“Don’t Pass Cars / On Curve or Hill / If the Cops / Don’t Get You / Morticians Will.” “If Daisies Are Your / Favorite Flower / Keep Pushin’ Up / Those Miles-Per-Hour.” “If You / Don’t Know / Whose Signs / These Are / You Can’t Have / Driven Very Far.”
Yoko Ono has always occupied a strange position in the cultural and musical fabric of the world. Her name remains linked with John Lennon’s nearly four decades after his death, and the attention allotted to her in popular spheres is often limited to punchlines, whether concerning her relationship with The Beatles or her own unique, genre-spanning art. Who is Yoko Ono as an artist? She is a singer, a poet, a filmmaker; she is performative, raw, avant-garde and experimental.
Last Wednesday, fog began spreading throughout The Magic Bag maybe 20 minutes after Field Report’s Christopher Porterfield left the stage. Porterfield had set the stage (so to speak) expertly, filling the cozy venue with the soft sounds of acoustic folk while patrons quietly filed in, ordering drinks and finding seats or empty patches of wall to lean on and watch. The mood of the room was already not only attentive, but appreciative — this was going to be a good night, plain and simple — a night of good music inside a good place.