Thu, December 14, 2006

When was the last time something was imperative? Eating lunch today? Sure, you had to eat sometime, but you just had breakfast a few hours ago; lunch certainly wasn't a life-or-death thing. It wouldn't be truly critical for another day or two. I'm racking my brain, and I can't think of anything that really fits the definition of "imperative."

Except this: go and see The Trachtenburg Family Slideshow Players live, as soon as humanly possible.

If your town offers flights to any of these places, get on one and go. It might just be the only remaining thing that must be seen to be believed and wasn't created by Franco Dragone.

For the uninitiated (e.g., me, 48 hours ago), the Players consist of dad Jason, mom Tina Pina, and 13-year-old Rachel who is the real one who's arrived to make us forget Michelle Trachtenberg ever existed. Dad's on keyboard, guitar, and lead vocals. Mom runs the slide projector, displaying choreographed exhibitions of slides procured from garage sales. And Rachel rocks out on drums like no one you've ever seen, while also providing background vocals. The slides are found art – captured moments from the lives of anonymous, deceased strangers, rearranged into something which almost approximates a narrative. And this serves as inspiration for some peppy, silly tunes about friends, family, politics (from the '60s and '70s), and growing up. It's giddy, handcrafted fun, and it's impossible to describe, which is why you have to go and see for yourselves.

They came to our town last night, and entered my consciousness as just another of those weird blurbs from the newspaper that my mom insists on pointing out to me. But I watched a couple of videos on their website, and I was hooked. We had to sit through solipsistic local sensation Rickalous (who spent ten minutes conducting a pretend symphony while playing the music off his laptop), and Trachtenburg side act Ching Chong Song, which was actually more annoying than its name suggests – high-pitched, nasal drama-club-quality singing and wailing while playing a saw with a violin bow. All this, and it was still absolutely worth it the moment TFSP took the stage.

Their current tour, which takes the name "Trachtenburg Family Slideshow Players - On Ice!," opens with a painfully under-rehearsed sitcom scene about a stuck window and an inattentive landlord (we're informed it's adapted from real life). It's complete with an utterly unconvincing laugh track, and it's all just there to be silly and point out how insipid sitcoms have become (a point being made more convincingly by Two and a Half Men on a weekly basis). Then it's on with the songs – as soon as the family awkwardly strikes the living room set (table, chairs, laugh machine), nearly knocking down everything onstage in the process. The klutzy chaos is part of the charm – maybe it's not scripted in, but it's there intentionally, and it underscores the family's wandering minstrel existence. This is their family business, and their life together. They laugh at each other (and with each other), and roll their eyes. They quibble over where to place a prop. And then – they rock.

The songs are cute and silly, peppy and upbeat even though sometimes they're discussing the state of democracy in Africa (in the '60s and '70s). Dad's voice is kind of geeky and nasal and his writing style is like Fred Rogers by way of Ogden Nash. If you find either of these qualities charming in the work of They Might Be Giants, you'll absolutely adore TFSP. (If TMBG grates on you, rest assured you'll find TFSP agonizing.) Songs like "Look at Me" and "The Couch Culture" playfully analyze the role of photography in a world before VCRs and the Internet. "Christian Terror" chronicles mid-century political activism by T-shirt. "The World's Best Friend" is about growing up, seeing the world, and spending time with loved ones. If someone took a slide photograph of it, they'll write a song about it. The music is more polished on the CD, but the electrifying immediacy of the live version really sells it – along with the slides, of course.

The best part is what's behind the scenes, though: the family. Boston Legal recently had a fascinating episode that pondered whether it was child abuse for parents to indoctrinate their children into a xenophobic, white-supremacist lifestyle. A pair of blonde, pixie-like twins were home-schooled by their mom and dad while they toured the country singing catchy songs of hatred and segregation, and their aunt sued for custody to protect them from such a twisted world view. It's a really interesting question, considering how hard it is to overcome one's upbringing. If you're sending your children into a world they're unprepared for, does anyone have the right to step in and stop you? The Trachtenburgs represent the antithesis – this is the sort of family every child should be raised in. Creativity, imagination, love, and togetherness – Rachel began with no more choice in the matter than those TV twins, but her home life is wholesome, respectful, and damn good for her. As she herself says it in the group's DVD promo, "Some parents just work at Microscoff, and just sit there at a desk. And the kids have to sit at a desk, too." Sucks to that! Who wants to be gone all day, working at a dull job that keeps you away from your family except for a few hours before bedtime? Why not explore the world together, learning and creating and conveying ideas? Time is precious and limited – it should be spent together, not apart. Eyes should be open to the world and the experiences it has to offer, not focused on a frigging math problem.

Rachel is unlike any teenager you've ever seen. She understands and respects what Mom and Dad do for a living, because she's a participant herself – not just stage dressing but a real collaborator. She's not embarrassed by Dad's corny humor, she adores it, the same way I do with my dad now – but I didn't at her age because he wasn't a colleague then like her dad is; he was just the guy whose house I lived in. It's difficult to find a video that conveys the full Trachtenburg family experience as we saw it on stage, but the last 40 seconds of Military Open Mic Night (Christian Horror) capture the father/daughter dynamic perfectly. She's having a blast; they both are. The slides and the songwriting are precious and hilarious, but Rachel is the star of the show. Because the story of the Trachtenburg Family Slideshow Players isn't just the story of those anonymous families on the screen – it's about the Trachtenburgs, in all their geeky, homespun glory.

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