Fritz Lang’s 1927 silent epic, Metropolis, has been shown over the years in various versions and with different music, most famously Giorgio Moroder’s 1984 score. On April 10, the New School’s College of Performing Arts will present the world premiere of a new score by Mannes School of Music student Amir Sanjari, performed live to the film by the Mannes Orchestra, conducted by Robert Kahn. “Among the many things that are magical about masterpieces of the silent film era is the possibility of creating new musical sound worlds for extraordinary moving images. This is just what our student composer Amir Sanjari has done with Fritz Lang’s legendary Metropolis, where the brilliant young composer of 2024 joins forces with the 1927 thunderbolt of silent film history,” executive dean Richard Kessler said in a statement. The event is part of the (Un)Silent Film series, which has featured new scores for such works as Charlie Chaplin’s The Gold Rush and The Immigrant and Buster Keaton’s Sherlock Jr., with such hosts as Matthew Broderick, Bill Irwin, and Rob Bartlett.
Set one hundred years in the future, Metropolis pits man vs. machine, the corporation against the worker, and sin vs. salvation in a technologically advanced society run by business mogul Joh Fredersen (Alfred Abel). While Fredersen rakes in the big bucks on the surface, the workers are treated like slaves way down below, in a dark, dank hell where they perform their automaton-like jobs. When Fredersen’s son, Freder (Gustav Fröhlich), starts feeling sympathy for the workers and falls for Maria (Brigitte Helm), an activist who is trying to convince the men, women, and children of the lower depths that they deserve more out of life, Fredersen has mad inventor Rotwang (Rudolf Klein-Rogge) create a man-machine version of Maria to steer his employees to a revolution that will lead them to self-destruct, although things don’t quite turn out as planned. Written by Lang and his wife, Thea Von Harbou, Metropolis is a visual marvel, featuring jaw-dropping special effects by Eugen Schüfftan (who was developing his Schüfftan process of using miniatures) and a stunning man-machine designed by sculptor Walter Schulze-Mittendorff.
Walter Schulze-Mittendorff’s man-machine stirs up plenty of trouble among the workers in 2026
The complex story incorporates biblical elements, from direct references to the Tower of Babel to other allusions, including fire and flood, while focusing on the relationship between father and prodigal son that evokes both God and Jesus and Abraham and Isaac. A parable that also relates to the battle between employers and unions, the film features a series of doppelgängers: There are two Marias, the real one, who is loving and genuine, and the cold and calculating man-machine; Freder and worker 11811, Georgy (Erwin Binswanger), who temporarily switch places; and Fredersen’s wife, Hel, who died while giving birth to Freder but has been revived into the initial man-machine by Rotwang, who was also in love with her. The massive achievement was shot by Karl Freund (Dracula, Key Largo) with Günther Rittau and Walter Ruttmann, who give it a dazzlingly dramatic look in every scene, accompanied by a soaring score by Gottfried Huppertz that incorporates snippets of Claude Joseph Rouget de Lisle’s “La Marseillaise.” The film declares, “The mediator between head and hands must be the heart!” Lang explores all three in this remarkable film.
“Fritz Lang got the idea for Metropolis when he was in Manhattan in the 1920s promoting another movie of his. Knowing this, I took inspiration from the city itself,” Sanjari said in a statement. “The buildings, the art, and many other things in New York City inspired me to write the score. In addition, I was very inspired by minimalism and the repetition of musical ideas, so I tried to incorporate that.” Admission is free with advance RSVP.
[Mark Rifkin is a Brooklyn-born, Manhattan-based writer and editor; you can follow him on Substack here.]
Even house arrest and potential imprisonment cannot stop Iranian auteur Jafar Panahi from telling cinematic stories
THIS IS NOT A FILM (IN FILM NIST) (Jafar Panahi & Mojtaba Mirtahmasb, 2011)
BAMcinématek, BAM Rose Cinemas
30 Lafayette Ave. between Ashland Pl. & St. Felix St.
Monday, March 25, 7:00
Series runs March 22-28
718-636-4100 canopycanopycanopy.com www.bam.org
“You call this a film?” Jafar Panahi asks rhetorically about halfway through the revealing 2011 documentary This Is Not a Film, screening March 25 at 7:00 at BAM as part of “Triple Canopy Presents: Standard Deviations,” a weeklong festival, curated by Yasmina Price, consisting of works that challenge cinematic norms in visual and narrative storytelling. “Standard Deviations” opens March 22 with Bill Gunn’s Ganja & Hess and concludes March 28 with Ephraim Asili’s “Multisensory Alchemies: Daïchi Saïto + Konjur Collective,” featuring films accompanied by live music, followed by a Q&A. Other highlights are Stephanie Rothman’s The Student Nurses, William Greaves’s Symbiopsychotaxiplasm, and Raúl Ruiz and Valeria Sarmiento’s The Wandering Soap Opera.
After several arrests beginning in July 2009 for supporting the opposition party, highly influential and respected Iranian filmmaker Panahi (Crimson Gold,Offside) was convicted in December 2010 for “assembly and colluding with the intention to commit crimes against the country’s national security and propaganda against the Islamic Republic.” Although facing a six-year prison sentence and twenty-year ban on making or writing any kind of movie, Panahi is a born storyteller, so he can’t stop himself, no matter the risks. Under house arrest, Panahi has his friend, fellow director Mojtaba Mirtahmasb (Lady of the Roses), film him with a handheld DV camera over ten days as Panahi plans out his next movie, speaks with his lawyer, lets his pet iguana climb over him, and is asked to watch a neighbor’s dog, taking viewers “behind the scenes of Iranian filmmakers not making films.” Panahi even pulls out his iPhone to take additional video, photographing New Year’s fireworks that sound suspiciously like a military attack. Panahi is calm throughout, never panicking (although he clearly does not want to take care of the barking dog) and not complaining about his situation, which becomes especially poignant as he watches news reports on the earthquake and tsunami disaster in Japan.
“But you can’t make a film now anyhow, can you?” Mirtahmasb — who will later be arrested and imprisoned as well — asks at one point. “So what I can’t make a film?” Panahi responds. “That means I ask you to take a film of me? Do you think it will turn into some major work of art?” This Is Not a Film, which was smuggled out of Iran in a USB drive hidden in a birthday cake so it could be shown at Cannes, is indeed a major work of art, an important document of government repression of free speech as well as a fascinating examination of one man’s intense dedication to his art and the creative process. Shortlisted for the Best Documentary Academy Award, This Is Not a Film is a mesmerizing experience from a genius who has since gifted the world with Closed Curtain,Taxi,Three Faces, and No Bears, defying the government while constantly looking over his shoulder.
[Mark Rifkin is a Brooklyn-born, Manhattan-based writer and editor; you can follow him on Substack here.]
Illinoise reimagines Sufjan Stevens album as a dance-theater piece (photo by Stephanie Berger)
ILLINOISE
Park Avenue Armory, Wade Thompson Drill Hall
643 Park Ave. at 67th St.
Monday – Saturday through March 26, standby only
212-933-5812 www.armoryonpark.org
Justin Peck and Sufjan Stevens’s eighth collaboration is a poignant and exhilarating exploration of young love, grief, and the search for personal identity, with its fingers firmly on the pulse of today’s youth culture.
The DC-born Peck, thirty-six, is a Tony-winning dancer, choreographer, director, and filmmaker and the resident choreographer of New York City Ballet. The Detroit-born Stevens, forty-eight, is a Grammy- and Oscar-nominated singer-songwriter and soundtrack composer. The longtime friends have previously worked together on pieces for NYCB, Houston Ballet, Miami City Ballet, Joffrey Ballet, San Francisco Ballet, and Pacific Northwest Ballet, including Year of the Rabbit,Everywhere We Go, and Reflections.
Their latest, the dazzling Illinoise, opened Wednesday night for a sold-out run continuing in Park Ave. Armory’s massive Wade Thompson Drill Hall through March 26. [ed. note: The production is moving to Broadway, running April 24 to August 10 at the St. James.]
The ninety-minute dance-theater work is based on Stevens’s 2005 concept album, Illinois, aka Sufjan Stevens Invites You to: Come on Feel the Illinoise. “I feel like specifically Illinois and Chicago are sort of the center of gravity for the American Midwest,” Stevens told Dusted about the genesis of the record.
Henry (Ricky Ubeda) and Carl (Ben Cook) go on a road trip in Illinoise (photo by Stephanie Berger)
The original story, by Peck and Pulitzer Prize–winning playwright Jackie Sibblies Drury (Fairview,Marys Seacole), introduces us to a young man named Henry (Ricky Ubeda) as he ventures from a small town in the middle of nowhere, Illinois, to Chicago and then New York City. He joins up with a group of eleven free-living young people who are like a modern-day version of the hippies from Hair. Sitting around a campfire (consisting of lanterns), they take journals out of their backpacks and share stories from their lives.
The dancers never speak or sing; Adam Rigg’s multilevel wooden set features three small platforms for a trio of vocalists: keyboardist Elijah Lyons and guitarists Shara Nova and Tasha Viets-VanLear. They wear wasp sings, which refer to the song “The Predatory Wasp of the Palisades Is Out to Get Us!,” in which they sing, “Oh, I am not quite sleeping / Oh, I am fast in bed / There on the wall in the bedroom creeping / I see a wasp with her wings outstretched.” Eleven other instrumentalists, from drums, strings, woodwinds, and horns to bass, banjo, percussion, and mandolin, are scattered across the top level.
Morgan (Rachel Lockhart) looks for signs from the ancestors underneath a billboard of a canceled Andrew Jackson (“Jacksonville”). Jo Daviess (dance captain Jeanette Delgado) is surrounded by evil-masked figures in black robes representing the Founding Fathers (“They Are Night Zombies!! They Are Neighbors!! They Have Come Back from the Dead!! Ahhhh!”). Wayne (Alejandro Vargas) encounters serial killer John Wayne Gacy in a clown outfit, realizing that we all have secrets to hide (“John Wayne Gacy, Jr.”). And the aptly named Clark (Robbie Fairchild) removes his glasses and shirt and becomes Superman, one of many, believing, “Only a steel man came to recover / If he had run from gold, carry over / We celebrate our sense of each other / We have a lot to give one another” (“The Man of Metropolis Steals Our Hearts”). The costumes are by Reid Bartelme and Harriet Jung, with masks by Julian Crouch and props by Andrew Diaz.
Clark (Robbie Fairchild) turns into Superman at Park Ave. Armory (photo by Stephanie Berger)
Those tales serve as a prologue to the main narrative, which Henry reluctantly conveys, involving a Jules and Jim–like relationship between him and his childhood friends Carl (Ben Cook) and Shelby (Gaby Diaz) and, later, his first adult love, Douglas (Ahmad Simmons). Jealousy, illness, and loyalty bring them together and tear them apart as they try to find their place in a difficult world — from politics to family to religion — that often doesn’t even try to understand them. “Tuesday night at the Bible study / We lift our hands and pray over your body / But nothing ever happens,” they sing in “Casimir Pulaski Day,” named for the Polish freedom fighter who was a general in the Continental Army and became known as the Father of American Cavalry.
Ultimately, in the finale, “The Tallest Man, the Broadest Shoulders,” they declare, “What have we become, America?”
Illinoise explodes with energy but is anchored by an underlying tenderness. Have no fear if you’re not a fan of Stevens; Nathan Koci’s music direction and supervision and Timo Andres’s arrangements and orchestrations lift the score, and some of Stevens’s more twee lyrics disappear into the overall thrilling zeitgeist.
Innate hope and charm emanate from the dancers, highlighted by Lockhart, Delgado, Vargas, Fairchild, and Byron Tittle, who portrays Estrella and adds tap to a movement language that blends contemporary and ballet. The four leads — Ubeda, Cook, Diaz, and Simmons — imbue their characters with deep emotional conflicts that can be as stirring as they are heartbreaking; several scenes play out like a twenty-first-century silent movie in color. The cast also features Christine Flores as Anikova, dance captain Craig Salstein as I-94 East Bound, and Kara Chan as Star, with Jada German, Zachary Gonder, Dario Natarelli, and Tyrone Reese making up the swing.
Not everything works, and the timeline can get confusing, but Peck and Sibblies Drury pull no punches. Garth MacAleavey’s sound design reverberates throughout the hall, while Brandon Stirling Baker’s lighting bursts forth in multiple palettes and cleverly informs us of the location, accompanied by projections on a billboard above the band.
Each attendee receives a program modeled on the journals used by the performers, in red, blue, orange, or green and with a different wasp wing image on it. Inside are several handwritten entries by Henry, complete with illustrations and even a blotch that Henry explains is a “tear mark b/c I made myself cry in my new journal like a dork.” He also writes, “I couldn’t feel anything. Maybe I couldn’t feel it because I am too obsessed with my own past.”
Illinoise will make you feel. And if you are so inclined, there are several blank pages at the back of the program where you can share and reflect.
[Mark Rifkin is a Brooklyn-born, Manhattan-based writer and editor; you can follow him on Substack here.]
Who: The Black Keys, Hozier, Nile Rodgers, Tom Morello, Don Felder, Bettye Lavette, Joss Stone, Allison Russell, Emily King, Marcus King, Lucius, Dave Grohl, Larkin Poe, Trombone Shorty, Luke Spiller, Quinn Sullivan, Bernie Williams, Conan O’Brien, Jim Gaffigan, Tracy Morgan, Martin Short, Ivan Neville, Jimmy Vivino What: Benefit concert for God’s Love We Deliver Where:Beacon Theatre, 2124 Broadway at 75th St. When: Thursday, March 7, in person $284 – $1,252, livestream $19.99, 8:00 Why: A batch of new tickets has been released for the eighth annual Love Rocks NYC, an all-star benefit concert raising money for the New York City nonprofit, nonsectarian organization God’s Love We Deliver, which, since 1985, has dedicated itself “to improve the health and well-being of men, women, and children living with HIV/AIDS, cancer, and other serious illnesses by alleviating hunger and malnutrition.” Presented by fashion designer John Varvatos, real estate executive Greg Williamson, and events producer Nicole Rechter at the Beacon Theatre on March 7, the evening will feature performances by the Black Keys, Hozier, Nile Rodgers, Tom Morello, Don Felder, Bettye Lavette, Joss Stone, Lucius, Dave Grohl, Trombone Shorty, Bernie Williams, and more, with the house band consisting of music director and bandleader Will Lee, Michael Bearden, Steve Gadd, Shawn Pelton, Eric Krasno, Larry Campbell, Pedrito Martinez, and Jeff Babko. (A complete list can be found above.) This year’s hosts are Conan O’Brien, Tracy Morgan, and Jim Gaffigan, and there will be guest appearances by Martin Short, Ivan Neville, and Jimmy Vivino. The event will also be livestreamed over VEEPS for $19.99.
Mona Pirnot sits with her back to the audience throughout I Love You So Much I Could Die (photo by Jenny Anderson)
I LOVE YOU SO MUCH I COULD DIE
New York Theatre Workshop
79 East Fourth St. between Second & Third Aves.
Monday – Saturday through March 9, $65-$75 www.nytw.org
Almost forty years ago, I composed a eulogy for my father’s funeral but was unable to read it because I was too distraught; instead, one of my best friends read it for me. So I understand why Mona Pirnot performs her solo show, I Love You So Much I Could Die, about a family tragedy with her back to the audience and has a Microsoft text-to-speech tool read her story, interspersed with five songs she sings with an acoustic guitar without turning around. However, I’m not convinced that it’s the best way to share this specific narrative, which doesn’t live up to the technical aspects of the production.
The play starts with Pirnot walking down one of the aisles and onto Mimi Lien’s spare set, where she takes a seat on a ladderback chair at a folding table with a laptop, a water bottle, a microphone, and a lamp; a floor speaker and monitor are nearby. She opens the computer and pushes the space bar; a disconcerting, disembodied male AI voice begins, “I’ve been trying out different support groups. It has not been going well. I can’t seem to find the right group for me. And everything is on zoom. Which makes everything sadder than it already was. And everything was already sad.” The voice adds a moment later, “[The leader] asked if I wanted to share first. I did not. But I said okay. I shared my story and when I was done, the guy was like, oh my god that’s awful. And I was like, yep. And he was like, oh my god. And I was like . . . yeah.”
As the voice recites the text, audience members with sharp eyesight can follow along as each word is highlighted on the screen as it’s spoken, reminiscent of karaoke, especially when the amateur warbler might be a bit tipsy and/or tone deaf. The delivery is bumpy, with unexpected pauses and mispronunciations, particularly involving the name Shia LaBeouf.
Pirnot, wearing a comfortable jumpsuit (the costume is by Enver Chakartash), stops the program five times to perform melancholic songs, including “happy birthday whatever who cares,” “good time girl,” and “Home to You.” The tunes are slow, mournful, and self-deprecating; she introduces “good time girl” by explaining it is much better with a hardcore electric guitar solo, which she instead will perform with her mouth, and proceeds to sing, “I fell back into that hole I forgot was there / My ride drove off and left me in the middle of nowhere / mmm I’m gone / Don’t even know where I went.”
The story also goes back ten years, when Pirnot first met a playwright who “would later become quite famous. As famous as a playwright can get ha ha if playwrights can ever really get famous.” Although she never mentions him by name, it is the man she would eventually marry, Lucas Hnath, who has written such plays as Red Speedo,The Christians,A Doll’s House Part 2, and The Thin Place. Hnath is the director of I Love You So Much I Could Die and has noted in interviews that one of the reasons he opted for Pirnot to sit with her back to the audience because that is how he saw her when she was writing the piece. For added intimacy, the lamp on the table is from their home.
I Love You So Much I Could Die is part of an unofficial trilogy (with maybe more to come?) in which Hnath explores unique methods to tell stories using old and new sound technology in one-person shows. In Dana H., Deirdre O’Connell won a Tony without speaking a word, instead lip-synching to an interview Hnath’s mother gave about her abduction by a member of the Aryan Brotherhood. In A Simulacram, actor, magician, and illusion designer Steve Cuiffo discusses his life and career by using an in-ear device to communicate live with a cassette recording of Hnath, re-creating exact conversations they had over the course of more than fifty hours of workshopping.
Dana H. and A Simulacram were both fascinating plays with compelling, entertaining stories to tell; unfortunately, I Love You So Much I Could Die falls short in that respect. Perhaps Hnath is too close to this one; the play might be a great way for Pirnot (Private,the world is full on) to deal with her personal situation, but it’s not an unusual one, even though she does not give specific details of what happened. In addition, the final section feels manipulative, tossed in to elicit a last surge of emotional melodrama.
While the AI’s voice is clear and crisp, it is often difficult to make out everything Pirnot is singing in her slow, eerily quiet tunes. (The sound design is by Mikhail Fiksel, with music direction by Will Butler.) Throughout the play’s sixty-five minutes, Oona Curley’s lighting dims nearly imperceptibly throughout the theater, ending in complete darkness.
I was hoping that at the conclusion, Pirnot would get off the chair and make her way to the door at the back left of the theater, never showing herself to the audience, but instead she turned around and smiled as she bowed. It’s not that didn’t deserve applause, but I thought it was a lost opportunity to add a special coda to this very private play.
[Mark Rifkin is a Brooklyn-born, Manhattan-based writer and editor; you can follow him on Substack here.]
Alonzo King LINES Ballet makes Lincoln Center debut with Deep River
Who:Alonzo King LINES Ballet What: Lincoln Center debut Where:Rose Theater, Broadway at West Sixtieth St., fifth floor When: February 22-24, choose-what-you-pay (suggested admission $35), 7:30 Why: San Francisco–based Alonzo King LINES Ballet makes its Lincoln Center debut this week with Deep River, an evening-length piece that kicked off its fortieth anniversary season last year. The title is taken from the popular spiritual performed by such singers as Marian Anderson, Paul Robeson, Odetta, Johnny Mathis, Mahalia Jackson, and Beverly Glenn-Copeland. The sixty-five-minute work features an original score, incorporating Jewish, Indian, and Black traditions, by multidisciplinary artist and longtime King collaborator Jason Moran and is sung live onstage by vocalist Lisa Fischer, alongside music by Pharoah Sanders, Maurice Ravel, and James Weldon Johnson, who wrote “Lift Every Voice and Sing.”
The company consists of dancers Babatunji, Adji Cissoko, Madeline DeVries, Theo Duff-Grant, Lorris Eichinger, Shuaib Elhassan, Joshua Francique, James Gowan, Ilaria Guerra, Maya Harr, Marusya Madubuko, Michael Montgomery, and Tatum Quiñónez, with lighting by Jim French, costumes and sets by Robert Rosenwasser, and sound by Philip Perkins. King, who was born in Georgia to parents who were staunch civil rights activists, notes in a statement about Deep River, “Love is the ocean that we rose from, swim in, and will one day return to.”
I first met James Mastro in the late 1980s, when he had a side gig as a freelance proofreader and I worked at a small publisher and used to assign him work. I already knew who he was from his time in the iconic Hoboken band the Bongos; he would go on to form Strange Cave and the Health & Happiness Show before joining Ian Hunter’s Rant Band in 2001.
Mastro started playing in New York City when he was teenager in the late 1970s, eventually performing with Patti Smith, John Cale, the Jayhawks, Alejandro Escovedo, Richard Lloyd, Garland Jeffreys, the Feelies, Jesse Malin, Amy Speace, Jill Sobule, and Robert Plant, among so many others throughout his career. He opened Guitar Bar in Hoboken in 1996 as a place where musicians could not only shop but play live and hang out. He has now followed that up with 503 Social Club, an art gallery that hosts live events, including recent concerts by Sobule, Freedy Johnston, and Bobby Bare Jr.; Jon Langford performed there with friends amid his paintings on the walls.
At long last Mastro has made his debut solo album, Dawn of a New Error, out from MPress Records on February 21. The title has multiple meanings, referring to the state of the world, Mastro’s shift to being the main man, and, at least to me, those old days when I was hiring him to find mistakes in kids books. Longtime Smith bassist and New Jersey native Tony Shanahan produced and plays bass and keyboards on the LP, which ranges from jangly pop, acoustic folk, and romantic ballads to gospel and country, celebrating such influences as the Beatles, the Ramones, T-Rex, Roxy Music, Bob Dylan, and David Bowie. Reilly and Hunter each appear on three tracks, with Hunter as “the voice of god” on “The Face of the Sun.” Mastro takes on faith and religion in “My God,” death and loss in “Never Die,” true love in “Gangster Baby” and “Three Words,” and fake news in “Right Words, Wrong Song.” “Trouble” was inspired by Dr. Seuss and Levon Helm.
Mastro will have album release parties on February 21 at Bowery Electric and February 24 at Transparent Clinch Gallery in Asbury Park. We recently spoke over Zoom, discussing music, art, family, hats, and stepping out into the spotlight.
James Mastro plays with Ian Hunter and R.E.M’s Peter Buck and Scott McCaughey of the Baseball Project at the 2011 Hoboken Music & Art Festival (photo by twi-ny/mdr)
twi-ny: We’ve known each other for thirty-five years. Back in the late 1980s and early ’90s, I would send you freelance work while you were out on the road. What was that like to be playing in bands and proofreading children’s nonfiction books?
james mastro: I had a family to feed, by any means necessary. And luckily, I was doing two things that I love to do: playing music and reading books. So it was a good marriage.
For us too; you did both exceptionally well. How has the road changed for you since then?
jm: With Ian Hunter, it definitely got a little bit more comfortable. The things I love about it I still love, always trying to take the dirt road as opposed to the highway. Touring can be a drag, but you can also make it incredibly great and fun. We would plan out an agenda every time. It’s worth it to get up an hour or two earlier to take a little trip and go see a museum or something crazy that a friend told you about.
twi-ny: Back in 2011, you very generously played at twi-ny’s tenth anniversary party with Megan Reilly at Fontana’s, which is gone. New York City has had such a turnover of music venues. Are there specific clubs that you miss from the old days? Obviously, I think we’re going to mention Maxwell’s.
jm: CBGBs especially will always hold a place in my heart, just playing there as a teenager and getting to see some of the bands that inspired me to play and getting to play with some of them. So CBs and Maxwell’s, yes; huge holes that were left. I miss Fez under Time Cafe a lot; it was just a really special place. Usually what makes a place special — I was thinking about Maxwell’s this morning and CBs — are the people that ran it. Maxwell’s, I remember, was one of the first clubs that would feed you, no matter who you were; if you were playing there, they would feed you, which for a musician is huge. You may not get paid, but at least you knew you were getting fed. [Maxwell’s owner] Steve Fallon always treated musicians well, Hilly Kristal at CBGB. It starts at the top if you have great people running a space.
twi-ny: Maxwell’s was such a fan-friendly venue. I saw your bands, Robyn Hitchcock, the Mekons, Bob Mould. So you played that tenth anniversary show with Megan, who sings backup on several songs on your new record. What is it about you and Megan that gels so well over the years?
jm: I think she’s one of the finest singers out there right now. I mean, her voice just kills me. It’s kinda like beauty and the beast. I’m not crazy about my voice, so anything that will complement it, like a voice like Megan’s, I love singing with. And just musically, she’ll show me a song of hers and right away I don’t even have to think about it; these parts come out because the way she writes is so dreamy and from a special place. I connect with that so well. The other day she and I just did a rehearsal together, the two of us playing and singing for my show coming up. And I was just thrilled. I’d be happy just doing that too. She’s a very special person musically, and as a person. Just very talented.
twi-ny: On “Three Words” she really just takes it and builds to that finale.
jm: It’s like from the purr of a lion . . . She starts off so subtle and by the end of that song, she takes it to a place I never would’ve thought of going. I don’t think that that song would’ve made it on the record if she didn’t sing on it. I really think she sells it.
twi-ny: You’re very self-deprecating about your voice. On the record you say a couple of things that really lends insight to you. I’ve been listening to you play for decades. I’ve seen you in bands that you lead and bands that you’re the guitarist, the backup vocalist. So to hear you front and center on an entire record and writing songs that sound very intimate and personal, I’m learning things about you that I never knew.
jm: Therapy begins. [laughs]
twi-ny: On “Right Words,” you sing, “The lead singer at the mic wants so badly to be liked.” And on “Three Words,” you claim, “I’m not a singer and I can’t write songs.”
jm: Mm-hmm.
twi-ny: But clearly you can sing and you can write songs.
jm: Mm-hmm.
twi-ny: Humble as ever. What’s it like to finally have a solo album under your own name? Songs you wrote, songs you’re singing lead on. Why now?
jm: Good question, Why now? Well, I’ve really enjoyed being a side guy all these years, and especially when you’re working with someone like Ian Hunter, or Patti or John, anyone I’ve worked with, Megan. So it’s been nice to go in and try to contribute and watch how other people work. It takes a lot of pressure off. Running a band is a pain in the ass; you gotta make sure the drummer doesn’t get arrested —
twi-ny: Is that a Steve Holley problem?
jm: No, no, not at all. [laughs] At that time in my life, it was very nice to just take some of the responsibility off. Even though I started recording these songs before Covid just kind of as fun, with no pressure or no idea of making a record, when Covid hit, that really made me realize, Well, I’ve got time on my hands. Everything is kind of slowed down. Let’s take a look at these songs and see if we have an album here.
twi-ny: So the songs were already written?
jm: Yes, they were. Most of them were either recorded or just about finished. Tony Shanahan had just opened a studio in Hoboken. He called me up and says, Hey, I wanna just check out the room and the gear and see how things go in here. Do you have any songs? We’ll record. I was like, great. So we went in and it was just me, him, and, for the first few, Louie Appel on drums. Three friends just playing some songs.
I’d show them the songs right then and there. There was a great spontaneity and contribution from them. And it was really fun, so we just did that over a course of a few years, on and off, whenever the studio was open.
twi-ny: No pressure.
jm: No pressure.
twi-ny: So now, not only are you front and center, on lead vocals, you’re turning to people like Ian Hunter to participate. Ian hasn’t been performing because he’s got tinnitus?
jm: Tinnitus, yeah.
twi-ny: What was his reaction when you asked him to be on the album?
jm: He did one track, “Right Words, Wrong Song,” and it was perfect. It’s exactly what I wanted. He sounded just like Ian Hunter, you know? And then he finished that and he’s like, What else you got? And so he sat and I locked the door right away.
twi-ny: Oh, so he was with you in Tony’s studio?
jm: Yeah. He came down to do that. So we played him songs. He is like, “Oh, I hear a part on this. Let me try this. This is great.” He’s a very musical guy, a very giving guy. And so for me, having the guy that inspired me to pick up a guitar sing on my record after I worshiped his, it was a nice little payback.
twi-ny: And then you get to direct him in a video. You directed it, you star in it, you’ve got Tammy Faye Starlite, you’ve got Ian, you put on these great wigs. To me it’s a throwback to the early days of MTV. Is that what you were going for?
jm: Definitely. I think it was a mix of early MTV and the Colbert show and The Daily Show. I guess you could say it could be a serious song, but I think sometimes you can get a point across better by being a little irreverent about it.
twi-ny: It looks like it was fun to shoot.
jm: It was a riot. I usually backpedal at things like this. I’ve been asked to be in other videos, and I’m just like, Oh, no, I can’t. So I went into this with a little trepidation, but we had a great time.
twi-ny: How often before have you gotten to act without a guitar in your hand? Has that happened a lot?
jm: You know, since high school.
twi-ny: So you have a little acting bug inside you?
jm: It’s a good career to have to fall back on if music doesn’t work out. It’s a good safety net. Do some acting.
twi-ny: It looks to me like you’re sitting right now in 503 Social.
jm: I am. Yeah.
twi-ny: In 1996, you started Guitar Bar, which revolutionized the music scene in Hoboken. And now you’ve expanded it with 503 Social Club. How did that get going?
jm: Well, all these projects are done for selfish reasons. Guitar Bar was because I just got tired of going into New York to buy strings, and Social Club, it just popped up. A friend of mine told me about this space that became available for rent, and he’s like, You gotta go see it. The last thing I need is something that takes more sleep away from me. But it was just crying to be something. There are so many talented people in this area and there’s a lack of venues, be it for artists or musicians. So I just felt, let’s give it a shot. It’s selfish because I get to see my friends’ artwork up close and see my friends play. So it’s a labor of love, but it’s been really fun, and the feedback’s been great.
twi-ny: You had a big night there with the great and mighty Jon Langford.
jm: He’s a dynamo in every way. I love his artwork, and so he had a great show. I thought he was just gonna come in solo, but he brought half the Mekons with them, Sally [Timms] and some of the others. And they just tore this place apart.
twi-ny: I’m mad that I missed that.
jm: I understand. Well, he’s coming back. So the fact that I can get people like that here . . . it’s very fun and special for me and inspiring.
twi-ny: Speaking of inspiring, you’ve been married for thirty-one years, you’ve got two daughters, and at least one of them is a musician.
jm: Yeah, Lily is in Long Neck, her professional name and band. [Daughter Ruby, a London-based sound designer and filmmaker, edited the “Right Words, Wrong Song” video.]
twi-ny: So is music just in the Mastrodimos blood?
jm: Neither of my parents were musical. Both my brother and I were, and, my kids by default. There were always guitars in the house, music playing.
twi-ny: Is your wife musical?
jm: She is; she doesn’t play, but she sings great. She has no desire to do that. I truly think the kids get their talent from her, not me.
twi-ny: On February 21, you’ll be at Bowery Electric for the album release party. You’ve told us that you’re gonna be playing with Megan; who else will be joining you?
jm: It’s a great band and people. I’m really happy to be playing with Tony, who produced the record and has been with Patti Smith for years.
twi-ny: He’s doing a special Lunar New Year show with Patti at Bowery Ballroom on February 10.
jm: Yes, I will be there.
twi-ny: Awesome. I will be there too. So you’ve got Tony.
jm: He and I have been playing together for thirty-something years. So that’s easy. Dennis Diken from the Smithereens will be on drums. Megan will be singing, playing some guitar, and I got her playing some keyboards. She’s excited about that. The other guitar player, Chris Robertson, he’s in a band now called Elk City; he was in the Psychedelic Furs side project Feed and played with Richard Butler, just great, another friend. If I’m gonna do this, I want it to be fun for me, and if it’s fun for me, hopefully it’ll be for everybody else. These are good mates to be in a room with.
twi-ny: Okay, so one last question, something I’ve always wanted to ask you. You have always worn hats onstage; how many do you have, and how did the hat thing get started?
jm: I always wore boleros or something. I just I love that era. My dad used to wear hats, and I love that era when you look at old photos of Yankee Stadium, and men are in suits and in hats, like the whole crowd is at a baseball game but they’re dressed to the nines. So I just always have loved hats. How many do I have? Not as many as you would think. Not as many as Alejandro Escovedo — talk about a snappy dresser. I aspire to be him when I grow up. He and I are always going out hat shopping when we’re on the road.
twi-ny: Oh, speaking of which, you’re about to go out on the road with him again.
jm: I am. Yeah.
twi-ny: He previously played with the Rant Band when Ian couldn’t tour.
jm: Right. Alejandro’s got a new album coming out too [Echo Dancing], and it’s really a great, interesting record. He’s kind of revisited some of his old songs but totally deconstructed them. I don’t want to say it’s techno, but it’s unique and great. So it’s gonna be a little different from what people might expect from him. It’s kind of what John — he’s worked with John Cale also — it’s what John would do. Nothing was sacred to Cale. We’d go onstage and he’d be like, You know what, let’s change this song (that we had done the night before). But he would just totally revamp it. And I love that. Nothing should be set in stone. So that’s kind of what Alejandro’s done. I’ll be playing with him in that, but I’m also opening the shows acoustically and, depending on what town we’re in, if I have some friends there, I’ll ask them to come up and join me.
So I’m looking forward to it. Traveling with good friends and playing music, what could be better, you know?
twi-ny: You’re just having a ball, right? Just loving life?
jm: It may sound like a cliché, but if I wake up in the morning, it’s a good day. Anything after that is icing on the cake.
[Mark Rifkin is a Brooklyn-born, Manhattan-based writer and editor; you can follow him on Substack here.]
