A**less pants. Har Mar Superstar has them, as well as a physique holding more in common with your run-of-the-mill sex offender, than with other performers subscribing to the “seatless britches” theory (i.e., The Artist formerly, and presently, known as Prince). But Har Mar has more in common with the Purple One than tasteful attire; both are singers with ridiculous ranges, have the tendency to be irrepressibly, and, sometimes downright unpleasantly, funky, and hail from Minneapolis.
(It’s a frighteningly small world after all…)
But that’s where their approaches’ to the musical genre formerly known as R(hythm) & B(lues) diverge.
While Prince can at times, because of his attitudes towards performance and songwriting, be something of a self-parody, his humor is always subtle. By being as over the top as he is, Prince manages to make the grandiosity of his persona a joke about being over the top.
Har Mar on the other hand, isn’t anywhere near as subtle. He takes it a step further, by making the joke his act. His songs are pretty much straightforward parodies of the misogynistic, materialistic, and narcissistic themes prevalent in much of modern R&B and Pop.
One important reason that Har Mar Superstar’s material is so funny and individual is that unlike the Weird Al-style of parodies (grab someone’s hit song, reproduce the backing tracks, and sing your own lyrics on top), Har Mar uses original beats and doesn’t steal his hooks or choruses from existing songs. This means that every song reeks of his own genius weirdness, and every track has at least a couple of lines that he actually sounds like he means, which can be kind of disconcerting.
Har Mar started off the show in a white fringed black leisure suit with the afore-mentioned customization, performing as a huge projection of the film Shaft played behind him on the wall of the Quakerdome. He proceeded to get the crowd going with a few James Brown spins, a little Sisqo-style crotch grabbing, and the removal of most of his clothing.
Sophomore Ryan Maher, who, like many in the audience, lost several articles of clothing during the show, reflected afterward that, “Har Mar Superstar inspired to take [it] further.”
Nate Finley, also a sophomore, claims Har Mar assisted him in “getting his freak on.” “And I DID get my freak on,” reassured Finley.
His show was made up almost entirely from material off his first album including “Girl, You Stupid,” “I Don’t Like Your Clothes,” and the sing-along “Shopping Spree.” He threw in a Stevie Wonder cover towards the end (when he was covered in sweat, sporting only a pair of “tightie-whities,” and some hightops) for that old school flava.
The two bands sharing the bill, Caer Es Volaer and Little Brother and The Spoiled Siblings both took advantage of the multimedia opportunities afforded by the huge dome.
Caer Es Volaer started their set in front of home videos of bowling, with a lush instrumental, followed by an accompanied reading of the story of Francis the badger by lead singer Jenn Sluder and a hardcore cover of Ani Difranco’s “Both Hands.”
In some of the more serious moments of their set, and there were quite a few, Caer Es Volaer was simple, and beautiful, without posing or pretense. Guitar, bass, drums, voice, all moving together.
Little Brother ended the show with a set of originals including standards like “22 And Not 13,” and “Fishwick,” as well as songs soon to be recorded for a follow-up to last year’s Acquaintances album.
He stopped in the middle of the set to recite the “Splinter monologue” from the cinematic masterpiece Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles II, which played behind him for the length of the set.
The Spoiled Siblings are turning into a veteran outfit, confident and tight, and very aware of how to make a Guilford crowd wig out.
In the immediate wake of “the events of the 11th” it was nice to be in a room where no one was dwelling on anything more serious than whether they should get nekkid or not.