8 THE NEWYORKER, DECEMBER 6, 2021
The London-based multidisciplinary art-
ist Duval Timothy astounded listeners
with his 2020 album, “Help,” and its loose,
minimal music about emotional decon-
struction and healing. Last year, the Brit-
ish singer Rosie Lowe joined Timothy to
finish a sonic experiment—one examining
choral music and the manipulation of the
human voice by “using layered voca ls as
an instrument following piano harmony,
arrangement and sampling.” The resulting
nine-track, twenty-minute album, “Son,”
is far more auditory than lyrical, homing in
on the tonal properties of voice. The raw,
lovely music tells the story of a mother and
her child, and of how, in order to properly
parent him, she learns to rid herself of the
toxicity she internalized while young. The
duo treated the songs like field record-
ings, allowing surro unding sounds to add
texture to the chorus.—Sheldon PearceEXPERIMENTA L MUS IC
ILLUSTRATION BY CARMEN CASADO
inventing what we recognize today as soul
music? “Sides of Ray,” a meat-and-potatoes
roundup, breaks little new ground, as so many
of its songs paved the way for modern music,
but if you haven’t already experienced the sonic
epiphanies of “Hit the Road Jack,” “You Are
My Sunshine,” and “Georgia on My Mind,”
you can only be envied.—Steve Futterman
“A Goyishe C hri stmas t o You!”
CLASSICAL In the 2008 television special “A
Colbert Christmas,” Jon Stewart tries to sell
Stephen Colbert on the Festival of Lights in
the duet “Can I Interest You in Hanukkah?”
Stewart throws everything he has at it—eight
days of presents, latkes, dreidels—but Colbert
remains unswayed. The set piece appears as a
comedic counterpoint in New York Festival
of Song’s annual concert of Yuletide classics
written by Jewish composers, who, conversely,
were very much able to muster some Christ-
mas spirit, with songs such as “Winter Won-
derland,” “Silver Bells,” “White Christmas,”
and more.—Oussama Zahr (Kaufman Music
Center; Dec. 6 at 7.)
Kiki a nd Herb
CABARET By now, the public has been briefed on
the quarantine experiences of many luminar-
ies. But there’s been one holdout of particular
interest: Kiki DuRane, the beloved alter ego of
the singer and raconteur Justin Vivian Bond,
who holds court in the berserk cabaret duo
Kiki and Herb. In the holiday show “SLEIGH
at BAM,” the forever-deranged Kiki finally
greets the deranged current era—armed, as
always, with the crackerjack pianist Herb
(Kenny Mellman). Two decades ago, the
duo epitomized a kind of ironic debauch-
ery that enlivened downtown. These days,
performances are scarce, and the prospect of
hea ring exactly how Kiki, absent from stages
since 2016, fared duri ng COVID and Trump
is particularly enticing. For all its maniacal
humor, this act grew out of rage stirred by
America’s bungling of the AIDS crisis. Christ-
mas loopiness sits in their wheelhouse—so,
too, do devastation and ire.—Jay Ruttenberg
(BAM; Dec. 1-4.)Tasha
FOLK The Chicago-based indie singer-song-
writer Tasha has likened her art to “bed songs,”
sites to restore and heal oneself—in order
to then face and reimagine the world. Her
lovely second album, “Tell Me What You Miss
the Most,” from November, is accordingly
pitched toward a gentle intimacy, one befit-
ting the Ridgewood venue Trans-Pecos. The
tactility of fingers sliding on guitar strings,
and her starkly soulful singing, conjures an
atmosphere of wintry composure. Tasha re-
corded and co-produced the record’s exquisite
ambient folk with t he late Eric Littman, at his
home st udio. Every note is both grounded and
buoyant, evoking the refinements of Feist and
Lianne La Havas, embracing softness while
staring us in the eye. “If I could, I would stay
here in this bed all day long / But I quite like
the way pretty girls sway to my songs,” Tasha
sings, a compelling case for connection.—Jenn
Pelly (Dec. 7 at 8.)Wet Leg
INDIE ROCK With post-punk leanings and a
buzzy air, Wet Leg seems a familiar stock
character: the hysterically hyped English
guitar band. Yet this young duo’s songs re-
veal a refreshingly offbeat act whose sense
of humor may prove of greater consequence
than the guitars. Hailing from the bucolic Isle
of Wight and having kicked into gear during
quarantine, Wet Leg—co-starring Rhian Teas-
dale and Hester Chambers—seems to sparkle
with a madness born of isolation. In a pair
of loopy music videos, deadpan becomes asu perpower; Teasdale’s voice refuses to betray
even a smidgen of emotion. When smiles poke
through the façade during live performances
observed online, one longs to stuff the grins
back in the can. This week, Wet Leg greets its
first American audiences, at Mercury Lounge
(Dec. 7), Union Pool (Dec. 8), and Baby’s All
Right (Dec. 9).—J.R.Young People’s C horu s o f
New York C ity
CLASSICAL Prevented from performing together
in person during quarantine, the prodigiously
gifted vocalists of the Young People’s Chorus
of New York City instead set out to create a
unique project reflecting the pandemic’s effects
on children and young adults. “AloneTogether,”
a free mixed-media installation, includes con-
tributions from a striking array of grownup
composers, songwriters, conductors, poets,
and filmmakers. Live performances are scat-
tered throughout the exhibition’s run; events
this week feature music by and with Yuka C.
Honda, Thomas Cabaniss, Elizabeth Nuñez,
Michael Harrison, and Derek Bermel.—Steve
Smith (High Line Nine Gallery; through Dec. 19.)1
THE THEATREAssassins
There is a giddy and deep pleasure to be had
from this stripped-down revival of Stephen
Sondheim’s musical, directed by John Doyle,
about the desperate and the deluded, people
who were stepped on until they decided that
their only recourse was t o g rab a gun and point
it at the President. (The show’s book is by John
Weidman, based on a great, perverse idea by
Charles Gilbert, Jr.) Try not to hum along as
John Wilkes Booth (Steven Pasquale), John
Hinckley, Jr. (Adam Chanler-Berat), Lynette
(Squeaky) Fromme (Tavi Gevinson), Sara Jane
Moore (Judy Kuhn), and the rest of this band
of murderous misfits serenade you with their
conviction that, per Thomas Jefferson, “every-
body’s got the right to be happy.” The Balladeer
(the appealing Ethan Slater) guides us with
optimistic sanity through the tales of each,
from the anarchist Leon Czolgosz (Brandon
Uranowitz), a factory worker whose furious
analysis of capitalist oppression is spot on—
though his assassination of William McKinley
doesn’t do much to change things—to Charles
Guiteau (Will Swenson, electric with comic
charisma), an unhinged self-promoter who
cakewalks his way to the gallows after he
offs James Garfield for refusing to name him
Ambassador to France. This pitch-dark show,
which deals with the slimy underbel ly of Amer-
ican dreams, couldn’t be more upbeat, and
that’s what gives it its eerie power.—Alexandra
Schwartz (Reviewed in our issue of 11/29/21.)
(Classic Stage Company; through Jan. 8.)Diana: The Musica l
The accomplishment of this lustreless mu-
sical—directed by Christopher Ashley, with
music and lyrics by David Bryan and addi-
tional lyrics by Joe DiPietro, who wrote the
book —is to make you wish, after two hours of
power-pop crooning, that the poor Princess
of Wales (Jeanna de Waal) had been allowed