Radio Face

Curious to understand the role of an articulate, poli-social, innovative and eccentric radio personality without the radio, I ventured last week to "An Evening with Ira Glass." My fellow spectators ranged from people who enjoy attending pricey popular events--I overheard one man discussing the Springsteen show he saw, his first--and Glass enthusiasts who'd dragged friends along, hoping others would be infected with this personality they alone have followed on the radio waves.

Glass came through for most of these people, playing a shticky court-jester role, donning the motley of his characteristically high-pitched, clear voice. My mind wandered to Lear's Fool as Glass recounted anecdotes and "thoughts" to the regal interviewer of the night, played by Davia Nelson of NPR's Kitchen Sisters. Whether glibly discussing his antipathy for NPR's Talk of the Nation, his disappointment in the Democratic Party, war with Iraq or the titillating fact that he, too, dislikes pledge drives, Glass mirrored his audience's opinions. One man behind me expressed his satisfaction by continually booming "Yes!" and "Good!" and "Yeah!" (I nearly joined in when Glass pronounced his respect and love for Joss Whedon's Buffy the Vampire Slayer.)

However, the jester's role should extend beyond mere placation: I wanted Glass to take us somewhere beyond expectations and make us question or gain insight into what art, radio, human relationships, performance or authorship means today. Instead, he subtly mocked the formality of the evening's structure by bringing his cell phone on stage and accepting a call from his girlfriend (Ira Glass is straight! Now there's news!).

In an all too-brief digression from discussing bagels and world politics, Glass rounded the night out with a variety of almost-interesting topics: semiotics, interviewing his cousin Philip Glass, creating good radio, This American Life's spring tour, and a movie deal involving Steven Soderbergh's recently acquired rights to ideas from Glass' show. Mainly, however, Glass personified his audience's expectations--vapid and nude as the news. (Catherine Kernodle)

SARAH VOWELL
Two weeks ago, I paid $20 to watch someone read a book. I went to see public-radio princess Sarah Vowell--a writer who reads on the radio. I discovered her the old-fashioned way, on the Internet (where one reads), so this cult-radio persona was new to me. I quickly learned, however, that there are fans of her voice.

The crowd was a passionate pack of middle-aged NPR buffs, most of whom, I suspected, knew their way around a Dungeons and Dragons board. Their public-radio fetish immediately revealed itself when host Ray Price introduced himself as the "new voice of OPB." "We thought you were Kristian," a woman heckled (insider reference to OPB's Kristian Foden-Vencil.)

I had never heard Vowell, which drew gasps from my seat neighbors--a 40ish married couple--as we chatted before the "show."

"You've read Vowell?" I asked the apparent fans.

"No, we listen to NPR."

I told them I was fairly new to her writing, but enjoyed it.

"Her writing? Oh, you have to hear her. Her delivery, her voice is the whole thing."

They didn't own any of her books, and lightly leafed through my copy of her tour focus, The Partly Cloudy Patriot.

"I wouldn't pay $20 for something so thin," the woman said.

The lights flickered and the smirky Vowell, a chubby-cheeked Winona Ryder knockoff, ducked under the curtain, took three steps to the podium and began to read. She kicked things off with a Teddy Roosevelt ditty. As reader, she plays straight man to her writing, strategically pausing and breaking to signal what's funny--her words perfectly accessorized by a creaky Buddy Hackett voice.

She took a drink after Teddy and resumed with an abridged rendering of her Election 2000 essay, "The Nerd Voice." The words "2000 Election" were followed by boos. "I hope you're booing the election and not me," Vowell said. Hearty laughter.

Any and all references to public radio were validated with whooping and "yeows," as were any and all "I'm such a nerd" yarns. In fact, Vowell has so successfully glamorized nerds among her apostles that the random shoutouts and queries were infused with a weird sense of "nerd-upmanship." Anecdotes were met with assenting noises ("uh-huh") and vigorous head-nodding.

Vowell ended with her "State of the Union," then took questions ranging from "What is Ira Glass really like?" to the requisite 9/11 probe. Between the rock-'n'-roll interior, the revenge-of-the-nerd crowd and the idea of buying a ticket to watch someone read, it was a distinctive night. (Teresa DiFalco)

Portland Arts & Lectures at the Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall, 1037 SW Broadway,

227-2583. 7:30 pm Wednesday, Sept. 25.

House of Blues at the Aladdin Theater, 3017 SE Milwaukie Ave., 233-1994. 8 pm Saturday, Sept. 21.

WWeek 2015