and how that is what love truly is. Her reading of "Tom Ass Clarence" was stunning; Baraka himself couldn't have had any complaints about the performance. The final line of the poem, "These knees got they own / Show" struck home and was a perfect way to finish off the main readings.

Baby's More Than All Right

Baby's More Than Alright:

I hopped on the M train with Phil Taylor and we were bound for a sweet little venue, bar, and restaurant out in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, by the name of Baby’s All Right. The ride there was gorgeous above ground with a glittering view of New York in its entirety. The walk from the subway in the ice wind nearly froze us both but it was definitely worth it. Baby’s more than All Right! After enjoying a wonderful little ginger margarita and baked mac and cheese we met up with Jessie Branch and made our way to the stage in the back. I was not sure what to expect while walking through the door, but I was pleasantly surprised. A small group of three artists called Illuminati Recruitment Ritual was thumping out some low beats and an intriguing mix of techno synth blared through the speakers. The ‘out of this world’ music was accompanied by massive props. One of the three band members took up in both arms, feathery leaf shaped wings and waved them while they danced. The woman singing was off to the left on the stage and she moved so slowly but still with the beat. The third was a man I had the pleasure of meeting, named Lucas, who was the group’s backup dancer. He moved all over the stage, shirtless, twirling his arms around and moving with the flashing and changing lights. Lucas’ body was covered in dark blue tempra paint and his coat of glitter sparkled in the frantic lighting. The performance was so urging there was no way you could not dance with them.

We caught them in the middle of their song but thankfully they had another one immediately after. In the next song they brought these umbrellas that had extra fabric attached to them, like a vail that cover them down to their toes. The singing lady danced inside one of the vailed umbrellas with one other bandmate and Lucas continued to dance on his own. The lighting went slower for a few moments during the introduction of the song, but as it progressed it was “time to leave it all behind.” The crowd was asked if we wanted “to be illuminated,” and everyone cheered! All the color left the room and it was only black and white flashes as the music majorly picked up. The color creeped back into room as the group went on to the end. I will most definitely be returning to Baby’s All Right for more shows and in the hope to run into the Illuminati Recruitment Ritual again.

Poetry Project: Amiri Baraka's S.O.S. Poems Launch/Reading

Reading at St. Mark's Church via The Poetry Project, April 22, 2015
Review Written and Edited by Peter Buller

Few poets of today stand out like Amiri Baraka. His poetry dances between resentment of white imperialism to joy of the small things in life. "Note to Sylvia Robertson" inquires what beauty might be, ending with the profound remark that, "without each other we wouldn't know each other," while "The Bridge" comments on how the day screams, that his kindred were, "murdered by God/ that's why it's stupid to believe in him." In the same way Aimé Césaire grapples with rage and love, Baraka finds in his poetry a space where one's love and hatred of oppression may coexist; yet where Césaire embraces surrealist imagery to illustrate his emotions, Baraka utilizes blunt, political commentary. Given the polarizing, sometimes offensive nature of his politics, it is difficult to imagine how one might present his work without his unique voice. The Poetry Project proved otherwise, after a passionate reading of Baraka's biggest collection of poetry, S.O.S. Poems 1961-2013 (Grove Press).
  
The reading featured a variety of readers from a variety of backgrounds and relations. Some readers were former colleagues and friends, such as Basil King and David Henderson. Both King and Henderson knew and spoke with Baraka throughout his life. To them, Baraka's work resembled not just that of an exemplary poet, but a close friend too. Thus, their reading of his poetry offers new context, especially as to how "without each other, we'd look over our shoulders for each other." Although this line comes from a poem addressed to Baraka's wife, Henderson's reading unfolds another thread of the poet's complex feelings on love. Other readers like Simone White and Rickey Laurentiis found voices of their own in Baraka's writing, which White described for herself as an "impossible to resolve tension between love and hate of the world." Maybe "Tone Poem" is right to point out how "the general good has no troops nor armour." Despite the unshieldedness of his glee, "a host of loves is the city." No amount of pessimism shall desecrate one's loves.
   
Baraka's work reflects the many different aspects of his complex attitude to life. Some preach of how "my poems are dedicated to destroying ugly shit," resenting that "Ronald Reagan [gets] away." While others lament the tragedy befallen upon African-American citizens, noting "all those eyes opened for mourning." Baraka's complex and unresolved struggle between love and hatred fosters an ambiguous dedication to voicing his and his people's hardships. While his passing may rob us of his voice, the readers at The Poetry Project proved that his passion and political commitment carry on, in both his friends and future generations.

3 Jazz and Eileen Myles Amiri Baraka - review by Alison Cuthbertson

I stumbled through the doors after a subway rush and found my place at the back of the room. It was a small quaint gathering in St Mark’s Church for the reading of Amiri Baraka’s collection of poems from the last five decades. As I entered I was sucked into a funky jazz poem overlay “like this time and that time!” with a woman lulling words behind the shouting man and laughter tying all together. It was smooth and rough, easy then hard and the male voice jerked and shook while the others went soothingly. This was especially unique and was extremely enjoyable to listen to poetry composed in such a way.  After this music faded there were many readers of Baraka’s work I felt drawn to Eileen Myles and her execution of the reading. I found the relationship between her and Baraka intriguing in the way the she was everything he hated.

six word stories - poems by philipGtaylor

Curtain billowing over an empty crib. 

Laceless shoes outside the bolted door. 

How did you get down there?

Streetcar. Smartphone. Pedestrian. Crosswalk. Skid. Thwack. 

Impossible to rest beside this highway. 

Bussing home; death notification via facebook. 

Six Stories in Six Words

Written by Peter Buller

Thrice gained; but tenfold, my sorrows.

It is done. The secrets, resealed.

And for the record, I wasn't--

Wanted: A shadow that never leaves

Blood or red tape--can't tell.

Please forward: my apologies for death.

David Levine on Bruce Nauman

Lecture given at Dia: Chelsea, April 21, 2015
Review Edited and Written by Peter Buller

In conversation on performance art, performers and spectators nominally remain separate from one another. On one side of the theatre the performers act out their parts; and on the other the audience, for whom the actors perform their art. Occasional performances cross the line between actors and spectators, from the Marx Brothers joining spectators in their seats to magicians asking for volunteers in their tricks; yet it was not until Bruce Nauman's striking pieces that another question rose: what parts do actors play upon a stage? Moreover, how involved are spectators in this performance? David Levine's lecture not only forms the conceptual foundations which Nauman's avant-garde pieces utilize, but furthers Nauman's exploration through his own theatrical work.

Levine begins his lecture by focusing on his own frustrations with theatre. "This is Acting," projects behind him as he explains the rigours endured by theatrical performance when Nauman began his career. Similar to how literary studies embarked from explanations of literary themes to examinations of literary works in the early 20th century (leading to the rise of modernism, and later, postmodernism), Levine's theatrical interests grappled with the potential of theatre. Until visiting Berlin to view an exhibition of Nauman's Theatres of Experience (2004), Levine struggled to accept theatre as capable of the conceptual goals other art media already begun to question. Abstract Expressionists like Willem de Kooning and Jackson Pollock founded their artistic critique by use of colour, shape, and form--not just to avoid political controversy at the time, but to base their conceptual goals in fresher light. For writers, modernists and post-modernists alike toyed with sentence structure, narrative play, and conceptual imagery to convey criticisms of contemporary culture and art. But theatre works with elements different than those of writing and painting--how could one approach the avant-garde in performance media? Levine found an answer to this question in Theatres of Experience.

Nauman critiques the brush of theatre directors: actors. Nauman removes the faces from his actors as Pollock and Kooning remove colour from their paintings. As Levine expertly explains, the anonymity of Nauman's actors responds to the conception of acting as playing a role. Spectators expect to watch performers re-enact Hamlet. Until Constantin Stanislavski developed the first techniques to "act with authenticity," actors maintained cognizance of their performance. Actors did their job, which was to deliver a performance; but after Stanislavski's exercises worked into acting school, it became less important to perform a role than to become that role. At what point, then, does the labour to act become the thing itself? Levine explored this query when he hired an actor to perform the role of a farmer for six months. Unfortunately for Levine, spectators could not tell the difference. More significantly, Nauman already pursued this quandary.

Nauman's installations Elke allowing the floor to rise up over her face (1973), and Tony Sinking into the Floor, Face Up, Face Down (1973) feature two actors sinking into the floor. At first glance, the installations merely appear to feature two people lying down at length. Until the end of the film rolls, when the two actors find the floor's molecules mingling into their bodies; yet spectators see only the startling image of the actors choking, gasping for breath at the end of their performance. Assuming Tony does sink into the floor, at what point do spectators enter this art space? Levine attempts to accomplish this by tasking several actors to rehearse a play non-stop in living arrangements spectated by museum-goers; meanwhile, cameras record the spectator's actions as they peer into the players' living space. However, as Levine notes himself, Nauman pursued this question himself more elegantly. One exhibition features the placement of bleachers in a position that disallows spectators from seeing anything, instead allowing onlookers to watch the clueless spectators. Another piece, Live-taped Video Corridor, features a narrow corridor with two screens featuring live cameras. The top films an empty corridor, while the other films the spectator on the other end of the hallway--the result being that as the spectator approaches the lower screen, they watch them walking away from the camera. In other words, spectatorship cannot view its own performance.

Which left Nauman with one final question: where does that leave the sunken actors? Levine finds a compelling answer in Nauman's works featuring tunnels and corridors. Interpreting the actor's sinking as a transitory phase, Levine argues that they face similar consequences to those who walk through Nauman's endless tunnels. Doing so risks walking into Nauman's cruel room: a small space yelling at us to leave. This feels discouraging as, after all, every bit of subject matter presented here had been related to the audience via a spectated lecture. Certainly this illuminates how coherent and thorough Levine's presentation felt. Images and video clips wove into his lecture like threads woven into a tapestry. His charming wit rescued him from those rare moments where he could have faltered. More than anything, Levine's passion for the conceptual framework of his predecessor justifies Nauman's ventures, leaving his audience interested in the work for days afterward.

This week in sex - review by Andrew Davis

This week in sex begins with a call for silence so that the show may begin. The producers rule of no conversations or talking seemed strict at first, but was broken later on as a few tipsy guests blurted out whatever came to their mind. But i'm getting ahead of myself. Inside the Museum of sex, a radio program entitled "This Week in Sex" hosted by Alan Finn takes place. The show begins with a brief talk about the people on the show and their personals sex lives during the week. The podcast's demenor is interspersed with lighthearted lowbrow sexual innuendos which make it interesting. The show then switches to a brief Q and A with  their lesbian guest, Sheba about sex (surprisingly)  which leads to the confession that "I have never used the strap-on in our relationship before."  Another guest, a transvestite porn star named Mia Isabella, describes herself as a person who has both a D cup and a ten inch dick much to the delight of the studio audience. The show then brought on a female comic who wrote a book entitled feminist sex positions. The jokes format includes the name of a made up sex position, followed by a brief funny description. My favorite one was " The Equal Pay Act: a position where the female gets the man a third of the way to orgasm before jumping off."

the show wraps up with a brief review of the current events of the week as told by the producer. This segment spurs on many comments, by the audience members some more necessacary than others.

Overall, I was a little bit disappointed that the show wasnt very sexualy charged dispite being entirely about sex. As a person in the audience, I was secretly hoping for atleast partial nudity by a guest, however to my great disappointment, there was none. The fact that the show was taped with a live audience brought about a few interesting occurrences, one of which was when a few guests began answering the hosts questions and then kept talking and talking until they were asked to be quiet or leave. Another was the rumor that circulated around about a couple who possibly had sex in the bathroom, but it was unconfirmed.

Overall, I'm not sure that I would have listened to the full show if I had just listened to it online, but as an audience member it just crossed the threshold of entertaining. 

This Week in Sex - review by Tomm McCarthy

In the basement/bar of the Museum of Sex an usher asks museum goers, fresh off the boobie bouncy house and the cock climbing wall, whether or not they would like to sit in on a live recording of The Week in Sex podcast. There is a bar. There are comfortable chairs. There are pornstars towards which questions can be asked. There is absolutely no reason to miss this event.

They start off with their introductions (after the producer has come around to the tables and the couches and told the listeners not to talk and to laugh at every joke made). The host is named Alan Finn and tonight his guests are Sheba and Sydney and Ralph. Alan begins the evening by saying “We’re here to party” and asking his guests how their sex lives were that week.

Sheba has sex after she wakes up. Sydney doesn’t need sex sometimes (this statement makes the men whoop and ask her why she’s on the podcast). Alan has great sex in the dark because he’s self conscious of his hairy body. And Ralph, well Ralph doesn’t know why he gets laid so much. He tells it like this: basically he has a pick up line that works, even though it shouldn’t. He says that sometimes he’s not really going anywhere with a girl and then he says to her, “Hey, why don’t you grab a friend, we’ll head back to my place, I’ll cook you dinner and breakfast in the morning.” Everyone wants to know why this works. He even acknowledges that this is him being a “brazen ass-hole” he thinks it might be because its just a shocking thing that catches them by surprise and even further surprises them when they say yes, but there is the promise of two meals, and Ralph did go to culinary school. And this is a review of a performance, not a critique of promiscuity.

The second segment is an interview segment with Mia Isabella, transgender pornstar, actress and voice actress. Now the audience learns about her life. She was born a boy in Chicago, but when she decided that wasn’t the gender or sex she was interested in she had the full support of her family, including an uncle that would dissuade her peers from bullying her. It wasn’t until she grew up and got more into the trans community that she realized that her experience was different from almost everyone elses. At twenty, she got married, and this is after she was legally recognized as a woman. Later she got divorced. Recently she was dating an NFL athlete who had to remain nameless, but the broke up because his celebrity status could have been defamed if media found out he was with her. She retired from doing porn two years ago and now works as an actor on the FX show Sons of Anarchy, directs porn and is a featured voice actor in Grand Theft Auto V.

Or in the last segment “In the News” where Amanda Gale gives her reports on the sexual happenings of the week one of the first things she says is “I’m gonna give you the news so hard this week. I’ll squirt the news in your face.”

Now the hypersexualization of a podcast called The Week in Sex probably doesn’t really need to be explained. And of course it was supposed to be comic and raunchy and out there as well as sexy. But what is interesting is how desperate the puns seem. From the producer coming around before the show starts, asking everyone to laugh at the jokes (and this even is escalated to the point of providing prizes to patrons with the most energy). To the apparent scriptedness of the conversation. And, besides some of the jokes made by the comedians also interviewed, most of these laughs feel forced. Half of jokes made have punchlines along the lines of “tee hee we’re talking about sex” or “She has a bigger dick than me” referring to Mia Isabella.

But there is still cleverness, it just is never in the jokes that are laughed at. It is sometimes so steeped in double entendre that it seems rehearsed, or completely the opposite. For instance, when Mia is talking about her voice acting in GTAV, she says that because of skills she acquired at matching noises as a porn star she “Banged [her recorded dialogue] out in less than an hour.” And no one laughed, but that was pretty clever.