The Institute Library, established in 1826, is the oldest membership library in the US. Occupying a second and third floor of a lower Chapel street address, the IL is not easy to find. With no real sign, one must trust one’s own wits, entering to a stairway with a meek placard that says “we’re open”. On this block, we’re open could have led me to a hair braiding or yoga studio. Happy to enter the library, a long thin space with floor to ceiling shelves of books that ends in a comfortable reading room. The incredulous librarian takes my entry fee while feebly trying to explain the “music” that is about to happen. “I see plenty of weird shit” I explain while finding a chair amongst the 30 brave souls who thought it would be a good idea to leave the couch on this sub zero evening. The self taught Acquaviva is a prolific artist on the underground experimental music scene. He works on the notion of “oxymoron” and the intersection of voice and computer editing which includes video, text, or livestreams. Lore Lixenberg is a mezzo-soprano sound artist that performs under the moniker of Kombat Diva. The performance is choreographed by Frederic who remains hidden amongst the books. The show starts with Lixenberg rolling her suitcase through the crowd. The Doppler of the rolling casters clanking over threadbare carpet and hardwood is mesmerizing. She settles in front of the audience and performs a series of skits that were numbered “musicas”. Seems that Acquaviva has created a work called 120 Musicas, small vignettes that use found sounds or music. I should have been tipped off when Lixenberg starts the sequence by stating “ladies and gentlemen, welcome to tonight’s performance. We ask that you turn your cellphones……On, for the duration of the show”. She starts with some passages of yelping, high pitched squealing, and other vocalizing. She pulls out her phone and wanders the room taking selfies with the audience while sticking her tongue out and blowing raspberries. At one point, Elton John’s Rocket Man plays loudly while she reads a biographic passage of Wagner. Then Wagner plays while she reads a biographic passage of Elton John. She polls the audience if they have any “musical allergies”. Country music, bagpipes, death metal, the open minded attendees found joy in explaining their allergies. She finds one audience member and coaxes some bills from her wallet. She proceeds to crumple and fold the money in close proximity to the woman’s face creating her own personal performance. After a short set break, the lights are turned low and Kombat Diva emerges, dressed in a sequined Sun Ra frock and head dress. Her head gear is made from CDs strapped together to completely shroud her face. This is her piece called Panic Room. She roams the audience and sticks her shrouded face at people asking if they are “panicked”. She does this in operatic tones which adds to the surreality. She asks me if I am panicked, to which I reply “no”. “Why not?” This is normal for me, I reply. She settles on Martha Willette Lewis, Institute Librarian and local DJ on the fiercely independent WPKN. Martha joins Kombat Diva up front and proceeds to be psychoanalyzed by the opera singing figure. Trippy video backdrop has a calming effect for this panic room. As I exit the performance, I encounter the librarian and tell him his lack of description of the performance hit the nail on the head, it was truly indescribable.
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