Jay Leno is retiring in a little over a month, and when he writes his memoirs, I suspect he will write something along the lines of, “Michael Jackson’s fall from grace was the best thing that ever happened to me.” That whole circus, with its accessibility, crude physical humor, and generally broad appeal, is the kind of material that mainstream comedians pray for at least once a day, because its easy to joke about and everyone likes to laughat the rich. That’s why, for like two years, every Jay Leno joke went out of its way to reference moonwalking; not because it was funny, but because it was easy.
To a live music writer, the takeover of Oxfam Café by Tufts Students Resources (TSR), who will turn the non-profit, charity café into a for-profit eatery, is akin to the Michael Jackson Saga for a mainstream comedian. This is a music columnist’s dream. The Man ruining a perfectly good art-space by turning it into a cash cow? Yes please! Greed wins again, isn’t anything sacred, (sob), just wait until I put this in my Live Journal, craft a smug Tweet, and talk about it with my friends at the faux-Marxist co-op where I live, etc.
This line of thinking is simplistic, reductive, and flawed; more money will probably mean, among other things, more resources to invest in making a comfortable atmosphere and better audio production. I think it’s hard for anyone in the Tufts community to argue against that.
Nonetheless, as I stood in the back of the café during Brooklyn band Parts & Labor’s ferociously incredible set, I couldn’t help but get swept in a wistful trip to cliché land. Would this kind of show or any of the dozens like it that I have been lucky enough to see in this dingy basement still be possible when the people running the café no longer give a rats ass about it?
I’ve seen deafeningly loud, sardines-in-a-tin-can crowded shows by huge acts like Ratatat and Man Man, a sweaty rave with a bill that included Daedelus two days before he appeared on the cover of XLR8R Magazine, and hauntingly intimate performances by reclusive legend Phil Elverum from the Microphones. All of these nights are among my favorite memories at Tufts, and there is literally nowhere else on campus that could have hosted those shows and had them still be fun.
At Tufts, concerts either happen at Dewick—where there are as many TUPD officers as people in the audience, the music sounds like its coming from a set of iPod speakers, and the power-tripping Concert Board volunteers are too busy brownnosing the performer to pay attention to the crowd—or Hotung, where the band competes with the TV for attention.
Seeing and feeling Parts & Labor’s songs in an atmosphere rooted in community and social activism, I realized that, as much as I hate to admit it, the simplistic faux-Marxist tweeter may have a point. If, as I suspect, the TSR takeover will mean the head-spinning Tufts bureaucracy will exercise more control over Oxfam and the concerts they host, there might not be anywhere else on campus for performances as meaningful and powerful as P&L’s, Man Man’s, or Phil Elverum’s.
Don’t misunderstand me—I’ll gladly and repeatedly see Ghostface in Dewick. But for me, Oxfam filled a huge void in the Tufts community, giving interesting people within and outside of the community a place to see and hear quality live music. This year’s head of booking Kelly Duroncelet told me that she “likes to give people a chance to open up for people they normally would never have the opportunity to if it were any other place.” I hope—but doubt—that this is something TSR will eventually understand.
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