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Internal Noise

Dance aficionados are on high alert any time there’s a new Bill T. Jones work. That the artistic director/co-founder and choreographer of the Bill T. Jones/Arnie Zane Company did not make dances for “The Motherboard Suite,” but directed it, still made for a solid evening of dance drama. Seen at the bucolic Ford Theatre on August 9, the work featured seven choreographers exploring themes of exploitation, mystical anarchy, and the intersection of technology and race, where hackers are artists and activists that come to life, all through the words and music of actor and slam-poet-turned-musician Saul Williams.

Performance

“The Motherboard Suite” directed by Bill T. Jones

Place

The Ford Theatre, Los Angeles, California, August 9, 2024

Words

Victoria Looseleaf

“The Motherboard Suite” directed by Bill T. Jones. Photograph by Farrah Sosa

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Created during Covid, “Motherboard” (a printed circuit board containing the principal components of a computer), was then performed both indoors (in the theater of New York Live Arts, where Jones is artistic director and Janet Wong is his associate artistic director), and outdoors in New York’s Times Square in 2021. It then had its West Coast premiere at Seattle’s Meany Center in 2023, and also proved an ideal fit at the outdoor Ford, a kind of mini-Hollywood Bowl that was built in 1920, seats 1,200, and is framed by lush foliage.

From the opening sounds of Williams’ throbbing electronic score—from his albums “MartyrLoserKing” (2016) and “Encrypted & Vulnerable” (2019)—performed live on a platform by Williams and the dynamic multi-instrumentalist Aku Orraca-Tetteh, who is also a member of the band Florence and the Machine, this production was a blistering, anarchical word-fest (there were projected supertitles, though the entire “libretto”—and it was über-dense—was digital), with the dancers/choreographers embodying the 12 sections of lyrics.

Beginning with “Coltan as Cotton,” a diatribe of hacks—“Hack into dietary sustenance-tradition vs. health. Hack into comfort-compliance. Hack into the rebellious gene,” Williams was already shredding the air with oral imagery. The performers, meanwhile, laid out a kind of red carpet and then took solo turns.

d. Sabela grimes in “The Motherboard Suite” directed by Bill T. Jones. Photograph by Farrah Sosa

Up first was a bald-headed and fierce Jasmine Hearn (reminiscent of the beautiful Dada Masilo), whose spins and backbends collided with words including, “all while boring the fuck out of me” (from “The Order of Time” section, and not at all applicable here).

That her buttonless, crimson-colored, see-through blouse (performers designed their own costumes), open at times to reveal her breasts, gave the scenario a disco/come/rave club vibe. And why not? Aside from the fact that Orraca-Tetteh spent a decade honing his craft playing clubs all over downtown New York, and is still in demand as a DJ, when the dancers came together, as they did in the “Horn of the Clock-Bike” section, their energy was also reminiscent of that in “Fela!”, the 2010 Tony award-winning show that Jones directed and choreographed: Here were gyrations, back-bending and circling aplenty; and there was even a voodoo-like figure in purple, d. Sabela grimes.

Williams, a towering wordsmith who has been at the forefront of cool and cutting edge since his 2001 debut recording, “Amethyst Rock Star”—and has performed at venues that include the White House and the Louvre—proved a potent partner to the dancers.

From sounding angry and combatant to proud and resilient, the 52-year old bard provided the non-linear, rap-like narrative in a barrage of homilies, woozy metaphors and pop culture references: the “Rocky Horror Picture Show,” Keith Haring, Vogue and Cosmo were summoned from “Think Like They Book Say,” enhancing his hipster status, even mentioning a girl he met…and that, “she was once a he,” with one of the dancers contorted to look like a Louise Bourgeois spider sculpture: a good thing!

Add to this rhythmic vocabulary the terpsichorean element, strobe lights à la David Parsons (lighting design by Serena Wong), and Orraca-Tetteh’s driving basslines, and there was a feeling of unity, although more dance connections—trios and quartets for example—would have been desirable. Still, the sheer strength and stamina of the performers was something to behold. Deep lunges, one-legged stances, and even a stray arabesque or two were on view. 

Marjani Forte-Saunders in “The Motherboard Suite” directed by Bill T. Jones. Photograph by Farrah Sosa

Maria Bauman, who’s worked with Jones for years as a guest teacher and was dressed in cut-offs and a midriff-baring top, ruled in the “Down For Some Ignorance” section. A screed on disease, chemicals, religion and more, this segment saw Williams extending his verbal jag, with dancers, also including Marjani Forte-Saunders—masked and in a grey top and leggings— Codelia King and Jade Solomon Curtis—both in leggings and midi-type tops —Nayaa Opon in red, and a purple-clad Kayla Farrish—shaking their booties.

Who, then, wouldn’t be down for some ignorance, as expressed so pointedly by Williams: “Puppets of religion, down for some ignorance, God has no religion, down for some ignorance . . .”

With dancers making full use of the multi-level amphitheater, grimes performed to Williams’ “We Get What You Deserve,” the penultimate section of “Motherboard.” Rolling on the stage in ritualistic fashion, with Orraca-Tetteh pounding his electric bass double forte, grimes’ number was set to words that included, “Dreaming . . . We get what you deserve . . . Eternal life.”

Ah, would that that be so! Careening, instead, towards an ending, “The Noise Came From Here,” Williams, in what can best be described as a tour de force performance, uttered those all too familiar words, “Police and sirens, guns are on parade right here,” then added, “We won’t be silenced, no, they won’t restrain.”

 While “Motherboard” endeavors to put across a host of lofty ideas, and, no doubt, requires more than one viewing, there was still much to ponder in the cool darkness of this Los Angeles evening . . . and beyond.

Victoria Looseleaf


Victoria Looseleaf is an award-winning, Los Angeles-based international arts journalist who covers music and dance festivals around the world. Among the many publications she has contributed to are the Los Angeles Times, the New York Times, Dance Magazine and KCET’s Artbound. In addition, she taught dance history at USC and Santa Monica College. Looseleaf’s novella-in-verse, Isn't It Rich? is available from Amazon, and and her latest book, Russ & Iggy’s Art Alphabet with illustrations by JT Steiny, was recently published by Red Sky Presents. Looseleaf can be reached through X, Facebook, Instagram and Linked In, as well as at her online arts magazine ArtNowLA.

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