Rhiannon Giddens: A global voice that resonates with curiosity and purpose in these troubled times

Rhiannon Giddens / there is no Other

When Rhiannon Giddens released her latest album, the intense and sparsely-arranged there is no Other – recorded with Italian multi-instrumentalist Francesco Turrisi – earlier this year, it “at once was a condemnation of ‘othering’ as well as a celebration of the spreading of ideas and connectivity and of a shared experience.”

Together, Giddens and Turrisi traced an overlooked movement of sounds originating from Africa and the Arabic world and found common ground in how those sounds influenced European and American music. The original songs which Giddens penned for there is no Other as well as interpretations of others such as Ola Belle Reed’s “I’m Gonna Write Me a Letter,” Oscar Brown Jr.’s “Brown Baby” and the Italian traditional “Pizzica di San Vito,” collectively illustrate both her adoration of Appalachian bluegrass, gospel, opera and traditional Italian music and the commonality it brings to the human experience. Her interpretation of the gospel standard “Wayfaring Stranger” ranks up there with those of Emmylou Harris and Johnny Cash.

It was in this spirit that I saw Giddens and Turrisi perform selections from there is no Other last week in the 450-seat Terrace Theater at the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts in Washington, D.C. It was the first time I had seen Giddens in concert. I hope it’s not the last.

Giddens, 42, is a celebrated Grammy Award-winning artist and MacArthur “Genius” Grant recipient, who loves to dig through the past to reveal bold and candid truths about our present. The messages in her songs have drawn upon slave narratives as well as African American experiences, including the 1960s Civil Rights movement, and are often told from the point of view of black women’s suffering and resilience. In concert, Giddens painstakingly takes the time to weave her excellent storytelling skills to put each song into an historical context.

Giddens recently was featured in the Ken Burns Country Music documentary film series. In an interview with the Greensboro (N.C.) News & Record, she said, “I have played country, I have sung country. I’ve listened to country or what we say is country. I’ve played a lot of music that has been funneled into what became country. I play music that country has been borrowed from.

“But it’s just a strand of what I do. You can’t box the music that I do. People ask me all the time, ‘What do you play?’ Well, I play American music. That includes what we would call country.”

Rhiannon Giddens and Francesco Turrisi

During her performance with Turrisi, the North Carolina-born Giddens sang in a beautiful contralto voice – she’s a conservatory-trained opera singer – and played a 1858 replica of a minstrel banjo as well as octave violin. Meanwhile, the jazz-inspired Turrisi performed on piano, accordion, frame drum, tamburello, banjo and colascione among many instruments.

Over the course of their two-hour show that was full of interplay between these two gifted musicians, Giddens and Turrisi criss-crossed cultures – African, Arabic, European and American – that reflected a wide global sensibility and brought together old and familiar – and new – stories. It was as if a music appreciation master class broke out extemporaneously. There’s a sense of curiosity and purpose in Giddens’ music that is both thoughtful and reflective – and, on this night last week, it was refreshing to hear it resonate clearly during these troubled times we live in.

Credits: Cover photo – courtesy of Google Images. Story photo – courtesy of rhiannongiddens.com. Video – courtesy of NPR Music.

Jason Collins: Comfortable in his own identity and skin

Jason Collins in conversation at the Commonwealth Club /
"Now that I have this voice and platform, I want to speak out
for all of the of the gay athletes out there."

At 7-feet tall, Jason Collins easily stands out in a crowded room not only for his height but also for his skin color. Yet, it's his personality and intellect that draws your attention toward him.

Last year, Collins became the first openly gay active male athlete in major American professional sports when he came out in a highly publicized personal essay published in the May 6, 2013 issue of Sports Illustrated magazine.

"Depending on the situation," Collins laughs, "I'm not always the gay one. Sometimes, I'm just the tall one, or the black one. When I turn heads, is it because people know I'm gay, or is it because I'm a seven-foot-tall African-American man?"

Last week, speaking in front of an audience of nearly 600 young professionals at the Castro Theatre in San Francisco for the Commonwealth Club's InForumSF conversation series, Collins shared the stage with journalist Jose Antonio Vargas and spoke candidly for 75 minutes about his journey of self-discovery and self-acknowledgement, and how coming out of the closet in a machismo professional sport powered by super stars like LeBron James and Kobe Bryant has changed his life.

"I just spoke to a group of NBA rookies and I had to explain what LGBT (Lesbian Gay Bisexual Transgender) stood for." While some in the audience snickered at the ignorance of it all, it prompted Collins to speak up: "It's all about education and exposure. Some guys have had no education and exposure to the LGBT community."

After he came out in April 2013, Collins waited patiently for a phone call from an NBA team who was willing to take a chance on the 255-pound veteran center -- a consummate professional and veteran of six pro teams who's appeared in two NBA finals, and who just happened to be gay. Certainly, there was bound to be one team willing to take a chance on the free agent. Finally, the Brooklyn Nets contacted Collins last February and signed him to a contract for the back end of the 2013-14 season, where he averaged 1.1 points and 0.9 rebounds.

For much of his pro basketball career, Collins has worn number 34, the same number he wore in college. However, after being traded to Boston and later Washington, then signing with Brooklyn, he chose a different number. "I needed a jersey number to go with my new identity," Collins said. "I went with 98 for the year 1998: the year Matthew Shepard died and the year the Trevor Project was founded."

Despite the personal fulfillment he's achieved, Collins believes there's still a stigma of homophobia in the NBA. "I used to hear that kind of talk a lot in the locker room," he said. "Since I came out, I don't hear it at all. Of course, that might have something to do with it being a $25,000 fine now. I tell guys, you don't have to be politically correct -- you just have to find more creative ways of cutting each other down."

Collins says matter-of-factly, at least one unnamed player trash-talked him during a game after he came out. "Yeah, he's a knucklehead. My attitude about that is: I'm going to foul you. Hard."

While some have labeled the Stanford University graduate as the "big brother San Francisco never had," the polite and affable Collins admits that at times he still feels like the new kid in school, still getting comfortable with his new identity and celebrity. He credits a gay uncle for being his personal role model and said that he's garnered moral support from fellow Stanford alums like U.S. Rep. Joseph Kennedy III, who was his college roommate, and from Chelsea Clinton, the daughter of President Bill Clinton and Hillary Rodham Clinton, who was his classmate. He also gives props to prominent gay athletes like Martina Navratilova and Billie Jean King for being trailblazers as well as sharing their wisdom and advice with him.

Although he can laugh about it now, Collins confessed to the audience: "I didn't kiss a man until I was 34-years-old." On dating for the first time, he said: "Having my heart broken, something that most people go through for the first time in high school, didn't happen to me until I was 34. There was a lot of accelerated learning curve going on there. The Stanford student in me wants to say: 'Okay, we're going to master this.'"

Before he came out publicly, Collins had been in an eight-year relationship with fellow Stanford alumnus and former WNBA center Carolyn Moos. The two were engaged to be married, but Collins called off the wedding in 2009.

Looking back, Collins said coming out to his family was a positive experience filled with love and respect. He recalled his first conversation about being gay with somebody outside of his family circle happened when he told his long-time agent Arn Tellem. "I called my agent. Now, normally, when a player calls an agent after a trade, it's to fire him. But I said 'I've got something to tell you: I'm gay.' He said, 'Well, Jason, you can still play.'"

While there's still a competitive fire in him, Collins told the audience he's undecided about whether to play another season in the NBA. With a lucrative, multi-million dollar endorsement from Nike, Collins realizes he can be as much a positive impact off the court as on it by speaking out on issues like equality and education as well as sustainability and health and fitness. He has a positive story that's worth sharing with others.

"Now that I have this voice and platform, I want to speak out for all of the gay athletes out there," Collins said. Seemingly comfortable in his own identity and skin, Collins is reaching equality both on and off the court by becoming an ambassador for acceptance and peace. In April, Collins was featured on the cover of Time Magazine's "100 Most Influential People in the World."

Reflecting on his life as a professional basketball player, Collins said: "Thirteen years is a long career for an athlete. "I used to be able to jump and touch the top of the white square behind the hoop with ease. As the years go by, you watch your hand go lower and lower on that square. Father Time is undefeated against us all.

"I'm really grateful for my Stanford degree now. On the other hand, I can still dunk."

Editor's note: On November 19, Jason Collins announced his retirement from professional basketball after 13 seasons in the NBA.

Photograph of Jason Collins at the Commonwealth Club in San Francisco's Castro Theatre by Michael Dickens © 2014.

Four minutes of brilliance in front of the world

Terry, Tara and Johnny / Candid, colorful, compelling.

"Along with Tara Lipinksi and Johnny Weir, I'm Terry Gannon, the one wearing the suit."

One of the joys of the Sochi Winter Olympics on TV for me has been watching the live figure skating competition, which airs here in the U.S. during the morning hours on NBCSN. At times, it's been outlandish and outspoken, but thanks to the candid and colorful commentary of Tara Lipinski and Johnny Weir, it's made for compelling viewing. And, thanks to Weir, every day we're rewarded with a fabulous fashion show, too.

If you've only been watching NBC's limited -- and heavily edited -- prime-time coverage featuring veteran commentator Tom Hammond partnered with choreographer Sandra Bezic and former Olympic champion Scott Hamilton, which focuses only on the Americans and the top skaters shown on tape hours after they've skated, you've been missing out on all of the fun.

The live coverage airing on NBCSN (NBC Sports Network), with the trio of commentator Terry Gannon, and Lipinksi and Weir, showcases each session from start to finish -- every skater from best to worst -- and the fun also includes getting to see Weir's flamboyant wardrobe come to life. It may be morning in the States, but in Sochi where it's nine hours ahead of New York and 12 hours ahead of San Francisco, it's night time -- and the stars are shining brightly, on and off the ice.

Weir, 29, who is openly gay, enjoys being free and open in sharing his opinion about what's happening on and off the ice -- including being critical of Russia's LGBT laws. The two-time Olympian's wardrobe choices have included a bright pink Chanel blazer for Valentine's Day that accentuated a lace top underneath and a gold brooch around his collar. Another day, he wore a Kelly green jacket with a matching tiara. Most days, he's the one wearing the most jewelry and sporting the loudest hairdo.

One day last week, Lipinski, 31, wore charming flowers in her hair, and for Valentine's Day, her attire featured a lovely blouse with little pink hearts. On some days, Lipinski and Weir coordinate their appearances. There's a wonderful spark between them. They're fun and energetic.

Meanwhile, Gannon is the one who is simply attired in dark suits and skinny neckties. And, sometimes, he's the one with the best throw-away lines. During Monday's broadcast, Gannon described American ice dancer Evan Bates' wardrobe by tossing out this pop culture gem: "That's the second puffy shirt from Seinfeld we've seen tonight."

Tara Lipinski and Johnny Weir

One thing that I've found refreshing about both Weir and Lipinski, who won an Olympic gold medal at age 15 at the Nagano Games in 1998, is that both of them are extremely knowledgeable about figure skating -- its history, its artistry and its social dynamics -- and they offer a fresh and thoughtful perspective as former champion skaters without being arrogant. An added bonus: They talk in a friendly, conversational tone of voice. Neither feels compelled to shout to be heard and they play off of each other well.

On the ice dancing rivalry between Canadians Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir, who won the gold medal at the 2010 Vancouver Games, and their chief rivals and 2010 silver medalists, Americans Meryl Davis and Charlie White, Lipinski said: "Obviously, they have great respect for each other, but they're competitors." 

Weir knows all the competitors thoroughly, can anticipate what's going through their minds as they skate, and what it takes to win. "It's going to be such a showdown. Meryl and Charlie seem to have such an advantage. It's going to come down to what happens today."

Not since the legendary Dick Button has there been an American figure skating commentator like Weir, who's been unafraid to express his opinion -- even if it sometimes upsets the figure skating community.

Tara and Johnny /
A mischievous rapport.

The camaraderie and chemistry that Weir and Lipinski bring to their broadcast -- one critic described it as a "mischievous rapport" -- has been a joy.

"It's a Michael Jackson kind of night," said Weir, after the American ice dancing siblings, Maia and Alex Shibutani, became the second team to dance to a Michael Jackson medley during Monday night's free dance.

As much as I enjoy listening to the BBC's insightful and, at times, bubbly commentary offered by Sue Barker and Robin Cousins -- I've been listening to the British duo live online while taping Weir and Lipinski for later viewing -- I feel both Tara and Johnny have found just the right mix in offering enough technical expertise to educate their viewers in what they are seeing while also knowing the value of silence, something that Bezic, Hamilton and ice dancing analyst Tracy Wilson haven't learned or shown during NBC's prime-time broadcasts from the Iceberg Skating Palace.

After Virtue and Moir's elegant and heartfelt performance, a display of ease and unison skated to the music by Russian composers Alexander Glazunov and Alexander Scriabin, here's how Lipinksi, Weir and Gannon summarized it so succinctly:

Tara: "That was flawless. Their performance wrapped up their career so perfectly. It was effortless and smooth."

Johnny: "It was impeccable. The whole arena was silent soaking it all up. It was a beautiful, pitch-perfect moment. Their performance painted a beautiful picture."

Terry: "Their 114.66 is the best score we've ever seen."

Sometimes, letting a figure skater's performance talk -- as Gannon, Lipinski and Weir did during Monday's ice dancing final when they remained silent for four minutes during both Virtue and Moir's beautiful free skate as well as the impeccable and energetic gold medal performance by Davis and White -- speaks volumes.

As they took the ice, Gannon very tersely set the scene for Davis and White's free skate as the cameras zoomed in close on the Americans, who've skated together 18 years: "They've been dreaming about this moment since coming together as kids on ice growing up in Michigan."

Then, Davis and White exuded a dramatic tension of love and escape in skating to "Scheherazade." They engaged the judges, the fans and, just as importantly, a world-wide TV audience.

After Davis and White concluded their four minutes of brilliance in front of the world, culminating in the first gold medal by an American ice dancing couple, here's how Gannon, Lipinski and Weir described what had just happened:

Terry: "Four minutes to gold and it's over; not in their hands right now."

Tara: "Terry, when you think about it, Torvill and Dean are the most famous names in ice dancing. But, Charlie and Meryl are going to carry that same weight with what they're doing for U.S. ice dancing now. That program was pure perfection. ... So much pressure."

Johnny: "The pressure was so intense and they handled it beautifully. They fought the whole way through that performance. You could see it in the last minute. Charlie doing those very expressive stop and spins, stop and spins. ... "Whew! It was breathless. When you go for a gold medal, you fight for it."

Terry: "Three times Americans have medaled at the Olympics in ice dance. In 1976, then it wasn't until 2006 with Belbin and Agosto the silver, and in 2010 Davis and White with the silver medal. This right now, was it a gold medal performance? The number they need to win is 112.11. There's only one time that they haven't reached that moment."

Tara: "Every moment of their program was so precise. From the finger tips to the toes, the emotion telling the story of 'Sheherazade.'"

Johnny: "When you're a team, this is what you're all about. You're all about this moment. It's hard to explain to people that haven't been there. That amount of pressure. Four years of your life down to four minutes in front of the world. If one little thing goes wrong, then you completely lose the last four years of your life. (Davis and White) owned it. They fought from top to bottom."

Tara: "You have to stay in the moment." 

After a brief pause, the scores for Davis and White are finally announced to the crowd at the Palace and to the world-wide audience tuned in. They scored 116.63 points, for an overall score of 195.52. The crowd erupts in thunderous applause for the winners. Hugs for all in the kiss-and-cry box.

Terry: "A U.S. ice dance team will stand atop the podium. Meryl Davis and Charlie White are the gold medalists.

Tara: "They're Olympic champions."

Johnny: "They were stunning. They deserved it. It wasn't a political weirdness situation that we've come to think of when we come to ice dancing. They earned it. This night was so special. I can't remember the last time I sat through a whole free dance -- and I loved it! I loved every second of it. They entertained, they wowed us. We marveled at the lifts and the spins and the beauty. It was just so enjoyable."

During a recent USA Today interview, Weir wore his feelings for figure skating on his sleeve. "We take great responsibility for what we say and how we teach people about the sport," he said. "Honestly, as a broadcaster, all I want is for people to skate so well that we're struck dumb, that we're unable to speak. But when it's called for, I'm not afraid to explain the judging system or why somebody beat somebody else. That's who I am.

"My job is to help bring skating back, and to help educate masses about what's going on in skating."

A postscript: In a New York Times column Wednesday, "Amid Blunders on Ice, Only a Few Signs of Grace," dance critic Gia Kourlas wrote:

"The only sure thing left is off the ice: the sparkling commentary of Tara Lipinski and Johnny Weir, who, along with the sportscaster Terry Gannon, call the daytime live broadcast. They make it possible to suffer through wretched performances, not because they make fun of bad skating -- though you can usually count on priceless giggles at just the right moment -- but because they take it so seriously.

Tara and Johnny /
Always fashionable.

"While never short of opinions, they're generally quiet during performances. While they get to the nitty-gritty of technique -- pointing out when skaters are flat on their feet, or why they fall out of synchronization -- they also have information about more obscure aspects of skating, like how ice temperature affects a performance (speed skating requires harder ice than figure skating) or how male ice dancers have been known to build up their heels for extra height.

"It helps that Mr. Weir is a champion of inspired one-liners. While watching several near collisions during a men's warm-up, he blurted, 'It is Nascar out here in the world of rhinestones.' "

Screenshot images via the internet courtesy of NBCSN.