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      ‘Hold Your Fire’ Review: Ending a Siege

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      A new documentary directed by Stefan Forbes centers on a 1973 hostage negotiation led by a police officer known for his pioneering techniques.“Hold Your Fire,” a new documentary directed by Stefan Forbes, centers on Harvey Schlossberg, a police officer whose pioneering negotiation techniques helped end one of the longest hostage sieges in the history of the New York City Police Department.In January 1973, an attempted robbery at a sporting goods store in Brooklyn quickly escalated, and the film suggests that Schlossberg’s intervention may have saved the lives of the four young Black men at the center of the conflict.Led by Shu’aib Raheem, the four young men planned to steal guns to arm themselves against attacks from Nation of Islam members, who had been targeting Sunni Muslims. The police assumed them to be part of the Black Liberation Army and surrounded the store, starting a 47-hour confrontation. Tensions increased after a shootout led to the death of an officer, leaving his colleagues eager for retribution.In the film, Schlossberg is presented as a savior who, with the support of Patrick Murphy, the police commissioner, turns the officers away from violence. But through interviews with lawyers, police officers, hostages and the men involved in the robbery, what emerges is a kaleidoscopic narrative that lays bare the disconnect between the officers and the communities they serve.Only after Black community members rise up in protest, in response to officers threatening to drive a tank into the store, are Schlossberg’s de-escalation tactics implemented. The film’s intention may have been to highlight the negotiator’s achievement, but it appears that it was public pressure, as much as his influence, that prevented more bloodshed.Hold Your FireNot rated. Running time: 1 hour 33 minutes. In theaters and available to rent or buy on Apple TV, Google Play and other streaming platforms and pay TV operators. More

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      Review: ‘A Song of Songs’ Makes a Sacrament of Remembrance

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      Grief for a lost love is the unhealed wound at the core of this play by Agnes Borinsky, which takes a disquieting turn into the underworld.A few sheets of colored tissue paper, weighted down by a trinket to keep them from fluttering off. This is what audience members find on their seats upon arrival at “A Song of Songs,” Agnes Borinsky’s new theater piece inspired by the biblical Song of Songs, and it’s something of a puzzle. What to do with them?The answer comes at the top of the show, when Borinsky — one of a cast of three in this production, staged in a former Roman Catholic church in Williamsburg, Brooklyn — mimes instructions to us for a quick craft project. Following along, we form our sheaves into simple offerings for the altar in front of us. Then row by row, we walk up and place them there, in a shrine to the dead.It feels awkward and uncertain, stumbling through these prescribed motions of lamentation. But grief for a lost beloved turns out to be the unhealed wound at the aching core of “A Song of Songs.” We are, it appears, merely re-enacting it.Directed by Machel Ross and presented by the Bushwick Starr and the playwright Jeremy O. Harris, this play-as-ritual is meant as a kind of remix of the Song of Songs, which my Oxford World’s Classics edition of the King James Bible calls “notoriously, the one piece of erotic literature in the Bible.” But its carnality is drenched in joy, and in the comfort of lavished affection. Its verses revel in love and cherishing.So does “A Song of Songs,” at least at first. Though it’s too stylized to be sexy, its lovers, Nadine (Borinsky) and Sarah (Sekai Abeni), fall for each other in an all-consuming way, besotted to the point of unreason.“I took a pair of your gym shorts so I could smell them at work,” Sarah confesses, hiding her face. “This is completely terrifying.”Their fragmented story, and the loss of their transformative love, constitute the main narrative of “A Song of Songs.” Performed in brief scenes of monologue and dialogue, with occasional voice-overs and snatches of song, it makes a sacrament of remembrance. The set (by Frank Oliva, who also designed the lushly atmospheric lighting) takes full advantage of the architecture of a once-sacred space, and the actors’ flowing robes hint at religious garb. (Ross also designed the costumes.)Agnes Borinsky, Ching Valdes-Aran and Abeni. The set, by Frank Oliva, takes full advantage of the architecture of a once-sacred space.Luke OhlsonIn Sarah’s steady love for her only child, and Nadine’s abundant love for her many friends, Borinsky’s script considers more than just romantic attachment. Nadine’s godmother, Trudy (Ching Valdes-Aran), a revolutionary who loves with abandon, represents a fourth and more diffuse kind of passion: for society as a whole.Onstage at El Puente’s Williamsburg Leadership Center, Trudy’s is the most tentative thread of a production that does not entirely cohere. Patches of it can be hard to follow, and the acoustics sometimes swallow lines before they can land. Yet “A Song of Songs” possesses a surprising ritual power.As the play takes a disquieting turn into the underworld of Greek mythology, it stealthily leads each person in the audience toward a meditative consideration of their own mourning for those they have lost, to death or otherwise.The evening’s first participatory moment, when we placed our offerings on the altar, was preparing us for this: a second interlude when we are all asked to join in — wordlessly, each adding a token of love and sorrow to the set. (I’m not telling you what.) Delicately done, it is far more personal this time, and because of that, deeply affecting.“A Song of Songs” is a communal rite about the void left by the absence of people we love, and the universality of the pain that brings. More consolingly, it’s also about the beauty that can grow because of love, even if that love comes to grief.A Song of SongsThrough March 27 at El Puente’s Williamsburg Leadership Center, Brooklyn; thebushwickstarr.org. Running time: 1 hour 15 minutes. More

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      BAM Taps Former Leader of Its Film Program as Its Next President

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      Gina Duncan, who had been working at the Sundance Institute since 2020, will return to the Brooklyn Academy of Music to lead it out of the pandemic.After a turbulent two years that has forced the Brooklyn Academy of Music to navigate the coronavirus pandemic, budget woes and leadership upheaval, the organization said Tuesday that it was turning to a veteran of its film wing to become its next president, filling a position that was left vacant more than 12 months ago.Gina Duncan, who previously served as BAM’s first vice president of film and strategic programming, has been selected as the organization’s new president, the institution announced. She will take over a multifaceted performing arts behemoth with a $50 million operating budget.Ms. Duncan, 41, who has never held the top job at an arts institution, will be tasked with stabilizing and reinvigorating BAM, an important cultural anchor and incubator known for presenting an eclectic array of cutting-edge artists and performers. Her first day as president will be April 11. She returns after a stint at the Sundance Institute, where she worked as its producing director.“Coming back to BAM feels like returning home,” Ms. Duncan said in a telephone interview. “The other day I went down to see Annie-B’s ‘The Mood Room.’ And it was the first time I had been back in BAM since we all fled our offices in March 2020. And I just was overwhelmed.”“I came back for BAM — the artists, the staff, the audience,” she added. “They’re my people.”The selection makes Ms. Duncan the first person of color to lead the Brooklyn Academy of Music. In choosing her, the academy’s board selected a candidate with whom they were familiar, after previously tapping an outsider in Katy Clark — a violinist-turned-arts-executive — who left BAM after less than six years in January 2021. Ms. Clark’s predecessor, Karen Brooks Hopkins, spent 16 years as BAM’s president, and a total of 36 years at the organization.Ms. Duncan joined BAM’s executive team in January 2017 as an associate vice president for film — a newly created role in which she oversaw the organization’s Rose Cinemas and its repertory film program. Under her leadership, BAM’s repertory programming began to focus more on underrepresented voices in cinema.She was promoted in 2019, with her role expanding beyond film to include responsibility for the organization’s archives and its lectures, classes and discussions; she helped integrate programming across the institution. She also helped move programs online during the early months of the pandemic, officials said.She left BAM in September of 2020 for the Sundance Institute, and now will return after roughly 18 months away.The chairwoman of BAM’s board, Nora Ann Wallace, said in an email that Ms. Duncan’s “leadership skills are immediately evident to anyone who works with her.”“Her ability to inspire a group of people — be it staff, audiences, donors, or our board — is vital to this moment in BAM’s history,” Ms. Wallace said. “The board saw those skills when she was at BAM in her previous leadership role.”Ms. Wallace noted that in addition to her background in film, Ms. Duncan has produced theater and arts-centered community programming for many years. “Gina is a gifted strategist who excels at assessing the bigger picture,” Ms. Wallace said.Ms. Duncan said that her vision for BAM involved ensuring it is “vital and visible across Brooklyn and beyond.” During her initial tenure with the institution, she said, she had worked to ensure that its film program both served local audiences and became part of a “larger national conversation.”“I see an opportunity to do that with BAM across all the different art and rich cultural programming that we present,” she said.When Ms. Duncan’s predecessor, Ms. Clark, left BAM, questions were raised about the housing bonus she had received to purchase an apartment in Brooklyn, which she was allowed to keep when she left the position.Ms. Wallace did not disclose Ms. Duncan’s salary, saying only that her pay is “in line with other performing arts organizations of similar size.” Ms. Duncan’s compensation does not include an apartment or housing allowance, Ms. Wallace said.Ms. Clark’s departure created something of a leadership vacuum at BAM; the board’s previous chairman, Adam Max, died in 2020 and an internal team was appointed to lead the institution temporarily as the pandemic created a crisis for the performing arts. With live performances impossible, BAM was forced to slash its operating budget, lay off some employees and furlough dozens more, cut the pay of top executives and dip into its $100 million endowment for special distributions.Ms. Duncan will have the advantage of taking over at a time when cultural institutions, including BAM, are starting to find their footing again. The academy’s first full season since the start of the pandemic focuses on the artists of New York City.“The industry remains really tenuous,” Ms. Duncan said. But at BAM, she said, she has a “strong foundation to start from.”“An institution is its people,” she said. More

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      With His New Album, 'Far In,' Helado Negro Confronts Earthly Anxieties

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      The Ecuadorean American musician’s new album, “Far In,” is filled with celestial lullabies that confront earthly anxieties.The end is weighing heavy on Helado Negro. Some of his unease stems from traditional concerns, like aging (the musician, born Roberto Carlos Lange, turned 41 this year). But some is a consequence of looming global catastrophes: the existential dread of climate change, the seemingly unending nature of the pandemic. “I know the world has always been in some kind of constant conflict and flux,” he said. “But it feels even heavier now.”Since 2009, Lange has crafted ambling, dreamlike music. Over six studio albums and five EPs, he has collaged lunar synths, tape loops and field recordings into gentle experimental compositions that meditate on immigrant identity, healing and tranquillity. In 2019, he received grants from United States Artists and the Foundation for Contemporary Artists, highlighting his immersive, multidisciplinary approach to performance, sound and visual art. “Far In,” his first album for the stalwart indie label 4AD, will bring his subtle hymns to what may be his largest audience yet on Friday.Chatting over a video call from Asheville, N.C. — where Lange and his wife, the artist Kristi Sword, moved this past summer after over a decade in Brooklyn — he offered a tour of his new home, the outside of which is painted sky blue. “I’ve been living in small apartments for 15 years,” Lange explained, as studio equipment rolled by: vintage synthesizers, an antique piano — the foundations of Helado Negro’s soothing, celestial lullabies.Lange’s first full-length album as Helado Negro, “Awe Owe,” blended some of the sounds of his South Florida upbringing into warm bilingual jams, weaving whimsical freak folk into mellow beats and melting marimbas. Since then, Lange, who is the son of Ecuadorean immigrants, has gone more electronic: The albums “Invisible Life” (2013) and “Double Youth” (2014) stitched robotic synths and tender melodies into looping, wandering flurries, not unlike Lange in conversation — he often interrupts one idea for another. On Twitter, he described the songs on “Far In” as “mind meanderings drawn in sound.”“I feel the most comfortable I’ve ever felt expressing through music,” Lange said of his new album, “Far In.”Jacob Biba for The New York TimesLange has spent his whole life daydreaming through film and music. When he was in middle school in the early ’90s, his older brother returned from a high school trip to Europe with a collection of techno, acid jazz and jungle compilations that jump started his obsession with electronic music. Once he got to high school, he would visit a record store in South Beach to buy Aphex Twin and Tortoise CDs for relatives in Georgia.That early exposure to electronic music “really flipped my brain,” Lange said. It led him to underground basement parties hosted by a pirate radio station in Miami, where he was hypnotized by ragga D.J.s and M.C.s. He started making beats and playing the guitar, recording himself on his brother’s computer, which had an early edition of Pro Tools.Lange eventually ended up in Georgia to study computer art and animation at the Savannah College of Art and Design, where he took a class with a professor who introduced him to sound installation. “It just tweaked my brain even more,” he explained. “I was just like, ‘What is this? I want to make stuff like this.’”Lange’s profile rose in 2015 and 2016 with the release of the tracks “Young, Latin and Proud” and “It’s My Brown Skin,” smooth anthems of affirmation for many Latino listeners contending with xenophobia and racism during Donald J. Trump’s presidential campaign and early days in office. On tour, after long and demanding performances, fans approached him and shared their own experiences. “It meant a lot to me,” Lange said. “A lot of it was really beautiful, but really hard.”On “Far In,” these themes are a little less literal. “I’m going to hold back from sharing a lot of my own traumas,” he said. “There’s an aspect of sharing experiences and, depending on how intense they are, some of them can make people complicit in your misery.”Lange was partially inspired by the 1991 science-fiction epic “Until the End of the World,” which almost became the title of the project. “I have a good relationship with movies that don’t hold your hand so much,” he said. “That’s why I like that Wim Wenders movie. It starts somewhere and it ends somewhere else.”Ed Horrox, the 4AD executive who signed Helado Negro to the label, said that Lange has a powerful ability to forge connections: “Whether it’s in person, whether it’s on a Zoom call, whether it’s a bloody three-line text,” he said in a video chat, “he’s got a knack for sharing warmth and positivity.” Horrox first found Lange’s work while searching for music to play on his London-based radio show, “Happy Death,” and followed him through the years. The response to Lange’s arrival on 4AD from listeners proclaiming him “my favorite artist” was “quite overwhelming,” Horrox said.The “Far In” standout “Outside the Outside” is a soft-focus disco groove with laser synths and thumping bass that’s an ode to the small pleasures of diasporic life: Its video is a montage of camcorder footage of house parties his family threw in the 1980s, when they would stay up dancing to salsa or merengue. “I used to wake up and it would be 7 in the morning and people would still be downstairs drinking,” Lange said with a laugh.“La Naranja,” a prayer for the apocalypse, arrives near the end of the album. “Y sé que sólo tú y yo/Podemos salvar el mundo,” Lange sings with a sunny glow. “And I know that only you and I/Can save the world.” “La Naranja” oozes radical hope, but many of the songs on “Far In” are also about confronting the end with a sense of presence, even with the knowledge that doom is near, like “Aguas Frías” and “Wind Conversations,” both inspired by the ecological drama of the Texas landscape. (Lange and Sword were in Marfa during the first months of the pandemic working on “Kite Symphony,” a multimedia project documenting the wind, sound and light of West Texas.)L’Rain, a Brooklyn-based experimentalist who played bass on three of the album’s songs, said softness surrounds Lange, both as a collaborator and vocalist. “It’s an intimacy that’s really immediate and really visceral,” she said in a phone interview. “When working with Roberto, on every level — from the way that he emails and the way he schedules rehearsals and talks to us about the music and asks us our opinions — you just feel respected and cared for,” she said.The intentions Lange set for the project have offered inner peace, too. “I feel the most comfortable I’ve ever felt expressing through music,” he said. “Sound and music has always been that for me: It’s always been that great place to enter into. That’s the best way that I’ve found myself to be a part of that idea — of being present within.” More

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      A Record Store Obsession That's Adventurous and Soothing

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      ‘The trick to crate digging is to simply go at it: Dive into the sections, flip through the jackets and trust your gut.’I was stuck trying to write in my Brooklyn apartment, overthinking a sentence as usual.In these moments I turn to my records.For inspiration, I tend to need music from some faraway place and time. Perhaps an underground spiritual jazz reissue from 1974 or an Afro-disco record from ’80. Something with noticeable ringwear and audible crackles. Maybe even a pop or two. I’ve learned that this is the music that people come back to decades later. These are the songs you hear in a bar or a film and try to Shazam before the final note fades.On this day I also needed some air, so that meant walking 15 minutes to Head Sounds Records in Fort Greene to plow through the stacks. I went right for the jazz section, and that’s when I saw it: Pharoah Sanders, “Live at the East,” released on Impulse! Records in 1972 — nine years before I was born. I had to snatch it before some other crate digger scooped it up.Pharoah did the trick. The hypnotic swing of the opening track, “Healing Song,” was the meditative balm I needed to quell my writer’s block.But it’s not just the music that heals; the practice of discovering it to begin with, especially when it’s on vinyl, works wonders, too. Whenever life gets heavy, I go to the record store.The fact that shops like Head Sounds and Academy Records Annex in Greenpoint have survived the pandemic and, in some cases, are even thriving, speaks to the heart of New York City, a place that accepted me with no strings attached.“A turntable is there for you to sample the work,” Mr. Moore writes. “But the trick to crate digging is to simply go at it.”Laila Stevens for The New York TimesI’m from Landover, Md., a small town outside Washington, which also counts the comedian Martin Lawrence, the boxing legend “Sugar” Ray Leonard and the basketball great Len Bias as natives. I grew up in a musical family with a mother who played all kinds of pop, funk and soul around the house; a grandmother who loved traditional gospel; and aunts, siblings and cousins who embraced everything: a homegrown strain of funk called go-go, rap groups that were new at the time like De La Soul and N.W.A., R&B luminaries like Al Green and Marvin Gaye, and pop superstars like Madonna and David Bowie.My cousin Eric, a D.J., had an ear for buzzing underground musicians. In the late 1980s, fresh off a trip to California, he told us about a guy named MC Hammer who was making noise in the Bay Area. Around 1994, he popped in a cassette of this rapper from Chicago named Common Sense. By the time he had shortened his name to Common, his star was rising in underground hip-hop.Indirectly, Eric and the rest of my family were teaching me the concept of crate digging. While it was fine to like what I heard on the radio, there was less-heralded talent that deserved the same attention. I walked that perspective through high school and into my career as a music journalist, author, editor and curator.Long before I moved here in 2016, I’d hop buses to New York City to dig for records. It seemed there weren’t that many shops to choose from. It was the mid-2000s, music streaming was starting its domination of the industry, and many mom-and-pops were being forced to close.“Record stores as we know them are dying,” Josh Madell, co-owner of Other Music in Downtown Manhattan, told The New York Times in 2008. “On the other hand, there is still a space in the culture for what a record store does, being a hub of the music community and a place to find out about new music.”Mr. Madell, whose store eventually closed in 2016, was onto something. Just as record stores were failing, vinyl also started to make a curious comeback. The Recording Industry Association of America found that the shipment of LPs jumped more than 36 percent between 2006 and 2007. There was no clear-cut answer for the resurgence. Fellow heads will tell you there’s nothing like analog sound. While digital music sounds cleaner, vinyl sounds warmer and fills the room. There’s also nothing like poring over the album jacket and diving into the liner notes. It’s a time capsule.When New York City became the epicenter of the coronavirus outbreak in 2020, local record store owners found themselves in familiar territory: Even though vinyl sales had surpassed CD sales last year for the first time since the ’80s, would the record shops, along with many of the city’s other indie storefronts, survive? Turntable Lab, a niche record shop in Manhattan’s East Village, closed its doors that year to focus on online sales. Other stores like Academy and Limited to One, also in the East Village, managed to keep their leases, but pivoted to online sales to make ends meet.Nowadays, crate digging is done as much online as it is off. A stroll through the virtual music emporium Bandcamp can unearth everything from South African boogie to forgotten ambient. But clicking around doesn’t replace the act of visiting your favorite record store and discovering a rare find that either you’d been looking for, or didn’t know you needed until you saw the cover. Every place is different: Where Head Sounds is in the back of a barber shop, Academy is a vast spot with a bit more dust on the album jackets.A new shop, Legacy Records, just opened on Water Street in Dumbo. I visited a few weeks back and landed an original copy of the Fugees’ 1996 album “The Score.”Store employees tend to let you do your thing. A turntable is there for you to sample the work, and of course they’re around to answer whatever questions arise. But the trick to crate digging is to simply go at it: Dive into the sections, flip through the jackets and trust your gut. More often than not, you can judge the music by its cover (if a band from the ’70s had the word “Ensemble” in its name, the album is probably great).In a time where we’re all trying to navigate space and distance (or just being in public again), the idea is to foster community around music, even if the spirit of competition is still there. I wanted to get the Pharoah album before anyone else got it. That I could be the one talking about it was an incentive.For me, crate digging is preservation. It takes me back to my childhood in Landover, to playing my cousin’s EPMD albums when he wasn’t looking, and dropping the needle on De La’s “3 Feet High and Rising” at my aunt’s house when heads were still trying to fathom the group’s psychedelic blend of hip-hop (they’re also the subject of my next book). Buying records to share with the world is what I’m supposed to do. I’m just paying it forward like my family taught me.Marcus J. Moore is the author of “The Butterfly Effect: How Kendrick Lamar Ignited the Soul of Black America.” More

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      The Music Scene in This Brooklyn Neighborhood Is Here to Stay

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      During the city’s lockdown, porch concerts in Ditmas Park began as a way to unite artists. These events, along with new series and festivals, have transformed this quiet area into an arts hub.One July Sunday, just off Newkirk Plaza in Brooklyn — between the yellow facade of a laundromat and the red awning of a bodega — the mellow strains of a saxophone floated over a crowd of about 150. The Haitian jazz guitarist Eddy Bourjolly introduced the song “Complainte Paysanne,” and the band serenaded the street.This was a kickoff event for Open Streets, a series of Sunday concerts that will run through the end of August in the Flatbush area of Brooklyn. It is hosted by 5 p.m. Porch Concerts, one of a handful of groups that have taken root around the Ditmas Park neighborhood since the pandemic began. Operation Gig, which connects local musicians to paying gigs, began last July. Artmageddon, an art and music festival on the porches and in the gardens there, saw its first installment this June.As to-go cocktails — and (hopefully) outdoor birthday parties in frigid January — become a thing of the past, some rituals that have developed during the pandemic are here to stay in the city. The nascent arts and music scene around Ditmas Park — a neighborhood nestled in Flatbush, below Prospect Park — appears to be one of them.Robert Elstein, an artist and public-school teacher who organized Artmageddon, plans to hold its next installment in October. Last time, paintings and sculptures from groups like Flatbush Artists and Oye Studios were on display in yards and in the Newkirk Community Garden. The neighborhood has always counted artists and musicians among its residents, but because of the pandemic they were suddenly staying put, Elstein said.“Our world went from being the entire world to just our local community, no matter where we were,” he said. “And because of the neighborly spirit and creativity of the residents of Ditmas Park, we saw what we saw.”A crowd on Newkirk Avenue watching the Playing for the Light Big Band in July.Natalie Keyssar for The New York TimesThe quiet, leafy area of Ditmas Park is known better for its Victorian houses than concert venues (in fact, there’s a dearth of them), but it became a musical destination in the city in 2020 thanks in part to the wiry 70-year-old saxophonist Roy Nathanson.Beginning in April of last year, he played “Amazing Grace” from his second-floor balcony in Ditmas Park every evening at 5 sharp — a soothing change from the constant wail of sirens then. Soon a motley crew of local musicians — including the pianist and composer Albert Marquès — took shape, and they joined him in playing that hopeful hymn for 82 days straight.Last May, when George Floyd was killed in Minneapolis, and New Yorkers took to the streets to protest police brutality, Marquès did too.“I was playing for the community, we were doing all those things,” he said in a video interview from Spain this month. “And I was going to the protests. So in my mind, both things had to connect somehow.” That connection took shape as Freedom First, a series of jazz concerts around New York he organized around a cause, raising funds to support Keith LaMar, a death-row inmate in Ohio who is fighting to be exonerated for a crime he says he did not commit.Last summer, 5 p.m. Porch Concerts pivoted to hosting mostly jazz performances, and began offering outdoor lessons to young musicians in middle and high school in June of 2020. After going mostly dormant over the winter, they started “porch jams” in April; this series, held on Sundays at 5 p.m. on East 17th Street, will resume in mid-August.A member of a punk duo that performed. This Sunday concert series will run through the end of August.Natalie Keyssar for The New York TimesRhonasha George singing a song she wrote at the event in July.Natalie Keyssar for The New York TimesAnother group, Operation Gig, founded by Aaron Lisman in July 2020, has been bringing live music to Ditmas Park, and paying local professional musicians for their work, for a full year now. Especially during a pandemic, he said, musicians should not be expected to play for free.There’s no overhead for shows like these, and no booking agent or venue. Each concert averages between $300 and $500 in crowd funding (think Venmo), by Lisman’s estimate. The record collected for a performance was around $1,000 — more than some music clubs in the city pay. At a recent event, they announced a suggested donation of $10 per person, $20 per family. Many young families attend, as do older people.“They’re not going to be going to Manhattan, period, let alone to clubs,” Lisman said. “So they are sort of an untapped market, and it turns out that doing music on porches — which turns out to be really beautiful and special — is a perfect way to tap that market.”On the same Sunday in July, music, folksy and bright, could be heard down Buckingham Road, an area lined with beautiful old Victorians. A stroller brigade was parked on the grass. Through the trees emerged a Japanese-style, bright red stucco-covered box of a house, trimmed in forest green and built at the beginning of the 20th century. Below the porch, a white-haired couple held hands. Toward the fence, Amy Bramhall of Copper Spoon Bakery presided over a table of free cupcakes, macarons and cookies.Gloria Fischer, the homeowner for 40 years, listened to the four songwriters in-the-round at the Operation Gig event — Scott Stein, Andi Rae Healy, Jeff Litman and Bryan Dunn — from her porch. Sporting teashade sunglasses with purple-swirled frames, Fischer said that over the past year alone, she estimates she has hosted around 50 Operation Gig shows.“I think that it actually gave me an emotional lift,” she said. “Because it was obviously such a dent” during the pandemic.A concert at Gloria Fischer’s home on Buckingham Road in Brooklyn this month.Natalie Keyssar for The New York TimesOperation Gig has sprouted offshoots: The fiddle player and singer Melody Allegra Berger has taken charge of a weekly Operation Gig Bluegrass Sesh on Sundays at various locations. On Saturdays, she runs her own Stoop Sesh nearby in Park Slope.“When you’re a hustling creative type in New York, you just get used to having to adapt and having many things going on at once,” she said. “So it was like, ‘Oh, well that whole revenue stream is gone.’ And we made this happen instead.”These neighborhood concerts are popular with crowds of all ages.Natalie Keyssar for The New York TimesThe suggested donation, often sent via Venmo, is $10 for individuals and $20 for families.Natalie Keyssar for The New York TimesLast summer, 5 p.m. Porch Concerts started a program of outdoor lessons, pairing professional musicians from the neighborhood with kids aged 10 to 18. At the Open Streets event, which will make Newkirk Avenue a car-free zone on Sundays through the end of the summer, the Multigenerational Playing for the Light Big Band performed, featuring teachers alongside their students.Aaron Scrimgeour, a melodica player, said that inspiration for the lessons came from “knowing the amount of musicians doing different and interesting things that live in the neighborhood, and the amount of kids who could have access to what I think is really a cool opportunity.”Among Scrimgeour’s students is the pianist Rhonasha George, 15. At the Open Streets event, she sang a song she had written, “Outside My Window,” her fire engine red braids matching her dress. The song comes from a poem George wrote with the informal music school last summer. Over Zoom, teachers asked students to visualize what happened in the neighborhood around them during the pandemic.For George, that meant writing about an old man outside of her window caught in a summer storm, with no coat and no umbrella. But like the city itself, “he was OK. And he was actually stronger and healthier than anything,” George said. And like the city, she added, “He knows how to come back.” More

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      New York’s ‘Homecoming’ to Feature a Free Concert in Every Borough

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      The concerts, which are to run between Aug. 16 to Aug. 21, are being organized to celebrate the city’s reopening and promote tourism.In case the other boroughs were jealous of the star-studded concert announced for Central Park in August, the city is giving each one a show to call their own.Mayor Bill de Blasio announced on Thursday that the lead-up to the reopening bash on the Great Lawn on Aug. 21 — featuring Bruce Springsteen, Jennifer Hudson, Paul Simon and others — will include free concerts in Brooklyn, Queens, the Bronx and Staten Island. The concert series, part of what the city is calling “homecoming week,” is being presented as a celebration of New York’s emergence out of the dark days of the pandemic and an enticement for tourists to return.If attendees are required to be vaccinated to attend the concerts, which is not yet clear, it will also be yet another carrot that the city government is waving in front of the unvaccinated.“Unless you want to spend the rest of your life saying, ‘Oh my God, I missed it,’” de Blasio said at the news conference, “you should get to New York City in the month of August where amazing things will be happening.”“I’ve talked to people who missed Woodstock,” he added. “Don’t let that F.O.M.O. thing happen to you.” (He was referring to the fear of missing out.)The outer-borough concerts are being produced by the Universal Hip Hop Museum in the Bronx. Rocky Bucano, the president of the museum, said at the news conference that the acts will include hip-hop, Latin, freestyle, dance, R&B, techno and funk.He said he imagined that the concerts would be “reminiscent of the days when the Bronx park jams brought people, young and old, together to have a good time in the spirit of peace, love and unity.”New York’s weeklong celebration will also feature movie screenings, public art, cultural activities and the city’s Restaurant Week, according to the city’s website advertising the programming.A spokesman for the mayor, Bill Neidhardt, said the city planned to announce concert lineups and information about tickets next week. The concerts and the additional police presence they will require will no doubt be expensive; Neidhardt said there are sponsorships that will help support the cost but the office is not yet ready to release those details.The concerts will take place on Aug. 16 at Orchard Beach in the Bronx, Aug. 17 at Richmond County Bank Ballpark in Staten Island, Aug. 19 at Brooklyn Army Terminal and Aug. 20 at Forest Hills Stadium in Queens.The concert on Central Park’s Great Lawn is being produced by the veteran music producer Clive Davis. He has long been associated with headliners at that event, including Springsteen, who is expected to perform a duet with Patti Smith, according to a person briefed on the plans. (Our bet: a rendition of “Because the Night.”)Ben Sisario contributed reporting. More

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      Lines Never Felt So Good: Crowds Herald New York’s Reopening

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      Museums broke attendance records, movie theaters sold out and jazz fans packed clubs on a Memorial Day weekend that felt far removed from the prior year’s pandemic traumas.The line outside the Metropolitan Museum of Art trailed out the door, down the rain-swept stairs, around the trees and past the fountain and the hot-dog stands on Fifth Avenue as visitors waited under dripping umbrellas. They were among more than 10,000 people who had the same idea for how to fill a rainy Sunday in New York City, turning the holiday weekend into the museum’s busiest since the start of the pandemic.In Greenwich Village, jazz fans lined up to get into Smalls, a dimly lit basement club with a low-ceiling where they could bop their heads and tap their feet to live music. All five limited capacity screenings of Fellini’s “8 ½” sold out on Monday at the Film Forum on Houston Street, and when the Comedy Cellar sold out five shows, it added a sixth.If the rainy, chilly Memorial Day weekend meant that barbecues and beach trips were called off, it revived another kind of New York rainy-day tradition: lining up to see art, hear music and catch films, in a way that felt liberating after more than a year of the pandemic. The rising number of vaccinated New Yorkers, coupled with the recent easing of many coronavirus restrictions, made for a dramatic and happy change from Memorial Day last year, when museums sat eerily empty, nightclubs were silenced, and faded, outdated posters slowly yellowed outside shuttered movie theaters.Most museums are still requiring patrons to be masked.Lila Barth for The New York TimesFor Piper Barron, 18, the return to the movies felt surprisingly normal.“It kind of just felt like the pandemic hadn’t happened,” she said.Standing under the marquee of Cobble Hill Cinemas in Brooklyn, Barron and three friends who had recently graduated high school waited to see “Cruella,” the new Emma Stone movie about the “One Hundred and One Dalmatians” villain. Before the pandemic, the group was in the habit of seeing movies together on Fridays after school, but that tradition was put on hold during the pandemic.“We haven’t done that in a long time — but here we are,” said Patrick Martin, 18. “It’s a milestone.”In recent weeks, Gov. Andrew M. Cuomo has relaxed many of the coronavirus restrictions that limit culture and entertainment, and Memorial Day weekend was one of the first opportunities for venues to try out the new rules, with a growing numbers of tourists and vaccinated New Yorkers looking forward to a summer of activity.The Met is drawing twice as many visitors as it did two months ago.Lila Barth for The New York TimesAt the Met, Saturday and Sunday each drew more than 10,000 visitors, a record for the museum during the pandemic, and roughly double what it was logging two months ago, before the state loosened capacity restrictions, said Kenneth Weine, a spokesman for the museum.Despite the near-constant rain, museum visitors and moviegoers agreed: this was much better than whatever they did over Memorial Day weekend last year. (“Nothing, just stayed home,” recalled Sharon Lebowitz, who visited the Met on Sunday with her brother.)And when the sun emerged on Monday, people did too, with the High Line in Chelsea drawing crowds that rivaled the old days.Of course, the pandemic is not yet over: an average of 383 cases per day are being reported in New York City, but that is a 47 percent decrease from the average two weeks ago. And there were physical reminders of the pandemic everywhere. At Cobble Hill Cinemas, there were temperature checks and a guarantee that each occupied seat would have four empty ones surrounding it. At the Met, a security staffer asked visitors waiting in line for the popular Alice Neel exhibition to stand further apart from each other.At the Met, visitors waiting in line to see its popular Alice Neel exhibition were asked by a security guard to stand further apart from each other.Lila Barth for The New York TimesAnd, everywhere, there were masks, even though Mr. Cuomo lifted the indoor mask mandate for vaccinated individuals in most circumstances earlier this month. Most museums in the city are maintaining mask rules for now, recognizing that not all visitors would be comfortable being surrounded by a sea of naked faces.“It’s certainly not all back to normal,” said Steven Ostrow, 70, who was examining Cypriot antiquities at the Met.“If it was, we wouldn’t be looking like Bazooka Joe,” he added, referring to a bubble gum-wrapper comic strip, which has a character whose turtleneck is pulled high up over his mouth, mask-like.And at the Museum of Modern Art, the gift shop was offering masks on sale for up to 35 percent off, perhaps a sign that the precaution could be on the way out.Smalls Jazz Club, in Greenwich Village, drew a crowd to hear Peter Bernstein on the guitar, Kyle Koehler on the organ, and Fukushi Tainaka on the drums, with the saxophonist Nick Hempton.Lila Barth for The New York TimesAlthough the state lifted explicit capacity limits for museums and other cultural venues, it still requires six feet of separation indoors, which means that many museums have set their own limits on how many tickets can be sold each hour. And some have retained the capacity limits of previous months, including the Museum of Jewish Heritage, which has capped visitors at 50 percent, and El Museo del Barrio, which remains at 33 percent.Venues that only allow vaccinated guests can dispense with social distancing requirements, which is proving a tempting option for venue owners eager to pack their small spaces. And there seems to be no shortage of vaccinated audience members: On Monday, the Comedy Cellar, which is selling tickets to vaccinated people and those with a negative coronavirus test taken within 24 hours, had to add an extra show because there was such high demand.No one was more pleased to see lines of visitors than the venue owners, who spent the past year eating through their savings, laying off staff and waiting anxiously for federal pandemic relief.Lila Barth for The New York TimesLila Barth for The New York TimesHaving Smalls back open was a relief to its owner, Spike Wilner. “It feels like some kind of Tolstoy novel: there’s the crash and the redemption and then the renewal,” he said.   Lila Barth for The New York TimesDuring the lockdown, Andrew Elgart, whose family owns Cobble Hill Cinemas, said he would sometimes watch movies alone in the theater with only his terrier for company (no popcorn, though — it was too much work to reboot the machine). Reopening to the public was nothing short of therapeutic, he said, especially because most people seemed grateful to simply be there.“These are the most polite and patient customers we’ve had in a long time,” he said.Reopening has been slower for music venues, which tend to book talent months in advance, and who say the economics of reopening with social distancing restrictions is impractical.Those capacity limits and social distancing requirements have kept most jazz clubs in the city closed for now, but Smalls, in the Village, is an exception. In fact, the club was so eager to reopen at any capacity level that it tried to briefly in February, positioning itself primarily as a bar and restaurant with incidental music, said the club’s owner, Spike Wilner. That decision resulted in a steep fine and ongoing red tape, he said.Still, for Wilner, there was no comparison between this year and last, when he was “in hiding” in a rented home in Pennsylvania with his wife and young daughter.“It feels like some kind of Tolstoy novel: there’s the crash and the redemption and then the renewal,” he said as he shepherded audience members into the jazz club. “Honestly, I feel positive for the first time. I’m just relieved to be working and making some money.” More