Bermy Outlines

Friday June 19, 2015 was the first night of Taylor Rankin’s ‘homecoming’tour, Leroyfest. Backstage - meaning the office section of the Bermuda Society of the Arts - was draped in white fabric and afforded with a spread of snacks: platters of cheeses, salami, crackers and endless bottles of water for the artist and supporting guests. Early in the evening the behind the scenes magic that makes a show become a show was happening. Things were moved, wires laid and taped to the wooden floors, plugs found outlets and in the midst of it Taylor and Leroy cycled through varying stages of readiness. Leroy, Taylor’s right hand - or rather left if you think of actual shoulder placement - is Taylor’s violin. Taylor and Leroy share the thing that most artists tend to have with their tools of trade, a partnership. Hendrix had his guitar, Basquiat his paint brushes and Taylor has Leroy. There’s more happening in the making of music here than a man showcasing his craft, there is dialogue. Taylor and Leroy have conversations resonating in glissando and vibrato and all the echo-y, loop driven goodness of what Taylor refers to as “Leroy’s bag of toys.”  I.e. the corresponding buttons, knobs, pedals and machines all connected to Leroy via the wonder of electricity and an aux cord. In accordance and addition to this artistic exchange is Dwight Hart. If Taylor and Leroy are two different sides of an equilateral triangle, then Dwight is the third corner, holding down his angle with a pair of drumsticks. Together, the trio provide the crux to the fluctuating wonder that is Leroyfest.

Taylor Rankin holds a certain mystique, sure he’s Bermudian and has played his fiddle up and down the crevasses on this mass of twenty miles for years but it’s hard to say exactly who he is. While most artists bear the brunt of themselves in the digital habitat that is social media - Taylor thrives in the physical world. Yeah he has a Facebook, but try finding him on twitter, or Instagram, or vine or whatever new network has been created in the last 30 seconds. You won’t find pieces of him in the fragments of your phone’s matrix. Where you will find him is bouncing around Cairo, or Israel, or Switzerland - Leroy in hand and leaping to some new height of sonic brilliance. Leroyfest is a testament to the enclave of mystery that is Taylor Rankin. The posters alone boasted a line-up of 13 secret guests. Which begs the question, “Since when has anything been concealed in Bermuda?!”Or rather been able to be? Bermuda thrives in the informative; we know where Michael Douglas used to live, most newsworthy headlines have usually reached a few thousand cellphones before being officially publicized and we’re always six degrees separated from everyone else’s personal business. Bermuda is the place where anonymity goes to die. But here we have Taylor, this Bermudian guy with a violin who hasn’t lived here in years, teaming up with Dwight, this other Bermudian guy with a drum set who also hasn’t lived here in years, throwing down a three venue event with secret guests and locations. The enigmatic buildup could almost swallow you whole.

Trust is a funny thing. Everyday we dole out trust in varying measurements - for the mundane and ordinary, small percentages, for the things that require more of our consideration, we give the lion’s share. For instance, the amount of trust that you have that your lightbulb will turn on when you flick the switch in the morning is considerably less (or less considered) than the trust you have in the bus driver, who’s erratically swerving you down Middle Road, that he will get you to work in one piece. To quote the revelation that is rap: “There’s levels to this.”What was quickly evident at the first Leroyfest show was the theme of trust. Watching the artists co-play onstage alongside Taylor and Taylor alongside Dwight and Dwight alongside Leroy - seemed like a synchronized chaos. There were inner conversations between Taylor, the music, the audience and even the people working the lights and sound. The entire movement of the show depended upon the weight of trust that was afforded to each and every person present. It’s little known fact that Taylor and Dwight don’t practice that much. They practice of course, but mainly what they do is practice trusting each other to move through music. There is no concrete pre-written music and every time they play together they make something new, fleeting, ephemeral. This is the essence of Leroyfest, as Taylor so eloquently remarked, “is all about collaboration and wackiness.”The balance between careful musicianship and all the things that can happen in improvisation. I asked Taylor and Dwight about the movement they helped create in Leroyfest, and they both remarked - in slight tonal difference - that they rely on each other, and the artists they work with. That they create a bond in music and moment to create something awesome in the interim. That “The beautiful fear of failure drives this”all of the time. Taylor, Dwight and Leroy in performance exist, even if momentarily, in between perfection and utter collapse. There in the midst of either is magic; something enchanted, unexpected and unrepeatable. It begs to wonder, that if this is all the information we have about Taylor, his enigmatic swag, his violin Leory and drum partner-in-crime Dwight; then honestly, what more do we really need to know?

- AmeliaNearHeart

 (Photos provided by Alyson Thompson)