Arizona Republic from Phoenix, Arizona • Page 18

CI The Arizona Republic Monday, May 12, 1997 Goodykoontz: 10 contestants egged on U2 a raging success except at the end REVIEW U2 Friday night at Sun Devil Stadium, Tempe. 1 vision might do in his spare time. No, I replied. "Well, that explains it," she said, and continued. Five-year-old Jenessa Lancaster, of Phoenix, whittled away at what would become Dog Going Home.

(At one point her entry included a pile of leftover Spam underneath, which she planned to call Dog Going Pottie, but she thought better of it.) Not one to waste anything, after she finished sculpting, Jenessa looked up at her parents and said, "Can I eat some now, Mom?" Novak busied himself with Spamalot, a tiny Spam castle, complete with a drawbridge. It looked like an actual castle, the only exceptions being that it was made of Spam and fit on a paper plate. Once you saw this, there wasn't much question who the winner would be. Indeed, Novak won first place and another Spam T-shirt and Asay took second. "I guess practice helps," Novak said after his win.

"After years of being a Spam enthusiast, it finally pays off." For my part, Spam Dunk netted fourth place. Not bad, considering that I possess the innate artistic talent of a garbage disposal. There will be another contest' next year, Kane said, and I recommend entering. It's fun, it's goofy and it's more challenging than you might think. Besides, where else is it OK to play with your food? Think of it as your patriotic duty.

Bill Goodykoontz can be reached at 271-8828, or at bill.goodykoontzipni.com on the Internet. GOODYKOOHTZ, from page CI set up a boombox, loaded in Monty Python's Spam Song and grammed it for endless repeat. (Happily, they shut it off before the contest started, because hearing the song again and again would render anyone incapable of creating any- thing from Spam but a murder weapon.) I arrived early, so as to size up the competition. I expected a lot from Colleen Asay, of Phoenix, who came quip-equipped. "It's ham that flunked its physical," she said.

"That's what my grandmother always said." Then she held up the can and mused about the ingredients. "As they said in Chicago stockyards everything but the squeal." Nevertheless, she had that very morning prepared her son a breakfast of eggs, toast and Spam. Fried, of course. redeems it," she said. "When it just sits there, quivering on the plate, it's kind of frightening." Dale Novak would be tough, as well.

Not only did he arrive wearing a Spam T-shirt, he also toted a television-size soft-sculpture of a can of Spam he created in college, complete with the little key on the bottom that once was used to open the product. What's worse, Novak had actually practiced. When the one-hour contest kicked off, 10 of us had entered. I knew that I couldn't actually carve anything recognizable my greatest artistic achievement was the time in high school when I hit a moving car with an egg so I A a 1 HHf'' I 1 Michael ChowThe Arizona Republic Dale Novak captures his masterpiece, "Spamalot," on film. "I guess practice helps," the 32-year-old Phoenix resident said.

By Randy Cordova The Arizona Republic The U2 concert at Sun Devil Stadium on Friday existed on two levels. As a glitzy, glamorous spectacle, it was a raging success. As a musical event, the results were a little bumpier, but fun nonetheless. As soon as entering the stadium, the trappings caught the eye. The massive TV screen that backed the band stretched 150 feet across.

The Irish band was situated beneath a 100-foot-tall golden, arch that dwarfed the members as soon as they stepped onstage. It was glitzy and glam, a Vegas hotel brought to life and hitting the road. The, arch almost became the fifth member of U2, seemingly changing color when the lights struck it and always attracting the during the show. The TV screen served a more useful purpose. It managed to give the show an intimate feeling, something that has to be pretty tough to do on a football field.

When guitarist the Edge gave Bono a smile that seemed to say, "Hey, we're doing pretty good," it was a moment everyone could see. At times, visual images on the screen added other levels to songs. When Bono strutted and sang the lightweight Miami, images of palm trees swaying in the breeze seemed to transport the stadium to a sunny beachfront. It didn't hurt that a cool wind swept through the crowd when the song began. Maybe Mother Nature is a U2 fan as well.

Some of the other effects were silly, some were fun. A 100-foot cocktail toothpick with an oversize olive looked pretty neat, but it never moved, never changed color, it just sat there. That was disappointing. Better was when the four band members emerged from a gigantic mirrored ball before singing Discotheque. It was simultaneously goofy and spectacular, and seemed to be exactly what they were going for.

It was on the musical level that things seemed less certain. Bono, was in fine form, charismatic, larger-than-life and in fine The Edge's guitar' work was assured, and drummer Larry Mullen and bassist Adam Clayton offered solid, if less showy, support. When they trotted out such anthems as Will Follow and Bullet the Blue Sky, it was almost as if they were going through the motions. At moments like these, the show resembled a younger, hipper version of a Beach Boys concert: A lot of old songs that rekindle fond memories but do little else. That's' not necessarily a bad thing, but one expects more from U2.

The emotional meat of the two-' hour concert came with material from the under-appreciated Pop album. Maybe it's the newness of the songs or the fact that the band hasn't been playing them for umpteen years, but they had an emo-, tional heft and resonance that much of the older material seemed to' lack. Yearning ballads such as If God Will Send His Angels and If You Wear That Velvet Dress were stir-' ring and strong, with Bono and crew striking all the chords mu; sically and emotionally. Staring at the Sun was, quite simply, gorgeous. The group's botched performance of the tune at the opening concert in Las Vegas is forgiven.

The normally striking One was used to wrap things up. It should have been a perfect closer, but it was strangely unsatisfying and, seemed a bit rushed by the band. People in the crowd stood around for a while, as if something 'more should have been coming, but it never did. It was an odd ending: The show should have closed on a high note, not an indifferent tried to rely on limited work and a clever title. I cut the Spam in half, sliced off the corners of one rectangle and squished it a bit, trying to round it into a ball.

Then, using thin strips, I made fingers, attached them to a hunk that was supposed to be a hand and draped them over the ball, which I had balanced on the lip of the empty can. I added an arm (which was tough even with toothpicks to secure it, it kept falling off) and voila! Spam dunk. Meanwhile, some actual talent was being displayed elsewhere. Asay, for instance, used an ordinary kitchen knife to shave away tiny bits of Spam until she had sculpted what appeared to be a real rabbit albeit a small one, with all the fur removed. Still, it was impressive, although she deflected my praise.

"Have you ever made a radish rose?" she asked, as if this was something someone who has de- 1 voted a lot of his life to lying on the couch watching sports on tele Love of the piano shows in Noah Adams' book LEARN TO DANCE! I' I S.l I says. "I'm like a dog that talks. They don't care what I say. It's just the idea that I can talk and am willing to do it in front of them." He still has his Steinway upright, but his favorite piano is, like so many others, a memory. It was a Steinway concert grand that sat on the stage of the World Theater in St.

Paul, Minn. Adams listened as it was played by the likes of Billy Taylor and Harry Connick Jr. "It was an extraordinary instrument," he says. "It was such a joy to hear. I'm still in love with the sound and the feel of a very expensive piano, which I'll never be able to afford.

But I guess that was part of it, just listening to that music and that piano. I wanted to see if I could do it, too." LOVE, from page CI puter program that started him on Beethoven's Ode to Joy with a screen full of quacking ducks flying across a treble clef. "I don't apologize for it," Adams says. "I had teacher-avoidance fear, and it's shared by many adult learners. But the message of my book, in the end, is this: Find music that you love and play it, and find a teacher who can help you do that." Still, for all the time Adams spent struggling to learn llava Nagila or the theme from Chariots of Fire, he spent more time putting it off.

Much of his book is about other things John Grisham, for instance, whom Adams met (and who, he notes smugly, can't play the piano), or sailboats, one of which Adams had built as a gift for his wife. These stories are interspersed with piano history and trivia, much of it illustrating how much a piano can mean to someone who plays it. "The thing about this instrument is it's an orchestra, really," Tori Amos told Adams. "It's very much a warm, living, breathing woman to me. It's very female.

She's my best friend. I sit and talk to her, curl up around her sometimes. It's a real being to When Vladimir Horowitz returned to his native Russia in 1986 it would be his first and last time back in 40 years he took his piano with him, even though it had to be hoisted out of the window of his New York apartment, taken to Stein-way for packing and sent to Russia by air. As Adams toured the country publicizing Piano Lessons, he heard other affectionate piano stories. "I have a certain recognition factor because I've been on NPR for 20 years, but no one ever asked me a question about that," he says.

"No, their interest was in pianos. And when I would ask them if there was a piano of which they were particularly fond, they'd become almost reverential. Everybody had a story, many about pianos that had gone away, pianos that their mothers had to sell, or that their brother had now and they didn't." During his first year as a piano owner, Adams reached two goals. He learned to play Robert Schumann's Traumerei, and he learned to play in public. "People are so forgiving," he Call today, it's Fun Exciting.

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ByAppl." BE A PART OF ARIZONA'S LARGEST AMATEUR SPORTS FESTIVAL. v. v. i A I flcj Amateur athletes of all ages can choose from 23 events at the Grand Canyon State Games. It's being held over four exciting days, June 19-22, in ASU's "Olympic Village" and other facilities throughout the Valley.

Athletes can also enter the new five sport Tucson Competition, held June 6 8 at the of A and other Tucson locations. Sign up early for ONE OR BOTH competitions. HOW TO REGISTER 1. Pick-up an entry booklet at all Bank One locations, Circle locations and Sports Authority Stores beginning April 21. 2.

You may compete in the Phoenix Competition, June 19-22, the five-sport Tucson Competition, June 6-8, OR BOTH. 3. Register through our Web site at http:www.gcsg.org. 4. For information, call the State Games at (602)517-9700.

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