BANG! BANG!
STOMP, the "international percussion sensation," has come to Taipei for a series of eight performances of their trashcan -- or rather, rubbish bin -- crashing, broom pole smacking and dustpan clanging brand of dancing and drumming.
"We only use common household items. There's even a kitchen sink," said Elizabeth Vidos, one member of the troupe.
PHOTO: COURTESY OF STOMP
Vidos is a relatively recent addition to STOMP's American touring company, one of five STOMP groups that is continually performing all around the world. Only two of the companies, New York and San Francisco, have permanent homes, while the rest rove throughout Europe, the US and the world, cultivating a fan base that is already large and is continually growing.
"Gerard Depardieu is one of our big fans," said Vidos. "He's seen us a few times."
Though STOMP is best known in the US, it finds its origins in Brighton, England. That's why group member Raymond Wilkes is adamant that "these are not trashcans! These are rubbish bins! We may pick up our other materials where ever we need them, but all of our rubbish bins are imported from the good old UK."
STOMP's first ever performance came at a festival in Brighton nine years ago. That show was conceived by Luke Cresswell and Steve McNicholas, who rounded up a group of dancers, orchestrated some rhythms and set the basic modules for the choreography.
At the time, Cresswell was playing in a band and McNicholas was a self-taught drummer. After Brighton, they took the show to another festival in Edinborough and from there STOMP continued to grow. Even now that STOMP has grown into five companies, Cresswell and McNichols continue to circle the globe, making management decisions and checking up on each of the troupes.
Wilkes recalls that Cresswell and McNicholas personally recruited him to join the troupe.
Initially, Wilkes turned down the offer, but the former window washer, school teacher and dancer eventually found his way into the diverse group of dancer-performers. And the troupe truly is a mix of all types. Wilkes, for example, is a black man from Leeds with a family and memories of teenage years in the late 60s. Vidos is a white woman fresh out of college who's relevant experience came mostly from her marching band days at Northeast Louisiana University.
When all of STOMP's members are lined up, the group could easily pass for a pack of Benneton poster children.
On stage, each of STOMP's numbers include eight performers, each with his or her own instrument/cleaning apparatus and each with his or her own rhythm. The result is an eight part syncopation that runs the gambit from African drum beats to the rhythms of soccer match drumming in the West Indies to the jungle and tribal sounds of current-day techno music.
Like an African drum circle, each piece has a central figure or leader, who in STOMP is known as "Sarge."
"Sarge is the first one out on the stage and you can tell who he is because he's doing more things with the hands and feet," said Vidos, whose own stage name is "Ringo."
"He's the one who kind of keeps us all in line," she said.
Within each piece, though, there is also a lot of room for improvisation, as long as the players don't lose rhythm, Vidos says. "Only the drumming and the spacing are choreographed. No two performances are ever the same. If you're talking about different groups, it depends on who's in them, because all the performers have different personalities. If you're just talking about yourself, it can depend on how you're feeling that day."
Wilkes also pointed out that performers, depending on their moods, can drastically affect the longevity of the rubbish bins. "If you're kind of worked up, maybe they will only last one performance. Generally, they can last as long as a week," he said.
"We go through a lot of equipment, alright," added Vidos.
With all the banging and heavy kitchen equipment, Wilkes and Vidos agreed that things can occasionally get a little dangerous. "Yeah, one time one guy got hit in the side of the neck with a pole. It laid him out right there on the stage and they had to take him away to the hospital," said Wilkes, adding with a huff of indifference, "it was his fault anyway."
Since the action is always intense, STOMP makes it a point to play in small auditoriums so they can relate more directly to the audience and the up-close aspects of their performances will not be lost to those riding high up in the rafters. "We usually play to a house of under 2000 people," said Vidos. "There's no speaking. There's no dialogue, just what we do on stage."
Most importantly, STOMP is superb at what they do on stage, and it's an act you can't find replicated anywhere else. Wilkes serves as a sort of one-man example of the group's unique brand of excellence. "I've been playing the dustpan for eight years, and I'm really good at it," he said. "You can't find nobody like that!"
Mongolian influencer Anudari Daarya looks effortlessly glamorous and carefree in her social media posts — but the classically trained pianist’s road to acceptance as a transgender artist has been anything but easy. She is one of a growing number of Mongolian LGBTQ youth challenging stereotypes and fighting for acceptance through media representation in the socially conservative country. LGBTQ Mongolians often hide their identities from their employers and colleagues for fear of discrimination, with a survey by the non-profit LGBT Centre Mongolia showing that only 20 percent of people felt comfortable coming out at work. Daarya, 25, said she has faced discrimination since she
Three big changes have transformed the landscape of Taiwan’s local patronage factions: Increasing Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) involvement, rising new factions and the Chinese Nationalist Party’s (KMT) significantly weakened control. GREEN FACTIONS It is said that “south of the Zhuoshui River (濁水溪), there is no blue-green divide,” meaning that from Yunlin County south there is no difference between KMT and DPP politicians. This is not always true, but there is more than a grain of truth to it. Traditionally, DPP factions are viewed as national entities, with their primary function to secure plum positions in the party and government. This is not unusual
April 21 to April 27 Hsieh Er’s (謝娥) political fortunes were rising fast after she got out of jail and joined the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) in December 1945. Not only did she hold key positions in various committees, she was elected the only woman on the Taipei City Council and headed to Nanjing in 1946 as the sole Taiwanese female representative to the National Constituent Assembly. With the support of first lady Soong May-ling (宋美齡), she started the Taipei Women’s Association and Taiwan Provincial Women’s Association, where she
More than 75 years after the publication of Nineteen Eighty-Four, the Orwellian phrase “Big Brother is watching you” has become so familiar to most of the Taiwanese public that even those who haven’t read the novel recognize it. That phrase has now been given a new look by amateur translator Tsiu Ing-sing (周盈成), who recently completed the first full Taiwanese translation of George Orwell’s dystopian classic. Tsiu — who completed the nearly 160,000-word project in his spare time over four years — said his goal was to “prove it possible” that foreign literature could be rendered in Taiwanese. The translation is part of