Madison Long
Life Editor
A hum rolled through the crowd. Even though no pieces had been played, the instrument tuning reverberated up the seats of Jensen Hall. Waves of sound crashed from wall to wall from the musician’s slight shivers of movement.
The soft voyage through “Night Cap,” unlocked a sense of synesthesia, like Ratatouille, where bursts and shocks of color dodged between instruments.
On stage, Jesse Hanson, aka guest artist bad snacks, hailed above the string ensemble, her white, asymmetrical dress setting her apart as a Greek muse. However, Hanson’s leather baby blue knee-high boots gave away her non-traditional music making, the heels echoing the pop attitude of artists like Sabrina Carpenter.
Just as softly as the music began, it concluded. Not a soul moved. Everyone was too afraid to break free from the trance Hanson had knowingly seduced us into.
The evening of Friday, March 20 was flooded with the sounds of the Idaho State-Civic Symphony, the ISU Commercial Music Big Band and their musical fusion with bad snacks.
Founded in 1928 as the Pocatello Symphony Orchestra, the Idaho State-Civic Symphony unites community members and university students under Dr. Nell Flanders. Adding to their musical mission to teach and enrich the community, the orchestra includes several solo spotlights during performances to highlight local talent.
With the symphony focused on providing that classical and sharp thrum, the ISU Commercial Music Big Band can weave harmonies, adding a jazzy productional layer into the melody. ISU’s commercial music program trains students in composition, recording, and production.
To be honest, I am not a symphony goer. I connect more easily to familiar soundtracks like Disney and Pixar.
The dramatic swell of “King Ghidorah” with its repetitive, steady tribal-esque claps, one and two and three – was something straight out of Brave. The large wide strokes of Hanson’s bow compared to the delicate swirling of the violinist beside her – a conversation between Merida and the spirits, pulling the audience into a hero’s brain.
“My music is often described as hybrid, and well, this is the ultimate culmination of hybrid,” comments Hanson. “Some of the music you’re going to hear tonight will be new releases and have never been played before in public!”
The set was arranged like a living room, most likely an allusion to bad snacks’ first album meant to be played to jam along to chores, “Home Music.” Fluffy armchairs, small tables and antique lamps lay scattered about. And dead center was every parent’s home desk, equipped with a laptop and a squeaky black office chair – headed by Hanson herself, gazing into the strings beneath her and vibing with the chaotic boys in the percussion set.
Hanson, who began violin at age three, is known for blending hip-hop, jazz, and electronica genres to create her own unique sound, something described as “gorgeous” and “stank-face worthy.”
In a similar fashion, to me it felt like a new Cinderella adaptation—both familiar and unexpected.
“Deepest Blue” could have fit right into that soundtrack, with the simple plucking of harp strings – an instrument I hadn’t even noticed on stage yet. Director Flanders took on her fairytale role, casting an enchantment over the ensemble, a dramatic swoosh to the left and a hesitant shake of her right hand. She was haunting the notes as they drifted into the air, raking the bass players through the coals.
“We’re clubbing up in here,” whispers Sierra Still, one of my roommates.
Thrusting us into retrograde, both the flush of lights on stage and the music reaching a crescendo. The strings began to box the guitar soloists, but not before the backup vocalists could spew their final prayers.
The music scaled up and back down, a mad dash into the meadow of the next song, “Moon Bloom.” Just as the music couldn’t pick a singular genre, the lights confused themselves, flickering from leaf patterns to a gecko skin yellow pattern, finally landing on a pale purple luster.
A dizzying echo of noise emptied my thoughts, leaving me on the same field as the musicians before me, syncing our breaths. And with one final inhale, every instrument exemplified life, an extension of the musician, numb to pain, mistakes and doubt.
